The Fifth Empire of Man

by Rob J. Hayes

“Huh. I wonder where they got all those boats.” Wulfden turned an angry glare on Daimen, who quickly stepped backwards, hands held up before him. “I swear, Admiral, on my dear old ma’s grave, I did not see this coming.”

  There were ships everywhere. They were stretched out across the horizon, with equal numbers on either side of King’s Justice. More masts than Daimen could count, and all were floating amidst the endless blue, as though none of them wanted to be the first to attack.

  “Is that Storm Herald?” said one of the officers.

  “Yes,” said the admiral. “That explains why she never returned. How could the pirates manage to capture her?”

  “Resourceful and resilient bastards, eh?” Daimen said with a laugh cut short when the admiral sent another glare his way.

  One of the officers shoved a monoscope into Daimen’s hands.

  “Identify the most prominent targets please, Poole.”

  “Aye aye, Admiral.” Daimen raised the monoscope to his eyes and scanned the horizon. “That one there is The Black Death, captained by Tanner Black himself. There’s The Phoenix, captained by Drake’s right hand, Keelin Stillwater. And right next to her is the Fortune. Ya take out those three and you’ll break the back of the entire isles.”

  “Send the signal to attack, Commander,” Admiral Wulfden said. “Raise sails and prepare the ballistae. I want as many ships sunk as possible in the first salvo. Let's hope our other turncoat is more useful than you, Poole.”

  Chapter 56 - Fortune

  “Looks like they’re coming, Cap’n,” Princess said, sounding maudlin. “I reckon this’d be our last chance to turn tail and chase the horizon.”

  Drake plucked the monoscope from his first mate’s grasp and stared at the fleet arrayed against them. They were all starting to pile on sail and the lead ships were gathering speed. Princess wasn’t wrong – this was their last chance to run.

  “Get us moving, Princess,” he said coldly. “Right at them.”

  “Reckon I’m gonna die here in this nameless stretch of water,” Princess mumbled.

  Drake laughed. “Oracle has seen my future, and it’s not today.”

  “Wonderful,” Princess said as he stepped backwards. “Didn’t happen to ask about my future, did ya? Thought not.” He let out a sigh before raising his voice to a practised shout. “Sails up, lads. We’re shoving it right down their throats.”

  A cheer went up, and before long Drake could hear it passing down the line of ships, thousands of pirates taking up the shout as they readied themselves for the bloodiest battle any of them had ever known.

  “Can we expect any help from your god?” Beck said. Her voice was trembling. It didn’t seem right for the Arbiter to get so scared about a bit of a fight, but then Drake had long ago learned that you just couldn’t predict how folk would react when the time came. People died in wars, and no matter how strong or important you were, you had just as much chance of dying as the next poor sod.

  “No more than we’ll get off yours,” he said with a glance backwards and a grin. “It ain’t really her way.”

  “Sure would be nice to have one of those leviathans pop up and do the work for us.” The Arbiter looked pale, almost sick. Drake pitied her for that. The fear of the fight sure explained her ferocity in bed of late though. Drake grinned as he remembered their latest encounter and how sore it had left him.

  “Aye, that’d be a fine sight,” he said. “Ain’t likely to happen though. We’re gonna have to win this one ourselves.”

  Next to the Fortune, Stillwater’s boat was starting to pick up speed, straining to take the lead and meet with the enemy. It was some fine work to slow the ship down just a little to keep it in line with all the others. Drake’s plan was simple. North Storm would lead the attack – the ship was a monster with a metal ram that would make driftwood out of any that got in her way. With Captain Khan’s ship in the centre of the attack, the others would form into a wedge formation and sail right into the enemy lines. Their orders were to prioritise helping out their neighbours, two ships against one as much as possible, to keep the numbers on their side. Once the battle started, though, it was likely that any sort of tactics would go right out of the window. Ship to ship and man to man, the pirates would win. They had to win. They had so much more to lose than their enemy.

  Drake looked towards the main mast and the little jar of black liquid that sat nearby, securely nestled within a padded wool cocoon. Everfire was one part alchemy, one part magic. Beck had managed to make just twelve small jars of the stuff in the three days before they left New Sev’relain, and one of those had been used to test it. Drake had never seen water set on fire before; it was a terrifying sight to behold.

  They were all up to a good speed now, with North Storm leading the pack, breaking away to bear down on their enemies like a charging boar. Drake stared through his monoscope towards the enemy fleet. They were in a far less ordered formation, with some ships straggling behind while others surged ahead. He felt a grin stretch across his face.

  “I’m sorry,” Beck said.

  “Eh?” Drake grunted, turning to face her.

  Bang!

  The first shot hit Drake in the midsection. The force knocked him against the railing, where he collapsed onto the deck, a look of utter confusion on his face. Beck wasn’t sure whom she hated more – Inquisitor Vance for giving the order or herself for carrying it out.

  Shouts came from nearby, and they would soon be followed by the sounds of boots on the deck. Beck needed to finish the job before the crew reached them.

  Drawing a second pistol, she realised her right hand was still shaking. It was the injury she’d taken in the battle of New Sev’relain. It had to be. Her eyes started to blur a little, and she blinked away the tears.

  “Why?” Drake managed to ask. He was still slumped against the railing, dark red blood leaking from his mouth and dripping from his chin. More red was soaking into his shirt. He wouldn’t survive – Beck was sure of it – but Inquisitor Vance had ordered her to be certain.

  “Sorry,” she whispered again as she pulled the trigger on the second pistol.

  Drake’s body shook with the force of the impact and keeled over sideways, blood spreading out over the deck. Beck took a deep breath and sighed it out even as the first of the Fortune’s crew reached her.

  Stepping to the side of the wild slash, Beck whispered a blessing of strength and punched the pirate in the chest. The poor man’s ribs snapped loudly and he collapsed.

  Beck drew another pistol, and a moment later another pirate dropped to the deck to bleed out his last. She walked towards the main mast. Inquisitor Vance had been adamant that neither Drake nor the Fortune could be allowed to survive to make it into the battle.

  Another two pirates came for her, this time one to each side. Beck whispered the words of a sorcery and stamped a foot onto the deck. The wood warped and twisted as it rippled outwards. The pirates didn’t even have time to move away as the decking rose around their feet and locked them in place. Beck moved on without so much as a glance at the two helpless men.

  Just before she reached the main mast, something heavy dropped onto Beck from above, knocking her flat onto the deck and darkening her vision for a moment. It didn’t take long to realise she was lying there entangled with a pirate who was struggling to remain conscious after his landing. Beck kicked the fool away and struggled to get back to her feet, shaking her head to clear away the dizziness that threatened her.

  Something tugged on the bottom of her coat, and Beck turned to see the pirate who had dropped onto her clinging to a loose seam. She pulled a pistol from her jerkin, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The pirate’s grip loosened in death.

  There was shouting all over now as some pirates rushed to the aid of their fallen captain while others closed in on Beck. They were all too late.

  She plucked her fallen hat from the deck and placed the tricorn back on her head, then picked up the jar of Everfire.

  Chapte
r 57 - The Phoenix

  “Cap’n,” Smithe shouted, hysterical.

  “What is it, Smithe?”

  “The Fortune.” Smithe pointed.

  Drake’s ship was aflame. Black fire danced over the deck, twisting in the breeze and whipping at the sails, leaving orange flames in its wake. Keelin hadn’t seen the Everfire when they tested it out near New Sev’relain. He’d heard folk say it had a life of its own that not even water could extinguish; now he could see for himself that it was true. The black flames went where they would, neither growing nor diminishing, and everything they touched was set ablaze.

  Keelin looked back at their own jar of Everfire and felt his stomach twist. There would be no saving a ship besieged by the black flame. There was no saving Drake’s ship. The Everfire would burn until there was nothing left but ash floating on the water. Keelin turned back to the Fortune just as a pirate enveloped in flames careened over the side of the ship.

  “What should we do, Captan?” Morley said.

  Keelin watched the Fortune slow and drop behind; its sails were all alight now, and its crew’s screams could be heard drifting across the water.

  “Nothing,” he said quietly, turning to look at the approaching fleet. “Keep on.”

  “But Drake…”

  Keelin silenced his first mate with a glare then turned to Smithe. “Get that thing covered.” He pointed to the jar of Everfire. “I don’t want a stray arrow turning my ship into a pyre.”

  As they left Drake’s ship behind, burning black and orange amidst the blue, Keelin realised how quickly they were coming up on their enemy. North Storm was out in front as planned, but not by a lot. The giant figure of T’ruck Khan was visible at the bow of his ship. The man feared nothing, and that was something Keelin wished to emulate.

  “Hands on deck,” he roared. “Weapons at the ready. Archers fire at will.”

  Closer and closer now. The enemy ships started to grow large, and the scale of the battle facing them humbled Keelin. Boats spread out across the horizon on both sides as far as he could see. He had little time to contemplate the matter.

  The enemy ship facing North Storm started to turn, but it was too late and all it accomplished was presenting its port side to the larger vessel. A crack and crash echoed out across the water as the steel ram on the bow of North Storm connected with the smaller ship, splitting it in half. Keelin didn’t have time to appreciate the destruction; a Five Kingdoms boat was sailing alongside them, blocking the view.

  Arrows flew from the navy vessel. Some thudded into the deck while others sailed clean over to land in the deep blue beyond. At least one of the arrows found a mark, the pirate’s scream loud and clear. The Five Kingdoms vessel, a galleon roughly the same size as The Phoenix, was too close, and their hulls crashed together, scraping across each other. Keelin almost lost his footing, grabbing a nearby railing to stay upright. The noise of the two ships colliding was a terrible groan, and Keelin could only hope it hadn’t put a hole in the The Phoenix.

  The first few Five Kingdoms men hopped aboard, and the sounds of battle quickly followed them. One brave sailor jumped from the navy yard, swinging across on a loose rope and coming to a rolling stop just a few feet away. He drew two swords and charged.

  Drawing his new cutlasses, Keelin met the man steel on steel, blocking and parrying every blow. Then the soldier went rigid and started shaking, his swords dropping from his hands and his body dropping to the deck a moment later. Smithe stood above the fallen soldier, his wicked dagger bloody and a snarl on his face.

  “Cut the ropes,” Keelin roared as loudly as he could. “Push us away. Keep the sails up.” Keelin and Smithe rushed to the aid of the crew members attempting to defend their ship from invaders. They turned the tide of one small skirmish, outnumbering the soldiers and bringing them down with well-aimed stabs and slashes that left the poor bastards bleeding out their last.

  Keelin slashed at a man’s leg and the soldier went down screaming, only to be stabbed in the face by Jojo’s spear. Keelin kicked the corpse away and stepped past it to reach the railing. He raised his sword and brought it down hard, severing one of the ropes that held the two ships together.

  “Shove off,” he screamed, sheathing his swords for a moment and pushing as hard as he could against the navy ship’s railing. The two vessels started to part, slowly at first, steadily moving further and further. As long as they could keep any more grapples from locking hold, they would soon be far enough away to begin gathering some speed.

  Keelin opened his mouth to give his crew some encouragement and looked up just in time to see an archer on the other ship loose an arrow.

  Chapter 58 - North Storm

  T’ruck laughed like a man possessed as his foes drowned around his ship. The first of the enemy fleet had cracked and fallen apart like stale bread when North Storm hit it, and now they were free of the wreckage and on the hunt for more prey.

  His ship was fast, and it suffered from a poor turning circle due to its size. They didn’t want to get too far away from the fight, so T’ruck ordered the ship slowed as it turned to port. Their job was far from simple, and much of the outcome of the battle hinged on their success. They were, perhaps, the only hope now that the Fortune was sunk.

  Everywhere boats were locked together with vicious fighting underway aboard them. T’ruck hungered to join in, to feel the thrill of combat, but he would follow the plan for now. North Storm was a ship like no other, with machines of war capable of tearing smaller vessels apart, and that was what they would do.

  “Bring us in as close as you can,” T’ruck said to his navigators, Kanon and Serar. The ship was too large for a single wheel; it had two, and they needed to be turned in tandem. Serar was just a few minutes older than her brother, and the twins worked together as one on the wheels of North Storm. T’ruck couldn’t have asked for a better pair of navigators.

  “We can cut those bastards’ tails off if you want, Captain,” Serar called as she turned the wheel.

  “That is not your job,” T’ruck said. “Just get us close and let the bastards’ own war machines tear their fleet apart.”

  North Storm levelled off, and they were close enough to the enemy’s arse that T’ruck could see the panic on the faces of some of the crew. They were engaged with Freedom, and the ships were locked together fast with Sienen Zhou’s crew holding the deck, under strict orders not to cross onto the other vessel.

  “First three scorpions, fire,” T’ruck roared, and a moment later the weapons made an odd cracking sound as they released. Of the three bolts, only one hit its intended target, while one splashed harmlessly into the water and the third lodged itself into Freedom’s hull. T’ruck’s crew were quick to cut the ropes of the two bolts that had missed.

  “Brace the wheel,” T’ruck called to his navigators, and then, “Second three scorpions ready for the next ship.”

  The crew of the navy vessel realised what was happening too late. The bolt was lodged deep into the ship’s hull, and down so low it was dipping into the water. A perfect shot. As North Wind sailed on, the rope pulled taught and strained against the huge main mast. T’ruck heard his navigators grunt with the effort of keeping the ship sailing straight. The enemy vessel gave a visible lurch sideways just before a large section of its hull around the scorpion bolt ripped free of the surrounding wood. Water started gushing into the hole.

  “Cut it free,” T’ruck shouted with a wild laugh, but the order wasn’t needed. His crew knew their jobs, and they were already busy setting up the next set of bolts.

  They would gut as many of the enemy as possible. If they could sink them, they would; otherwise, their goal was to cripple the boats. Drake had claimed mobility would win the war as much as numbers or any magical fire, and T’ruck wagered he had the right of it. A ship without a rudder could do nothing but sit and wait for the pirates to pick them off.

  Chapter 59 - King’s Justice

  “Uh, Admiral,” Daimen said. “That big fu
cker is behind us and doing its very best to fuck us all in the arse.”

  “Poole, if you cannot keep that tongue of yours civil, I will have it cut out,” Admiral Wulfden said through gritted teeth.

  “In the middle of the battle? Seems like a right waste of man power, that.”

  The admiral sighed and signalled one of his officers. “Turn the ship starboard, Commander. Have the ballistae ready to fire. Torches lit.”

  “Aye aye, Admiral.”

  They were one of the few ships not engaged in battle with the pirates; they were sailing in close formation with two other Man of Wars, and those two seemed more than capable of dealing with the pirates that had come alongside them. Wulfden had made sure to bring the ship to a stop, though, so as not to leave the protection of its escort.

  “Whatever this plan of yours is,” Daimen said, “I hope it’s a good one, ’cos that ship is big and…”

  “Poole,” Wulfden barked. “Shut up.”

  Daimen held up his hands and watched as the behemoth with North Storm written on its side sailed along behind the navy vessels. It had already ripped the arses off two ships, and any moment it would be ripping the side from King’s Justice. Poole was fairly certain none of the crew would survive the swim back to Land’s End.

  “Ready,” shouted the commander. “Take aim.”

  The bigger ship was coming into full view behind them now, and Daimen spotted a giant near its wheel. Only one pirate he knew was so large, and that meant T’ruck Khan was aboard the other vessel. Daimen imagined the big captain tearing his arms off for turning traitor and quickly slunk back behind Admiral Wulfden.

  “Fire,” Wulfden shouted, and torches were touched to the bolts loaded in the ballistae, making them sizzle. “Loose!”

  The ship rocked with the force of the ballistae all releasing at once, and Daimen steadied himself on the admiral’s shoulder, the fatter man’s lower centre of gravity keeping them both upright. Four of the bolts hit home, lodging themselves in the side of the monster ship, and one splashed harmlessly into the water. Wulfden shrugged Daimen’s hand away from his shoulder.