The Larion Senators e-3

by Rob Scott

  ‘In case we try to slip by to the west?’

  ‘Like I said, he’s not stupid.’ Captain Ford dried his face on a kerchief. ‘He saw enough to know that we’re not going to be able to bolt past him and be gone by dawn. This way he can run ahead of us and wait for sunrise.’

  ‘When, theoretically, we’ll either be off his starboard flank-’ Marrin started.

  ‘Or running west,’ Steven finished.

  ‘Either way,’ the captain said, ‘we can’t get past him.’

  ‘So even if we make it to the Pragan coast, we still give him ample opportunity to come west and cut us off.’

  ‘Right again, Steven,’ Marrin said. ‘You should be a sailor.’

  ‘So what do we do?’

  ‘We either come north now, use the wind to get as far as possible and make ready for a fight at dawn, or we run for Praga and try to find an inlet or maybe a cleft in the cliffs to hide for a day or two.’ He didn’t sound thrilled with either option.

  ‘Or we run right at him,’ Marrin said. ‘He won’t be expecting that.’

  ‘And do what? Offer him a beer?’

  ‘Strafe him with fire arrows? Hit him with a few of those fireballs the old man was tossing about this morning? Maybe we could set his shrouds on fire,’ Marrin suggested.

  ‘In this weather?’ The captain wasn’t convinced. ‘We’d maybe get his topgallants, but not the mains: they’re too damp.’

  ‘Let’s think about this for a moment,’ Steven said. He shouted for Gilmour, and as the boyish figure came within earshot, asked, ‘The fire, our fire: can Mark sense it from here?’

  Gilmour thought for a moment. ‘It’s a gamble; I certainly shouldn’t do it, but we’ve been lucky with you before.’

  ‘I’m worried that was just the staff, not me,’ Steven said. ‘What if-’

  ‘Don’t get started with the what ifs. He may or he may not. You did plenty without the staff that Nerak never noticed, and if Mark doesn’t have the table opened, he shouldn’t be able to sense anything that would have got past Nerak. Mark’s only indestructible when he’s using the table; the rest of the time he must be about as vulnerable as Nerak was.’

  ‘Unless he’s been drawing strength from the table’s magic,’ Steven suggested.

  ‘That’s true, but if there’s no way past, we may have to risk it.’

  Steven felt cold. He’d been trying to ignore it, but it seeped beneath his skin now, making him shiver. ‘He’ll kill us all, Gilmour.’

  ‘That’s already his plan. It’s just that we’re closer to the end now. All the edges are sharper from here on in.’

  ‘It’s an easy spell, I’ve done it-’

  ‘-plenty of times, I know,’ Gilmour said. ‘That’s not the issue. The problem is whether or not he’ll feel it. I’m betting he won’t, not the fire.’

  ‘What fire are we talking about?’ the captain asked.

  ‘Larion fire,’ Gilmour said, ‘a tough, resilient flame that’ll easily catch their ship alight; it’ll set the sails, perhaps even the water around them on fire.’

  ‘Great rutting gods of the Northern Forest,’ Ford whispered.

  ‘Larion like in Larion Senators?’ Marrin laughed. ‘Captain, I’m all for running up on them because we’ll have surprise on our side, but I’m not counting on any Larion Senators to magically appear from out of one of my Nana’s fairy tales and save the day for us.’

  ‘Don’t,’ Steven asked softly, still staring at Gilmour, ‘don’t run up on them, Captain. I’m sorry. You’re the master here and you give the orders, but please, I am begging you to keep to our current heading. Let’s try to sneak past them tomorrow, and if we can’t and they close on us, I promise you that I will help Garec fight them while you and the crew keep us on course.’

  ‘You and Garec alone?’ Marrin interjected, then realising what he had done, added, ‘Sorry, Captain.’

  There was silence for a moment while everyone considered their options, then Ford sighed and said, ‘Very well then. Marrin, keep us on this heading. We’ll get as far to the southwest as we can before we have to come about, but I want us running north by dawn, and by running, I mean as if grettans are at our backsides. Understand?’

  ‘Aye, aye, Captain,’ Marrin barked, and was gone, a hundred questions left answered.

  Ford said, ‘You and Garec can do this alone?’

  Steven laid an arm across Garec’s neck and smiled through chattering teeth. ‘We can hit them when they are well out of range of normal archers, and if we need more help, Kellin and Brexan can shoot into their ranks. Kellin’s shoulder is good enough for her to manage a few rounds if need be.’

  ‘Tubbs and Sera can shoot,’ Captain Ford said, ‘though I’d rather keep them about their jobs.’

  Steven’s reassurance was cut off by Sera, who shouted from the bow, ‘Captain, the cutter’s dousing her fires.’ As they all peered into the night, they saw the last of the cutter’s own watch-fires blink out. Just before everything went black, Steven thought he noticed something odd about the angle of the cutter’s bowsprit.

  Captain Ford read his mind. ‘Did I just see what I think I saw?’ he asked.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ Steven said.

  ‘There’s no way to tell,’ Garec said, grasping for straws.

  ‘No,’ Gilmour said, ‘they’re right. It’s as if he can see us!’

  ‘Marrin!’ the captain shouted, ‘the cutter’s gone covert, and she’s coming this way.’

  Marrin’s voice reached them through the wind. ‘Understood, sir.’

  By dawn, it was apparent the captain of the naval cutter had either seen them, scented them or second-guessed them perfectly. With the first rays of light whitening the horizon, Captain Ford rubbed his bleary eyes and shouted for Marrin and Sera. The whole crew had worked all night, keeping the Morning Star running west, away from the cutter, and half an aven earlier, they had changed course and were now heading due north. The rest of the crew had been sent below to sleep.

  ‘Is that her?’ he asked, ‘there, do you see her?’

  Sera leaned over the rail, staring into the grey sky. Marrin jumped into the rigging, climbing towards the main spar for a better view. Sera was the first to pick it up.

  ‘Aye, that’s her, Captain.’

  Marrin called down, ‘Captain, I don’t understand – how’d he do it? At this rate, we’ll be ramming the horsecock before midday.’

  Ford leaned against the helm. ‘I don’t know how they did it, Marrin, but we’re going to stay on course and run past them just as fast as we can.’

  ‘Captain,’ Sera asked, ‘won’t he just tack to match our course?’

  ‘Probably, and that’s when we’ll trust our new friends to slow them down.’

  ‘Very good, Captain.’ Sera didn’t bother trying to mask her doubts.

  ‘For now, I want you two to rest. Tubbs and Kanthil can take over for a while. Nothing’s going to happen in the next aven, anyway.’

  ‘You’ll call us if he changes course, sir?’ Marrin dropped nimbly to the deck, despite his fatigue.

  ‘I will,’ the captain lied. ‘When you get below, see if Tubbs has any more rosehip brew going. I’m going to need a bucketful to get through this morning.’ He watched with quiet pride as his tired sailors, loyal even in the face of questionable leadership, disappeared.

  ‘They work hard,’ Steven said, ‘and it’s obvious they’re doing it for you.’

  ‘Nonsense.’ He shrugged the compliment off. ‘They do it because they love this ship.’ He changed the subject and said, ‘Steven, come with me, would you? There’s something I want to show you.’ He called over to Garec, sitting in the stern checking the fletching on a handful of arrows. ‘Garec, would you take the helm for a moment?’

  Garec stumbled getting up and spilled his entire quiver. ‘What? You want me to steer?’ he stuttered, ‘to- to drive? But Captain, I don’t know how to- I mean, I’ll kill every one of those bastards for you, but you can
’t let me drive – I can barely get my horse out of Madur’s corral most mornings. And I’ll be straight with you, Captain: I don’t have enough silver to buy you a new boat.’

  The captain laughed. ‘It’s really not that difficult, and I’ll not be gone above a few moments,’ he said. ‘But let’s have a lesson, to make sure you can manage.’

  Once he was certain Garec could keep the Morning Star on her current heading, he led Steven into the bow and pointed to a number of fixed ropes. ‘You see these standing lines?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘I think they’re called stays, or standing rigging,’ Steven said, ‘at least, that’s what we call them where I- well, I think that’s right.’

  ‘It is,’ Captain Ford said, steadying himself against one, ‘and they’re just about the most important part of the ship – can you believe that? Right out here, where anyone could get a sword on them… They’re keeping the mast up.’ As he spoke, he pointed to the separate cables. ‘These are the forestays, inner and outer, and those back there, just aft, are the mainstays, upper and lower.’ He ran a hand lovingly along one. ‘Now, the cutter will have some additional masts, but the ones I need you to remember are the fore, the main and the mizzenmast, and most especially, remember the mainmast.’

  ‘What do I do?’

  ‘If you can’t get the shrouds to ignite – and I’m hoping you can because it’s quick, and great at creating nervous tension-’

  Steven chuckled. ‘Nervous tension? All the way out here in the middle of bloody nowhere with the only thing between you and hell being a ship on fire, yeah, I suppose you could call that nervous tension.’

  ‘They shit themselves, even the gods-rutting admirals,’ he admitted. ‘Anyway, if you can’t get the shrouds to light, I want you to try and snap these lines. At first, it’ll look like nothing much has happened, but in this wind, they won’t be able to keep all those sheets on her, and that’ll pull the masts down and cripple the cutter for a Twinmoon or more. She won’t be able to pursue us any more; she’ll have to limp into the nearest docks, at Landry, and we’ll be able to outrun her.

  ‘So this is what you need to remember: the forestays, mainstays and mizzenstays: Snap ‘em, and they’ve got to run her into a wall. If they don’t, the ship will tear itself apart beneath them.’

  ‘Good. Thank you.’

  ‘Good luck,’ Captain Ford said. ‘Now you and Garec should get some sleep. Gilmour, too.’

  ‘He never sleeps,’ Steven said, ‘and we’ll be all right.’

  ‘Garec’s that good?’

  ‘I’ve never seen him miss.’

  The sun was high and burning off the morning cloud cover when Garec joined Steven on deck. The two ships were rapidly closing on one another.

  ‘Can’t see anything yet,’ Steven said, ‘just that one fellow up there, in the bow. I can’t decide if he’s an archer or just some kind of lookout.’

  ‘At this rate we’ll soon be able to ask him face-to-face,’ Garec said. He had both quivers on his back and held his bow loosely in one hand.

  ‘Captain Ford seems to think they’ll tack north and strafe our broadside until we heave to and let them board us.’

  ‘Or they’ll not be so polite,’ Garec said, calm despite staring at an entire shipful of sailors and soldiers, all intent on killing him. His experience in the meadow near Meyers’ Vale, standing in the face of a cavalry charge, was still fresh in his mind. ‘They may decide to run in, get their hooks over our rails and come aboard uninvited.’

  Steven ran his hand along the weathered railing. ‘So it’s up to us to discourage them.’

  When they were within five hundred paces of the Malakasian cutter, they heard someone hailing them, ordering them to heave to.

  ‘Here we go,’ said Steven.

  Garec nocked an arrow, considered the wind and the swells and aimed above the shouting Malakasian. ‘Shall I deliver our reply?’

  ‘Let me try first,’ Steven said, ‘and perhaps no one need get killed.’ He flexed his wrist a few times, summoned a pair of glowing fiery orbs and sent them hurtling with surprising speed towards the man hailing them, the cutter’s first officer, he presumed. The fireballs crashed into the side of the ship, blasting through the gunwale and knocking the sailor to the deck.

  ‘Excellent shot!’ Captain Ford shouted from the helm, ‘now see if you can get their sheets to fire up.’

  Steven repeated the gesture and six of the orbs, trailing fire like Larion meteorites, flew into the cutter’s rigging. The bigger, faster ship came about suddenly, turning north to match the brig-sloop’s own tack. This was clearly something the Malakasian captain had expected, though from the behaviour on board the cutter – the frantic shouted orders and general scurrying-about – it looked like Steven’s attack forced their change in course earlier than they had planned.

  ‘They’re turning!’ Gilmour called from amidships. ‘Hit them again, Steven – two or three are catching fire; the others passed right through. Not so much speed on this next barrage perhaps.’

  ‘I’d like to drive them off,’ Steven admitted. ‘The fewer we kill, the better.’

  Garec shielded his eyes from the sun. ‘You certainly scared the dog-snot out of that officer. He’ll be changing his leggings pretty soon.’

  The ships were on a parallel course now, the cutter some three hundred paces north of the Morning Star. They were well within range of skilled archers, but, a little surprisingly, the marines weren’t lined up, ready to fire on the hostile Pragan boat. Garec himself was in position now to kill every officer on their quarterdeck. He waited for Steven to ask for help.

  ‘This one should do the job,’ Steven murmured, calling up more of the brilliant orbs.

  Garec felt the heat on his face and turned away. ‘Gods, but that’s hot, Steven.’

  ‘I’m hoping to finish this right-’

  He dropped the fireballs into the sea, where, hissing and spitting, they sank towards the bottom. He barely managed to throw up the protective spell in time to ward off the Malakasian’s counterattack, which struck with all the force of a bottled thunderclap against the brig-sloop’s starboard bulkhead; Steven and Garec were sent sprawling at the impact.

  ‘What the fuck was that?’ Steven shouted as he rolled to his feet.

  Garec spat a mouthful of blood onto the deck and said, ‘But waiter, I didn’t order this.’

  ‘It’s that fellow there,’ Gilmour was pointing towards a lone figure standing in the stern of the cutter.

  ‘It’s the lookout, the one you spotted earlier,’ Garec said.

  ‘That’s no lookout,’ Steven said, ‘they have their own magician, and he just got a punch in.’

  ‘How are we still alive then?’ Garec was crawling towards the rail, an arrow nocked and ready. It was obvious he meant to kill the enemy sorcerer with one shot.

  Steven kept pace with him. ‘It’s a spell I used in the river, something that just blew out of me.’

  ‘Oh well, thanks then,’ Garec said. ‘Why don’t you just keep your head down while I send him to the Northern Forest?’

  ‘We probably don’t have to kill him,’ Steven said.

  ‘No,’ Garec said, ‘this one’s all right. Call it a donation to the cause.’ He knelt, took aim quickly and fired. The arrow arced cleanly across the sea, but burst into flames and disintegrated before it reached the enemy ship. Garec cursed. ‘Sorry, Steven, looks like he’s all yours.’

  Steven waved at the Malakasian magician, trying to get his attention. The other seemed to understand that he was being challenged, and pointed back. ‘That’s right, you bastard, just you and me,’ Steven muttered.

  He turned to Gilmour and asked, ‘Who is this guy?’

  ‘No idea,’ the Larion Senator said cheerfully. ‘Probably someone who discovered skills as a child. A thousand Twinmoons ago he would have been recruited to study at Sandcliff Palace. Instead, now he’s a dangerous young man. That last spell was most likely honed on trees and rocks as he
was growing up.’

  ‘I’d love to see his house,’ Garec smirked, wiping twin blood trails from his nose. ‘I’m sure it’s a lovely place, apart from all the holes.’

  Steven said, ‘He’s not all that powerful. I could pull his tongue out of his head from here if I wanted to… I’m just not willing to risk doing anything so magically noisy.’

  ‘Probably too late,’ Gilmour admitted. ‘The blow he struck at us was quite enough to hit Mark like a slap in the face. You might as well do whatever you like to end it quickly, and we’ll pray to the gods that Mark doesn’t have time to pinpoint where we are while you’re cleaning up.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ Steven said. ‘If I just- What did you say?’

  ‘The spell he cast at us,’ Gilmour said. ‘Can’t you feel it? It’s still lingering in the air. I’m sure the ripples have gone all the way to Philadelphia by now.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Steven cried as his eyes widened, ‘no!’ He cupped his hands and shouted, ‘You must stop what you’re doing, right now! Stop it!’

  The Malakasian shot them a broad grin and waved. He was joined by an officer who cried, ‘Heave to! Strike your mains and tops! Prepare to be boarded!’

  Captain Ford joined in now, shouting from the bridge, ‘We left your sister and mother in Orindale – most entertaining girls, they were!’

  ‘Heave to!’

  ‘Heave yourself, you’re not taking my ship!’

  Steven, distracted by the exchange, failed to see the Malakasian gesture towards the Morning Star, but Gilmour shoved him and Garec to one side, threw up his hands and shouted a deflective incantation.

  The sorcerer’s second volley crashed through the gunwale, showering the deck with splinters and sending all three men tumbling once again.

  ‘Red whoring rutters!’ Garec cried, ‘but I hate it when he does that!’

  ‘Steven! Garec!’ the captain screamed, ‘will you kill that annoying little bastard or do I have to ram him? Look what he did to my ship! Kill him, Garec; kill him now!’

  Steven was up again and firing back, sending a barrage of fireballs, one after another, slamming into the cutter’s stern. Three explosions later, the stern rail was on fire and the officers, with their sorcerer, had retreated amidships. ‘One down,’ Steven murmured, ‘and now for the stays.’