Sea Wolves (Wine of the Gods Book 21)

by Pam Uphoff

  He looked back to the Admiral. "A dozen ships. I think Organtes, possibly without the rebels."

  The Admiral chuckled. "Indeed. They'll let the rebels and the Cove Islands fight it out, then swoop down and finish off the battered winners. And sail for the Islands."

  "They've only got a dozen ships."

  "Here. They'll have a lot more waiting to hear that the Islander's northern fleet is sunk. They'll attack the southern fleet, then meet this lot in the Islands." He shook his head. "Bloody stupid, they'd be so much better off with diplomacy and trade. Keep an eye on them, let me know when they start their run." He turned away at a cry from the crows nest.

  "Sail ho!"

  Xen closed his eyes again, and checked all the ships' positions. The Sea Wolves were not changing course. Blithering idiots. If they are that dissatisfied with their lot in the Islands, they should just leave. This is a war they can't win, especially since their putative allies will turn on them as soon as they've served their purposes. I doubt many—if any—will survive this battle.

  And I really don't have a lot of sympathy for the pirates who've been sinking ships and killing and enslaving the crews.

  So . . . One storm mage versus a fleet full of sea king mages. Well, I've got wizard and witch backup genes, but let's just see about raising a bit of atmospheric havoc, shall we?

  He reached up again. His first updraft was dying, the few clouds that had formed blowing off to the south. He pulled in power, reached up, and west and channeled heat to the air. Lots of heat. Several columns of hot air, rising quickly, sucking in air to replace it, carrying the humid marine air upwards. The sails snapped as the wind veered.

  Sailors scrambled on four fleets to adjust their lines. Xen could vaguely hear the admiral cursing as his various ships responded individually. At least I didn't do that in the middle of a course change.

  Silvery soft laughter that he suspected only he could hear. "Oh Storm Mage! Have you come to contend?"

  No. Only to repress piracy of our ships. I am sorry that your sea kings have turned vicious. But this cannot be allowed.

  "Yes." A sad sigh, or maybe just the wind as it picked up. "We need our rightful Sea King."

  "Oscar Harryson."

  "Prince Van O'kar. " More sighing winds. "Both admirals are his children, two of the few nobly born, the sons of wives caught up in a street orgy. Ah! That was funny to watch, all the foolish land locked creatures happy and partying. We came ashore and partied as well. Many of the Sea Wolves are Prince Van's sons as well, but born to circumstances that kept them from political power. The rest are the sons of a storm mage. And some are the grandsons of both."

  Bran Butcher. But what of the Black Goat Wizards' children and grandchildren? There should be wizards, as well.

  "Weak, nearly powerless. Once they leave the sea, we cannot see them at all."

  You watch the Islands.

  "They are our home . . . Our people . . . We are the daughters of the mariners, we who love the sea, and decided to live in it. We despair that it has come to a civil war."

  Because you can only watch what the governments on land do. You have no power on the land. Xen turned his attention back to the distant ships, and the skies above them.

  "Save our Admiral! The other one would not be a wise king. And the youngster we had hopes for has already fled, defeated by our William and his brothers."

  Will has no desire to rule anywhere, let alone on your Islands.

  "Yes. Leaving the Admiral as our only hope."

  "Admiral T'Sanjac."

  "Yes . . . " the sound sighed into the sea breeze.

  Xen nodded, looking at the disposition of the ships. The Island navy ships were on the far side of his artificial draft, turning to starboard, a professional orchestrated move that put the wind at their back and angled them toward the Sea Wolves in a staggered line that could pound the Sea Wolves with broadsides. The Sea Wolves were still angling a bit west, closing on the Islanders. Their first ships might manage to cross in front of the Island fleet, get off a few broadsides . . . but their grouping was looser, less well coordinated, the Island style hulls faster that the Organtes' and pulling ahead.

  If their fire discipline is as ragged as their formation, this could be a very brief battle.

  Xen watched as the distance closed, the first Sea Wolf ship turned further west, hatches opened, and the thunderguns run out.

  "The battle is about to start." He hoped the Admiral was close enough to hear him, he didn't want to open his eyes to check.

  Through the air he could feel the pressure wave when the Sea Wolves' ship fired. The lead Islands ship, head on, offered a slim target. Two high shots, one punched through a sail, the other missed. Two skipped past low, one hit the hull. Timbers cracked, but held.

  The Islands ship curved to port, guns out. Thundering just as a trough dropped their starboard side. Iron balls hit the water midway between the ships, and sank. Crews hauled their thunderguns back to reload.

  The closest of the Sea Wolves ships started firing.

  A lot of odd, unexpected waves and troughs spoiled their aim, their range. Not enough.

  The Cove Island fleet fired again.

  Xen winced at a burst of power as two mages died. Both sides were shooting now. The professional competency of the Islanders against the shaky, uncertain magic of the Sea Wolves as nearly sixty ships traded broadsides. Masts down, rigging tangled, hulls damaged and taking on water. A rudder hit, and an Island man of war slewed into the path of a Sea Wolves Brigantine, and that part of the battle turned into a boarding action.

  Xen winced at more mage deaths and injuries, the painful screams of undisciplined magic users . . . He blinked and stood up, looked around to orient himself. Dark billows of smoke covered the water to their south west. Bright flashes and occasional clear views of the vessels maneuvering as the reloaded. The Admiral glanced his way.

  "Even odds, at the moment, but the Islander's professionalism is probably going to win out." Xen eyed the sailors adjusting the sails as their fleet—ten ships, the smallest of the factions—turned a bit more northerly.

  "Yes, that's our take as well. We're going to go see if that other fleet will declare itself, and if it's going to join the battle." The Admiral eyed him. "Would you happen to know anything about this sudden storm?"

  "Yes, sir. Which way would you like the winds to blow?" Xen glanced up, the clouds were still climbing, bright white anvil tops, and flickers of lightning in the darker columns. "And . . . at need I can probably hit other ships with lightning. Should be a bit dangerous, all that black powder of theirs."

  The Admiral raised his eyebrows. "Indeed. Don't start anything yet. Leave the winds as they are."

  "Aye sir." Xen settled back, and reached out to the north. "The Organtes are raising sails." Then around to the south, with the near continuous roar of cannons. Two ships sinking, four or five more out of the fight, listing, or with their rigging down. The waves were choppy, unpredictable. The Sea Wolves fleet was passing through the Islanders at an angle, part of the problem the gusty winds switching direction, as Xen's storm drifted overhead.

  At a cry from the crows nest, Xen turned his attention north where the dozen Organtes ships were starting to turn their direction.

  The Admiral looked around at Xen. "Can you check with Rufi? I want to know whose side we ought to be on, and specifically whether we ought to engage or avoid contact with what may be an all Organtes fleet, as opposed to an Organtes backed rebel fleet."

  Xen reached the other way and found Lefty, relayed messages that amounted to "Sink the bastards, they've been pirating up and down our coast for three years now. If the small fleet claims to be official Organtes navy, wish them well in sinking the pirates, then they should get out of our waters. If they attack you, sink them. Do not attack Cove Island navy ships."

  The admiral nodded and stepped over to the flag man. The little signal flags were a crude means of communication . . . although not as crude as t
he lead ship closing in on them opening their forward gunport and running out a thundergun.

  "Captain Wolfson, how about an example of that lightning trick you mentioned?"

  Xen reached out to the fast little schooner and drew a line of power, or ionization from the foredeck up into the air. He didn't even have to come close to the clouds before a flash of lightning preceded the explosion. When the cloud of smoke cleared, the burning aft of the ship was on its side, rolling and disappearing beneath the waves.

  Admiral Lowe cleared his throat. "I always wondered why those thunder guns never caught on."

  "Well, it been what, close to a century since the Auralian invasion? The number of magic users has barely recovered. I think the window for safe use of highly flammable or explosive material is about to close." Xen shook his head as the remaining Organtes ships curved south. "Looks like they've decided to stick to their original plan, and ignore us."

  "Indeed, but that's no reason for us to ignore them. A strong wind from the north would be useful, about now."

  "Aye sir." Xen retreated to his spot and reached up to try to maneuver his storm.

  The battle was going poorly for the Sea Wolves. The Cove Island Navy's discipline and fast reaction to wind changes was allowing them to pound the Sea Wolves mercilessly. As the winds freshened, the Sea Wolves ran. Leaving behind sinking, floundering ships and abandoning their crews. Four ships escaped to the southwest, with six of the Cove Island fleet hard after them. The Organtes skimmed past the battle and apparently didn't like the odds. They kept going due south, with the Cove Island Navy shadowing them from fifteen miles distance.

  "The Islands only lost four ships. Twice as many damaged" Admiral Loew dispatched a message on the fast cutter. "We'll assist here, they can concentrate on the Organtes and the rebels." He sighed. "Not that I like the Islanders, mind you, but diplomatic points are not to be sneered at."

  Xen concentrated, reaching out as far as he could. It looked like a fair number of mages were going to escape. Hopefully daunted enough to give up their rebellion and find new lives elsewhere.

  But some of them will get back to the Cove Islands. I wonder if the admiral I saw at the beach has survived? And what he will do?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cove City, Cove Islands

  Early Winter 1398

  "They can't find the king. He hasn't even been drinking, but they just say that he's obviously started again, but where did he go?" Princess Carmine wrung her hands.

  Kara winced. Any of hundreds of bars? But . . .

  "I'll go find the Colonel, although most likely he's already on it." She eyed the girl. "Did you come down here without a guard?"

  "They told me to stay in the Royal wing, and the guards wouldn't let me out!" She scowled. "So I took the secret passage."

  "The . . . there really is one?"

  "Yeah. It goes down to the throne room and then down to the grand hallway."

  "Huh. Well let's grab Samah. I'll try my boss's house and then his office." Kara threw on her uniform, socks under her boots. This would come up on the coldest winter night in three years! There may even be ice up at the palace.

  She hesitated. Trouble in a bar? Or worse? She strapped on her short sword. I'm not going to war . . . and the Sea Wolves aren't here.

  Of course, all the Officers of the Board who were in the book are here . . .

  She trotted down two floors and thumped on Samah's door.

  "What . . . " Samah blinked awake. "Princess Carmine!"

  "She says the king's missing. I'm going to get Colonel T'Enterp and head up to the palace. Or down to the docks. Who knows?"

  "Right. Get going. Princess? If you'd come in for a moment?"

  Kara ran, following the winding steep foot paths, cutting up the stairs between blocks. Sweating despite the chill wind as she darted up the stoop and pounded on the Colonel's door. Stepped back and looked up. No lights anywhere. No, now there was one, wavery candle light.

  The old servant scowled out the door.

  "Is the Colonel here? Has he already been roused?"

  "He's working late. Not here." The door slammed in her face.

  She saved her breath for running along the street, cutting up a couple stair cases before she reached the main road, that also climbed in zigzags up the steep slope of Mount Du Mer.

  She took a last short cut up stairs and arrived at the side entrance out of breath. Took two deep breaths and walked normally into the light of the oil lamps. The guards were old hands, recognized her and just nodded her past, staying huddled in their great coats.

  She turned and took the stairs to the admiralty wing where the Intel offices were located. At a low level, of course. The fleet staff got the higher rooms, the better views, the easier access to the throne room . . . she glanced further up the staircase. A stationary figure. A guard? Why?

  The Colonel's office was dark, locked. She stepped into her own cubby hole and grabbed her lock picking kit . . .

  The Colonel's office was empty. The lamp still warm from recent use.

  Her stomach was curdling and she was failing to suppress her imagination.

  The king is missing, the stepdaughters constrained, a guard on the stairs to the admiralty offices . . . and the offices of the Board Members above them.

  She stalked across to the window, and had to force the window open. A thin layer of ice snapped. Some dropped, tinkling on the ground below. This side of the palace was sheltered from the wind. moisture had a tendency to collect, and then freeze. She climbed out into to opening. Holding on carefully and leaning out. The only lights were high and to the side. A series of five windows in deep embrasures. The Board Room. She ducked back inside.

  "There's nothing going on. Or maybe King Milo is drinking with a buddy up there." She closed her eyes. I could peek in. See that everything was just fine.

  She looked back out at the icy night. Suicide.

  Back to her own office. She strapped on all of her knives and picked up the little crossbow and a packet of four bolts. Hesitated and then took off the sword belt.

  Can't climb with that banging about.

  Climbing at all is folly. Suicide.

  She cocked the crossbow and slung it carefully across her back. The leather sheath of bolts buckled on to the back of her belt. Out of the way of her suicide attempt.

  Back in the colonel's window, she tested the depth of the mortared cracks between the stones of the wall. Sometimes deep enough for a good finger hold. Too narrow for the boots. Not too much ice. She pried the boots off and headed up and over, crabbing along, taking advantage of the windows. Edging along with her feet on the top of the frame, before tackling the next stretch.

  Up another floor, over three offices. And further up. Ice filled some of the cracks, and her fingers and toes were getting numb.

  A faint click above, the sliding of an ice coated window.

  "There, some fresh air."

  "It's freezing, close it."

  Voices she didn't recognize.

  "So we are all in agreement." A firm statement in a voice she knew.

  The Grand Admiral? But . . . he wasn't in the book. Maybe I'm crazy, seeing plots where . . .

  "Old gods, T'Linc, what are you doing?" The king's voice.

  "Removing a drunken sot from the throne, Milo."

  Old Gods!

  A third voice. "We'll appoint ourselves regents, and pick a suitable wife for Carmen. She'll be old enough to marry in another year."

  "But her connection to the O'Kar line is so distant. You can't do this! Boris, Boris, for the sake of my friendship with your father, stop them!"

  "You aren't a Sea King, Milo. You're no sort of proper king at all. I may marry Carmine myself . . . "

  Kara reached up with her left hand . . . found nothing but ice. Edged back and reached up, some ice, but a clear spot, enough to try for a hold. Her right foot found a bare sliver and she muscled herself up, throwing out her right hand, to sweep over slick ice.
<
br />   Her left foot was finding no purchase.

  Moonlight shimmered on the ice coating.

  "We regret that it has come to this, Milo. But with the Sea Wolves threatening us, we need strong leadership, not a drunken sot."

  She clung by her fingers and toes, unable to advance, knowing that any attempt to retreat and find another path would take too much time.

  Was there a ripple, a dark spot, free of ice, just out of reach? If she lunged . . . "God of Spies, at least let me go out trying . . . " She lunged. Left hand reaching for the imagined ripple, right hand reaching for the tenuous fingerhold the left had just abandoned. All her weight on her right toes, slipping. Then something solid under her entire left foot. That heaved and her left hand reached the window ledge.

  A faint curse from below her.

  It was him. Flattened against the rock wall. Apparently with better footholds than she had. He reached up and caught her foot again, not pulling, but bracing himself so she could . . .

  She'd lost track of the voices from within the room. She heaved herself up, trying desperately for silence as she bellied up into the deep window.

  She could hear the voices again.

  "And so, Officers of the Board, we take the first step to returning the Islands to their former glory."

  She'd cocked the little crossbow before she started. Now she pulled a bolt from the sling low across her back, put it in her teeth. Pulled the bow up over her shoulder. Pushed the window wide open with the other hand and placed the bolt as the bow leveled. Pulled the trigger as the knife descended.

  Grand Admiral T'Linc jerked back, the knife falling from his hand as he put both hand to his chest and fell.

  She rolled into the room pulling knives, and started killing. She wasn't going be an idiot and waste time talking. Three traitors were dead before they finished turning, a fourth as his long blade cleared the scabbard. Only two more, and Boris L'Kitha must either release the king to grab his sword, or hold the king while the other man killed him.