Wolf's Pawn (Sajani Tails Book 1)

by Chaaya Chandra

  Fenther approached her and handed her a bottle of champagne, which she pushed back at him. “Might work for you humans and the dwarf, but the rest of us will be smelling that for months. What else do you have?”

  “Apple juice?” the singer asked.

  “Much better.”

  Fenther wandered off to get it.

  Sajani didn’t wait for him to return, but started the ceremony of sorts she had prepared. She had known that what Westa would say for the funeral would be solemn and sad, so she wanted to pick things up a bit. There’d been enough reason to mourn the last few days. “Who has a wisp deck?” she said with much more enthusiasm than she felt.

  There wasn’t much of a response, but Harg came forward and handed her his card deck. She took it from him and felt bad about it. She didn’t play cards, so she couldn’t use her own and she didn’t know this was going to happen the last time she sent Fenther out for supplies.

  “So, the time has come to name our first real pirate ship! What names do you want?”

  There wasn’t much of a response. Sajani wasn’t sure she was capable of the follow-up performance to a funeral—it was a tough audience. A couple of names came up, one of the few that could be clearly heard was “the Benayle.”

  “You’re just pandering,” came the leader’s response. “Give the Lady of Rust a real name!”

  Sajani could see Fenther handing Benayle a small cask about eight inches wide.

  “The Copper Wolf!” someone shouted.

  “Masthead’s the wrong color,” she responded quickly.

  “We can paint it,” Ginger offered.

  “I’m the Copper Wolf!” she shouted, “not this thing. What should we call it?”

  She didn’t really want an answer. She already had one picked out, but she wanted a chance for them to be involved again—to get a step away from the event of that morning. Shoving the card deck in her pocket and grabbing ahold of a mooring that came down from the bow, she quickly climbed up and made a leap onto the deck.

  That got a cheer from quite a few of them.

  Opening the box of cards that she was carrying and holding them loose in one hand, she said, “Mr. Benayle if you’d do the honor of bringing forth the…um, cask?” It wasn’t the normal vessel used for naming ships, but it would do. “We’ll give this ship a proper name.”

  The old wolf, with the cask under one arm, stepped up to the bow and held it over his head in preparation.

  “This glorious ship, that will carry us through the skies as we loot and plunder the enemy! I name her,” she shouted holding the card deck above her head, “Wisp!”

  A real cheer came up from her crew and Benayle slammed the cask against the bow.

  It didn’t break.

  He tried again.

  If it had been anyone other than the vykati leader, Sajani had no doubt there would be laughter. If most of her crew hadn’t been soldiers prior to this, there might have been some when it failed to break the third time.

  By this point, Chass had come up from behind and added his hand to the thrust as Benayle made a fourth try. The cask burst, sending apple juice all over the vykati leader and causing many there to finally laugh out loud. At the same time Sajani tossed the loose cards into the air and let the wind take them. It didn’t work as well as she hoped and most just fell to the deck, but the crew cheered.

  And laughed a little more.

  Sajani grabbed onto the same mooring she had earlier and slid on down to the ground where Simon was waiting for her.

  The conman bowed low and said with deep gratitude. “I’m honored that my ship’s name will continue onward.”

  Sajani laughed at him and said, “Your ship’s… What you are you talking about? I named it after some playing cards.”

  “You can’t pass that off on me, tin head. I know you too well.”

  “Then you know me well enough to know I’ve never done anything to honor you,” she quipped back. “Besides,” she leaned in close to him and lowered her voice. “It’s really just a bad joke.”

  “Bad joke?” he whispered back.

  “Yes,” she answered back. “Do you know what we call that large flat space at the top?”

  “The deck?”

  “Yes, only on this ship, it’s a Wisp deck.”

  “Ugh,” the conman said loudly before he stormed off in disgust.

  Chapter Thirteen:

  Homeward

  Outside of the jungle, a wolf’s true home was the sea. Benayle believed that. The vykati immunity to scurvy made them ideal for crewing ships on long voyages and Drtithen’s harbors provided a nearly perfect home base that had easy access to the other nations on the Eastern Continent. The old wolf’s open policy concerning their dealings with the humans had created new trade empires and brought the wealth of all the nations of Terah to Vharkylia.

  The wolf nation’s navy, while not the largest on the planet, was well respected and powerful. That was why, rather than risk flying into Vharkylia, Benayle had unloaded the weapons and equipment Sajani had provided for the home front onto the stout triple-masted kat he was now aboard. The VAS Nightwatch was a powerful ship of the line and one of the navy’s fastest. It had to be pulled from its current duty of providing shore artillery support to cover the evacuation of Drtithen, but there were plenty more to cover for that.

  Captain Grath interrupted Benayle’s thoughts. “Sir,” he said with an urgent tone, “You should see this.” He motioned for the old wolf to follow him and led him up the forecastle. Handing a spyglass to the vykati leader, he motioned to the sea behind him.

  There was no need for the telescope, but Benayle put it to his eye anyway to get a better look. Several metal machines were following behind them and possibly closing in. They looked like the transport the spark had been pulling things out of just before the Wisp left to take him south. He hadn’t been aware they could travel on water, but guessed that Sajani had probably known that.

  “There are ten of them, Mr. Benayle,” Grath answered the unasked question. “At our current speed, they’ll reach us within the hour.”

  “Current speed? Can we outrun them?”

  “No, sir. We’re full and by already and I can’t draw a single yard more, but if we wait until they’re in range, I can bring her around broadside and open up with thirty cannons, instead of our aft six.”

  “I’m not sure thirty cannons will be enough against those, but it will be better than six.”

  “Sound general quarters, Mr. Ranse!” the captain shouted.

  The first mate dutifully sounded the order on his pipe.

  “Furl the main sails!” Grath turned back to Benayle, who wore a confused look. “Trust me, sir.” He turned back towards the bow and shouted, “Port guns ready with round shot!” Mr. Ranse continued to relay the orders dutifully as the crew began moving quickly to obey. The captain again turned back to face the old wolf. “I’d suggest you go stay in your quarters, sir. There’s no space for extra people here.”

  Benayle did have every intention of going to his quarters, but staying was not an option. Before that, he had one more stop to make. Jumping straight from the forecastle to the main deck, he made his way to the cargo bay, dodging frantic sailors as he went. No one questioned him—he was Benayle after all. After a few turns and down a few ladders, however, he did realize he had no idea where he was.

  He stopped a passing sailor who was carrying a wood cask with the word “fine” stenciled in black across it. “Cargo hold?” he asked.

  She almost went past him, a look of total dismissal on her face, but just before then, she recognized to whom she was talking. “Which one?” She was almost polite, but mostly impatient.

  Which one? He had no idea. “Mine?”

  “Aft ‘tween deck. Down this flight and through the hatch.” The wolf sailor hurried off.

  Well at least he was close. And at least she knew.

  The crates were just as he’d left them, with no crow bar in sight. He managed
to untie the lines holding the stack in place. Trying to get his claws under the lid of one that looked like the least well nailed, he attempted to open it on his own. It didn’t budge. Why did she have Chass seal these? Why not that small wolf, Onha?

  Pushing hard on a top crate, he forced it off the stack. It landed with a loud cracking sound, but managed to stay completely closed. He couldn’t even force it open. He tried two more, with the same result. Time was wasting.

  He managed to remember his way back up to the deck and ducked quickly into the quarters they had assigned him. His battle axe was not where he’d left it. He looked quickly through the whole cabin, but it wasn’t under the bed or sifted in with his other belongings.

  Grath better not have…, he thought angrily. Bursting back through the hatch onto the main deck, he accosted the first sailor he could find. “Armory?” Again, the sailor didn’t seem to want to answer, but once he recognized the old wolf, he pointed a little way down the deck and said, “Down that ladder, follow the gangway. First port hatch.” Not even waiting to make sure he was heard, the sailor continued on his way.

  Benayle jumped down the ladder and threw the door in question open wide. The room was devoid of people at the moment, but it was obvious that it had been heavily used recently. Racks that had held muskets, rifles, and swords were now empty. There was a single crossbow and quiver left forlorn in an open cabinet. Sitting in a rack that was latched and locked closed, was his battle axe.

  Howl upwind at that, he thought to himself. Grabbing the top of his axe with both hands, he pulled hard on it. The leverage was enough that the hinge opposite the lock snapped off and freed his weapon. It made a lot of noise, but so did just about everything else that was happening at the moment.

  He’d have words with Grath later about this.

  Through the press of constantly moving bodies, most carrying powder, he made his way back down to the hold with Sajani’s weapons. Even Chass’s hammering skills were no match now for the old wolf’s axe. He only had to open two boxes. One had five rifles in it and the other had several metal boxes that contained their ammunition.

  He quickly dropped the magazines from the rifles and brought them over to the boxes of ammo. It would take too long to fill all five, so he only put ten bullets in each. That’d be more effective than the rifles from the ship’s armament. The magazines were snapped back into place and the bolt of each thrown back and released so that they were ready to fire. It wouldn’t matter now who he handed them to, they’d know how to point and shoot once he released the safety. He could do that as he handed them off.

  Throwing the rifle straps over his shoulder, he grabbed his axe with his other hand and made his way back on deck. Just as he arrived he heard the captain shout, “Drop port anchor. Helm, hard to port.” The order was relayed by Mr. Ranse and with a splash from the bow, the whole ship lurched to its port side. Everyone else kept their footing, but Benayle wasn’t that used to being on a ship and found himself acting as an unintentional ballast. The taff rails stopped him—so did swinging his axe so that it sank eight inches into the deck.

  “Full port battery at will, Mr. Ranse,” the captain shouted. With the relaying of that order the deafening sound of thirty demi-cannons being fired nearly at once erupted through the air. The ship lurched to port, but not nearly as violently as the maneuver that had brought them broadside to their assailants.

  Benayle rose to his feet and pulled his axe free. One at a time, he switched off the safety and handed a rifle to a passing sailor warning them each, “You have ten shots without reloading.” For literally a moment after the first volley there was silence, but after that a new cannon shot was punctuated about every two to three seconds.

  As the old wolf was approaching the starboard railing to see how the cannons were doing against the enemy, the captain noticed him. “Mr. Benayle, I asked you to return you quarters!”

  Benayle looked over his shoulder at Grath and answered. “I considered, but decided I’d rather be on deck.” The transports were moving quickly towards them and while there were several times they seemed to take direct hits from the cannons, it did not slow them.

  “Mr. Ranse, please see that Mr. Benayle is escorted to his quarters.”

  The order was not immediately relayed.

  “Mr. Ranse!” the captain shouted.

  Benayle turned to see the poor first mate struggling to make a quick decision as to who had proper authority. Vharkylia law was a little vague on what exactly his position did. The old wolf rolled his eyes and started back to his cabin. But then he stopped. “I won’t!” he said stubbornly. “Captain, you have complete control over this vessel, but I will keep complete control over myself, thank you.

  “Hear me, friends,” he shouted out before the captain could say another word. He raised his axe high into the air and hoped that he was recognized. “This is for Vharkylia! Kra’la al’ark”

  The captain didn’t pursue it any further, but instead ordered, “Rifles to port. Prepare to be boarded.” The transports were now alongside the Nightwatch. Benayle heard the sound of latches being thrown on the transports. They were getting ready to unload.

  The rifles opened fire, but there didn’t seem to be any return fire. That was odd. The sailors also stopped firing after only a few rounds. Then Benayle figured out what had to be happening. “Captain,” he shouted, hoping that the recent spat didn’t make Grath stubborn. “Move the rifles back.”

  To his credit, the captain seemed to trust what was said. “Back from port!” he shouted.

  No sooner had they started to back away than the large guns of the vehicles opened fire. Most were clear by the time it started, but a few fell to the deck as the railing burst apart, sending wood splinters high into the air. Benayle had no idea why they had delayed firing, but was glad they did.

  Between bursts from the large guns on the transports several grappling hooks appeared followed by several elf soldiers (if the land transport went on water, did that make them marines?) who leaped onto the deck. They exchanged fire with the ship’s crew, taking up a prone position as the large guns continued to keep everyone from the edge.

  Benayle waited while peering behind the main mast. There wasn’t much he could do until they came within range of his ax. The large guns, having done their job, stopped firing. Between the smoke clouds that were rising from both sides of the conflict, the old wolf saw a set of eyes and bald head peer over the deck and look between the railings. Was that a dwarf?

  The firefight didn’t last long. The longer reloading time of the crew with the standard weapons made a difference, and those who hadn’t fallen had been forced to fall back. He could see one of the rifles he’d pulled from the hold sitting next to the body of a sailor.

  Confident that the area was mostly clear, some of the elf soldiers rose to a kneeling position and kept their rifles raised. Benayle was grateful to see that a couple of the elves didn’t rise. A dwarf, apparently not used to such an activity, then stumbled over the railing and started looking around.

  Since it was only a matter of time before they saw him peering from behind the mast, Benayle decided to try for the rifle that was sitting unused near him. Starting from a crouched position, he tumbled forward a few times across the deck, grabbing the weapon as he passed and then turned himself so that he was prone and facing the elves, none of whom fired a shot. He managed to get off two shots, but the third time he pulled the trigger nothing happened.

  He wasn’t sure where his shots landed because as the first shot went off, a couple of the crew who were still up took the opportunity to also fire. The dwarf, he noticed, had laid down flat, but had also pointed directly at him and shouted out in his own language. “That’s him!”

  Interesting, Benayle thought. So Rameum’s flunkies were still pushing forward without him. And here I thought I’d cut off the serpent’s head. “Should have known,” he said out loud. It also explained why they were cautious about what they shot. Rolling a few more ti
mes to the side, he came up against the lowest tier of the forecastle and jumped onto his feet. They might be trying to take him alive, but the same wasn’t true for him. The roll had placed him near the outer edge of where the soldiers were kneeling and he started into them with his ax, allowing the rage inside him to rise.

  The elves responded by swinging at him with the butts of their rifles, but whatever material that was, was no match for his swing. He cut right through the rifles and into the elves themselves, knocking them down and pressing towards the dwarf. A few more gun shots came from the crew as more soldiers came up over the railing. One of them charged straight for the angry wolf, with her rifle raised high, but Benayle caught it in the bottom curve of one of his axe blades and ripped it away from her and then came down on her shoulder hard. He pushed her away.

  An elf came up over the side a little way from him with a different looking rifle. It was smaller and had a longer barrel. Before he had a chance to raise it against him, Benayle ducked behind a soldier who had been next to him so that the new shooter would be blocked by his ally. Three rushed him at once from the other direction and would have probably knocked him to the ground, but Grath picked this moment to jump from the level above with his saber out. He landed right on top of two them, thrusting his blade down into one and then slashing into the other. With those two out of the way, Benayle was able to shove his axe forward and knock the third back over the railing.

  The two wolves turned so that their backs were together and let out a war howl that left those soldiers they could see, visibly shaken. The soldier with the strange rifle stepped out to face him and fired a dart that hit him at the base of his neck and shoulder. Benayle could feel the anger leaving him instantly, but through an act of will squelched the calming effect and kept the heat in his face rising.

  One swing of his axe and the elf between them was pushed overboard. He heard something fall to the deck behind him and since he could still see the captain from the corner of his eye, knew it was another elf who had fallen. As the old wolf reached the soldier who had just shot him, another dart pierced him. This time he was ready for it and, kept the anger flowing that was currently giving him strength.