“Master Halcar?” Samir asked lightly.
The elderly pirate turned a sour face on the brothers.
“Your lookout says there is a signal showing from below the bowsprit on the enemy flagship. I would be interested to know how you got your men on the governor’s own ship?”
Samir ignored the question and squinted through the rigging.
“We should get a clear view from over there” he said, pointing at the side rail.
Without waiting for a reply, Samir strode to the port side and leaned over the edge where he could just see the winking lantern against the dark timbers of the massive daram’s hull across the open water that separated the fleets. He grinned.
“That’s our signal at last, master Halcar.”
The older councillor, along with the ebony skinned and somewhat grumpy looking Saja leaned across the rail next to Samir and peered off into the distance. There was a long, silent moment as Halcar and Saja translated the flashing signal. Halcar turned to Samir, his face an uncomfortable mix of suspicion and confusion.
“What does that mean: ‘yes’?”
Samir smiled.
“It means that all my coins have come down right-side up, master Halcar… my apologies.”
Halcar’s brow furrowed for only a moment before shock and terror swept across his mean and twisted features when the glistening dark bulk of councillor Saja heaved him over the rail with an easy push. The eldest and most senior pirate lord of Lassos disappeared beneath the waves that splashed against the timbers of the Empress, but not before his head had struck the hull with a heavy ‘clonk’.
Ghassan stared as the ebony pirate master turned and flashed a brilliant white grin at Samir, squaring his shoulders.
“He was really beginning to get on my nerves, Samir. I couldn’t have waited much longer!”
Ghassan’s mouth flapped open and closed a few times as the two pirates before him clasped hands. Behind them, master Culin strode across the deck, the dozen burly men at his back now.
“I daresay you could use another dozen good men right now, Samir?”
The captain of the Empress laughed.
“You have no idea, Culin. I think my brother will find places for them.”
Finally, Ghassan managed a hoarse exclamation of astonishment. Samir turned his irritating grin on his brother.
“I don’t like leaving things to chance, Ghassan… you know that!”
Ghassan laughed.
“Then the Sea Witch…?”
Councillor Saja beamed at him.
“Is awaiting my signal, master Ghassan.”
Samir turned again. A noise attracted their attention from the starboard rail. Someone aboard the Hart’s Heart had apparently noticed that something was wrong. Perhaps they had seen master Halcar taking his final dive into the brine. Whatever the cause, there was no time left to ponder. Samir straightened.
“Ghassan? Pass the word to the boarding parties and the artillerists and have the lookout give the signal.”
Ghassan nodded as he turned, wincing once more at the pain in his back. Whatever the future held, it would all be decided within the hour, now. After a youth spent bouncing from one horror to another that had hardened them for their adulthood, and then decades spent in bloody opposition as they both lost sight of their original goal, the sons of Nadia, the sweetest flower of M’Dahz, stood side by side, doing what they both knew to be right and with an opportunity at last to change the world.
Despite himself, he found himself grinning like the little boy who had won the fiercest rooftop race that Samir had ever devised and sat in the cool shade of the temple tower as he basked in his own achievement. He laughed a carefree laugh, drawing curious looks from the men around him.
“Artillery section? Make your target the Hart’s Heart.”
The artillerist saluted as he ran off among the small detachment that manned the cruel machines at the central fortified section. Ghassan turned his gaze upward and cupped his hands to his mouth to bellow aloft, but removed them again with a smile as he saw that the lookout was already doing the job. Samir’s crew were almost instinctively fast.
Ghassan beamed up at the Imperial naval pennant that unfurled, blue and green and bursting with pride, fluttering in the wind and changing the entire nature of the vessel.
The act must not have gone unnoticed, as the commotion that broke out on board the other vessels clearly indicated. Ghassan laughed as he watched an identical pennant unfurl aboard the Sea Witch. From captain in the Imperial navy, to vagabond, then second in command of a pirate vessel and now full circle back to a naval first officer! Strange, the turns that life can take a person down. He jogged back to the command deck just as he heard the first crashes of artillery, beginning the action proper.
“Samir? Everything’s set. I’ve got firepower concentrating on the Hart…”
The last comment may have been unnecessary as he was forced to duck to avoid the horrifying flying splinters that exploded from both ships as their artillerists sought to do as much damage as possible, despite the close range hampering their ability to aim scuttling shots. As the shower of deadly shards dissipated, claiming three men on the deck to their horrifying points, Ghassan gestured at the enemy vessel next to them.
“I’m still not sure whether four against eight is a good number, Samir!”
Samir laughed.
“Aren’t you forgetting about the governor’s fleet?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Samir. By the time they get underway and reach us, it’ll all be over!”
Master Culin leaned across between them, grasped Ghassan’s arm and turned him deliberately to port, where he pointed at the Imperial fleet, sitting silent across the calm sea. Ghassan frowned for a moment and then his eyes widened as he saw a great ball of fiery hell catapult from one of the Governor’s ships. His eyes followed the flaming arc as his mouth dropped open. With an almost unbelievable accuracy, the great mass came down on the deck of the pirate three ships to port. The effect was instant and frenzied. The pirates panicked at the sudden realisation that, not only were they within artillery range of the Imperial fleet, but they had been sitting in place long enough to give the artillerists plenty of time to get their aim just right.
Ghassan turned to stare at his companions on board the command deck as, behind him, four more flaming missiles came hurtling across the open water to strike into the heart if Lassos’ most vicious predators.
Culin was laughing so hard his eyes were streaming. Samir turned that ever-infuriating grin on his brother.
“Care to tell me how you arranged this?”
Samir cast a semi-apologetic look at the pirate councillors beside him.
“A few well-placed coins among some of Culin’s contacts. You see, we all know that Culin has a man in just about every office of the southern provinces. Feeding information around is ridiculously easy when you know the right people.”
Ghassan shook his head.
“But how do they know which ships to attack? They can’t see the pennants from that distance.”
That grin was beginning to irritate him beyond reason.
“Master Saja here was the one who persuaded the council to put the ships in this order. He fed me the plan long before he told the council.”
Ghassan laughed helplessly.
“Is there anything you don’t think of ahead?”
Samir shrugged.
“There are a few things left to work out yet. The edge is with us now, but the Imperial fleet won’t fire on the centre for fear of hitting us. They’re concentrating on groups of enemy ships, not individuals.”
He paused his conversation as a massive crash indicated that the Empress had been hit with a pot of heavy canister shot. Whole sections of deck were ripped violently away.
“So we’re going to have to deal with the Hart’s Heart ourselves, and quickly. The Sea Witch can try and help Faerus out.”
Ghassan frowned.
“The Hart is
beginning to move. They’ve reversed oars. Can they get back to the island?”
Samir frowned and flashed a questioning glance at Saja and Culin. The pirate leaders shrugged.
“Halcar entrusted the other compass to captain Gharic. If he reaches the reef, he can get to safety.”
Samir shook his head.
“Can’t have that… My deal with the governor was to empty Lassos and deliver everyone there to him as either ally or prisoner. We’ll have to turn and take him out before he gets to the reef.”
He smiled as something occurred to him.
“Ghassan! In all the commotion, I forgot to show you the new paint job. While we get underway, can you find Duro or Rashad and tell them to do their duty?”
Ghassan strode off, his brow furrowed and ignoring the strain he felt in the wound on his back, to find the dour giant or his peculiar assistant. He shook his head as he walked. Try as he might, and he considered himself a bright and intuitive man, he just could never keep up with Samir. That man had probably already planned out his afterlife.
The crew of the ship ran madly about their business and, as the oars shot out and began to dip in desperate time to try and catch the Hart’s Heart, already speeding back toward the reef, two men dropped into the water a rough blanket that had been pegged in place over the ship’s nameplate. The rough, timeworn planks with their black and green insignia in southern script had been replaced with new, clean and carefully-cut planks.
The Imperial ship of the line Redemption cut away the last of its ties to piracy as it chased down the one vessel that could still mar the day.
In which the fleet engages
Captain Faerus held his breath, his black locks whipping behind him in the gentle breeze as his gaze passed for the hundredth time from the ship to his left, her watchful captain and crew keeping their eye more on Faerus than the enemy, to the Imperial fleet across the open water, silent and brooding, and then to the other pirate ship to starboard hemming in the Golden Dawn. Samir has assured him that the odds were good, but that some risks had to be taken and the Golden Dawn would be at great risk for the first few minutes.
He realised that he’d bitten his lip hard enough to draw blood. This was ridiculous! Faerus had served with the Imperial navy in great engagements along the eastern shores of the Sea of Storms until the collapse of the military. Even after that, when he tried to form a militia for some time, he’d remained active, keeping his home city safe from their local lords that tried to take advantage of the failing of Imperial power. Only with his capture and escape had he turned to the last remaining avenue open to him: piracy; and since then, while he’d tried to retain an honourable attitude, he’d fought hard and dirty against every form of vessel: military, pirate, trader and mercenary. He’d only lost three engagements in ten years of commanding the Dawn and had had the sense and control to get out in time in each of those.
And now here he was, part of a ridiculously fragile conspiracy of pirates against other pirates, relying on the planning and brains of a man over a decade younger than himself and outnumbered, waiting for some unknown sign to move. Of course, Samir was a man after his own heart and certainly the best man for this job and, if he managed to pull this off, he would be responsible not only for ending the threat of piracy in the Sea of Storms, but also for returning those who deserved it to position in the military. It was a master stroke. Faerus just hoped he lived long enough to enjoy it. The plan had sounded so good but now, trapped between hostile captains and barely able to even see his ally through the rigging, he was beginning to doubt the strategy.
“Sir!”
Faerus blinked as he turned to locate the shouting sailor. One of the juniors was pointing to starboard. Shaking his head irritably, Faerus tried to see through the rigging of the pirate vessel that sat alongside them and to the ships beyond. Through the mass of ropes, sails, masts and men he could see the next pirate ship and then just make out the colours of Sho-Han’s Sea Witch beyond that. The Dark Empress was entirely lost behind them all. What the hell had the lad seen?
A sudden and tremendous ‘boom’ answered his question as artillery went off in the centre of the fleet. He shook his head again. Samir said he’d know the signal when he heard it, but that was just ridiculous! Turning to the first officer, he took a deep breath.
“Alright, Alif… These two ships won’t know what’s going on, but it won’t take them long to realise and, as soon as they do, they’ll be down on us like a sand devil on a wounded camel. Everything we planned, and all at once. Alright?”
The desert-dweller who had served faithfully as Faerus’ right hand man for the best part of a decade grinned.
“Everything at once, sir, aye! Let’s hope we can make enough room eh, sir?”
Faerus ground his teeth and spoke under his breath into the breeze.
‘This is it, Samir. I hope you know what you’re doing.’
He smiled as there was a muted and distant thud, way out across the waves and as he watched a ball of flaming mass arced up and over the water, trailing a line of oily black smoke behind it as it flew with relentless speed and surprising precision straight into the bow of the ship to starboard of Faerus. He turned to watch his orders being carried out as several more horrifying missiles began their journey from the Imperial fleet.
The ships to either side of the Golden Dawn were in chaos, just as Faerus had expected. The sudden launching of hostilities within their own fleet, followed by the beginning of a surprise bombardment from the governor’s ships had left them panicking and trying to pull themselves into enough order to either engage or flee, though neither captain would have had the leisure to make even that decision yet.
Faerus’ crew had been with him and worked together for so many years that the orders were carried out with the minimum of wasteful activity and fuss and events unfolded before him in perfect order and precision.
Aloft, the pirate pennant was cut loose as the great Imperial replacement fluttered free in the breeze. He’d questioned Samir as to whether it would have been more sensible to wait to reveal their intentions until after they’d attacked, giving them more surprise, but Samir had been adamant. As soon as this action began, he’d said, it began with them serving the Empire and to do that they had to be honourable and open. In a way Faerus agreed but, with a nod to the need for surprise, he’d waited until the very last minute, pushing all his actions into one frantic moment.
As the green and blue flag whipped in the breeze, a cloth was discarded into the sea and the Golden Dawn was no more. The pirate ship that had been Faerus’ home for decades had gone, to be replaced instantaneously by the Imperial ship of the line Retribution, which was already bursting into life with impressive speed and efficiency. Even as the oarsmen began to heave on the oars and the ship started to turn sharply to port, the artillerists had their weapons loaded and trained to the rear.
Shouts of alarm went up from the ship they were turning toward as the crew saw the sudden movement of Faerus’ vessel, turning sharply sideways while remaining in the line, and they noted with horror the great iron ram and spike listing ponderously toward their hull. Their captain leapt to action trying to get his vessel mobile as fast as possible and move out of the way of this sudden menace.
Behind and to starboard as they turned, the captain and crew of the other vessel were already in a panic, trying to deal with the massive damage caused by the Imperial fire catapults. The forward section of the main deck was ablaze and flames were leaping up the foresail and racing along the rigging as men tried desperately to cut the ropes and contain the fire. It would be out soon, Faerus noted, as men were already hurling water and sand across the flames, but the damage had crippled them long enough to give Faerus the edge.
As the Retribution turned, the artillerists finished lining up and levelling their weapons and released in unison. With a deafening crash, the already beleaguered and flaming vessel found itself the sudden target of a second ball of oily fire that burst at
the base of the stairs to the command deck, filling the corridor inside with flames and cutting off the officers from their men, while two canister shots ripped through timber, sails, rigging and crew. In among the carnage, an officer trying to rally the crew in desperation was picked up bodily by one of the long iron bolts and pinned to the burning timbers where he burst into flame before the life could pass from his eyes.
Faerus turned his face from the doomed ship. Horrible and dangerous as that was, that had never been the gamble. This was the gamble: there simply was not enough room for Faerus’ ship to fit lengthwise between the two enemy vessels and they had to keep moving away from the burning ship before the flames engulfed the whole vessel and she became a hazard to the Retribution.
That all meant that the only way Faerus could get safely to a position where he could manoeuvre and involve himself further in the action was to go through the outermost vessel. As he watched, the prow of the Retribution closed on the side of the enemy ship’s hull. Their captain had been quick to get his oars out and into the water and even now the enemy ship was starting to move ponderously forward. He’d never get out of the way in time, of course, but that wasn’t what was worrying Faerus. Ramming someone at slow speed and at a three quarter angle was not a recipe for success.
“Artillery? Phase two!” shouted the second in command and Faerus nodded tensely. Without speed and a direct frontal blow, the ram and spike would probably just jam and lodge there, locking the two ships in a deadly embrace while the fire behind them drifted ever closer. The only hope was to break up enough of the ships’ structure before the ram hit so that half its job was already done.
Dark Empress Page 50