Belisarius I Thunder at Dawn

by David Drake

  "I'm not mad, Garmat, believe me. Just—I can't explain, now. Something important is happening. I am—let's say, I am understanding things."

  Again aim drove the facets. Again, it regained the focus. Again, the battering ram. Again—the breach!

  "Yes," whispered Belisarius. "I see it, yes! It could be turned around. Made its opposite. Expel its interior rather than be expelled by it. Yes!"

  He frowned, concentrating, concentrating. For a moment—for he was well acquainted with the human way of siegecraft—he even envisioned himself as a battering ram. And, with that vision, made his own breach in the wall.

  "Then it would be called a—cannon."

  He sagged, almost staggered. Garmat steadied him with a hand.

  "Truly," muttered the adviser, "truly I hope you have not gone mad. This is a poor time for it." He shook the general's arm. "Belisarius! Snap out of it! The pirates are almost within bow range."

  Belisarius straightened, looked seaward, then glanced down at the Axumite. He shook his head, smiling.

  "You are exaggerating, Garmat. The Arabs will not be within bow range for two minutes. But—the pirates are within rocket range. Watch!"

  At that moment, a strange hissing sound was heard, like a dragon's rage. Startled, Garmat looked back amidships and gaped. One of the—rockets—was hurtling itself toward the pirates. Behind it, a ball of flame billowed on the deck, surrounding the hide roll at the back of the trough from which the rocket had soared. The kshatriyas were obviously expecting the phenomenon, for, within a second or two, buckets of water were poured over the smoldering hide bundle. The ball of flame became a small cloud of steam.

  Belisarius watched the flight of the rocket. He was struck, more than anything, by the serpentine nature of the bamboo device's trajectory. It did not fly with the true arc of an arrow or a cast spear. Instead, the rocket skittered and snaked about. He realized, after a moment, that there was some connection between the rocket's movements and the erratic red flare that jetted from its tail.

  Crude, blunt thoughts suddenly emerged through the barrier. They entered his mind like dumb creatures lumbering into a cave.

  poor mix. bad powder.

  Mix? He wondered. Powder? What could powder—dust—have to do with—?

  powder is force.

  "How? And what kind of powder?" he wondered aloud. Again, Garmat glanced at him worriedly. Belisarius began to smile reassuringly, but the smile faded. He could feel the alien presence in his mind retreating; could sense its discouragement.

  The rocket began to drift downward toward the sea. It was obvious, long before it struck, that the device had been badly aimed. It would land far from any pirate craft.

  "Is it aimed at all?" he muttered. Next to him, Garmat shook his head. The Axumite seemed relieved that Belisarius' mumblings were now connected to reality.

  "I do not think so, General. I think they are simply shot forth in the general direction of the enemy. You saw how it flew. How could such a capricious weapon be aimed?"

  The rocket hit the sea. There was a sudden plume of water and steam, then—nothing. The multitude of Arabs aboard the pirate vessels gave out a great jeering cry.

  The pirates were now close enough for examination.

  There were a total of thirteen galleys approaching. Each was rowed on two banks, with a lateen sail and a huge crew. At a rough guess, Belisarius estimated that each ship carried over a hundred men. Most of the pirates were armed with swords or spears. A number had bows. Very few, however, wore much in the way of armor. Nor, for that matter, did many of the Arabs even carry shields.

  As individuals, Belisarius decided, they were not particularly fearsome. The danger was in their great numbers.

  Four more rockets were fired. Again, the skittering serpentine trajectories—and again, none of them came near their mark. The pirates were now jeering madly.

  "They're gaining on us," groused Eon. "What a miserable ship this beast is! In these heavy seas, with this good wind, we should be leaving them behind easily."

  Six rockets were fired. And now, finally, the strange weapons showed their true power. Two of them struck the same pirate vessel. The Arab ship seemed to burst into flame and fury. Several pirates were hurled into the air as if they had been struck by the hand of an invisible titan.

  "Force!" exclaimed Belisarius. "Yes—that's what—" He fell silent.

  "That's what?" demanded Garmat.

  Belisarius glanced at him, pursed his lips in thought, then shook his head.

  "Never mind, Garmat. I was just noticing that these weapons are not simply fire-weapons. They bear some other power with them as well. Some unknown—force—which acts like a blow as well as a flame."

  Garmat looked back at the pirate vessel. Now that the cloud of smoke had cleared, it was obvious that the ship had been struck as well as burnt. Where one of the rockets had collided, an entire section of the ship's hull had been caved in. The vessel was already listing badly, and its crew was beginning to jump overboard. It was clear that the craft was doomed. The only uncertainty was whether it would sink before the flames could engulf it.

  Again, suddenly, an alien thought moved into Belisarius' mind.

  explosion. force is explosion.

  Tantalizingly, Belisarius almost caught the image which the jewel was emitting. But it withdrew, faded—then surged back. Just for an instant, the general saw a barrel containing a blazing and furious fire. The fire produced a vast volume of gasses which pressed against the walls of the barrel until—

  "Yes!" he cried. "Yes—I was right! It is fire!"

  He suddenly realized that a number of people were staring at him. Not just Romans and Axumites, either. Several of the Ye-tai warriors stationed nearby were frowning at him, as well as a Mahaveda priest.

  Keep your mouth shut, idiot. Observe in silence.

  Another volley of rockets. Six rockets, six misses—but the jeer from the pirates was notably more subdued. The Arab craft were now less than two hundred yards away. A few Arab archers loosed shafts, but their arrows fell short of the mark.

  "Weaklings," sneered Anastasius. The giant Thracian drew his great bow. Belisarius almost winced, watching. The general had tried to draw that bow, once. Tried and failed miserably, for all that Belisarius was a strong man.

  Powerful as he was, Anastasius was actually not a great archer. He had nothing like the skill with a bow possessed by Valentinian. But, aiming at those closely packed, mobbed vessels, it hardly mattered. His arrow sailed across the distance and plunged into the crowd aboard one ship. A shriek was heard.

  "Most blessed arrow!" cried Ousanas. "Graced by God Himself!"

  Anastasius grinned. Valentinian snorted.

  "He's not praising you, stupid. He's saying you were lucky."

  Anastasius frowned at Ousanas. The dawazz shook his head sadly.

  "Valentinian tells false lie. Very wicked Roman man! Not said you were lucky. Said you stood most high in Deity's esteem."

  "See?" demanded Valentinian.

  Anastasius gestured angrily. "Let's see you do any better!" he demanded.

  Ousanas grinned. "Too far. Arrows cheap as dirt. Javelins precious. Very important point in theology. God wanton with His blessings on arrows. Stingy with javelins."

  The dawazz pointed to the easternmost craft.

  "You see him steersman? That ship?"

  Anastasius nodded.

  Again, Ousanas shook his head sadly. "Him great sinner. Soon be taken by Shaitan."

  "How soon?" demanded Anastasius.

  "Soon as skill allow. Javelin weapon of skill. God very stingy with javelin. Miser, almost."

  Anastasius snorted and turned away. Again, he drew his bow. Again, his arrow found a mark in the crowd.

  The pirates drew closer. There had been no rocket volleys for some time, but now another six were fired off. Belisarius noted that the kshatriyas manning the rockets had adjusted the angle of the firing troughs. Where before the bamboo half-barrels
had been tilted upward, they were now almost level.

  These rockets did not soar upward like a javelin. They sped in a more or less flat trajectory barely a few feet above the water. And they struck with devastating impact. At that range, they could hardly miss. Belisarius was fascinated to see one rocket hit the sea at a shallow angle and then bounce back upward, like a flat-thrown stone skipping across water. That rocket did as much damage as any when it slammed into the bow of an Arab ship.

  Almost half of the pirate fleet had now been struck by the missiles. Two ships were listing badly and had ceased their forward motion. Two others were burning furiously, and their crews were jumping overboard.

  But it was obvious the Arabs had no intention of breaking off the attack. The pirate vessels now began to scatter, spreading out in such a way as to give less of a massed target for the rockets. The sailors on the surviving galleys helped those who had jumped from stricken ships to clamber aboard.

  Five pirate vessels were now sinking or burning out of control, and at least one other seemed out of the action. But Belisarius did not think that the actual number of warriors had been significantly reduced. Most of those who had jumped into the sea had been taken aboard other vessels. The remaining craft were now jammed with men.

  Another volley of rockets was fired. All of them but one missed, however, soaring through the space now vacated by the galleys. Even the one which struck a ship simply glanced off harmlessly. That rocket continued to soar across the sea until, suddenly, it erupted in a ball of flame and smoke.

  Belisarius scratched his chin. It occurred to him that the rockets did not actually seem to—explode—on contact. He remembered, now, that several of the rockets had exploded a few seconds after striking a ship. The effect had been the same, however, for the force of their flight had driven the rockets right through the thin planking of the Arab ships. And, regardless of the timing of the explosions, the rockets burned so fiercely that they almost invariably set the ships afire.

  Still—

  "With the right armor and tactics," he mused aloud, "I don't think these rockets would be all that dangerous."

  Valentinian turned to him with a questioning look.

  "Play hell with horses, General," commented the cataphract.

  "True," agreed Belisarius. "Those shrieking hisses and explosions would panic the brutes. No way to control them." Suddenly, he grinned. "I do believe the infantry has just made a great comeback!"

  "Shit," muttered Anastasius. "He's right."

  Valentinian groaned. "I hate walking."

  "You hate it?" demanded Anastasius. "You haven't got an ounce of fat on you! How do you think I feel?"

  Garmat interrupted worriedly. "Night has almost fallen."

  It was true enough. It was still barely possible to make out the intact pirate ships in the gathering darkness, but not by much.

  "New moon, too," added Eon. "There won't be any light at all in a few minutes."

  Another volley of rockets was fired. Belisarius noted that the kshatriyas had angled all six of the troughs around so that all of the rockets were fired toward a single ship. Even so, only one of the rockets struck. Fortunately, the missile hit directly amidships and exploded with a satisfying roar. That vessel, clearly enough, was doomed.

  Just before the last glimmer of daylight faded, it was possible to see the pirate galleys beginning to surround the Indian ship. They were now keeping a distance, however, waiting for nightfall. Between that distance, and being widely spread out, it was obvious that the rockets were no longer of much use.

  Two more wasted volleys made the point before Venandakatra began calling out new orders. Immediately, three of the rocket crews began transferring their troughs to the starboard rail of the ship. For their part, the three remaining rocket crews began spacing their troughs more widely down the port length of the ship. The Malwa, it was obvious, were positioning the rocket launchers to repel boarders.

  Venandakatra shouted new orders. Listening, Belisarius could begin to understand the meaning. He realized that the jewel was once again working its strange magic. The Malwa language was called Hindi, and Belisarius knew not a word of it. But, suddenly, the language came into focus in his mind. The shrill words spoken by several kshatriyas in response to Venandakatra's commands were as clear as day.

  "The Indian rocket-men are not happy," whispered Garmat. "They are complaining that—"

  "They will be burned if they do as Venandakatra orders," completed Belisarius absently.

  The Axumite adviser was startled. "I did not realize you spoke Hindi."

  Belisarius began to reply, closed his mouth. Garmat, again, was staring at him strangely.

  I'm going to have to come up with an explanation for him, when this is all over. Damn all shrewd advisers, anyway!

  Venandakatra shouted down the protests. His Mahaveda priests added their own comments, prominent among them the promise to bring the mahamimamsa "purifiers" from the hold below.

  The kshatriyas snarled, but hurried to obey. All of the troughs were now tilted until they were pointing at a slight angle downward. More hide bundles were piled up at the rear of the troughs, but it was obvious from the kshatriyas' worried frowns that they did not think the hides would suffice to completely shield them from the rocket flames. The fire which would erupt from the rocket tails would now be shooting upward.

  Another alien thought seeped through the barrier.

  back-blast.

  Darkness was now complete, except for the faint light thrown by the few lanterns held by Ye-tai warriors. Belisarius saw Venandakatra staring at him. A moment later, with obvious reluctance, the Indian lord made his way toward the bow of the ship.

  When he reached Belisarius, the general spoke before Venandakatra could even open his mouth.

  "I am well aware that the pirates will concentrate their attack on the bow and stern, where the—where your fire-weapons cannot be brought to bear. Look to the stern, Venandakatra. There will be no breach at the bow."

  Venandakatra frowned. "There are not many of you," he said. "I could send some—"

  "No. More men would simply crowd the bow, making it more difficult for us. And I do not have time to learn how to incorporate Malwa warriors into our tactics. Whereas Romans and Axumites are old allies, long accustomed to fighting side by side." The lie came smooth as silk.

  Garmat's face was expressionless. The sarwen grunted loud agreement, as did Anastasius and Valentinian. Eon started slightly, but a quick poke from his dawazz brought stillness. Menander looked confused, but the Indian was not looking his way, and almost immediately, Valentinian changed the young Thracian's expression with a silent snarl.

  "You are certain?" demanded Venandakatra.

  Belisarius smiled graciously. "I said you would be glad to have us, soon enough."

  Venandakatra's face grew pinched, but the Indian forebore further comment. After a moment, he scurried away and began shouting new orders. Belisarius could understand the words, and knew that the commands which Venandakatra was shrilling were utterly redundant and pointless. A disgruntled grandee making noise to assure himself of his importance, that was all.

  "Verily, a foul man," muttered Garmat. "Long ago, the Axumites had a king much like him. The sarawit assassinated the wretch and created the institution of dawazz the next day."

  "Do you really think they're going to attack?" asked Menander suddenly. Seeing all eyes upon him, the young cataphract straightened.

  "I'm not afraid!" he protested. "It's just—it doesn't make sense."

  "I'm afraid it does," countered Garmat. The adviser grimaced. "I am myself half-Arab, and I know my mother's people well. The tribes of the Hadrawmat"—he pointed to the southern shore of Arabia, now lost in the darkness—"are very poor. Fishermen, mostly, and smugglers. A great ship like this represents a fortune to them. They will gladly suffer heavy casualties in order to capture it."

  Ousanas chuckled. "Believe wise old mongrel, young Roman. Most despicable p
eople in world, the Arabs. Full of vice and sins!"

  Garmat squinted.

  "O many vices! Many sins!"

  Garmat looked pained.

  "Lechery! Avarice! Cruelty!"

  Garmat frowned.

  "Treachery! Sloth! Envy!"

  Garmat glowered.

  "Would be great gluttons if not so poor!"

  Garmat ground his teeth.

  "Alas, Arabs unfamiliar with cowardice."

  Garmat smiled. Ousanas shook his head sadly.