The Saints of the Sword

by John Marco

  Somehow, he would find their weakness. And when he did, he would exploit it. Queen Jelena, who had been preparing defenses for an assault on Crote, would be too far away to stop him. With the Fearless and a handful of ships, he was sure he could take one of the Lissen islands. And once he did, the main island would be within striking distance.

  “Admiral Nicabar?” came a voice outside his door. An insistent knock followed. “Admiral, are you awake?”

  “Come in, Blasco.” At this hour, an interruption meant something important. Captain Blasco opened the door. He looked strangely excited.

  “Admiral, there’s a sighting ahead. One ship.”

  Nicabar’s headache vanished instantly. “Lissen?”

  “I think so, sir. We’re not close enough yet to know for certain, but it’s turning to evade. We’re very close.”

  “Heading?”

  “She was heading north, sir, straight for us.” Captain Blasco grinned. “She knows we’ll be after her.”

  “Indeed we will, Captain,” said Nicabar, getting to his feet. He realized suddenly that he was shirtless. “Get above and continue pursuit. I’ll be up directly. Signal the Infamous and Black City. I don’t want to lose her.”

  Captain Blasco was out of the room in an instant. Nicabar heard his booted footfalls rushing up the gangway. Quickly he retrieved his shirt from the bedside, snagging its sleeve on the metal apparatus overhanging his cot. The thing tipped over, shattering the empty vial. Nicabar ignored the mess, buttoning up his shirt. As he raced for the door he grabbed his coat from its peg, pulling it on as he went above decks. A starry night sprawled out above him. Wind from the north ripped at their sails, propelling them quickly over the waves. The massive keel of the Fearless flattened the opposing ocean, slicing out a giant white wake. Nicabar quickly made for the forecastle. Already waiting there, pointing past the prow, was Captain Blasco.

  “There,” called the captain. His finger singled out a fleeing shadow very nearby.

  “Glasses,” Nicabar ordered. A quick-thinking lieutenant produced a spyglass immediately, slapping it into Nicabar’s palm. The admiral pulled open the telescope and looked out over the chop. There was a ship turning hastily to take up the wind. With the lens Nicabar could easily make out her white wood and sloping rails, and her gleaming, toothy ram. She was Lissen.

  “Schooner,” he declared. She was alone, turning to run because she knew she was outgunned. Nicabar glanced up at the sails. Blasco had already ordered full speed. The northern gust tore at the yards, hurtling the flagship and her escorts toward the fleeing schooner. Lissen schooners were remarkably fast; it was their only real advantage over Naren dreadnoughts. But the long arc of the Lissens’ turn would slow them, gaining Nicabar’s ships much needed ground. The admiral glanced over the starboard bow and saw the Infamous and Black City keeping pace with the Fearless, sailing abreast as they hunted down their fleeing prey. Signal men on both decks conveyed their intentions with lanterns. They would pursue in formation until counterorders came from the Fearless. Nicabar clasped his hands together. How best to capture these devils? he wondered. He wanted some alive. He wanted answers.

  “Speed,” he murmured.

  The only thing he could do was wait until the Lissens finished their turn and see how close that brought him.

  “Captain Blasco,” he said simply. “Prepare the starboard batteries for fire. Signal the Infamous to pursue and overtake. Let’s see if we can make them fight.”

  “Aye, sir,” said Blasco, and shouted the orders down to his lieutenants who echoed them to midshipmen. Within moments a reply came from the Infamous, and the swift frigate pulled ahead of the dreadnoughts driving for the fleeing Lissens. Nicabar doubted the Infamous could really overtake the schooner, but he knew if the frigate could come within firing distance they might be able to slow their quarry. When the time came he would order the Fearless to turn to port, exposing her starboard batteries.

  With his hands still clasped before him, Danar Nicabar waited for the battle to unfold.

  On board the Firedrake, Shii held fast to the rail of the crow’s nest, shouting down to her mates as the schooner executed the arcing turn. Gigis worked the whipstaff while others hurriedly pulled the ropes and sails. Commander Auriel shouted orders. Through her spyglass Shii could see the Naren frigate breaking away from the dreadnoughts, driving desperately to pin them down before they finished their turn. The frigate’s two portside flame cannons flared to life. Shii knew they would open fire as soon as they were in range, trying to slow the schooner for the dreadnoughts. Below her, the Firedrake’s own gunners readied their starboard cannons. They were the old-fashioned shot-firing cannons, but they were still effective. The sounds of men loading shot and powder sent a rush through Shii. The frigate was remarkably quick, but the Firedrake had just about completed her turn. Now they were sailing south with the three Narens on their tail. Shii saw the dark trio growing past the schooner’s stern. The frigate was trying to come alongside. Unless the Firedrake outpaced her, she would be in range within minutes. Shii closed her eyes, cursing herself. If only she had seen them sooner. If she hadn’t been daydreaming …

  “Frigate approaching!” she shouted. “Almost in range!”

  But Commander Auriel had already spotted the warship in the moonlight. As she drew nearer, her outline gained definition and her twin port flame cannons glowed. As for the Firedrake, she had four guns on her starboard side ready to open fire. But the problem would be range. Nar’s flame cannons had a greater range than the schooner’s standard shot cannons. If the Firedrake were going to fight, she would have to slow down and let the frigate overtake her. Usually the Lissen schooners used their deadly rams, but the situation made such a tactic impossible. Even if they tried to ram the frigate, the dreadnoughts would easily overtake them. Shii bit her lip nervously, wondering what Commander Auriel was thinking. He was a good man but young and inexperienced, like most of Liss’ defenders these days. He had served briefly with the legendary Prakna and had learned a great deal from the dead hero, but he was still untested. Now, staring down three Narens, this first test seemed grossly unfair.

  Up on the masthead, Shii stood frozen. The dreadnoughts were so huge, and the Firedrake seemed so small. They couldn’t fight, they couldn’t flee, and it was all because she had been stargazing when she should have been on the lookout.

  Captain L’Rago of the Naren frigate Infamous stood on the prow of his fast-moving vessel gauging the distance to the enemy. The Lissen schooner was quick, but it had taken precious time for her to turn, and then more time to catch the wind right and trim her sails. She was at full speed now, trying to break away. But the Infamous was almost abreast of her, nearly within the arc of fire. L’Rago needed only a few more degrees. Along her portside, the frigate’s gun deck began sending up smoke, the telltale sign of flame cannons ready to fire. L’Rago anxiously cracked his knuckles. If he made the gunners fire at too sharp an angle, the combustible cannon fuel might spray against the side of the ship.

  “You can’t get away,” L’Rago muttered to the fleeing schooner. “There’s nowhere for you to go.”

  A nearby lieutenant reported the gunners were ready. L’Rago just needed to bring them in range.

  “A warning shot, Lieutenant,” said L’Rago. “Let’s see how close we really are.”

  • • •

  Shii was calling down a warning when the blast came. For a moment, it seemed as if the sun had risen.

  There was a sound louder than thunder, then a flash of blinding orange. Shii cried out and covered her eyes feeling the back of her hands singe. Though still out of range, the frigate had opened up with both guns and sent a ripping plume of flame at them, a fireball that exploded mere yards away. Shii felt the concussion rattle her skull. On the deck below, Auriel and the cannoneers were assessing distance. They were still out of range and probably could stay that way for hours, but all it would take was a wrong wave to slow them or an unfortuitous shift in the
wind. Sooner or later, they would have to fight.

  And lose, thought Shii desperately.

  Auriel called for the schooner to slow. He needed to get the frigate in gun range to have any chance of damaging her. Shii hurried from the crow’s nest, dancing down the rigging as the ship heeled beneath her. She ran to the starboard rail where the cannons waited, because she had been trained on the guns and could take up the task if a cannoneer fell. Auriel’s eyes darted nervously. His young face was flush and damp with sweat. A glance over the stern told Shii that the two dreadnoughts were lumbering onward, stalking them and gaining ground. The frigate pulled abreast. Auriel gave the order to fire. Shii and the rest of the crew covered their ears, and all four batteries exploded, rocking the ship and kindling the night sky. The report tore through Shii’s body, tottering her, but she stayed on her feet and watched the distant frigate for damage.

  Back on the Fearless, Nicabar delighted in the first signs of battle. The Lissen commander had decided to fight, to try to damage the frigate in hope of outrunning the dreadnoughts. It was a big gamble, but Nicabar knew the Lissens had no choice. He had calculated the move and prepared for it. His own ship would come alongside the schooner, sandwiching her between the Infamous and the Fearless. Once the flagship’s big guns were in range, the schooner would have to surrender.

  “Captain Blasco,” Nicabar called. “Try to bring us along the schooner’s portside. Signal Black City to get ahead of her. I don’t want her escaping.”

  Captain L’Rago heard the shots from the schooner thunder into his ship’s hull. But the Infamous was armored and could take fire from a distance, and he knew it was too late for the Lissens no matter how many blows they landed. Her only hope was to pull away now, to take up the wind again before the noose tightened. Sadly for them, they were already in range of the Infamous’ flame cannons.

  “Dismast her,” growled L’Rago, an order for the gunners to aim high at the Lissen’s rigging. He waited for the inevitable concussion. It came a second later. Two jagged bolts of fire tore from the Infamous, racing across the sea and reaching up for the schooner’s masts. One caught her mainmast, tearing into her topsail, which burst into flame. The other flew harmlessly past her stern, barely grazing her mizzenmast. The meager damage didn’t slow the schooner at all. She returned fire with four batteries, parroting L’Rago’s tactics and firing for the Infamous’ rigging.

  “Continuous fire,” ordered L’Rago. “Take her apart.”

  Deafened by the endless blasts and half-blind from fire, Shii feverishly worked the mechanisms of the third cannon, punching powder down its hot muzzle as fast as she could. Already her arms ached from exertion, but she was quick and had drilled for this moment, and her movements were smooth and practiced. Any other time, she would have been proud of herself. Raan, the gunner’s mate she had replaced, had lost both hands two rounds ago and was screaming on the deck. Auriel himself had dragged the man away from the cannon and was frantically calling for aid, his once-spotless uniform now mottled with Raan’s blood.

  Shii could hardly breathe for the stench of spent powder. Her heart thundered and sweat trickled down her forehead. The powerful heat from the cannons had singed her hands and skin, raising a red welt on the left side of her face. All around her fire detonated, and suddenly it wasn’t night any longer but a kind of hellish day. Even as she worked in a ceaseless stupor, Shii knew their cause was lost. Though she didn’t spare a moment to check over her shoulder, she could feel the approach of the big dreadnoughts. The Firedrake heeled with each blast from her cannons, pitching violently to port then back again. Raan was still screaming and Auriel was cursing and shouting orders, his voice hoarse. Overhead, a spear-shaped funnel of flame tore into the mainmast and ignited its sails. Shii desperately tried to focus on her work but the sight of the burning sails was too much for her. Now they could never outrun the Narens. They were doomed. A sob welled up in her but she abruptly stifled it.

  “Damn you!” she roared.

  “Admiral? Should we signal for surrender?”

  Admiral Nicabar considered his captain’s query. The Infamous was pummeling the schooner and had already set her mainmast aflame. And though the Lissens continued to pepper the frigate with cannon shots, she was no longer a threat to the dreadnoughts. The Fearless had almost come abreast of her and was well within range to fire her starboard guns. They were the biggest guns carried by any navy, capable of shattering a castle wall. But Nicabar didn’t want to kill the Lissens. Their ship he cared nothing about, but the crew was more valuable to him than gold.

  Finally, Nicabar nodded. “Signal the Infamous to cease fire. The Lissens aren’t going anywhere now. Give them my terms.”

  • • •

  Night returned to the deck of the Firedrake as quickly as it had vanished. The endless bombardment from the frigate had ceased. An eerie calm settled over the Lissens. One by one they looked at Auriel. Shii straightened, wondering if they should continue firing.

  “Halt fire,” shouted Auriel. Then again as a zealous cannoneer launched another round, “Halt fire!”

  “What’s happening?” Shii wondered. All around her, her crewmates shared her confusion, puzzled by the sudden calm. Then Shii noticed the gargantuan warship settling on their portside, and didn’t have to wonder anymore.

  “My God,” she moaned. It was enormous. Bits of burning silk drizzled down on her from the mainmast, stinging her face, but she ignored the pain.

  The Fearless.

  It had to be. Only the Fearless was so large. Only she had such armor. Shii studied her black decks and spiked hull and the flame cannons poking out from her gun deck. From this range a single blast could wipe the schooner’s deck clean, leaving only smudges where the crew now stood. Shii dropped her hands to her side, certain that her end had come. She was only twenty-one.

  “Lissen vessel!” called a voice from the blackness. “Surrender and prepare to be boarded. Or be destroyed!”

  Stupefied, the crew turned to Auriel. Splashed with Raan’s blood, the young commander looked unspeakably tired. His skin was a ghostly white and his eyes were leaden.

  “Surrender,” he said to his lieutenants. “Or she’ll sink us where we stand.”

  Nicabar grinned when he heard the Lissen’s reply. They would surrender unconditionally, obviously hoping to find mercy. But Nicabar wasn’t a man of mercy. He was a man on a mission and he would reward any Lissen who helped him reach his goal. Anyone who opposed him would be dealt with. Severely.

  Nicabar dispatched two launches to the burning schooner to help ferry the defeated crew aboard. This time, one of them would crack. He hoped it would be the commander. All he needed was one scrap of useful information, one Lissen traitorous enough to help him.

  “Who will it be?” he murmured. “Who?”

  The Narens came aboard with sabers bared, emboldened by the guns of their flagship. Commander Auriel had assembled his entire crew above deck. Seventy-three men and women crowded around him, frightened, wounded, and more than a little apprehensive about their fate. Shii stood next to Gigis, who had abandoned his position at the whipstaff when the anchor had been dropped. The Firedrake bobbed uselessly on the waves, a Naren warship blocking starboard, port, and bow. The only movement aboard her was from the hastily assembled bucket brigades that tossed water onto her burning sails. Shii put her arms around her shoulders, trembling and trying to glean courage from Auriel, who stood perfectly erect as the Narens boarded his vessel.

  “I’m Lieutenant Varin of the Black Fleet flagship Fearless,” called the leader. His saber was drawn and pointed at Auriel. Backed up by his comrades still climbing up the rope ladders, Varin showed no fear. “If you have weapons, drop them. Anyone found with a weapon will be killed.”

  The crew of the Firedrake waited for Auriel’s order. The commander gave a sullen nod and one by one his sailors dropped their weapons to the deck.

  “My ship is aflame and I have wounded,” he said brusquely. “I nee
d to get them to safety.”

  Lieutenant Varin smiled. “You are the commander?”

  “I am.”

  “Then you will come with me. Pick twenty of your officers and crew to accompany you.” Varin swished his saber back and forth. “Quickly.”

  “What about the others?” pressed Auriel. “I have over seventy crewmen on board.”

  “There will be launches coming from the other ships once you are aboard the Fearless,” replied Varin impatiently. “Your wounded will be attended to. Now move.”

  Auriel quickly assembled his five top officers, then counted out fifteen more crewmen. Shii was the last to be chosen. She stepped forward with the others and let the Narens herd them down the rope ladder and into the waiting launches. As she descended the ladder, a lump of emotion sprang into her throat. The Firedrake had been a fine ship.

  A Naren sailor in the rowboat grabbed her leg and pulled her into the launch. The boat was already overcrowded and wobbled as she fell into it. The sailor, obviously unaccustomed to female shipmates, leered at her. Shii looked away, not wanting a confrontation, and sat down before the little boat capsized. The sea was choppy and the boat pitched violently. As the last of the captives came aboard, Varin shouted the order to depart and the rowboat shoved off, leaving the ruined Firedrake behind.

  “We’ll be all right,” she heard Gigis whisper behind her. The young man leaned closer. “They won’t kill us. If they wanted to, we’d be dead by now.”

  “But why—”

  “No talking!” hissed Varin. “The next Lissen devil who speaks goes overboard, understand?”

  Within minutes they were alongside the dreadnought Fearless. High above, Naren sailors with victorious grins stared down at them, laughing. Shii felt her face flush. As the rope ladders dropped down for them, she thought of diving into the waves and drowning herself. Suddenly, anything seemed better than submitting to these beasts. But, like her commander and crewmates, she climbed up the shaky ladder, urged on by Varin’s saber, and soon found herself being pulled onto the dreadnought’s deck. She fell into the arms of two waiting sailors who shoved her into line with the others. Auriel came aboard last. Despite his rank, the Narens treated him no better than the rest. They tossed him like a sack of grain into his crewmates. Shii caught him in mid-stumble. Auriel quickly propped himself up, straightened his bloodied shirt, and faced his captors. He was the picture of composure, proud and full of confidence, and seeing him gave Shii new strength. Like their commander, the Lissens straightened themselves, standing in a line along the vast deck of the dreadnought.