“We’re ready to drop the mainsail,” Shearer called from the deck.
“Go ahead, Shearer,” Thom said.
“Aye, Captain.”
Tristan noticed that even though Thom was nervously tapping his fingers behind his back, he still smiled when he heard the boatswain call him captain. “It’s make or break, Tristan.”
“I know. Fenfyr’s helping.” Tristan muttered the same spell he had when they had first dropped the sails, hoping it would help them bond this time, too.
“Drop the sail!” Shearer shouted. Everything on deck stopped, it felt like everyone was holding their breath—maybe they were. “It caught!” The triumphant call echoed around the deck moments later.
Thom let out a long slow breath. “You were right.”
“I’m glad,” Tristan said with a relieved grin. “I was hoping.”
“You didn’t think it was going to work?”
“I had some doubts about the willowisps bonding where the Vermin sails had been.” He watched as the men with the help of Taminick put the topgallants and royals in place on the mizzenmast. “Once they’re all up, I will check them over carefully before we set out, there’s still the question of whether they will fly.”
“Sir, we have three ships on the long range sensor,” the communications officer, Brown, said. “They’re hailing us.”
“Pipe it through, please.”
“Yes, sir.”
“This is Captain Graham of the frigate Surprise in the company of the frigate Leopard and the privateer Noble Lady,” the voice crackled over the system.
“You’re late, Bill,” Thom said with a laugh.
“Sorry, we ran into a little trouble on the way in, Captain Barrett. Permission to approach?”
“Of course, we’re dropping the sails now and should be ready to sail in the next hour or two,” Thom said.
“Good, we’ve heard reports that the fleet is already engaging advanced scouts, we need to get the Winged Victory there before the main taskforce arrives.”
“We’re working on it, Bill, I assure you,” Thom answered.
The three ships came into view a few moments later. As the ships approached it really became apparent how big the Winged Victory truly was. He knew the Surprise well—he’d been the one to make her sails—and she’d seemed large the first time he saw her. The Constellation had been bigger than either of the frigates, but hadn’t dwarfed them the way Victory did. Next to the Victory the frigates looked like toys bobbing alongside the massive ship.
“I didn’t believe it,” Graham’s voice came over the comm line. “I knew she was big, but by all that’s holy…”
“I am in complete agreement,” a female voice said. “And I served on the Constellation.”
“Mercy Allen? Is that you?” Thom asked.
“Yes, sir, Captain Barrett, I was promoted to the Leopard.”
“Congratulations!” Thom said, grinning.
“And to you, too, sir, about time!” she replied.
“Thank you,” Thom said. “What trouble did you run into on the way here?”
“Pirates with Vermin vessels,” Graham said. “They were heading out of sector nineteen in this direction. We dissuaded them, thanks to the help from the Noble Lady.”
“We intercepted some communications that indicated they were trying to find out where the fleet would be engaging the Vermin,” Cook said, joining the conversation. “We’re not sure if they were planning to head out that way or not. The dragons didn’t leave enough for us to question. Not that they would answer anyway.”
“We know that they were intending to take the Winged Victory into sector nineteen, but that was when she had the Vermin sails.”
“We still can’t believe that!” Allen said. “Vermin tech on our ships. No matter how you feel about the Guild, that’s unacceptable.”
“She’s not a really a Guild sympathizer,” Thom told Tristan quietly.
“Fun,” Tristan said grimly. “I feel sorry for her Warrior.”
“I do, too, but she’s not as bad as some.” Thom frowned. “Shearer, how goes it?”
“Mainmast is ready, we’re just finishing up the mizzen and the fore, sir!”
“Good, the sooner we’re out of here the better, I have a bad feeling about this spot for some reason,” Thom said, keeping his voice low.
“I heard them talking about ships heading in to help them with their Interface problem,” Muher said, limping up to them.
“I said you need to be in sickbay,” Webber scolded.
“I told you, I’ll go when I’m done making my report,” he said, scowling at her. “Fuhrman said ‘they’, whoever ‘they’ are, would be reaching us soon. As I understand it, they were bringing a new Interface that would function with the sails.”
“Did you hear that?” Thom asked the other captains.
“Yes, I’m pretty sure that’s who we ran into,” Cook said.
“Our sensors did show an abnormal blip on one of their ships,” Graham said. “The dragons went after that ship first, and spent more time with it than the others. I did wonder about that at the time, but it’s not like dragons talk to us to let us know, so who knows what they were thinking.”
“Idiots,” Muher muttered under his breath.
Thom glared at him before replying. “Thank you. We’ll let you know as soon as we are ready to set sail. Set up a patrol until we’re ready to move out.”
“Yes, sir,” Graham and Allen answered and broke the connection with a small snap.
“Do you need anyone over there?” Cook asked.
“Not right now, we have the mutineers in lockdown, but it’s good to know you’re back there.”
“We’ll be behind the Victory all the way, Captain Barrett,” Cook said.
“Can’t let you have all the fun, Tommy Boy,” Harkins added with a laugh. “Our Warrior would like a word with the Master Weaver.”
“What is it, Alden?” Tristan asked, stepping closer to Thom and the communications board.
“I’ve been trying to duplicate what you did to the sails. I’ve managed to get the willowisps to move a little, but it’s not enough. I’m not sure it’s a Warrior’s skill.”
“I was wondering about that already,” Tristan said.
“We don’t have enough Weavers, and even if we did, we don’t have the time to train them before this battle,” Alden said desperately.
“I know.” Tristan sighed, wishing there was something more he could do.
“On the upside,” Alden added, “I am a lot faster at repairs now. It helped that, at least.” He laughed. “That might come in handy.”
“It might,” Tristan agreed. The connection broke with a snap and he looked over at Thom. “It would have made a huge difference if he could manage the spell.”
“It might, but…” Thom smiled at him. “You already did it once. If you can manage it with this ship, you could turn the tide of battle, Tristan.”
“Sir, excuse me, you are not properly dressed.” Riggan appeared with a jacket in his hands.
“What?” Thom frowned at him.
“I cleaned out the Captain’s cabin and moved your things. I thought you should be wearing a proper uniform, though, sir,” he said, holding out the jacket.
Thom looked at it, a soft smile playing on his lips. He reached out and touched the braid on the jacket, then nodded. “You’re right, of course, Riggan.” He discarded the coat he’d been wearing and put on the Captain’s coat.
“That’s better, sir. I’ll just nip off and finish what I was doing,” Riggan said, leaving the quarterdeck.
“He didn’t waste any time,” Muher said. “Good. The sooner the crew knows you are in command, the better.” He swayed on his feet.
“Okay, you have made your report, you are going to sickbay right now,” Webber said. “You can walk or I will sedate you and have you carried there, your choice.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ll be back before the
battle.”
Tristan watched as Muher walked carefully across the deck. He knew that the doctor had already pumped a considerable amount of pain killers into the general before he even got up, Tristan could see it in the way the man’s eyes hadn’t quite focused. The fact that he was walking amazed him, Tristan had no doubt that Fuhrman had gone out of his way to make sure things were not easy for Muher. Once the general stepped into the lift, Tristan turned his attention back to the sails. They were sparkling softly on the exposed masts. Everything looked okay, but he wouldn’t know for sure until they moved into the Winds.
Fenfyr slipped onto deck from the open panels leading to the mainmast. The dragon looked up at the masts, sizing them up, then leaped up towards the top of the mainmast. Tristan wondered what he was doing. A moment later he got his answer when a long pennant unfurled from the top of the mast. Fenfyr perched on the Dragon’s Roost and looked down at the red pennant bearing the figure of a dragon. Tristan glanced at Thom, wondering what he would think about the addition to his ship.
“It looks good, and it makes it very clear whose side we’re fighting on, doesn’t it?” Thom said.
“It does.”
“Masts are ready to raise!” Shearer called.
“Raise the masts!” Thom ordered.
Fenfyr hopped off the Dragon’s Roost and settled on deck as the masts began to climb slowly out of the bowels of the ship. As each set of crosstrees cleared the deck, Tristan checked the sails. The willowisps all seemed okay, sparkling gently, waiting to be unfurled. The mizzenmast locked into place first, followed by the foremast, then with a huge boom the mainmast settled into place, soaring hundreds of feet over their heads. Tristan smiled, he never would get tired of seeing the sails on the ship. He was glad that Stemmer and Fuhrman hadn’t destroyed them when they had replaced them with the Vermin sails.
“Prepare to sail!” Thom called.
“All stations prepare to get underway!” Shearer ordered.
“It will go well, Tris,” Fenfyr said softly, then leaped up to soar over the ship.
Tristan stepped to the Elemental Interface and put his hand on it, feeling the hum as the sails and the ship connected. “Ready,” he said.
“Loose the sails!” Thom’s order stopped all activity on the ship as everyone looked up as the men on the crosstrees released the ropes and the sparkling sails rolled down, fluttering softly in the breezes.
“Sails are ready, ship to the Weaver!” Shearer said.
“Ship to the Weaver!” the cry was repeated on the quarterdeck.
“The ship is yours, Master Weaver,” Thom said.
“Thank you, Captain Barrett.” Tristan closed his eyes and started the spell, feeling the sails, making sure they weren’t injured by their time in the hold. He fixed a few dark spots, shifting the Weaving and moving the dark out and away. He could feel the massive power of the ship again as the sails shivered in the first touch of the Winds. At first they seemed hesitant, unsure what was coming. He focused his spell, the Latin filling the silence on the quarterdeck. The sails started to catch the Winds, at first the topsails, then as Tristan spoke, he eased the mainsail into the path of the Winds. A moment later the immense sound that rattled through the ship surprised them all as the sails caught the Winds and the ship leaped forward, suddenly speeding away from where they had been. Tristan shifted the sails a little, moving the topgallants, unsure if they should have them out with the Winds this strong, but trusting Thom would know if they should bring them in. He looked up from the Elemental Interface and saw the pennant trailing over the ship, proudly proclaiming who they were.
He took his hands away from the Interface. The officers on deck were all smiling, looking up at the sails. Glancing back, Tristan could see the three smaller ships struggling to keep up, while the dragons. Fenfyr, Taminick and the two traveling with Surprise and the Leopard wheeled around the Winged Victory and playfully dashed back and forth between the ships.
“Sir! I have a report from the captain of the Mercury. They are under heavy fire, they’ve lost two ships and there is a larger group of Vermin ships on their sensors heading towards their position,” the communications officer said.
“What’s our ETA?” Thom asked.
“Two hours, sir.”
“Tell them we’re on our way—no wait, signal that Surprise and Leopard are on their way in. I have a funny feeling that not very many people knew about this ship, and the fewer that know now, the better. Understood?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Hopefully we can take them by surprise,” Thom said. “It might give us the upper hand.”
“Might?” Tristan asked.
“That’s the idea at least. We need to get there in time. Will the sails hold in these Winds?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s keep the sails set as they are, and make haste. Shearer, we will be leaving the sails set for the time being.”
“Sir?”
“Be ready to pull them in if it gets stormy.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now get us there, Tristan.”
“I will, Thom,” Tristan assured him. “I will.”
XXX
The stars were speeding past as the ship raced towards the coordinates of the battle. There was a deep hum in the rigging, letting Tristan know that even though they were wheeled over and going far faster than they had ever gone before, things were still holding together on the masts. He was on deck for the third time in forty minutes, checking the sails and the Elemental Interface. The dragons were soaring along beside the ship, wings and feathers fully extended. Fenfyr had explained that they very rarely got the chance to “really stretch our wings” when flying with a ship, and they were taking full advantage of the Winged Victory’s speed. The smaller ships were doing their best to keep up, but the best they could do was stay on the sensors, the huge sails of the Victory moving the massive ship through space faster than the smaller ships could hope to go.
Thom was pacing the quarterdeck—as far as Tristan could tell he hadn’t left the deck since they set out. He was currently scowling at a group on the main deck as they worked to fit the ship for battle. Thom was doing all he could to strengthen the ship. The hole in the bottom hold that they had used to enter the ship had been sealed and double plated. Shearer made sure that the weaknesses showing on the plans were all dealt with as well as he could in deep space.
The gun decks were already swept clean of bulkheads and all the guns were being carefully checked to make sure they hadn’t been sabotaged. The fact that the second gunner Jacob Raiden, now promoted to Gunner Officer, had discovered that at least ten guns had been rigged to kill the men firing them had nearly pushed Thom over the edge. Tristan had watched the red creep over his friend’s face, his hands clench tight, then the deep slow breath as he reined in his temper. More than once Thom had muttered that he wished he’d just killed Fuhrman when he had the chance.
“Do you want to come down for something to eat?” Tristan asked, catching Thom as he paced by.
“Um…”
“When did you last eat?”
“When you did,” Thom answered.
“And I can’t remember when that was, so I think it’s time. Riggan has been sending notes.” Tristan frowned at him. “Don’t make me order you, Captain.”
“Yes, sir,” Thom said with a grin.
Tristan walked to his staircase off the quarterdeck and headed down into his cabin, making sure Thom followed. He loosened his cravat and jacket as he walked in, laughing as he noticed the table of food already waiting for them. He settled himself at the table and served himself, then passed the food to Thom.
“You know, I didn’t think I was hungry,” Thom said. “Turns out I am.” He put a generous helping of food on his plate.
They ate in silence at first, the only sound the clink of silverware. Riggan appeared with a fresh pot of coffee and served them. He lingered for a moment, then started piling up the empty dishes, fussing at
the end of the table.
“What is it?” Tristan finally asked, recognizing the look on the man’s face.
“Well, sir, you know I’m not one to spread idle tales…”
“Riggan,” Thom said warningly.
“I heard them talking down in the crew quarters, someone was listening in at the comm boards and said the fleet’s been destroyed and all is lost.”
“I’m sure we would have heard if the fleet was gone,” Thom pointed out.
“I know and I told them that, but the rumor has gotten ahold of the crew and it’s ruining morale.”
“Damn all,” Thom said. He pulled out his communicator and punched in a code.
“Yes, Captain?” Patrick Aubrey answered.
“Get down to communications and lock it down. The officer of the watch can go in, but no one other than you, myself and the Master Weaver, understood?”
“On it, Captain.”
“Thank you, Riggan,” Thom said. “That sort of thing can decide a battle before a shot is fired. I’m sure that the prisoners aren’t helping. There have to be a few of their sympathizers left among the crew, even after the checking and rechecking we’ve done. After we’re done eating, I think we need to go down there and listen in on the fleet-wide channel. We need to know what we’re flying into. We’re nearly there and we need to be prepared.”
“The men know the Victory is special, sir, they trust you to do your best. It’s that them that threw you overboard spread lies, and convinced them the only way to win was with those filthy sails hanging over their heads.”
“We’ll show them differently, Riggan.”
“Aye, I know, Captain.” He grinned. “I’ll ready your formal uniforms for the battle, sirs, so you can get ready when you come back from the communications room.”
The Sail Weaver Page 26