A huge boom shook the deck—the first of the heavy cruisers had opened fire. Tristan heard Thom swear, but he stayed focused on the sails. They had to be able to get to that big ship and stop them from taking the dragons, but before that they had to stop the other heavy cruisers before the Vermin finished destroying the remaining fleet. Another boom sounded followed by the rattle of hard shot across the deck. Tristan heard Riggan grunt in pain. The next shot had a weird whistling sound as it hit the ship high up on the masts. Tristan felt the blow through the sails, but knew it hadn’t damaged them. The shot fell to the deck.
“They’re glowing red!” Riggan whispered in awe. “I’ve never seen that.”
Tristan risked a look up. The sails had changed from their soft golden sparkle, the willowisps were still moving and Weaving in and around each other, but they were stronger. He could feel that through the Interface and sense it in his spell. They were getting close to the first of the Vermin’s big ships. As big as it was, though, the Victory was bigger. Constant fire was hitting them now. The small Navy ships behind them were returning fire, but Thom was still holding back.
“Bring her around for a broadside, Master Weaver,” Thom said, his hands moving over the helm.
Tristan shifted the sails and felt the ship respond. It was almost like he was part of the ship, not just the Warrior fighting the sails. He was more aware of the ship than he had ever been before. He could feel the Winds tugging at the sails, and the willowisps wanting to race forward faster, deeper into the battle.
“Fire!” Thom ordered.
The next second, the Winged Victory’s full broadside spoke. The sound made the decks shake and Tristan watched the shot as it crossed through space and tore open a huge hole in the Vermin ship.
“”Fire!”
The second broadside opened the ship to space and Tristan could see into the dark hold of the Vermin vessel. The gun decks facing the Victory had been completely destroyed. The Vermin ship started to come about, but as it did, the three large dragons—Darius and the other two—dropped down on the ship. Tristan saw Darius reach down to where the Interface would be and gently kill the ship, then the three dragons launched themselves back into space.
“Finish it off!” Thom called over the fleet-comm. “We’re going after the others.” He looked over at Tristan. “That was too easy.”
“Easy?” Tristan asked, looking at the blood on the deck, watching the med teams picking up the dead and wounded.
“Yes. I’m sorry about…” Thom trailed off.
Tristan swallowed, refusing to accept what that meant. The thought was horrifying, and it was as if he could sense the dragons’ distress, it was echoing through his bones. He didn’t know if it was real or a reaction to his own worry, but it was as if he could feel Fenfyr, trapped and helpless. “It’s not too late.”
Thom nodded, looking unconvinced. Tristan refused to look out and see if Fenfyr was flying free or had been reeled in. If he knew for sure, he wasn’t sure he could go on. There was horror all around them, the wounded and dying and he couldn’t tell if the blood on Thom was his, or from someone else. The quarterdeck was missing about a third of the people that had been there when they had crossed the line. And Tristan knew the battle was far from over.
“We’re heading in to the lead ship, get ready!” Thom said over the ship’s comm.
“I’d prepare for boarders,” Muher said, walking onto the quarterdeck in his black formal uniform, sidearm and sword at his side. “They are going to try to get to the Weaver.”
“Why?” Tristan asked.
“Have you seen your damn sails? Their shot is just dropping to the deck. They can’t pierce our plating. They are going to come at us in a more personal fashion. Hall and the Marines are ready.” He pointed to where two small Vermin ships were approaching them at high speed.
“Fire at will!” Thom ordered. The ship’s guns started firing, the shots echoing around them. “Prepare to be boarded!” He turned to Tristan, Muher and Riggan. “We need to keep them off Tristan. We’re still going after that big one.”
“I’ll be here,” Muher said.
“Me too,” Riggan assured them. He had a bloody bandage wrapped around his arm.
“Good.” Thom turned back to the helm. “Take us in, Tristan.”
Tristan focused back on the sails, turning them to catch the Winds, letting them race towards the huge ship in the center of the Vermin fleet. A thunk distracted him for a moment. He heard Muher swear, then small arms fire sounded from their deck. He looked up, a ship was pressing against theirs and dark figures were leaping from it onto the Victory’s deck.
“Get rid of that filth!” Thom snapped out the order. Tristan was concentrating on the Interface and the sails, Weaving them even tighter for their attack on the huge ship. He saw a flash of red, then the Vermin ship was being torn away from the Victory. Tristan looked up, Taminick was dragging it away with the help of one of the big dragons. Fenfyr was nowhere to be seen. The two dragons pulled the ship out, Tristan saw Taminick flinch as a shot hit her in her already wounded wing. Still she dropped to the deck and killed the ship, and then the dragons tore it apart. Tristan focused back on the sails.
“Stop those things!” Muher called. Riggan stepped in front of Tristan as a wave of stench washed over the quarterdeck.
“Aubrey, look out!” Thom called.
Tristan looked up in time to see the creature crawl up onto the quarterdeck. It was in a suit made from bits of dragon skin. Swallowing the bile that rose in his throat, Tristan grabbed his pistol and set it on the Interface. Riggan and Muher were in front of him, blocking the creature from getting closer. The general attacked, shooting first, then drawing his sword as the Vermin kept coming. More of the creatures were crawling across the deck towards them, some had weapons, others were using their hands to grab the Victory’s crew and tear into them. It was hard to stay focused as the screams rose in volume.
Turning his eyes from the deck, Tristan glanced out at the heavy cruiser they were heading towards. He ran his eyes over the ship, trying to gauge a weakness to bring the Victory in when he saw something that made his heart skip a beat. The dark sails had something covering them. In that moment, the helplessness and pain washed over him, he nearly collapsed but forced himself up.
“Thom!” Tristan shouted before the order to fire could be made. “The masts! Look at the masts! The dragons!” Tristan pointed to the Vermin masts and the graceful creatures tied to them. On the upper mainmast he could see black, silver and pearly white. “Fenfyr and the others, they’re tied to the masts!”
“What?” All the color drained from Thom’s face as he looked across the distance separating them from the ship. “We need to take down those masts!”
A sharp pain suddenly ripped through Tristan, he was caught by the arm and dragged away from the Interface before he could grab his gun. He kicked out at the creature, trying to look away from the horror of its face. The thing lifted his leg slowly up towards its gaping mouth and bit down. Tristan felt his ankle shatter as he struggled to get away. Another one was approaching when the one holding Tristan evaporated in a blast from the small cannon on the taffrail of the quarterdeck. Then Muher was there, hacking at the other one before it could get to him. Tristan started crawling back towards the Interface, Riggan helped him up and held him as he settled his hand on the controls again, blocking out the pain from his injured leg.
“Can you get us in close enough to target the masts, then get us out of there before they can hit us too hard?” Thom asked.
Tristan nodded. He would do anything he could to rescue the dragons held prisoner on the ship. He had no idea what would happen once the masts were free. “Chris!” he called to Muher. “Do we have a line to Darius?”
“Yes, channel four,” the man replied as he shot another Vermin attempting to get onto the quarterdeck.
Punching the comm channel on the Interface, Tristan hoped the dragon would answer. “Darius, this is Tris
tan Weaver.”
“I hear you,” the dragon answered immediately.
“The dragons they are taking—they’re tied to the masts on the big ship. We’re going to try to break the masts free.”
“We will come in and take care of our wounded, Tristan Weaver, you get them free.”
“We will,” Tristan said, breaking the connection. He glanced out—at the edge of the Navy line he could see a mass of dragons already gathering, waiting for the word to move. “I’m ready, Thom.”
“Okay, we need to get as close as possible. Deck guns, load with chain, we are taking out those masts! We need them down in two rounds, do you understand?”
The men on deck shouted affirmatives even as they fought the Vermin trying to take the big guns away. Tristan watched as they loaded the guns with the special rounds designed to clear the decks of personnel and hopefully break the masts free.
“You take us in, I’ll handle the thrusters.” Thom said. “Ship to the Weaver!”
“Ship to the Weaver!” Shearer answered immediately.
Tristan focused, Weaving the sails as tightly as he could, strengthening them even more for what he knew was coming. Taking a slow breath in, he felt his way through the sails, then found the spot in the Winds he needed, the rigging started to hum with the deep baritone note he knew meant it was moving fast, on a perfect keel. They were heading towards the Vermin ship, the distance closing in seconds.
The Vermin started firing, the shot slamming into the sails and raining down on the deck. Several huge rounds hit the lower hull, shaking the ship. Tristan let it go and kept his focus on the sails. Something burned in his arm. He was yanked away from the Elemental Interface for a moment, a Vermin boarder suddenly dead in front of him. Pushing past the body, he got back to the Interface. They were almost on top of the Vermin ship. He backed off the sails as Thom used the thrusters to move the ship into position.
“Fire!” Thom called.
The first volley screamed across space, cutting down Vermin on the deck, but leaving the masts untouched. Thom swore. “Fire!” The second volley did little more than the first, the shot destroying the crew, but not damaging the masts. “What is going on down there? Raiden! Get those guns firing. Take out those masts!”
“Sir! I have an idea, permission to fire at will!” Jacob Raiden called.
“Permission granted!” Thom said, trying to keep the ship close enough to the Vermin vessel to make the shots count. Tristan could see his struggles and moved the willowisps in the sails so they were fluttering in place, holding the ship motionless. They were sparking red and orange as they hung above his head. He looked up, silently thanking them.
A volley from the guns pulled his attention from the sails. Shot flew through space and hit the masts right at the deck level, before the sound of the first shot had died out, a second one came, and a third. Tristan could see the masts now, a small fire burning at their base, the white of bone showing in the flames, slowly turning to char.
“Fire the chain!” Thom cried. The deck guns spoke and this time the masts started to break free. “Again!” Thom ordered and for a breathless moment it seemed like nothing was going to happen, then the masts all began to break away. As they did, the dragons moved in, flying in at high speed to pull the masts away from the ship. Tristan had a glimpse of Fenfyr still bound to the crosstrees of the mainmast, then the dragons were gone.
“That’s it, let’s break this thing!” Thom said. “Ship to the Weaver! Bring us around so we can hit her with our port guns.”
Tristan shifted the sails, the ship wheeled around, and at Thom’s command, the full broadside of the Winged Victory hit the Vermin ship. They reloaded quickly and hit them again. The other Vermin heavy cruiser had come up behind them, trying to hit them hard. Tristan was struggling to bring the ship around when two small vessels, their sails sparkling in the dark came up beside them. Surprise and the Noble Lady fired on the cruiser as they brought the Victory’s guns to bear. Between the three of them, the ship was beaten down and the Victory turned back to the ship that had held the dragons. It was already moving away, heading into space.
“They aren’t getting away!” Tristan growled, swinging the sails around, making the Winged Victory race after the huge ship.
It was easy to catch, without sails the Vermin ship it was moving under power and no match for the Victory’s speed. By the time they were up beside it. Thom had the guns ready. Tristan whispered the spell of release as Thom ordered volley after volley emptied into the ship. Tristan knew the moment they managed to kill the enslaved dragon. It let go with a sigh of relief and thanks, and slipped away into death.
“Finish it!” Tristan said.
Thom nodded. “Fire!”
A huge fireball left the Victory and slammed into the Vermin ship, consuming it with white-hot flame, leaving nothing of the ship. In a way it was beautiful, the flames slowly moving up the length of the ship until it was a small shining sun in the center of the battle. Tristan held his breath as the flames reached the engines and the former ship blasted apart, the small bits sparkling for a moment like willowisps.
“It’s gone!” Thom cried triumphantly.
Tristan smiled and shifted the sails, turning back towards the Naval fleet. He could still see the bright flash of guns in the distance, but the tide of the battle had changed. The Navy was pursuing the fleeing Vermin ships. Blinking, he tried to focus on what was happening. There were still Vermin on the deck, fighting hand to hand with the crew. The Winged Victory was heading back towards the fleet, as she approached, the last of the Vermin vessels—a small gunboat—poured on the speed and disappeared from the battle line.
It was over.
Tristan glanced up at Thom, the man was splattered in blood, one arm hanging limply at his side. Muher was finishing off the last of the Vermin on deck. He turned to look for Riggan and realized that world was wavering.
He thought he heard someone shout his name, but he fell into darkness.
XXXII
The darkness eased. There was heat, a confusion of sound and light, pain and voices screaming. Tristan tried to make sense of the maelstrom, but he couldn’t. He knew that some of it was focused around him. There were dull thumps of explosions, and closer, the sharp crack of small arms fire. Someone was bending over him, urging him to hang on, a desperate male voice, a warm hand clasping his. Then, some moments—or hours—later a matter-of-fact female voice was there, snapping orders, and Tristan felt himself lifted. Then the darkness closed over him again.
The sharp scent of antiseptics crept into his awareness and Tristan opened his eyes on a small white room. There were the lines of IVs in his arms and the soft comfortable chirping of medical monitors. He was fuzzy from drugs, he could feel the sluggishness in his system and knew he wouldn’t be able to stay awake for long. The only thing that had let him push this far into consciousness was his need to know about his friends—had they survived? Was Fenfyr…? Before the thought could form completely, he let the drugs pull him away, not ready to face that possibility yet.
When he fought his way through the haze again, it was because there was an argument going on outside his door. “You don’t understand, Dr. Webber, he doesn’t get to die. He saved the whole damn fleet, so you save him!” Thom’s voice was angry and urgent. Tristan wondered who they were talking about.
“We’re doing everything we can. I’ve had the Healers in. Vermin bites are usually fatal.”
“This one had better not be,” Thom snapped. A moment later, Thom’s voice was much closer, a warm weight fell on Tristan’s arm. “Hear that? Not fatal.” Thom sighed. “You hear me?”
Tristan struggled to answer, but the drugs wouldn’t let him fight free. He could also sense the “lightness” that a Healing spell brought; he remembered it from the days right after the bombing when he’d hovered between life and death. Was that what was happening now? At least Thom was safe. He wanted to ask about Fenfyr, that pain was beating against his hear
t every time he was aware enough to think about it. Before he could find the strength to ask, the darkness caught him again.
“Sir, I don’t mean to disturb you, mind you,” Riggan was saying as Tristan floated towards the surface again. “And you know I don’t spread idle gossip, sir, but I thought maybe no one had told you there is a guest waiting for you in your cabin. He is most distressed that they won’t let him into sickbay. He is lying in the cabin, all drooping, refusing to even move.”
Relief flooded Tristan’s body in a rush of warmth. He heard a medical alarm go off, but it didn’t matter. There was sudden activity and he heard people rushing in the room and Riggan’s indignant voice defending himself. The words meant nothing. All that mattered at that moment was what had come before. Fenfyr was alive.
The soft chiming of the bells woke Tristan, it was seven bells, although he had no idea of what watch it was. He could hear the sounds of the medical monitors, and an IV was still pinching in one arm. Trying to get more comfortable, he sighed.
“Tristan?” Thom asked from somewhere beside him, his voice harsh with concern.
“What?” he answered automatically, opening his eyes, squinting in the bright light.
“Welcome back!” Thom was sitting in the chair beside the bed. He had dark circles under his eyes and a fresh scar along his hairline. His left arm was in a sling. Tristan wondered about that, slings weren’t used very often, what with the various bone and dermal knitting devices. Thom followed his glance and smiled sheepishly. “I was doing too much with it, so the doctor insisted I wear this.”
“Good job,” Tristan said, surprised at how weak his voice sounded. There was a dull ache in his ankle and a throbbing that had been a wound in his shoulder. “How are we?”
“The ship is getting repaired, the fleet is slowly gathering itself together, the Vermin have headed back to their space for the time being,” Thom said. “Our Master Weaver lived.”
The Sail Weaver Page 28