Storm Riders

by Margaret Weis

  “If I have the crystals, Captain, I don’t need my allies.”

  Stephano drew his second pistol. Green fire blazed around the pinnace. The blue protective glow was starting to dim. The boat was slowly closing the gap between them and the Sommerwind. Dag fired again and another bat dropped.

  Stephano sighted in on a bat rider, fired, and missed. He swore briefly, and was about to draw another pistol when, from out of nowhere, a bat rider burst up from underneath the keel. Before either Stephano or Sir Henry could react, the bat rider fired and then veered off.

  The green fireball hit the blue shield in a spattering burst of blinding light. The heat of the fireball seeped through the shield.

  “I have one shot left,” Sir Henry reported. “Then I have to reload.”

  “I have one shot. You fire, then reload,” Stephano told Henry. “I’ll cover you.”

  Sir Henry fired at another bat rider, then ducked down behind the gunwale and began to hurriedly reload his two pistols and Stephano’s dragon pistol. The rifle went off behind them. The blue glow was fading. Stephano cast a glance over his shoulder to see Rodrigo frantically running his hand over the balloon, trying to strengthen the spell.

  A bat rider flew toward him. Stephano fired and hit the bat, to judge by the hideous screech. The bat didn’t fall, however, but kept coming.

  “Hang on!” Stephano yelled.

  The bat smashed into the hull, causing the pinnace to rock dangerously. For a sickening moment, Stephano feared the boat was going to capsize. People grabbed hold of whatever they could find. Rodrigo lost his footing and pitched forward, almost tumbling out of the pinnace. He grabbed the mast, saving himself, but losing the balloon. It floated up and away, taking the magic with it.

  Miri was clinging to the helm with one hand and operating the controls with the other. After another terrifying lurch, the pinnace finally righted itself.

  Stephano found himself standing back-to-back with Sir Henry, both firing. Stephano missed his bat, but hit the long gun, sending it spinning out of the fiend’s hands. Sir Henry shot a rider in the throat.

  “The powder’s almost gone,” Sir Henry said over his shoulder. “Not that this matters, since we have no more bullets.”

  “We just need to hold out a little longer,” said Stephano.

  The Sommerwind had taken up a defensive position in the middle of a channel at a narrow point between two islands, putting herself between the black ship and the pinnace. The Sommerwind’s gun bay doors were closed. Those six small cannons wouldn’t do much damage anyway and Stephano had warned the captain about the risk of a blast of contramagic causing the cannons to explode, which is what had sunk the Royal Lion.

  Miri steered the pinnace toward the Sommerwind’s stern, where sailors were waiting to help catch the ropes and pull the boat on board.

  More bat riders were coming. Stephano waited tensely for the next assault. He was ready to fire his last bullet when, as if acting on a signal, the bat riders broke off the fight. They veered, wheeled, and flew off toward the refinery.

  “Why didn’t they finish us?” Stephano wondered.

  “They’ll leave us to the black ship,” said Sir Henry, shrugging. “The Bottom Dwellers now control all three Braffan refineries. Your King Alaric is going to be a very unhappy man.”

  King Alaric’s new, modern navy had been designed to use the liquid form of the Breath. The larger, heavier ships were dependent on the Blood to provide the lift to carry a greater number of bigger cannons. Without the liquid filling their capacious lift tanks, Rosia’s fleet could not sail. Refitting and modifying them would take months and during that time Rosia’s vaunted navy would be out of action. Freya’s ships, which operated on lift gas, were not as big as the Rosian ships and lacked the firepower. None of that would matter if the Rosian navy couldn’t get off the ground. A war with Freya would be over without a shot being fired.

  If, on the other hand, the Rosian navy had the Tears of God, they wouldn’t need the Blood.

  Sir Henry must have been thinking the same, because he leaned close to Stephano to say softly, “I want those crystals, Captain.”

  “You can want them all you like. You’re not going to get them.”

  The pinnace hovered over the stern, where the dragons had been accustomed to sleeping.

  Miri held the pinnace steady, while Dag threw down ropes to the sailors waiting below the black ship.

  They caught the ropes and hauled on the pinnace, lowering it to the deck as Miri gradually reduced the flow of magic to the lift tanks.

  Leutnant Baumann came running, shouting orders. “Haul away, lads!” He waved at Stephano. “Once the pinnace is down, we’re going to try to outrun that thing.”

  He gestured at the black ship.

  Gythe stood on the deck, eagerly waiting for them to land. The blue magic glittered all around her, sparkling on the deck, glowing on the hull. The workers were lifting the mattresses bearing the wounded.

  Stephano shifted his pistol to Sir Henry’s midriff and said politely, “I would be obliged, sir, if you would relinquish your weapons. Otherwise I will be forced to kill you.”

  Behind him, Frau Aadler gave an outraged cry. “What are you doing, Captain? Put down that pistol! Sir Henry is a Freyan ambassador!”

  Stephano didn’t have time to explain that the esteemed ambassador was in truth a spy and a cold-blooded killer who would have no compunction about killing them all if it suited his purpose.

  He ignored her and kept his pistol aimed at Sir Henry, who was divesting himself of his weapons.

  “What do you intend to do with me, Captain?” Sir Henry asked, seeming not the least perturbed.

  “The Sommerwind has a brig,” Stephano said shortly. He gestured with the pistol. “Pocket gun, too. I know you have one.”

  Sir Henry reached into his coat, drew out a small pistol, and added it to the collection on top of a barrel. Stephano picked up the pistols and the pocket gun and stowed them away in his coat.

  Sir Henry observed him, then said, with a casual air, “Do you know how a man cheats at baccarat, Captain?”

  “Not my game,” said Stephano. “And I don’t cheat. Walk ahead of me.”

  Sir Henry tugged at his tattered lace cuff. “He holds the winning card up his sleeve. Fair warning, Captain. I am not above cheating, not when the stakes are high enough.”

  Before Stephano could respond, the pinnace came down for a hard landing, bumping several times on the deck as the sailors fought to keep hold of the boat long enough to tie it down.

  “All secure!” Leutnant Baumann called.

  Captain Leydecker gave the order. The air screws whirred. The Sommerwind began to glide forward.

  The black ship opened fire.

  The mists of the Breath sizzled and evaporated as the green beam shot through them. The green contramagic fire struck the magic of Gythe’s shield. The two forces flared up in a dazzling burst that lit the sky as bright as the sun, bathing both ships in hot, brilliant green-blue light. The magicks warred, blazing fiercely until it seemed to the terrified observers that the battle must end in a fiery explosion that would destroy both ships.

  And then, with a deafening thunderclap, the magic burned out. Green light and blue vanished, leaving behind only a blinding afterimage burned into the back of the eyes. The blue glow surrounding the ship was gone.

  Stephano looked out at the black ship. Several Bottom Dwellers were gathered around the green beam weapon, splashing what appeared to be some sort of red liquid on the barrel. He assumed they were preparing it for firing.

  The Sommerwind was the faster ship and she was rapidly drawing away—just not rapidly enough. She had to navigate her way slowly through the narrow channel between the tree-encrusted islands or risk crashing and foundering. The black ship would have another shot at them, maybe two before the Sommerwind could escape.

  “Gythe!” Miri screamed.

  As Stephano half turned to see Gythe collapse and fall
to the deck, Sir Henry made a swift dive for his weapons.

  “I wouldn’t do that, sir,” said Dag. He had his pistol aimed at Sir Henry’s heart.

  Sir Henry smiled and let his hand fall.

  “Dag, take him to the brig!” Stephano ordered.

  “My pleasure, sir,” said Dag.

  He grabbed hold of Sir Henry and shoved his pistol in the man’s back. “Start walking.”

  Dag looked worriedly at Gythe. “I hope she’s all right, sir. Let me know.”

  Stephano nodded and limped over to the gangplank. Frau Aalder cast him a furious glance and turned her back on him. He painfully hobbled down the gangplank and onto the main deck. Rodrigo was kneeling beside Gythe, as Miri cradled her sister in her arms.

  Gythe was unconscious. Her face had lost its color. Blood was seeping from her eyes and ears and trailing out of the corner of her mouth.

  “Rigo…” Stephano couldn’t talk. He felt stifled. He had to force the words out. “Is she…”

  “She’s alive,” said Rodrigo. “But she’s badly hurt and I don’t know what’s wrong with her. I believe it has something to do with the concentrated force of the contramagic. If that weapon fires again, it will kill her.”

  “Don’t just stand there!” Miri said frantically. “Shoot them! Do something!”

  “There’s nothing we can do except try to outrun them,” said Stephano. “Take Gythe below. Rigo, you stay with her.”

  Rodrigo lifted Gythe in his arms. Her head lolled. Her fair hair was gummed with blood. He carried her below. Miri walked at his side, holding fast to Gythe’s hand.

  Stephano measured the distance between the Sommerwind and the black ship and shook his head.

  “How is the young woman?”

  Stephano turned to see Sir Henry with Dag right behind him. Stephano gave Dag a questioning look.

  “I thought you were going to take him to the brig?”

  “He said he wanted to talk to you, sir.”

  “I’d like to watch, Captain,” said Sir Henry. “I’ve never seen one of the black ships this close. This may be my only chance.”

  “I can take him below, sir,” Dag offered.

  “He can stay,” said Stephano.

  “How is Gythe, sir?” Dag asked worriedly.

  “She is very ill. Rigo’s with her … Do you think you could get a shot with the rifle from here? Target that gun crew?”

  He gestured to the black ship and the Bottom Dwellers working on the green beam weapon.

  “I could, but I’m out of bullets,” said Dag. He gave the rifle a fond pat and added wistfully, “She is a fine weapon.”

  “The rifle is yours, Sergeant,” said Sir Henry. “In return for services rendered.”

  Dag regarded the rifle with longing, then shook his head. “I don’t feel right taking it.”

  “Consider it a gift from an enemy, Sergeant,” said Sir Henry. “With the hope we will someday meet on the field of battle.”

  “With that hope, I thank you, sir,” said Dag.

  The three stood watching the black ship. The Sommerwind was steadily moving away. But slowly, much too slowly.

  “That ship is different from the ship that attacked Westfirth, isn’t it?” Stephano said. He had to do something to take his mind off the fact that the next blast of green fire was going to destroy them.

  “You’re right, sir,” said Dag. “That was an Estaran hulk, built during the time of the Bishop’s War. This is a refitted Guundaran freighter, probably forty years old.”

  “Ugly, isn’t it?” Stephano said.

  “Ugly as sin,” Sir Henry replied grimly. “See those strips that look like leather nailed to the hull? That is human skin. That liquid they’re splashing on the gun is human blood. They are using blood magic in conjunction with the contramagic. The fiends probably sacrificed some poor devil before they came after us.”

  “How do you know all this?” Stephano demanded.

  “Because I was acquainted with a woman who is one of them,” said Sir Henry. “She is known to you Rosians as ‘the Sorceress.’ She is skilled in the diabolical art of blood magic and contramagic. It might interest you to know she is now in the royal court of Rosia, masquerading as a duchess.”

  “What’s she doing there?” Stephano asked, alarmed.

  “I do not know,” Sir Henry replied gravely. “But where she goes, she leaves bloody footprints behind. I sent a warning to your mother.”

  Stephano was startled. “You really do consider these people a threat to the world, don’t you, sir?”

  “The Bottom Dwellers believe all the nations of the world conspired to destroy them,” Sir Henry replied. “They have waited and worked for five hundred years to exact their revenge.”

  The men who had been splashing blood on the green beam gun moved away, leaving only the two who were in charge of firing. They adjusted its aim.

  “Ship off the port bow!” the lookout cried.

  Everyone turned in amazement to see a ship emerge from the mist.

  “By God, sir, it’s a gunboat!” Dag stared at it and scrunched up his face in disgust. “At least, I think it’s a gunboat…”

  “I’m not sure what it is,” said Stephano.

  “The sergeant is right. That is a gunboat,” said Sir Henry proudly. “My gunboat, Her Majesty’s Ship Terrapin.”

  The strange-looking boat was aptly named. The hull was covered in steel plating. Steel plates protected the wings, making the gunboat appear to be encased in a shell. Usually gunboats carried only two air screws, but the Terrapin had four, the other two having been added to compensate for the weight of the armor. The Terrapin carried fourteen twelve-pound cannons, seven on each side, and sixteen swivel guns mounted behind protective steel plates. The guns had been run out, gunners at their posts. The green and silver Freyan flag flew bravely from the masthead as the Terrapin sailed directly into the path of the black ship.

  The two men operating the green beam weapon shifted to fire at this new and more dangerous target. The Terrapin sailed on with impunity.

  Stephano recognized the tactics of the Terrapin’s captain, and he had to say he admired the man’s courage. The Terrapin was planning to come in close and fire a broadside that would sweep the deck, targeting the crew, the rigging, and the masts. To do that, the Terrapin would first have to endure punishing fire. Steel plating wouldn’t protect her from a direct hit by the green beam weapon.

  Unless the plates were not made of ordinary steel.

  “Alcazar’s invention! The one you stole!” Stephano exclaimed. He turned to Sir Henry. “The gunboat is plated with Alcazar’s steel! Rigo said it could withstand contramagic.”

  “This will be the first real test.”

  Sir Henry spoke coolly and calmly, but Stephano noticed the knuckles on the elegant hands gripping the ship’s rail were white. A touch of color burned in the thin, aristocratic face.

  The captain of the Terrapin, whoever he was, must have had nerves made of the same steel. He stood in the open on the quarterdeck, watching the enemy through his spyglass. His deep voice carried clearly amid the tense hush that had fallen over the Sommerwind. Every man, no matter his duties, had stopped to watch the confrontation.

  “Hold your fire, lads,” the captain called.

  The gunners aboard the black ship had the Terrapin in their sights. A beam of green light struck the steel plating. The Terrapin rocked beneath the blast and something belowdecks exploded. Stephano held his breath. Such a blast had been the doom of the Royal Lion. The fire was contained, however, and did not spread. The metal plates glowed red from the heat, but they held. When the smoke cleared, he saw that the Terrapin had survived and was sailing on.

  Those on board the Sommerwind began cheering. Stephano shouted with the rest. Dag was pounding the rail with his fist and yelling. At the sound of the cheering, the captain of the Terrapin turned, swept off his hat, and made a rakish bow.

  “Steady, lads,” he called, putting on his hat a
nd going back to business. “Fire!”

  His gun crews were exceptionally well trained. All the guns fired simultaneously. Smoke swirled around the black ship. Stephano waited impatiently for the smoke to clear to see the damage.

  The Terrapin’s gunners had double-loaded the cannons, using small balls and chains. The broadside had swept the deck of the black ship. The Bottom Dwellers who had been lining the rails were gone, blown to bloody bits. The main mast had crashed to the deck, dragging down much of the ship’s rigging with it. The balloon sagged, air leaking out of it.

  “Fire swivel guns!” the captain ordered. “A purse of ten silver griffins to the man who takes out that bloody green cannon!”

  The swivel guns aboard the Terrapin opened fire on the Bottom Dwellers who were working feverishly to reload the weapon. A marksman on board the Terrapin earned the purse by hitting the swivel on which the gun was mounted, causing it to collapse. The two men who had been operating the gun vanished in a hail of bullets.

  “You’ve got blood enough now, you bastards!” the captain called, laughing grimly.

  The Terrapin began to tack, planning to swing around to rake the black ship with more devastating fire from her guns on the starboard side. Red smoke began rolling off the black ship, covering the Terrapin in a noxious fog. Stephano caught a whiff and coughed. He knew this tactic of old, when the Cloud Hopper had come under attack. The fumes were poisonous, disorienting.

  The captain of the Terrapin covered his mouth and nose, choking in the fumes. His helmsman must have been adversely affected, for the Terrapin faltered, hanging in the air. Under cover of the poisonous smoke, the black ship disappeared, sinking down into the Breath, hiding in the mist.

  The crew aboard the Terrapin were shouting and pointing, eager to pursue the foe. The captain wisely decided not to push his luck. He altered course to come within hailing distance of the Sommerwind.

  Led by Captain Leydecker, the crew and passengers of the Sommerwind gave the captain and crew of the Terrapin three rousing cheers.