The Grand Design

by John Marco

  THIRTEEN

  Against the Fearless

  The Prince of Liss sailed full-winded against the white caps, her masts groaning as she tacked north by northwest along the coast of Nar. On the orders of her commander, she had left the rest of her escort behind, and was now just two days south of Nar City. Her escort ships, Vindicator, Battle Axe, and the others, waited for her off the coast of Casarhoon, one of the Empire's more southerly regions, to pirate what supplies they could from the ill-armed ships that sailed there. The Prince of Liss had gone north alone. Fleet Commander Prakna waited in his quarters, worrying over charts as his flagship sailed again into the cold. Gray Lady had been gone for over a week, far longer than her patrol should have required, and Prakna was worried. On their long trek south they had seen almost no Naren ships, but the ocean was vast and any ships, even dreadnoughts, might have evaded them. They had sailed into southern waters to enjoy some sun, and Prakna himself had ordered Gray Lady back north to scout out the sea traffic around the Naren capital. That had been eight days ago. Captain Haggi was a careful sailor, and Prakna trusted him. Haggi was also a friend, and Prakna had wondered about the prudence of sending him north unescorted. But there had been no signs of trouble, and Haggi had agreed to the patrol willingly. Prakna brooded as he absently studied his charts and rutters. Gray Lady was a fine ship, but she was no match for imperial dreadnoughts.

  This cat-and-mouse game they were playing with Nar had wearied Prakna. It was dangerous, and Prakna realized that their recent successes had made him cocky. As far as he knew, the Black Fleet still stood at anchor around Crote, protecting Biagio, and that meant easy sailing for the schooners of Liss. After sinking the slaver some weeks ago, Prakna had turned his attention south and launched a raid on the port town of Karva. He hadn't lost a single man in the conflict, an astounding accomplishment, and from there they had sailed on to Dahaar, where a convoy of merchant vessels were bringing their cargo to Nar City. These, too, had gone down under the rams of his ships. And all for the sake of luring the Black Fleet away from Crote. Now, as Prakna contemplated the fate of Gray Lady, he wondered if his plan had succeeded.

  It was growing cold again but the afternoon was bright. Prakna worked to the sunlight streaming through his tiny window. On deck, Marus and the others were keeping watch for their missing comrades. The roof above Prakna's head creaked with the familiar sounds of ship-board life. Despite the foolhardiness of his plan to go after Gray Lady alone, his men had agreed to it willingly. Long days at sea had made them lean and irritable, but they were still the best crew Prakna had ever commanded, and they were loyal to a fault. If there was trouble up north, Prakna didn't want his entire fleet embroiled in it. Better that they should stay hidden around Casarhoon. Prakna was confident he could outrun any dreadnoughts they might encounter, provided he sighted them before they sighted the Prince. Gray Lady might not have been so lucky. It was one of the great tricks of warring against the dreadnoughts. Their long-range flame cannons could burn down a schooner's riggings with a single, well-placed shot. But they were ungainly beasts, these ships of Nar, not at all like the fleet-footed schooners of Liss. And Haggi was an accomplished captain. If he had encountered dreadnoughts, he would have known what to do.

  Or so Prakna hoped.

  Too fast, mused Prakna. Haggi always went too fast. If he had blundered into a dreadnought's path, he might not have had enough time to change course, to outmaneuver the ponderous devils. And all it would take was one lucky shot.

  The fleet commander scolded himself for his lack of faith and shoved his charts aside, burying his tired eyes in his hands. Like the rest of his crew, he hadn't slept much the past two days. Sailing the coast required attention. They weren't in deep waters anymore, and anyone might see them. They needed to be alert, a razor's edge. But Prakna didn't feel very much like a razor. He felt dull, easily distracted. He heard a call from the deck above that hardly stirred him, but then it grew louder. Curious, Prakna lifted his head. Someone was racing down the gangway toward his quarters. There was a thundering at the door and Captain Marus poked his head in, not waiting to be invited.

  "Prakna, it's the Lady," he said anxiously. His face was drawn with worry. "We've sighted her!"

  Prakna sprang from his chair and headed for the door. "Where? Is she alone?"

  "Not alone," said Marus. "Dreadnoughts."

  "Damn it! How many?"

  "Three, I think. They're far away yet; I couldn't tell. They're pursuing."

  The two men climbed the gang ladder and emerged onto the deck. Prakna's lieutenants were shouting orders to the men. Cannoneers made ready on the guns, packing powder and loading grapeshot. Up in the crow's nest the lookouts were pointing north, dead ahead. Prakna buttoned up his jacket and looked past the prow. He could see the Gray Lady in the distance, pitching on the sea. A pack of dreadnoughts were steaming after her, their masts full of wind as they tried to flank the schooner and catch her in their gunnery range. Just behind Gray Lady was another ship, this one smaller than the dreadnoughts. Probably a cruiser. She was dogging the Lissen vessel, tacking parallel to her, keeping her toward shore. And behind them all, looming large against the horizon, was the giant of the pack, a black behemoth with square-rigging and a prow as big as a hillside. Prakna's jaw fell open at the sight of her.

  "Oh, lord," he whispered. "The Fearless . . ."

  "Prakna?" asked Marus. "Your orders?"

  "Stay on course," said Prakna. "Get me closer. Shift all the cannons to the starboard side. We'll cover Gray Lady's escape. Go, man. Quickly."

  "Aye, sir," said Marus, snapping into action. He grabbed hold of a young ensign and started toward the cannons. The Prince of Liss had only four of the weapons, but they could easily be moved about on the upper deck of a ship, and that made them perfect for the schooners. Yet, because they weren't permanently secured to the deck, they were dangerous weapons to use. They were also small, with a much shorter range than the guns of the dreadnoughts. But when loaded with grapeshot they could pull down the rigging of a ship, crippling her. Marus and a group of sailors started hoisting the port cannons to the right-hand side of the Prince, fitting the barrels into the makeshift cradles. The guns were spaced far enough apart so that a concussion from one wouldn't send a spark flying to another. The cannoneers lit their fuse poles, readying to fire. They were far out of range still, but it wouldn't take long for the Prince to make up the distance.

  Prakna went to the prow of his vessel, peering out over the sea. He was elated, even in his dread. The sight of the Fearless had buoyed his mood, causing an evil smile to stretch across his face. They had actually succeeded in luring the big bastard away from Crote, and he could scarcely believe the luck of it. But Gray Lady was in trouble. Lieutenant Vax rushed up to him with a spyglass, handing it to him. Vax was a young man, tall and lean. He was a good sailor but the appearance of the dreadnoughts had turned his face ashen.

  "Gray Lady's been hit," he said unsteadily. "Look."

  Prakna put the spyglass to his eye. He could see Gray Lady sailing desperately toward them, her armored sides marked by cannon fire. Her stunsail had been torn to tatters and her front yards and rigging were ruined, pulled apart and blackened to ashes. She was limping, only barely quicker than the dreadnoughts now. The cruiser pursuing her was fast on her stern, still maneuvering to get alongside for a shot. Behind the cruiser were the two smaller dreadnoughts, sailing wide apart like a net, while the enormous Fearless kept its distance, unable to match even the damaged Lady's speed. Prakna lowered the spyglass, collapsing it with a sigh. Doubtlessly the dreadnoughts had already seen the Prince. But they were too far away to be much of a threat. It was the cruiser Prakna was worried about.

  "The cruiser's maneuvering to overtake Gray Lady," he told Vax. "Probably been trying for days. We're going to shake 'em loose. Full sails, Lieutenant. Bring us along starboard."

  "Between them?" asked Vax incredulously.

  "Right between them. We're going to cut them of
f. Make haste, boy. Do it now."

  Vax nodded and passed the order down the line. The Prince lurched left, slicing to port as she pointed her prow between Gray Lady and the cruiser. If the Prince were quick enough, and Prakna knew she was, he could get in between them and open fire with the starboard cannons before the dreadnoughts got much closer.

  "Let's make some noise, lads!" cried Prakna to his crew. "I want those bastards to know we're here!"

  Admiral Danar Nicabar stood on the forecastle of the Fearless, laughing in disbelief. Two days out of Nar, and he had not only ensnared the Lissen schooner, but now another fish had entered his net, and this one was a prize indeed. The admiral rubbed his hands together, anticipating the coming battle. He had only seen the Prince of Liss once before, and only from a distance, but its flag and keel design were unmistakable. For two days Nicabar's ships had pursued the fleeing schooner, sure that it would lead them to others of its ilk. They had damaged her only slightly when they could have easily burned her to pieces, but Nicabar had held back the order to sink the Lissen vessel. Biagio wanted the Lissens to see the Black Fleet. And Nicabar, never one to question his count, had planned to let the schooner escape him. But not anymore. Now Prakna himself had seen the Fearless in Naren waters, and that meant Nicabar could quench his lust on the wounded, fleeing schooner.

  "You're a brave and clever fool, Prakna," said Nicabar softly, studying the logistics playing out in front of him.

  Prakna was moving in between the schooner and the Relentless. If he had cannons on the Prince, he would have shifted them starboard to fire on Relentless' rigging. Nicabar hoped Captain Carce had figured this out. Did Carce even recognize the Prince? Nicabar's brow furrowed with worry. The cruiser Relentless was quick, but not quick enough. The admiral looked to the right, toward the dreadnought Notorious. She was hanging back from the Relentless and flanking her. Prakna's course would take him straight toward Notorious.

  "Captain Blasco," said Nicabar calmly. His second-in-command was at his shoulder, waiting for instructions. "Change course. Give me ten degrees starboard, toward Notorious. Let's make things more interesting for Prakna."

  "Aye, sir," said Blasco, grinning. "Should we prime the flame cannons?"

  Nicabar took a long time considering the question. He didn't want to sink the Prince or damage her too badly. She was to be their pawn, after all. She would tell the others about the Black Fleet. And Biagio would be proven correct--again. The admiral's smile grew. Maybe Herrith was right about Biagio. Maybe he was a devil.

  "Yes," decided Nicabar at last. "Yes, prime the cannons. I want to bloody Prakna's nose a bit."

  The Prince of Liss swept over the waves, devouring the distance between herself and Gray Lady. Prakna could see his sister ship clearer now, tacking wildly as she tried to outmaneuver the cruiser. Normally, the fast ships of Liss could out-pace Naren cruisers, but Gray Lady's condition prevented her from gathering enough wind to escape. The two combatants seemed evenly matched now, neither any quicker than the other, and since she was out of range from her prey, the cruiser had stopped firing. Gray Lady had no doubt seen the Prince coming to her aid and had tried to keep as straight a course as possible so that the flagship could get between them. On the Prince's starboard side, the four cannons had been readied, and the cannoneers watched as they approached the cruiser, ready to fire. The cruiser hadn't slowed, and no orders had flashed from the Fearless. But the big dreadnought had changed course to intercept the Prince, and Prakna fretted a little over his plan. They were already heading toward one of the smaller dreadnoughts, and Prakna had gambled that his vessel's superior maneuverability would keep them safe. But now the Fearless was bearing down on them too. It was either change course and let the Gray Lady die, or take their chances against the two dreadnoughts. Prakna cursed under his breath, just loud enough for Marus to hear him.

  "Shall we change course?" asked the captain anxiously.

  Prakna shook his head. "No. Not an inch."

  "Sir, the Fearless--"

  "I see her, Marus."

  Marus said no more. He was not a coward, and Prakna knew his officer would do as ordered. So the Prince held its course, and in mere minutes was only leagues away from the two vessels. Gray Lady pulled hard to port to close the distance between her and the Prince. A giant wave slammed into the Prince's prow, pitching her up like a surfacing whale. The pursuing cruiser stayed on course, perpendicular to the Prince as if to ram her. Prakna's four starboard cannons were almost in range, ready to shred the cruiser's rigging. Up in the far distance, the dreadnought on the left of the diamond formation had changed course to intercept the Prince of Liss, and the Fearless was grinding relentlessly toward them, her masts straining as the northern winds filled her sails.

  "Get us closer," Prakna shouted to his pilot. "Closer!"

  The short-range cannons needed to be close to be effective. The fuse poles of the cannons fizzled and popped eagerly, waiting for the chance to light the powder and launch the grapeshot. Prakna glanced over his shoulder toward the third dreadnought. She had changed course, too, and was eating up the distance to the damaged Gray Lady. The fleet commander's heart sank at the sight of the dreadnought. At her angle she would be able to reach Gray Lady and fire her flame cannons before Prakna could take out the cruiser. Prakna grit his teeth.

  "Ready . . ." he shouted to the cannoneers.

  The Gray Lady slipped behind them.

  "Ready . . ."

  The Naren cruiser was just ahead, nearly in range.

  "Ready . . ."

  The Lady was safe. The cruiser aimed amidships to the Prince, barely a league from ramming and refusing to change course. Prakna balled up a fist and screamed the order.

  "Fire!"

  All around him the deck erupted. One by one the cannons detonated, rocking the schooner. Red lightning shot from their muzzles as they expelled their barrels full of shot and shrapnel. The deck of the Prince filled with white smoke. Prakna squinted to see through the haze and watched as the cruiser's rigging suffered the barrage, wailing in torture as the hot metal of the cannons ravaged it. The cruiser churned onward, damaged but still on course. Prakna shouted to his pilot to steer hard to port to avoid the collision. The Lissen flagship bent to its new course, nearly pitching the sailors overboard as she groaned with effort. The cannoneers hurried to reload for another barrage, but the Prince was already past the cruiser and out of range. The cruiser skidded by, missing the Prince by mere yards, and as she passed, Prakna caught a glimpse of her ruined rigging, now in flames and coming apart at the yards. A victorious cheer went up from his men, but Prakna barely heard it. The Fearless and the other dreadnought were bearing down on them. Behind them, Gray Lady, who had so narrowly escaped the cruiser, was now being stalked by the third dreadnought.

  The signalmen along the deck of the Fearless passed their admiral's orders to the other ships of the escort. To the Notorious they sent the order not to fire on the Prince of Liss. But their signal to the Black City was far more dire.

  Sink the damaged schooner.

  Admiral Nicabar had remained on the prow of his flagship and had watched as Prakna maneuvered the Prince between the Relentless and the fleeing Lissen schooner. He had even laughed when Relentless' rigging had been ruined, cursing Carce's stupidity at trying to ram the Prince. The Relentless was driving without sails now, and would have to limp back to Crote. But Prakna's bold move had come at a price. Now he was looking down the throat of both the Fearless and Notorious, passing between them in much the same way he had the two other ships. This time, however, Notorious was angled guns forward, and the Fearless herself was positioning to fire.

  "Ten degrees left rudder," Nicabar called to his captain, who relayed the order to the pilot. At once the giant warship lurched left, positioning her starboard side toward the Prince of Liss. On the gun deck below, the starboard flame cannons hissed to life. The Fearless had a battery of six flame cannons on both the port and starboard sides, and any one of them cou
ld easily reach Prakna's vessel. One shot could put down a vessel's rigging, setting it aflame. Nicabar knew he needed to be cautious. He didn't want to cripple the Prince of Liss. He just wanted to teach his old enemy a lesson.

  In just a few moments the Fearless was in position. The upper deck shook with the mechanical movement of the cannons on the gun deck below. While the flame cannons cranked into position, the Notorious made a bold turn to sail parallel to the Prince. The two dreadnoughts sailed a southeast heading. The Prince was heading northwest, directly between the two of them, but in the opposite direction. It looked like a foolish move, Nicabar knew, but it would give Prakna a much needed escape.

  "He'll think me an idiot for this," sneered Nicabar. "I promise you, Prakna. I'll kill you another day." He turned to call over his shoulder. "Blasco, get ready to fire. And signal Black City again! What the hell are they waiting for?"

  The Prince of Liss was at full speed. The wind cut into Prakna's face. A terrible exhilaration went through him as he watched the big silhouette of the Fearless grow ever larger. To port was the smaller dreadnought, its flame cannons bearing down on them, just out of range. To starboard loomed the Fearless, her own guns certainly in range but holding their fire. Prakna wondered why. Both dreadnoughts would be sailing past the Prince, and Prakna was dead in their crossfire, ready to be pommelled with fire. His mind skipped over the possibilities. His own starboard cannons were ready to fire again, but they were no match for the heavy armor of Nicabar's flagship, and so Prakna didn't bother giving the order to fire. The shots would have simply bounced off the Fearless' hull. He had no cannons to use against the smaller dreadnought to port but it wouldn't have mattered either. Like her big sister, the dreadnought was dressed to withstand such small attacks. Only a full-speed ramming could sink one of Nar's warships. Prakna took a deep breath of cold air and made his decision.