The tide of victory b-5

by Eric Flint

  Antonina started to rise, the gun in her hands, but Matthew shoved her back down with a hand on her shoulder.

  "Stay here," he hissed. Then, as if realizing the pointlessness of that advice, the cataphract shook his head and added: "Just stay behind us, will you? Back us up if it's needed-but stay behind us."

  That said, Matthew surged out of the bow shield. Leo had already charged onto the deck and was swinging his mace at another priest hurling himself through the flames. The heavy weapon, driven by Leo's great strength, swatted the priest back against the hull of the Circe. The Mahaveda seemed to stick there for a moment, before his body dropped into the small gap between the ships. Antonina could hear the simultaneous sound of a splash and a hiss. That priest's clothing had also been afire.

  By the time Antonina got to her feet and came out of the bow shield, holding her double-barreled firearm, the battle on the deck was in full fury. What seemed like a horde of priests was pouring over the side, matched only by Ousanas and her two bodyguards.

  Only.

  Antonina almost burst into laughter. Only.

  Three giants, great warriors one and all, matched against a tribe of troglodytes-all of whose experience at "combat" had been practiced in a torture chamber.

  For a few seconds, she was mesmerized by the sight. Ousanas was in the middle, flanked by Leo and Matthew. His weapon flicked and stabbed like lightning, spearing one priest after another-half of them while still in midair. The aqabe tsentsen's skill was as great as his strength, too. Somehow he managed to land each strike without jamming the blade in bone or flesh. Most of the spear thrusts took the enemy in their throats, upending them into the sea while it spilled their lifeblood.

  Matthew, with his spatha, and Leo, with his mace, made no attempt to match that precision. Nor had they any need to do so. Matthew's blade hacked bodies into pieces and Leo's warclub smashed them aside entirely.

  Several of the Victrix's sailors were now rushing up, swords in hand, prepared to support the three men fending off the boarders. Antonina shouted-"Stay back! Stay back!"-and fiercely waved them away. The sailors would be more of a hindrance than a help, she knew. In those close quarters, they would simply be an obstruction to the fighting room needed by Ousanas and Leo and Matthew.

  The urgency of that task brought home to Antonina that she, also, was not thinking clearly. The three men fighting off the boarders did not need her help so much as they needed her to take charge of the situation.

  Quickly, she scanned the scene. The Malwa ship was now engulfed in flames. Clearly enough, the few priests she could see frantically trying to quell the fires would not succeed. The Circe was doomed. No chance that the Malwa could reach the harbor and blow it up.

  The danger which did remain was that the flames would reach the powderkegs which Antonina was certain filled every inch of the Malwa ship's hold. Unless the Victrix was well away by that time, she and everyone on her would join the Malwa in the ensuing destruction.

  True, that would take some time. Most of the now-roaring inferno came from burning sails and rigging, not the Circe's hull. By the time the fire burned through enough of the hull to reach the powderkegs, the Victrix could be a mile off.

  Unless some priest realizes.

  A vivid image flashed through her mind of a Mahaveda fanatic in the hold, bringing a torch to the powder. Fanatics. And it was a suicide mission, anyway.

  She turned her head. Eusebius was no longer working at the fire cannon, but was staring at her. His face was as pale as Antonina suspected her own to be.

  "Get us out of here!" she shouted.

  Eusebius' face seemed to pale still further. He spread his hands in a helpless gesture.

  Antonina cursed herself silently. She had forgotten that, taking charge of the fire cannon, Eusebius was no longer in control of the ship.

  She turned back, facing the stern, her eyes seeking the helmsman. By now, the stern had drawn even with that of the Circe. Ousanas and the two cataphracts had kept moving aft down the side of the Victrix, fighting off the boarders doing the same on their own as the two ships passed each other. She saw two last boarders jump from stern to stern at the same instant that she spotted the helmsman of the Victrix.

  The two priests went for the helmsman, but Ousanas intercepted them. A sweep and a thrust, and both Mahaveda were down. One dying on the deck, the other in the sea.

  Antonina took no comfort at all from the sight. The fact that the priests had tried to kill the helmsman, while ignoring the onrushing Ousanas, suggested that the Mahaveda had already come to the same conclusion she had. No hope of accomplishing their original mission remained. That left. simply taking as many enemies with them as possible.

  She started shouting at the helmsman, but broke off before uttering more than a few words. Clearly enough, the man understood the danger as well as she did. Nor, for that matter, was there much he could do that he wasn't doing already. The Victrix had been running before the wind as it was. No point in changing directions now.

  She stared at the receding enemy ship. The Circe was no longer anything but a floating bonfire. There was not a chance that any man on her deck would still be alive within a minute or two. Nor, she thought-hoped-was there much chance that any of them would be able to fight their way across the deck to the hatchways leading to the hold.

  That still left the possibility that at least one priest had stayed in the hold throughout the short battle, ready to ignite the powder if necessary.

  Possibility?

  Antonina winced. She was absolutely certain that a priest had been stationed there. Several of them, in fact-each one charged to make sure his fellows would not flinch at the very end when the time came to commit suicide. That had been the Mahaveda plan all along, after all. The only thing that had changed was that Antonina's intervention had prevented the Circe from reaching the harbor before they did so.

  Ousanas trotted up to her, his spear trailing blood across the deck. "Only thing we can hope for is that they're still confused down there." Clearly enough, he had reached the same conclusion she had.

  "One of the few times I've ever been glad those Mahaveda bastards are such fanatics," he said, grimly. "They'll be reluctant to blow it, not having reached their target. So until they're certain. "

  She stared at him. Then, in a half-whisper: "They're bound to know that by now."

  Ousanas shook his head. "Don't be too sure of that, Antonina. I got a better look at the conditions on the Circe than you did." He glanced at Eusebius, who had emerged from the bow shield and was charging back to the stern. The glance was very approving.

  "That devil cannon of his must have hit them like a flood of fury. A tidal wave of fire and destruction. As confusing as it was horrible. I doubt the Malwa command structure survived more than a few seconds."

  Again, he shook his head. "So. who knows? The priests in the hold may have been isolated from the beginning. And still don't know what's happening-and have no way of getting on deck to find out for themselves. Even Mahaveda fanatics will hesitate to kill themselves, when they're not sure what they'd be accomplishing by doing so."

  Eusebius was shouting shrill orders. Some of the Victrix's sailors started dousing the stern of the ship with water kept in barrels. Others began dousing the rigging. That should have been done before the battle even started, Antonina realized. But everything had happened too quickly.

  It was getting harder to see anything. The Circe was now two hundred yards away, and the fierce light cast by the burning ship was no longer enough to do more than vaguely illuminate the deck of her own ship. But there was still enough light for her to see that several of the sailors, apparently at Eusebius' command, were standing ready with hatchets and axes to cut away the Victrix's rigging.

  "What are they doing?" she demanded. "The last thing we want is to lose our own sails."

  Ousanas did not share her opinion. Instead, he growled satisfaction. "Smart man, Eusebius. He's figured out already that most of the e
xplosives on board the Circe will be incendiaries." For a moment, he studied the ever more distant enemy ship. "We're far enough away, by now, that we can probably survive the actual shock of the explosion. But we'll soon be engulfed in fire ourselves. If we can cut away the rigging fast enough-that's what'll burn the worst-we might be able to keep the Victrix afloat. Maybe."

  Something of Antonina's confusion must have shown in her face. Ousanas chuckled.

  "Strange, really. You're normally so intelligent. Think, Antonina."

  He pointed back at the Circe. The Malwa ship was no more than a bonfire in the distance, now. "Their plan was to blow it up in the harbor, right? In order to do what?"

  She was still confused. Ousanas chuckled again.

  "Think, woman! The Malwa aren't crazy, after all. Insanely fanatic, yes, but that's not the same thing as actual lunacy. The harbor itself-even the buildings surrounding it-is built far too solidly to be destroyed by any amount of gunpowder which could be stowed on a single ship. Which means that their real target was not the harbor but the ships in it. And the best way to destroy shipping is with flame."

  Finally understanding his point, she heaved a small sigh of relief. She had been imagining the Malwa ship as a giant powderkeg, which, when it exploded, would produce a large enough concussion to shatter everything within half a mile at least. But if most of the explosives were designed as incendiaries.

  Matthew and Leo came up, looming above her in the darkness. Ousanas placed his hands on Antonina's shoulders, turned her around-gently, but she could no more have resisted him than she could have a titan-and propelled her back into the bow shield.

  "So you," he murmured cheerfully, "will ride out the coming firestorm in the safest place available."

  Once they were inside the shelter, with Matthew and Leo crowding behind, he added even more cheerfully: "Me, too. The thought of losing Africa's future because of a damned Malwa plot is unbearable, don't you think?"

  Antonina put her gun back in the valise and closed it. Then, still kneeling, she looked up at the aqabe tsentsen. As she expected, Ousanas was grinning from ear to ear.

  She started to make some quip in response. Then Ousanas' figure was backlit by what seemed to be the end of the universe. Armageddon's fire and fury.

  Fortunately, Ousanas was quick-thinking enough to kneel next to her and shelter her in his arms before the shock wave arrived. Matthew was quick-witted enough to start to do the same.

  Leo, alas, had never been accused of quick-wittedness of any kind, save his animal reflexes in battle. So the concussion caught him standing, and sent him sprawling atop Ousanas and Matthew, with Antonina at the bottom of the pile.

  But perhaps it was just as well. Antonina was too busy trying not to suffocate under the weight of three enormous men to feel any of the terror caused by the firestorm which followed.

  * * *

  The next morning, at daybreak, Roman galleys found the Victrix. The vessel was still afloat, but drifting helplessly in the sea. It had proved necessary to cut away all the rigging before the fire was finally brought under control. Most of the sailors had suffered bad burns-which two of them might not survive-but were otherwise unharmed.

  The ship itself.

  "It'll take us weeks to refit her," complained Eusebius, as he watched his sailors attach the tow rope thrown from one of the galleys.

  "You don't have 'weeks,' " snarled Antonina. "Two weeks, the most."

  Eusebius' eyes widened with surprise. "Two weeks? But our campaign's not supposed to start until-"

  "Change of plans," snarled Antonina. She glared to the east. The direction of the Malwa enemy, of course. Also, the direction in which Belisarius' army was to be found, marching slowly toward the Indus.

  "Assuming my husband listens to the voice of sweet wifely reason," she added. Still snarling.

  Chapter 18

  The Jamuna

  Summer, 533 A.D.

  Link awaited Narses on Great Lady Sati's luxury barge, moored just downstream from the fork of the Jamuna and Betwa rivers. The fact that the monster from the future had traveled to meet him made the already anxious eunuch more anxious still. Link rarely left the imperial capital of Kausambi. To the best of Narses' knowledge, it had never done so since it had become-resident, lodged, whatever grotesque term might be applied-within the body of the young woman who had once been Lady Sati.

  As he was escorted up the ramp leading to the barge's interior by two of Link's special assassins, Narses forced himself to settle down. If he was to survive the coming hour, his nerves would have to be as cold as ice. Fortunately, a long lifetime of palace intrigue and maneuver had trained him in the methods of calmness.

  So he paid little attention to his surroundings as the black-clad, silently pacing assassins guided him through the interior of the barge. A general impression of opulence, almost oppressive in its luxurious weight, was all that registered. His mind and soul were preoccupied entirely with settling themselves within his heart.

  A small, scarred, stony heart that was. With room in it for a single thought and purpose, no other.

  The truth only. Narses is what I care about. Nothing more.

  He entered a large chamber within the barge, somewhere deep in its bowels. At the far end, on a slightly elevated platform, sat Great Lady Sati. She was resting on an ornately carved chair made entirely of ivory. Her slender, aristocratic hands were draped loosely over the armrests. The veil was drawn back from her face, exposing the cold beauty of the young flesh.

  In front of her, kneeling, were four immense men. They were naked from the waist up, holding equally naked swords in their huge hands. Great tulwars, those were. Two other such men were standing in the corners of the chamber, behind Great Lady Sati. Like the two assassins-and two others who were positioned in the corners of the room behind Narses himself-the giants were of Khmer stock. Nothing of India's flesh resided in those men.

  But Narses paid them almost no attention at all. As soon as he entered the room, his eyes were drawn to the man sitting on a slightly less majestic chair directly to Great Lady Sati's right. Nanda Lal, that was. One of Emperor Skandagupta's first cousins, and the chief spymaster of the Malwa Empire.

  The sight of Nanda Lal caused Narses' already-frigid soul to freeze completely. The sensation of relief was almost overwhelming.

  Familiar ground, then. So be it.

  A small stool was placed in the center of the floor, atop the rich carpet, perhaps ten feet from the elevated platform. Just close enough to Great Lady Sati and Nanda Lal to enable easy conversation, but allowing the giant bodyguards the space needed to maintain a shield before Link's human sheath.

  Narses did not wait for an invitation. He simply moved to the stool and took a seat. Then, hands placed on knees, waited in silence.

  The silence went on for perhaps a minute, as Link and Nanda Lal scrutinized him. Then Great Lady Sati spoke.

  "Are you loyal to Malwa, Narses?"

  The eunuch found it interesting that Sati's voice had none of the eerie quality which his spies had reported to him, from indirect reports. It was simply the voice of a young woman. Pleasant, if chilly and aloof.

  "No." He thought to elaborate and expand, but discarded the notion. The truth only! Elaboration-expansion even more so-always carried the risk of wandering into falsehood.

  "Not at all?"

  "Not in the least."

  "Are you loyal only to yourself?"

  "Of course." A trace of bitterness crept into his voice. "Why would it be otherwise?"

  "We have treated you well," interjected Nanda Lal, a bit angrily. "Showered you with wealth and honors."

  Narses shrugged. "You have made me the spymaster for your finest general, and sent me off into a life of hardship and danger. Traipsing across half of Asia-at my age! — with enemies on all sides. The wealth sits idle in small coffers, locked within the emperor's vaults, while I live in a tent."

  Nanda Lal shifted his weight in the chair, clutching the
arm rests. He was a heavy man, and muscular. The chair creaked slightly in protest.

  "I'm sure you've managed to fill your own coffers with bribes and stolen treasure!" he snapped.

  Narses rasped a harsh chuckle. "Of course. Quite a bit, too, if I say so myself."

  Nanda Lal's dark face flushed with open anger at the sneering disrespect which lurked just beneath the eunuch's words. His heavy lips began to peel back from his teeth in a snarl. But before he could utter a word, Great Lady Sati spoke. And, this time, in the voice.

  All thoughts of derision and banter fled from Narses, hearing that voice. It was sepulchral beyond any human grave or tomb. The words were still spoken with the tone produced by a young woman's throat and mouth; but the sound of them was somehow as vast and cavernous as eternity. This, Narses knew, was the true voice of the thing called Link.

  "Desist, Nanda Lal. Your anger is pointless and stupid."

  Link's young-woman-shell kept its eyes on Narses, giving the Malwa spymaster not so much as a glance. The eyes, too, seemed as empty as a moonless, cloudcast night.

  "Your sole loyalty is to yourself, Narses. Your heart cannot be won by any cause, your devotion by any honor or sentiment, your mind by any treasure. You seek, now as at all times, simply your own advantage."

  There didn't seem to be anything to say in response. So Narses said nothing. Link studied him in silence for quite some time. Narses had never in his life felt so closely scrutinized.

  "No. I misjudged. There is something more. something you are hiding."

  Narses' hands did not so much as twitch, resting on his knees. He simply leaned forward slightly and replied:

  "Yes. I enjoy the game itself. Perhaps even more, I sometimes think, than the advantage it brings me. I hide that from sight, because it gives me yet another advantage. People assume me to be driven by ambition. Which is true enough, of course. But ambition is ultimately nothing more than a tool itself."