Reavers of the Tempest

by J M D Reid

  The haze on the horizon grew murkier. The wind increased, carrying the squall towards Onhur. Already, the edges reached the enemy, tendrils spilling over the pirate ships. The two fleets closed the distance, only five hundred ropes apart. The natural storm swallowed the pirates’ ships moments before engulfing the Autonomy ships.

  Strong wings whipped at Whitesocks. His neighs and whinnies were lost to the gale. Chaylene’s stomach lurched as the tempest bounced her up and down in the saddle, smooth flight impossible. Cold rain soaked through her clothes. Her teeth chattered as the icy worms slithered into the core of her body.

  Chaylene struggled to ignore the chill attacking her limbs as she dove down towards the Dauntless. The rate of fire slowed as the thick clouds swallowed the warship. But the pirates were equally as disoriented, the circling formation of raiders breaking up into snaking lines.

  No Agerzak pirate would have Riasruo’s Blessings, realized Chaylene. They’ll be blind in the fog.

  Fire blossomed in the squall ahead. A wall of boiling air slammed into her. Whitesocks neighed in terror. The turbulence assaulted them, bouncing her in the saddle. Her harness straps dug into her thighs as she flinched from the inferno burning beneath, flames reaching up to devour her and her mount.

  *

  “We can’t take the shore batteries!” growled Tsossar as another massive explosion burst before the prow of the Iron Horse. “We lost the surprise. Two of their ships are sallying forth.”

  “We still outnumber those two ships!” Nrein growled. “We keep attacking!”

  Horseless raiders crowded the ship’s deck. There wasn’t enough space for all their mounts, so they would Skydance on foot, charging from the deck. They just had to survive long enough to close with the Vionese ships and crush them. Explosions lit up the sky before Nrein’s fleet, brilliant flares of orange raging for a heartbeat. The pair of Autonomy ships descended like hungry sharks, firing their destructive shots. They burst almost harmlessly around Nrein’s ships. But the shore batteries . . . they fired larger ordinance. The world rattled every time they detonated.

  “This is madness,” Tsossar hissed, leaning in. “We’re gonna lose everything.”

  “Are you a coward, Tsossar?” Nrein seized his second-in-command by the shoulders with iron fingers. “Are you afraid of the guppies the Autonomy sends to fight us? We’re sharks! We’ll eat them and then we’ll pillage the town!” Nrein’s fingers squeezed tighter. “You will obey—”

  The air exploded before the prow of the Iron Horse. Fire and smoke engulfed Nrein. His Fleshknitting activated as he slammed into the deck. Agony burned along his head and shoulders. Bits of gravel wormed out of his torn muscles. He growled, fighting against the torture. The wind howled louder as he sat up, a cool mist caressing his skin. Tsossar’s headless corpse lay beside him. Nrein blinked, struggling to think.

  I can’t be weak. He hauled himself to his feet as his flesh expelled another piece of shrapnel. It clattered to the deck. “I want you . . .” His words trailed off as he stared at the ruins of the fore ballistae, the bow of the Iron Horse mangled by the powerful explosion. The Vionese slaves manning the engine lay in shredded hunks of flesh across the deck.

  “Lroff!” Nrein roared. “I need your fire.”

  Ahead, the Dauntless pressed forward. Lightning crackled from the enemy’s railings, killing his raiders. Nrein gritted his teeth. He would have his Firedrinker burn the ship out of the sky. He focused all his attention on the ship hurtling closer.

  In moments, everything grew hazy. Cold rain splattered his cheek. A squall engulfed his ship. The storm’s gray clouds spilled like wet cotton over his deck. It pressed in on him. He flinched, his heart beating faster as everything became murky. It devoured the world. He clenched his fists, his breath quickening.

  The open sky was gone.

  Stop being a useless coward! It’s just a whore-poxed cloud! You’re not in the rusting room!

  A child whimpered in Nrein’s mind. Weak.

  “Captain!” Lroff shouted. He stumbled out of the mist, the clouds so thick Nrein couldn’t see the aft end of his ship.

  “Fire!” Nrein screamed, pointing at where the Dauntless had soared moments before. “Burn the skies before us!”

  Drive back this damned fog before it strangles us!

  *

  Whitesocks screamed as the heat boiled around Chaylene. Steaming air buffeted them as the fire raged before the Dauntless. Gray feathers ripped off Whitesocks’s wings as the superheated winds slammed into him from below. Chaylene clutched the reins. The world spun around her.

  Fear hammered in Chaylene’s heart. Fire consumed the skies before the Dauntless. The roaring turbulence swallowed her screams as she flared her Pressure beneath Whitesocks’s wings. He screamed again as she pulled him out of the dive and away from the inferno, out of the oven. The direction didn’t matter. They just had to escape—

  Movement flashed to her right.

  “No!” Chaylene shouted then ducked as Dancer’s hoof kicked over her head. Zori soared past Chaylene, fighting to regain control of her own pegasus.

  Then cold crashed into her. Mist caressed her dry skin. She shuddered, the wet air soothing her burning lungs. Rain soaked her hot clothing. She could think again, gather herself. She had to figure out what happened.

  She banked Whitesocks and witnessed an unnatural inferno raging in the skies before the Dauntless. The warship pitched up, but the fire burned too close. Chaylene’s stomach clenched as the bow knifed into the furnace, flames licking along the wooden hull.

  “No!” Chaylene gasped. She struggled to understand where the flames— “The Third Gift of Firedrinking!”

  As Esty’s explanation echoed in her mind, she fumbled to grasp her pressure rifle. It bounced before her, held to her by the strap over her shoulder. The haft bucked into her side, shooting pain through her body. She raised it and searched through the squall and driving rain to find the Agerzak conjuring the flames.

  Her husband, her friends, burned.

  She spotted the shattered prow of the nearest pirate ship. Two men stood at the bow, an imposing man with an Agerzak greatsword, the other with his beard divided into two thick braids. He had his arms held out, fingers splayed, face a tight mask of concentration.

  Chaylene fired.

  *

  “Hard to port!” screamed Captain Dhar as the fog transformed into flames before the Dauntless. “Rise at twenty degrees.”

  “Away from the railing!” Ary commanded. He grabbed the wounded, press-ganged sailor lying at the railing, dragging him back and healing him enough so he’d live. Despite the risk, Ary couldn’t let the man die.

  The fire roared before the ship, drowning out every sound. Ary trembled in his rain-soaked uniform. The bow pitched upward. Ary gasped, falling to his knees as the deck became a steep slope. His boots slipped on the wet decking. The wind swept in from port as sailors turned the rigging. The masts groaned, the propelling gust driving soggy clouds across the deck.

  The Dauntless prow rammed into the inferno. The ship groaned as tongues of orange and red rolled up the side and over the gunwale. Heat transformed the mist into angry smoke, smothering the world in dense black. Panic rippled through him. Memories of crawling blind through choking darkness assailed him.

  “The hull’s wet,” Estan, lying on his belly, yelled over the inferno’s crackle. “Hopefully, the Dauntless won’t catch fire.”

  “Ready buckets for firefighting!” Ary ordered, falling back on his training, a buffer against the terror as the heat assailed him. “Corporal Huson, you command it.”

  “Yes, Adjutant-Lieutenant!” she screamed.

  The fires abruptly died. Silence fell on the deck for a moment. Ary looked up. The skies no longer burned around them. The tangy odor of wood and smoke filled his nose. Black streamers blew in the propelling wind.

  “To the railing!” Ary bellowed as he stood. “Move it! Look for fire on the hull! If the ship burns, we all die!�
��

  Ary rushed to the gunwale with other sailors as the Dauntless leveled off flight. He peered over the side. The hull smoked. Black scorches licked at the white-yellow planks, leaving whole swaths of the ship charred into rippling waves.

  “Dump fire buckets!” Ary shouted as sailors stumbled across decks, water slopping from wooden buckets. They dumped their contents over the side, steam rising from the scorched marks. “Keep it up!”

  “Who has a Blessing of Mist?” Captain Dhar demanded from the stern deck. “What are we flying towards?”

  Ary saw only thick storm clouds roiling around the ship. It wasn’t the violent tempest of the Cyclone raging around the Dauntless. The dense clouds streaked past, spraying sheets of rain across the deck.

  “There’s a pirate ship dead ahead, Captain!” Lieutenant Tharele screeched. “At our altitude! Only fifty ropes!”

  “Pitch us up!” shouted the captain, grasping the railing. Fifty ropes wasn’t far.

  “Brace for impact!” bellowed the chief of the boat.

  Ary grabbed the gunwale, legs braced. The Dauntless bow rose once more. Ary’s innards shifted as the deck pitched upward. The sails billowed as the Windwarden increased the winds. The mainmast creaked. Ary could barely see the bow of the Dauntless through the wet murk. His skin tightened.

  “We’re not making it, Captain!” Lieutenant Tharele shouted.

  Ary tightened his hold on the gunwale.

  “The Dauntless’s prow is sharp. It was built to ram!” Estan shouted.

  “It’s never a good idea!” Ary answered.

  A black hull appeared out of the fog.

  The Dauntless struck the pirate ship.

  The impact threw Ary forward, his shoulder screaming in pain as he clutched onto the railing. Wood groaned and snapped. The rising Dauntless’s keel slammed into the pirate ship near the top of its hull. The driving winds the Windwarden summoned filled the Dauntless’s sails, driving the ship forward. The hull moaned in protest.

  The pirate ship rolled.

  Men screamed on the enemy ship as it keeled over onto its side. Sails waved and spars snapped. A great crack split the foggy night. The panicked screams of the press-ganged sailors and Agerzak raiders dwindled as they tumbled down into the Storm.

  “That’s the Bravado,” Estan whispered.

  Ary stared wide-eyed as the Dauntless sailed over the wounded ship, rolling it over until its bottom faced up at Ary.

  Cracks split up the Bravado’s hull. Her keel snapped. The bow of the ship plummeted into the Storm, severed from the engine in the stern. The rear spun away from the Dauntless in a lazy spiral, buffeted by the winds of the storm. Ary shuddered in horror at the sight of men clinging to the wreck before it vanished into the squall. A few of the Agerzaks, using their Skydancing, skittered and rolled across the sky like it was ground. One slammed into the side of the Dauntless, the man’s screams cutting off in a crunching thud.

  “Riasruo Above,” Guts groaned.

  Ary only nodded, feeling bloodless. His training failed him. He didn’t know what to do but stand there, rooted. It was over so fast, a few dozen heartbeats, and an entire ship destroyed.

  “Damage report!” the captain shouted, her voice slamming into Ary. “Did we break any of the frames? Are we still skyworthy?”

  *

  The air hissed.

  Lroff collapsed beside Nrein. The flames burning in the sky snuffed out; the great roar was silenced. Nrein gaped at his Firedrinker, blood soaking through his dirty linen shirt. Snarling, Nrein cast his gaze into the oppressive—

  Cold shot through Nrein.

  He stumbled back as burning agony swelled through his chest. His Blessing erupted into activity as his lungs filled with blood. His breathing became labored. Wheezing like a pneumatic crone, he lurched to the railing separating the foredeck from the lower well deck. Coppery life filled his mouth. Dizziness washed through him.

  The fire burned in his chest, driving blood out of his lungs while repairing flesh and bone. The scout’s pressure bullet passed clean through him, punching out his back between his middle ribs. He spat out blood as his vision cleared and he gazed at . . .

  The oppressive mist . . . the scout’s attack had come out of that hidden darkness. Terror beat through Nrein’s heart. The storm clouds reached for him. He struggled to breathe through choking blood. Smothering fear reached for him.

  How can I fight them if I can’t see them?

  “Thrice-damned . . . scouts . . .” he growled.

  His ship sailed blind. Explosions detonated through the sky, and an Autonomy sharpshooter sniped his crew. Clouds didn’t blind scouts. Nrein despised all those who worshiped the False Sun and used her foul Gifts.

  A shiver wracked through Nrein. Healing another major injury so soon drained his inner fire. Galling rage fueled the Gift repairing the delicate tissue of his lungs. If he took another shot . . . if it clipped his heart, his head . . .

  “They never fight fair,” he snarled. He gripped the railing and spat more blood. “Damned guppies. They have no courage!”

  The boom of wood slamming into wood thundered out of the storm. Mighty cracks and resounding snaps echoed followed by a skin-crawling grinding. Men screamed. A ship was tearing itself apart. Nrein had no idea if it was his or the Autonomy’s.

  Rusted clouds! Trying to crush me.

  “Their damn False Sun aids them!” he roared to his crew, forcing himself to stand and swallow his unmanly fears. “She summoned this thrice-damned tempest for them. The damned sky dwellers are creatures of the Storm. They live in it. They thrive in it.”

  His crew huddled across the deck, sheltering from the powerful shore batteries still firing upon the Iron Horse. Booms rocked the ship, shrapnel hissing over the deck. Nrein stumbled. Heat seared his back. A fresh piece of gravel was embedded in his lungs. He coughed more blood, his vision swimming. Snarling, he fed his anger into his Fleshknitting.

  The gravel wormed out of his body, retracing its steps. Sharp corners tore and dug at him, pain flaring as he faced his crew. He embraced the agony, standing wild before them, blood sheeting down his body, matting his beard.

  “We hurt the bastard Vionese today!” he boomed, voice rough, grating with death. “We crippled one of their ships! They’re weakening while we grow stronger.” I need to keep their confidence. “We’re the sons of Agerz! The blood of men and warriors flows through us. Not like the Vionese. They’re descendants of bird-loving farmers. They’re as weak as the Luastria. Our ancestors conquered these skylands, and we’ll do so again.”

  No one cheered. His Agerzaks cowered on the deck, lying on their bellies, hands covering heads. They flinched as an explosion detonated off the side of the Iron Horse.

  “Next time, we’ll put Onhur to the torch! We’ll burn out every last Vionese. Even their women will be thrown to the fires once we’ve had our fill of ‘em.”

  None stirred.

  He spat bloody phlegm at them. All broken, useless. Nrein itched to hack all of them to death. But he needed them. He would regroup. He would reorganize and repair. Next time, he wouldn’t make the mistake of telling his guppy-loving sister his plans.

  That little trollop betrayed me for an Autonomy marine!

  Nrein swallowed his anger and pride, and gave the order to retreat. Even he flinched when the next shot exploded by his ship, spraying slicing shrapnel through the air. The fog hid his enemies while trying to swallow him.

  The clouds grew thicker as the Iron Horse fled.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Lheshoa 15th, 399 VF (1960 SR)

  Dawn approached as the crew of the Dauntless bustled. The warship hovered over the docks, held still by the Windwardens. Carpenters, working by oil lamps, replaced damaged and burned hull planks with fresh lumber.

  The Dauntless had come through the fight mostly unscathed. Their casualties were light. Two were dead, both press-ganged sailors, and another three were injured and transferred to the medical building,
unfit to sail with the Dauntless after the two pirate ships that had escaped in the squall.

  Chaylene stared out at the skies before Onhur, the sun lightening the horizon. The pirate ships had retreated almost directly east, at a bearing of 80 degrees, heading right for the tip of Grion Rift. To Chaylene, it confirmed her theory on the pirate’s base location. She swallowed a parched throat. Two bottles of orange wine lay at her house. She wanted to slip off and grab them. The wine would be far better than the vile ration of grog the Dauntless carried.

  Nearby, the Gallant’s crews worked to repair their rigging, which was reduced to a tangled mess. The corvette wasn’t able to launch and had taken a pounding. The larger Adventurous had fared better, driving off a pirate corvette on her own.

  If it weren’t for the storm . . . thought Chaylene.

  The stern of the Bravado tumbled in the harbor, flashing with violet light as the still-charged engine swung into view. Eventually, the engine’s power would fade, probably in a few more hours, and the ship would fall into the Storm Below, joining the rest of the frigate.

  “What a sight,” Ary said.

  Chaylene squeaked in surprise, whirling around, her heart screaming, a flare of cold exhilaration rushing through her body. “When did you learn to step so lightly?”

  “I think you’re just tired,” Ary said, grinning. “My boots stomped down the deck.”

  “I’m definitely tired.” She rubbed at her eyes.

  “I’m heading to the medical building. See if I can’t help any of the wounded have a faster recovery.”

  She smiled. “That sounds better than this. And maybe, we could stop by the house and grab a few things?”

  “Such as?” Ary asked, drawing her close.

  “The wine. A glass in the evening sounds better than grog.” She made a face.

  “Well . . .” Ary frowned. “It’s against regulations.”

  “Officers always have extra alcohol,” Chaylene countered. “Captain Dhar has several bottles of brandy in her cabin. It’ll keep us relaxed. In a day or two, we’ll be fighting the pirates again.”