Twin Soul Series Omnibus 1: Books 1-5 (Twin Soul Series Book Sets)

by McCaffrey-Winner

  “Let’s hope you won’t have to,” Ford said. He turned around, hopped back up on top of the bowsprit and raced his way back to the deck, calling, “All hands, man the guns!” He lifted his cockade hat and waved high above his head in signal to Havenam at the far end of the ship, shouting, “Battle stations!”

  “Battle stations, aye sir!” Havenam shouted back to him. He turned to the ship’s boy and shouted, “Beat to quarters!”

  The little boy grabbed his drum and started rattling on it with his drumsticks. From below airmen boiled up, racing toward the guns and the gun tackle. Powder and shot were brought up and slow matches lit from the boiler’s fire. The entire ship’s crew, thirty-six strong, were now on deck or at their stations.

  Spite was a small ship. She carried only eight six-pound cannon, four on each side. Each cannon took a crew of four — so the ship could only man one side of guns and still sail.

  On the sea, Ford had never needed more than that because his brig had been quick on the stays — she’d turn around in less than a ship’s length — and he’d trained his crew to perfection. Up here in the air, he wondered if he should split his crew to allow him to have guns manned on both sides. He was about to order it when he looked to starboard and realized that his home town was sprawled below him. Any shot to the right of the ship would land on the town.

  He crossed to the port side of the ship and nodded as second lieutenant Jens touched his hat and reported, “All guns manned and ready, sir.”

  “Very good,” Ford said, returning the salute. “Be on the lookout, and be ready to fire on my command.”

  “Aye sir.”

  And then they waited. Ford returned to the bow to question the two lookouts.

  “What color and size were they?” Ford asked them. “And about how far off would you say?”

  “I’m new at guessing distances up here in the air, sir,” Marder replied slowly, “but if they were on the sea, I’d say they were within a league of us, maybe less.”

  “One seemed gold with bits of red — that was the smaller one, sir,” Senten reported. “It seemed a fair bit faster, too.” He frowned before adding, “It seemed to me like they were cavorting, sir.”

  “Cavorting?”

  “Playing, sir,” Marder added in support of his fellow lookout. “And the big one was black also had tinges of red — near about half the size of the ship, certainly the size of a good house.”

  “So not the size of a brig,” Ford replied. “But half.” He could see the two men relaxing as the difference in size relieved their worries. He smiled at them, “Nothing we haven’t beaten before, then.”

  “No, sir,” Marder agreed. “At least, as a ship on the sea.”

  Ford waved a hand at the air and clouds around them. “This is our new sea now, lads.”

  “Aye sir,” Senten said in a wary tone.

  “Keep a good lookout,” Ford said, turning back to the stern of the ship. “I think we’ll see if our cavorters can be encouraged to visit us.”

  “Sir?” Marder asked.

  “It’s time to drill the guns, I think,” Ford said. He raised his voice to carry the length of the ship as he called, “All hands, prepare to fire guns!”

  Lieutenant Jens ran over to meet him. “What target, sir?”

  Ford came to the port side and looked about. Finally he pointed to a cloud in the distance. “Aim for that,” he said, “let’s see what we can smoke out.”

  Enlightenment dawned on the young man’s face. “You’re hoping to attract them to us, then, sir?”

  “Indeed,” Ford said. He waved to the gun crews. “We’re going to see what a broadside in the air sounds like, men.”

  The crew gave a cheer but it was half-hearted.

  “What about the dragons?” the prince called. “What are you going to do about them?”

  “I’m hoping to get their attention, sire,” Ford told him with as much calm as he could muster. Really!

  The prince thought about it and nodded. To the gun crews he shouted, “You men! A guinea to the first crew who hits the dragon!”

  That brought a much louder cheer from the crews.

  “Fire in succession,” Ford said, turning to lieutenant Jens who nodded.

  “Gun number one, set bearing,” Jens said, walking back to the aftermost gun. “Ready, fire!”

  The gun captain lit the fuze and stood back just as the little six-pounder roared and reared back against its moorings. Black smoke billowed from its muzzle and captain Ford drew his telescope to train it on the flying ball in the distance.

  “Stop your vents!” the gun captain roared to his crew. “Swab her out!” an airman rammed a wet swab down the barrel. “Charge the weapon!” A bag of powder was placed into the barrel followed by a wad of cloth. “Ram home!” The swabber rammed the cartridge down. The gun captain went to the touch hole with his long pricker and pricked open the powder bag. “Home!” he called, followed by, “Load shot!” The six-pound shot and another wad of cloth were loaded in. “Ram home!” A moment later, he shouted, “Run out!”

  The men strained on the tackles to pull the gun back to firing position. Satisfied, the gun captain turned and saluting lieutenant Jens, said, “Gun number one ready to fire, sir!”

  “Very good, Marsters,” Jens said. He turned to the second gun. “Gun number two, prepare to fire!”

  “Captain!” Senten called from the bow. “I see them!”

  “Hold your fire!” Ford shouted to the gun crew. “Senten, whereaway?”

  “Fine off the starboard bow, sir!”

  Ford turned to the indicated direction, squinted, and then nodded. He turned back to Jens. “Fire the second gun.”

  “Sir?” Jens asked.

  “What are you doing?” the prince shouted. “The dragon is over there, shoot it!”

  “So is our town, sire,” Ford replied with all the calm he could muster. “Our shots will fall down regardless of what they hit first.” The prince looked at him in confusion. “Do you believe the king will thank us if we shell his town?”

  “So why fire, then?” the prince demanded.

  “I intend to give them a good target,” Ford replied. The prince’s brow rose in consternation, so Ford pointed his finger to the deck, saying, “Us.” He turned back to Jens. “Fire number two.”

  “Aye, sir!” Jens called, knocking off a quick salute. “Gun number two, fire when ready!”

  “Aye sir!” A short time later the second gun barked, hurling itself inwards and its shell out toward the distant cloud and the fields below.

  Ford frowned and gestured for the first lieutenant. Lieutenant Havenam came at a trot and saluted, even as his sides heaved from his exertion.

  “I regret our lack of masts,” Ford said to him. Havenam gave him a surprised look. “I wish we could get a look from higher up.”

  “Two thoughts, sir,” Havenam replied after a moment. Ford gestured for him to say more. “I could climb to the top of the highest balloon. That would give us a better range.” Ford nodded and gestured for him to continue. “Later, if we have time, we could perhaps rig an independent balloon to carry a man aloft.”

  “Good suggestions, both,” Ford agreed, clapping his lieutenant on the shoulder. “Let’s do the first now, and talk with our mage about the second at a later date.”

  “Aye, sir,” Havenam said, grinning. He started toward the ratlines that girded the sides of the ship and attached her to the balloons raising them into the air. As he started to climb, he called back to his captain, “I’ve been itching to do this for quite some time!”

  “Well, enjoy it then,” Ford called back. “As soon as you demonstrate the joys of riding on the tops of balloons, I’ve no doubt that we’ll have more than enough volunteers to replace you!”

  Havenam grinned again and scrambled up and over the top of the ne
arest balloon.

  “And Sam?” Ford called after him. The first lieutenant looked down at him. “Don’t fall, it’s bad form!”

  “Aye, sir!” Sam Havenam agreed with a laugh. A moment later he was out of sight, obscured by the balloons.

  Ford sought out Reedis. “That will work, won’t it? Having one of our men at the tops of your balloons?”

  “It should be safe enough, provided they don’t puncture them,” Reedis allowed. He made a face, then added, “Although it might be wise to bring up a spare from the holds just in case.”

  “And how soon can you make it ready when we bring it up?”

  Reedis pulled on his chin in thought. “Five, maybe ten minutes,” he allowed. He waved at the ballon above them. “Mind you, it’ll take a lot out of me. I won’t be good for more magic for another fifteen minutes or so, after.”

  “Even with the help of the gods?”

  “That’s counting on their help,” Reedis replied. “And their good will, too.”

  “Then we shall do all in our power to retain their goodwill,” Ford promised, clapping the man on the shoulder. Reedis looked at his shoulder where Ford had touched it with an odd expression. For a moment, Ford wondered whether the mage would take offense but then the man grinned up at him.

  “If I may, sir,” Reedis said, emboldened, “it might not be best to offend Ophidian, given that we are here in the sky.”

  “Ah, but we’re over Ametza’s realm and our ship is powered by steam,” Ford countered. “And you know how Ametza feels the other gods.”

  “I do,” Reedis replied. “Still, we might do our best to avoid Ophidian’s wrath.”

  “The King has commissioned us to keep the wyverns and dragons from raiding his lands, mage,” Ford told him sternly. “In that, we will not fail.”

  “Deck there!” Lieutenant Havenam shouted from above. “I see them! They’re coming this way!”

  “Jens, fire gun number three!” Ford commanded, turning away from the mage and back to the business at hand.

  The third gun barked and its smoke blew back across the deck. Ford turned to the mechanic, “Mr. Newman, how quickly can we get more speed?”

  “It’d be best if you relieved the stokers, sir,” Newman replied. “After that, five minutes and we can be at full power.”

  “Very well, make it so,” Ford said.

  “Do you think that wise, captain?” the prince asked.

  Ford shrugged. “We’ve got to know our best speed sometime, sire. And with luck, we’ll be faster than the beasts we’re chasing.”

  The prince thought on that for a moment and nodded. “One thing, captain.”

  “Sire?”

  “When it comes to shooting at the beasts, I shall be the gunner,” the prince said.

  “Sire,” Ford spluttered, “with all reverence, you’ve not the experience!”

  “And this is how I’ll get it,” the prince said. “When we kill the beast, the blow shall be mine.”

  Nestor the Dragonkiller, Ford thought to himself, with that title he’ll have no trouble taking the kingdom. Ford wasn’t so sure that he liked the idea of Nestor as king.

  “We may not be able to time the shot, sire,” Ford temporized.

  “It shall be my shot, sir, depend upon it!”

  “On deck! The beasties have come around and they’re heading our way!”

  “Let’s give them something more to consider,” Ford said. He shouted back to the boatswain, “Bring us ten degrees to starboard.” To lieutenant Jens he said, “Fire number four when we’re on the new course.”

  “Aye, sir!”

  Ford grabbed his telescope and moved starboard to peer over the side in the direction Lieutenant Havenam had indicated. He looked and scanned and then — “I have them!”

  Bang! Gun number four blasted the air to port.

  “Jens!” Ford shouted. The lieutenant turned toward him. “I want a skew elevation — gun one down, gun two steady, and gun three pointed up — and be prepared to broadside on my command.”

  “Aye, sir!” Jens replied, bellowing orders to the three guns that were ready while the crew of the fourth hastened to reload their weapon.

  “Mr. Reedis!” Ford called, promoting the mage with his words. The mage looked toward him from where he was supervising the unfurling of a spare balloon. “How quickly can you lower us?”

  “Sir?” Reedis said, confused.

  “The beasties are about to cross under our hull,” Ford explained. “I want to let them and drop to their level where I’ll fire a broadside.”

  “How far below us?”

  “Not more than a hundred feet, I’d say,” Ford said, peering through the lens of his telescope to confirm his estimate.

  “I can get us down a hundred feet in less than a minute,” Reedis allowed.

  “And can you do more, after?”

  “I’ll be a bit drained for probably the next several minutes,” Reedis admitted. “The spells take energy and thought.”

  “Very well, be prepared on my command,” Ford said.

  “Aye, sir,” Reedis replied. Ford began to think that he might actually come to like the purple mage. Always, leadership was about learning how to inspire, he reminded himself.

  “They’re closing,” Ford now called, his voice in unison with Lieutenant Havenam from the balloons above. “Steady, steady… Now! Reedis, lower us! Jens, fire when sighted!”

  Spite practically fell from the sky. For a moment captain Ford feared that the mage had lost his abilities and they were going to plummet to their deaths. But the ship seemed to find its footing, even as several airmen lost theirs at the sudden maneuver. From above, Havenam let out a surprised cry and Ford looked up to see his first lieutenant flailing above, reaching for a handhold before climbing back up, clearly unprepared for the fall.

  “Targets in sight!” Jens called. “Steady, steady… fire!”

  The three guns roared out and pushed Spite sideways in the air with their recoil even as Jens’ gun captains bellowed, “Stop your vents!”

  “Number four gun, ready, sir!” the gun captain of the fourth gun shouted.

  “Fire as you bear!” Ford called back, turning to watch the shot and the dragons — no, the white one was smaller and hand only two legs, not four… a wyvern, then.

  “We’re going to hit the black one!” someone cried.

  The prince ran forward. “No! No, that’s my shot!”

  Ford ran to the port side, following the one ball that had been aimed level as it tore through the air straight toward the large black dragon.

  But the smaller gold wyvern turned in the air and practically jumped up in the path of the ball — crack! — even from the hundreds of yards distance, Ford could hear the bones on the wyvern shatter. The wyvern pierced the air with a dying cry and crumpled, falling like nothing more than an old sack of cloth toward the ground.

  The black dragon roared with anger, first diving toward the stricken wyvern and then, in an instant, turning back to roar at the Spite.

  And that was when it opened its jaws and let out a burst of flame.

  “Reedis, drop the ship!” Ford ordered as the dragon rose to their level, its jaws opened to spew another gout of flame in their direction. “Idlers, man the buckets! We’ve got to wet her down!’

  The four idlers, who’d been pressed into helping with the gun crews, grabbed their buckets and started dousing the sides of the ship to give it what little protection against flame that they could.

  At the same time, Reedis closed his eyes and waved his arms — and Spite fell from the sky.

  “Steer towards the water!” Ford shouted to the helmsman. “We stand a chance if we can make the harbor!”

  The sudden drop had surprised the dragon who seemed to pause in mid-air before diving down to the tops of the ball
oons, roaring in fury. A desperate shout matched it and Ford turned to see Lieutenant Havenam falling from the balloons above.

  “Sam!” Ford cried as his long-time friend fell toward the side of the ship. He had just a moment to meet his friend’s eyes before Havenam bounced sickeningly off the side rail and fell toward the ground below. In the distance, Ford saw a field of blue. The white of the wyvern’s crumpled form was visible against the blue of the flowers in the field. Wyvern flowers.

  “Gunners, another broadside for that bastard!” Ford shouted.

  “I shall take a gun!” the prince cried, running to push lieutenant Jens aside and taking a place at gun number two.

  Spite was still falling.

  “Newman!” Ford shouted. “Full speed!”

  Spite had turned and was bearing toward the coastline even as she fell from the sky.

  “Mr. Reedis!” Ford shouted. “We can’t hit the ground!”

  “Aye, sir,” Reedis said, his whole body trembling. “I’ll do my best.”

  “If you don’t, we’ll all die,” Ford warned him.

  A ghost of a smile crossed the weedy mage’s lips before he answered, “Then I’ll do my best, sir.”

  “Cook!” Ford called. “A tot of rum for the air mage!”

  A head popped up from the hatchway, eyes wide with fright and surprise.

  “I don’t think he drinks, sir,” the cook allowed.

  “Then some tea, and be quick about it,” Ford said. “And get a tot of rum for all the stokers.”

  A cheer went up from the coal-blackened men surrounding the boiler that seemed to glow bright red above the steel plate that protected the ship from its fiery contents.

  “Mr. Newman,” Ford called, “we’ve got to make the harbor before we hit the ground.”

  “The lads are stoking flat out, sir,” Newman replied. “This is as fast as we go.”

  Ford turned to look for the dragon but it had disappeared from his sight. “Marder! Senten! Where away the dragon?”

  A moment later the two lookouts called back, “No sign of it, sir! It disappeared over the town!”

  “If it sets the town alight, captain,” the prince growled, “you’ll pay for it with your head.”