Then there were shouts of alarm from the Konyan ships. I cursed at the fools who’d caused them. I’d warned the Konyan Evocators of all the tricks the Archon might try, and they’d assured me counterspells would be simple. If they’d bother to prepare any, they obviously weren’t working. I remembered one of the frescoes on a wall of our armory in Orissa. It depicted the corpse of a Guardswoman, sprawled on a battlefield, and over it the grim inscription: Despise Not Your Enemy. The Konyans were beginning to learn this lesson themselves, although where they’d gotten such arrogance, forgetting how swiftly The Sarzana had once defeated their best, was beyond me. I suppose victors have even shorter memories than the vanquished.
Now The Sarzana’s ships were in range. Another group of machines opened fire — catapults sending long arrows ripping forward, that tore through sails, bulwarks and, often as not, Konyan soldiers. What I’d called “firefingers” rippled out from The Sarzana’s forward ships, striking Konyan galleys and sending them roaring into flame. I tried to see if there was a single source for those firestrikes that might give me a clue as to which ship The Sarzana might be aboard, but they seemed to come from everywhere. Evidently the Archon had perfected his spell.
A Konyan ship not far away lost headway, its oars flailing like a water-beetle who panics seeing the carp striking up from the depths. Our galleys drew closer and I could see soldiers and sailors fighting desperately on its maindeck, as if they’d been boarded by a yet-invisible enemy. Then I saw what they were fighting. The decks were littered with great serpents, who thrashed and struck with unnatural energy at the men. I’d seen no trebuchet deliver such a wickedly-clever load and knew the snakes had to have been transported aboard magically.
“The Sarzana has some interesting tricks,” Gamelan said when Pamphylia told him what’d happened. “That’s one I’d never thought of. Worth noting, too.”
“The Sarzana, or maybe The Archon,” Corais said quietly. Polillo shivered, and I surreptitiously gripped her hand to reassure her, then let it go before anyone could notice. Polillo recovered in a bare second, and was her usual battle-cold self.
“We are forgetting,” I agreed, “the Archons ruled Lycanth not just by magic, but by their skills with armies as well.”
Xia was looking very worried, and not a little frightened, which was natural in her first battle. “What does that mean?” she wanted to know.
I tried to find soothing words, but Stryker spoke first. “Cap’n Antero means we’d best hope th’ bull can take th’ lancer b’fore his horse dances him out of the way.”
The Konyan ships were still going forward, slowly, steadily, bull-like, against the rain of fire that came down. I remembered once being forward of such an attack, I don’t even remember in which border skirmish it was, and seeing long lines of infantry advancing against archers.
As the shafts struck down from the skies the soldiers hunched their shoulders and bent forward as they pushed doggedly onward, exactly like men forcing themselves through a rainstorm. So it was with the Konyan ships.
“Look,” Xia said gleefully.” They’re breaking!”
So it appeared. The enemy center wing had swung out of line. Signal flags went up from Trahern’s warship, but Admiral Bhazana had already seen, and bunting flapped from his own masthead. His ships swung out of the main Konyan formation, away from the shallows and the lagging enemy they’d been expecting to meet, hoping to attack The Sarzana’s center on its flank. Such a bold stroke could break the enemy fleet now and end the battle before midday.
“Too soon, too soon,” I heard Polillo moan under her breath. “Always wait to make sure the throw is real, not a bluff!”
And so it was. As Bhazana’s ships formed their new line, a strong, spell-created wind gusted down the gut toward us, and The Sarzana’s waiting ships shot like bolts against Bhazana’s own flank.
“Shit!” Stryker swore. “Caught in th’ same net they’d hoped t’ cast!”
The threat was more than to just our east wing. Trahern’s center was also out of position. Perhaps he’d hoped to help exploit the enemy’s mistake, which now was clearly a ruse that we’d fallen for.
The two lines of ships closed and the battle proper began. But it did not open as Trahern and the Konyans had wished. Trahern might’ve wanted to close and board with the other ships, but The Sarzana’s galleys veered, trying to evade contact. Clumsy as they were, there were many instances where they weren’t able to turn away and grapnels went across and Konyan soldiers leapt for the bulwarks. But even when an enemy ship was trapped, the battle still was not joined on Trahern’s terms. Another galley would strike the Konyan ship from the rear, keeping just a few yards away and archers would pelt the ship, trying to divert it. It was just as a well-trained pack of hounds behave, savaging a bear’s legs and flanks when he traps one of their brothers.
I heard screams and shouts across the water and saw flames mount and masts tumble as The Sarzana’s ships kept hammering the Konyans. Even boarding wasn’t as simple as Trahern had imagined. I saw glints of steel from just above the bulwarks of an enemy ship and stakes protruding out and up at an angle from the rails of the galley — stakes that were so much fence-posting from the sharp strands of steel strung along them. That would be even better than the traditional sagging nets to keep boarders away.
Of course, it’d keep The Sarzana’s own troops from attacking, but it looked as if he had no intent of fighting a traditional battle this day. Again I knew the Archon’s orders had been taken, not only in magic but in war as well.
We were too close to the fray and I shouted a warning to Cholla Yi for us to pull back, but to stand by to reinforce Bhazana’s wing if it broke. We withdrew to a better position, but still there came no signal for us to join the attack. All we could do was wait. Now it was truly as if I was above the fleets as the battle continued. From the water it appeared as confusing as any land battlefield, with men shouting, bleeding and dying, staggering back and forth, and dust and smoke everywhere, and banners waving and going down, only to rise up once more; except the soldiers were monstrous ships.
Ships were already sinking and there were sailors drowning, clinging to flotsam and shouting for rescue. Some saw our galleys and desperately began swimming toward us. But it was far, too far, and one by one their heads vanished. Other ships drifted back out of battle, some with fighting still raging on their decks, others showing no sign of life at all, still others with their huge deckhouses shattered by boulders.
I thought there were more Konyan vessels than enemy ships. Then I saw Konyan ships start to sail back — away from the battle. Some of them were crippled, dragging the ruins of masts overboard, others were smoking and crippled. But all too many of them showed no damage.
Polillo had her ax unsheathed, and was holding it her hand, without noticing, slapping its flat hard against her reddening palm, her face mottled in anger and helplessness.
“Weak-gutted sonsabitches,” Stryker swore. “Rope-spined bastards are breaking and the day’s not half gone.”
I realized with a jolt the sun was now high overhead and wondered where the hours had gone; then my eyes were torn away, as The Sarzana’s sorcerous cloud lifted and his secret weapon broke into the battle. It was a small fleet of ships such as I’d never imagined. They were not much longer than our Orissan ships, if somewhat broader beamed, and single-rowed galleys like ours. But what made them striking and fearsome wasn’t just the lurid colors they’d been painted with — the colors of blood and death — but that they were solidly roofed and mastless. They looked like many-legged turtles as they swept forward.
There’d be no boarding these craft; small as they were, the hulking Konyan ships would hardly be able to even close with them. I was very glad I wasn’t a Konyan captain in the vanguard, because for the moment I had no idea how these invulnerable-looking craft could be destroyed. There were at least thirty of them and they were attacking in a spearhead formation — striking straight for the ignored and open w
est side of Trahern’s center wing where a gap lay between it and Admiral Bornu’s ships.
Stryker swore, and I heard Duban whine something.
Corais was unbothered. “I don’t see how they fight,” she observed. “Maybe they’re intending to scare us to death.”
But in bare seconds we realized the turtleboats were as deadly in fact as appearance. They were rams, but I realized once more that The Sarzana’s tactics were new, as I saw the first “turtleship” strike a Konyan vessel and then pull away as if nothing had happened — instead of remaining in a death-embrace with its foe. The Konyan ship rolled at the impact, then wallowed to the side as water rushed into the hole the turtleship’s beak had torn. In seconds it vanished under the waves. I realized the rams must either be demountable or, more likely, grooved to snap when a certain amount of force was exerted against them. Such a device would be foolhardy on a ship intended to endure hard weather, since it was likely to snap unpredictably and rip the galley’s own bows open; but here in the calm waters of the bay, it was an ideal weapon.
But that wasn’t the only armament the turtleships possessed. Hatches flipped open on the covering deck and I saw the warheads of huge arrows emerge from one turtleship as it sailed close under a Konyan’s stern. Smoke lifted from each arrowhead and then the catapults fired, sending the firearrows deep into the wooden counter.
The hatches banged shut and the gunners began reloading safely out of sight, as flames roared up from the stricken Konyan vessel. The arrows were either pitch-soaked or, more likely, “dressed” with an incantation.
When the first ship burst into flames, I heard Xia hide a tiny shriek of fear, which no one but me could’ve heard and felt a flash of admiration for her courage. She was doing better than most before their first battle, better than I did marching up to my first skirmish, not having learned that the waiting and the thinking are deadlier to bravery than the most brutal foe.
Now the battle’s tide was in full flood — and for The Sarzana’s forces. Behind the turtle ships came the entire west wing of the fleet, possibly a hundred or more conventional ships. I didn’t know what to do. The entire Konyan fleet was breaking. On my left Admiral Bhazana’s ships were reeling back; in the center Trahern’s forces were locked in a smoky melee; and on my right the turtleships and their reinforcements were driving a wedge through Bornu’s wing.
As Bornu’s forces shattered I realized there wasn’t anything I could’ve done, unless there was a thousand of me, and a thousand thousand of my Guardswomen and Cholla Yi’s galleys. His still-undamaged ships changed course, oars flailing, and set full sail to take advantage of The Sarzana’s wind blowing away from the city. Singly and by squadrons they tacked back toward the open sea; on their heels came the turtleboats and The Sarzana’s large galleys.
The other Konyans must’ve seen or sensed what’d happened, because both Trahern’s and Bhazana’s wings shattered at the same instant. But not all the ships would be able to retreat. There were many ships still caught in the cauldron of the center; ships that would now be brought to battle and destroyed, one by one. I saw the banner of Bhazana’s ship coming away from the shallows, and then spotted Trahern’s flagship, its mainsail at full swell, oarsmen pulling for their lives.
You bastard, I thought. You led your sailors to this death, and you don’t even have the damned courage to stay and share it with them. Whatever courage the Admiral had in the past that brought him greatness had vanished with age and ease.
The first ships sailed past and I heard their sailors scream to flee, flee, the battle was lost, and even the dead had risen from the depths to fight us. I wondered for an instant, then nearly retched as a horrible stench rolled over our galley, coming from the first Konyan ships, now not more than three or four hundred yards away.
I made a decision, but Cholla Yi had already made it for me. Flags were at his masthead, and he was crying through his trumpet to retreat, pull back, there was no standing against them.
Xia shouted in blind rage, shouted he was a coward, then spun as I snapped the same orders to Stryker. “You can’t!” She cried in her frenzy, nearly in tears, “You’re no better than — ”
“Silence!” I shouted. “You wanted to be a soldier! Now soldier!” That outcry stopped her for an instant, and in that instant common sense returned and she slumped and turned away from me.
I could see some of The Sarzana’s ships clearly now, and gasped. It looked as if the fleeing Konyans were right. On their decks were horrid beings who’d once been men, some rotting from exposure, some dried up into brown wisps by a hot desert wind, others bloated and fishbelly white from their time on the ocean floor. Some were working the sweeps, others methodically served catapults or waited patiently with bow or spear for the range to close.
For an instant I remembered my brother’s tale of a city of the walking dead far away to the west, almost at the gates of the Far Kingdoms, where even the city’s Lord was a living cadaver and how Amalric almost died in that horrid necropolis.
But he had Greycloak with him . . . and I did not.
The charnel reek was all around us and even my hardened mercenaries were beginning to show fear, even as they obeyed orders and we turned and fled with the others.
Then I knew what the smell was, and what the corpse-sailors were. I guess I knew this because of my own spellcasting, my own sensitivity to wizardry. Just as I knew what the truth was, I knew the countermeasure. I ordered Xia below and told her to bring up her cosmetics bag. She gaped, and I snapped at her sharply. Puzzled, she obeyed. In a few seconds she’d returned and handed it to me. I found a vial of perfume, unstoppered it and sniffed. It was ideal — a heavy, strong flower-based scent.
I cast the bottle into the air, and it spun — contents spraying. I chanted, the words coming easily:
Seek flowers
Seek your foe
Cling to him
Change him
You are the greater
You are on the earth
And of the earth
He comes from the ether
He is not
Take him
Change him
Turn him
The corpse-smell vanished.
I shouted “it’s just a spell-lie! Those men’re no different than you and I. It’s the Archon’s magic!”
The words, or possibly just that someone appeared unpanicked broke the frenzy, even though the men could look behind them and see the onrushing enemy ships still manned by the undead.
“I’ll break that spell, too,” I shouted, and then stopped short.
The battle was over, but not for all of us. Two galleys were sailing back, back toward The Sarzana’s ships! I didn’t need to strain my eyes to know who they were. They were two of Nor’s galleys, blinded by their rage. I might’ve felt a bit of admiration for their suicidal attack, having seen and known women who deliberately threw their lives away and charged into the midst of the enemy, shouting their deathsong in joy. But I didn’t.
There were eight of my women on board those two ships who hadn’t chosen that death. Very well, I thought. That’ll be another debt to settle, first with Nor, then with The Sarzana and the Archon.
The two ships were surrounded by the turtleships, and their masts vanished and I saw no more of them that day — ever again.
But there wasn’t time for anger.
Just to our west, one of The Sarzana’s monster galleys was bearing down on us.
“Polillo!” I shouted, and my legate bounded forward, to where her nervous catapult teams waited behind their strange weapons mounted on either side of the foremast. The catapults’ prods were wound back to full cock, a shaft in each of the twin troughs, and hanging between them a loose net bag with a coiled chain inside, a thin chain that I’d cast a spell of strength on.
The huge ship rolled down on us, its sail big with The Sarzana’s magic wind, and I could hear, dimly, the gleeful shouts of the soldiers aboard the ship, thinking they had us trapped.
>
Above their shouts I heard Polillo’s chant:
“Steady . . . steady . . . left a little . . . steady . . . up . . . a little more . . . steady . . . steady . . . ”
“Shoot!” I screamed, and the catapults thwanged like two miscast bells struck with steel mallets.
The starboard set of bolts went wide, and missed, but the port one sped true. Just as I’d designed, just as I’d tested, the bolts veed out, the net bag snapping and the chain coming taut between them, about to snap or else send the device spinning out of control, and then it struck fair, about halfway up the enemy ship’s mast, and snapped it like a twig. The sail billowed back, and stays and yards cascaded down over the ship’s deck.
That was the only strike we had time for, and I’d only allowed it so we wouldn’t feel completely defeated.
Now it was time to run, before the turtle ships could close and destroy us.
Full sail was set, and our rowers pulled for their lives. I thanked Maranonia we hadn’t set normal battle order earlier and sent the sails down. Now, with the first part of the Archon’s illusion broken, it would be easier to find a counterspell to shatter the rest of it. Perhaps that would be enough to make the fleet turn and at least fight The Sarzana’s ships to a standstill.
While one part of my mind sought for the words and ingredients, another was preparing a signal to Trahern. I went to the rail, looking out over the gut, which was now widening to the open sea, and we were almost past the two portal-cities. Our ships were scattered across the waters like bits of paper on a flood tide, each trying to escape, none concerned with any but himself and finding safety. Spell or not, there would be no more fighting this day.
It was too late for magic — mine or anyone else’s.
Fortunately, the Sarzana’s ships had no greater turn of speed than the Konyans, because if they could’ve caught them, they would’ve wiped them out to the man. But they were dropping back now. I saw the turtleships wallow as the first great swells of the ocean struck them and they turned back to calmer waters their mission accomplished. A few minutes later the rest of The Sarzana’s fleet followed. Now that spell wouldn’t be needed. The Sarzana had won his great victory, and broken our fleet.
The Warrior's Tale (The Far Kingdoms, Book 2) Page 47
