Up she fought, slashing at and grappling with boarders who were descending the steps. At last, she ducked through the hatchway and emerged into the open air. The top deck was a mess of combat: the clash of cutlasses, the snapping and smoke of pistols, linen shirts streaked with red. It was hard to be certain, but those remaining of the Hardweather’s crew seemed outnumbered by the boarding party. In spite of the odds, Sora threw herself into the fight, belting the nearest Elaran across the head with the pommel of her cutlass and knocking him to the deck.
Her uniform marked her as the commander, and sure enough, half a dozen boarders split from their fellows to round upon her. She dispatched the first few in a whirl of cutlass, pistol-butt and vicious kicks. A stocky man with a stubby blade lunged at her like a pit dog. Sora dodged his attempt to run her through, but stumbled over a fallen comrade. The man kicked her square in the chest, pitching her to the deck. Her pistol clattered to the boards.
A sinewy older woman in an officer’s hat shoved her boot-heel into Sora’s ribs, knocking the wind out of her. The woman cocked a pistol and pointed its barrel right at Sora’s wheezing face.
A bosun’s whistle shrieked across the deck. Sora did not recognise the signal, but the woman with the pistol glanced in its direction, hesitating for just a moment. Sora knocked the pistol from her grasp and grabbed her arm, pulling her down. She rolled away from the woman and sprang up, panting to regain her breath.
The group of Elarans turned away from Sora and dashed back to their gangplanks. The woman in the officer’s uniform clambered back upright. Sora raised her cutlass, ready to parry, but the officer had lost all interest and was now hurrying after her crew.
Sora’s guts froze—were they retreating because they had succeeded?
Had they taken Lirren?
She called out to the crew members who remained standing on the top deck.
“Shoot them with all you’ve got left! Don’t let them away unscathed!”
A few pistol shots rang out, but only a couple hit home. The enemy vessel had already caught wind in its sails and was peeling away from the battered Hardweather. As the Elarans drew in the gangplanks, the ship disappeared once more behind a mirage of empty air. The encircling mirage of shoreline was broken and fractured on the horizon, lost without the care and attention of the miragers. Some way off the starboard quarter, the brig Cormorant scudded across the waves with full-bellied sails, too late to be of any help.
Sora begrudgingly acknowledged her Elaran counterpart’s skill in organizing the whole escapade as she floundered back down the stairs to check on Lirren. Her boots had scarcely touched the gun deck when a voice called out for her.
“Commander! Commander!”
She turned to see a warrant officer’s mate dashing up from the stern cabins, red in the face, swerving around fallen crew members and debris. He was one of the guards she had stationed at Darlett’s hiding place.
“The mirage-master!” he cried. “He’s been taken!”
Time froze for a moment as Sora absorbed this news. She hadn’t given Darlett the slightest consideration since she left him in the bosun’s cabin, assuming him safe.
“What happened?”
The young fellow panted as he relayed his report. “They came... through the stern windows... They used their own ship’s boat... and paddled up behind us... They used hooks and all sorts to climb up...”
Sora leaned against a wooden post. “Cunning scoundrels!”
The young man stopped to take a deep breath. “I heard a commotion in the cabin, so I turned to see what it was... There were two Elarans, pulling him out from under the bed. He had a pistol, but he just waved it around... One of the Elarans challenged us with a blade, we couldn’t save him... They bundled him out the window, and I looked out and saw their boat. I made to fire my pistol, but the boat vanished...”
Sora thumped the wooden post with her fist. “More damned mirages. Using our own people against us, no doubt.” And now Darlett would become yet another mirager pressed into Elaran service. A precious naval asset that Sora had been entrusted with, now lost. She rested her forehead against the post and closed her eyes. This would shatter her reputation, already tainted because of—
Sora jerked out of her slump. Was Lirren safe? Had the Elarans devised some trickery to get at her as well? Her heart lurched with foreboding as she turned back around toward the sick bay.
There, striding towards her, was Lirren herself, with no more ill-effects than a creased uniform and crooked spectacles. Sora rushed forward and threw her arms around her.
“You’re safe! Goodness, there’s one thing to be glad about, at least...”
Lirren returned the gesture before standing back.
“I heard enough of that report to know what happened. But there is a chance.”
Sora didn’t have to ask where this line of thought was leading. She turned it around in her mind. It was still fraught with danger, but her prior caution had not averted catastrophe. And they both still needed Darlett and his good word.
“Whatever the punishment for this will be, it can’t be worse than whatever they’ll do to me for losing Darlett... Very well. Let’s try it your way. Are you going to fling Darlett back here through the aether?”
“That would be impossible. He’ll be below decks where I can’t see him, and neither can the aetherscope.” Lirren grinned. “No, Commander—I’m going to fling you over there through the aether.”
* * *
The ship’s cook ascended the steps to the poop deck bearing a bottle of brandy and a crystal goblet.
“From my personal stores,” he said. “Pre-war vintage.”
He filled the goblet, handed it to Sora and saluted. “An honor to serve you, Commander.” Sora pretended not to notice the note of farewell in his words. She swallowed a large mouthful of the brandy.
“Thank you.” She leaned against the starboard gunwale, stomach tumbling with apprehension. She glanced across her shoulder. The swift little Cormorant was heading in the likeliest direction of the Elaran ship, having received instructions to do so from the Hardweather’s flag signals. Sora had given the orders for form’s sake, though the plan was all Lirren’s.
The cook stood aside for a petty officer bearing a boarding axe. She bowed as she presented it to Sora.
“As you requested, Commander.” Sora drained her goblet and returned it to the cook, taking up the axe. She weighed it in her hand; it was top-heavy, with a solid blade.
Lirren was behind the aetherscope, its lenses glinting like an array of watchful eyes. She popped her head out from behind the device, peering out to sea through her aether-spyglass.
“The Elaran ship is two points off the starboard bow, a mile and a half out. More or less dead ahead of the Cormorant.” She patted the aetherscope. “I’ve arranged it so the Elarans will see several false replicas of the Cormorant approaching them from various angles. The more confusion the better. Don’t forget, once you’ve completed the first stage, stand up straight on the stern rail so that I can see all of you. Tuck in your limbs and stay absolutely still.” Her finger described a rough outline of Sora’s body in the air. “I have to capture a section of aether, and if you stick an arm or leg outside of the section, you’ll lose it—like that twit on the Scallop. Now!” There was an unnerving air of finality to Lirren’s tone. “Ready?”
Absolutely not, Sora thought. “I—yes?”
One corner of Lirren’s mouth lifted into half a grin, which Sora always found charming.
“Reluctant?”
Sora hesitated a moment. “Well... I’ll do anything I can for one of my crew.”
If Lirren was smiling—even half-smiling—then she couldn’t be all that upset with Sora’s trepidation.
“But you’re here all the same,” she said. “Waiting for me to experiment on you. If I can’t have outright enthusiasm, I’ll take that.” She moved back behind the aetherscope and began operating the device once more. The realization hit Sora th
at if this did not go to plan, she and Lirren might never see each other again. Panic washed through her—is this how she wanted them to part?
“Darling,” she said, “don’t ever doubt that I lo—”
* * *
When an aetherscope casts a mirage, there is always a moment’s lag (or so Lirren explained it). The operator presses down on the final switch, and then—a pause—as the illusion travels through the aether before landing in its intended place.
Sora knew she was in the pause. She knew by the indistinct streak of grey sky overhead and dark sea below. She also knew by the sensation of bilious sickness in her throat, something she had not felt since her first storms at sea.
There was just time to realize this when she found herself on the poop deck of the Elaran ship.
“—Vvv?”
She almost toppled over with disorientation, but had the sea legs to right herself and get on with it. The rival aetherscope was beside the stern rail to her right. Out to sea, six identical brigs were branching away in all directions from a single point—there was no way to tell which was the real Cormorant. A gangly young man in an Elaran uniform operated the aetherscope. He must have heard Sora’s heavy landing, for he turned to face her with a puzzled expression.
Sora shoved him aside and lunged at the aetherscope. She swung the boarding axe and tore straight through the device’s workings. Lenses shattered, brass fittings flew over the stern rail. The first stage of the plan was complete: the frigate could no longer hide behind a mirage.
“You’re one of ours, I assume?” Sora asked the man. He nodded, looking incredulous. “Sorry about that. Had to be done. I’m going to rescue my mirager, you see.”
“By yourself?!” His gaze darted past her and his expression turned grim: three Elaran officers tramped up the steps from the quarterdeck.
Sora climbed onto the stern rail and stood erect and compact. “Of course not!” She gestured quickly to the many Cormorants, whipping her hand back to keep it within Lirren’s outline. “I’ll be bringing one of those.”
Two Elaran officers unsheathed their cutlasses, while a third raised his pistol.
The pistol issued a crack—but the sound was cut off.
* * *
Sora landed on the Cormorant’s quarterdeck, right on top of the steers-hand. The brig lurched to starboard as the combined weight of two people pushed on the wheel. Sora regained her feet, helping the bewildered steers-hand back to his post at the wheel.
She addressed the brig’s astonished commander, a young first lieutenant.
“Apologies for my inelegant arrival. And apologies for commandeering your ship. You will have noticed a frigate appear from thin air about a mile off your port bow? I’m taking your crew to board it. Is that clear?”
The lieutenant stood to attention and saluted. “Absolutely, Commander.”
* * *
The Cormorant’s crew did not match the enemy frigate’s in numbers, but they were fresh and eager, their guns were loaded and ready, and they had the element of surprise in their favor. While the Cormorant’s crew slid up on the frigate’s starboard, Lirren had arranged one of the mirages to mirror it, bearing the threat of boarding on the port side as well. The Elaran crew were in confused disarray as they began their defense. Sora left the main action to the Cormorant’s first lieutenant and wove through the chaos, using the axe to both deal out blows and parry them.
Sora hurried below decks to the ship’s hold. With the axe, she tore at the locked doors of storage compartments, checking each in turn. The first five held provisions and tools. As she smashed a hole in the sixth door, she spotted a blue jacket.
“Darlett! Is that you?” She peered in. The blue-jacketed figure was sitting up in the corner.
“C-Commander?” One final blow and a hearty kick, and the hole was big enough to walk through. Darlett all but leapt into her arms. “H-how did you...”
“We can’t hang about—the Elarans will be coming down here for powder and shot. Follow me.”
Sora led him up to the gun deck, where she had to fight her way from one stairwell to the next, pushing through the blades and smoke in the cramped space. Darlett was an utter encumbrance. He clutched at her jacket and treated her as a shield, tugging her in front of him in panic when he perceived danger. Her smooth dodges became unwieldy lurches, and she took several heavy cuts to her arms, face, trunk. The axe was an unrefined weapon, but had a certain brute authority in these close quarters, knocking aside thin cutlasses and biting into incautious flesh.
She emerged onto the top deck bruised and bloodied, her uniform in shreds. There was a ferocious fight to starboard where the Cormorant was lashed as its crew battled the Elarans for control of the ship. Sora stuck to the port side, where the fighting was thin and the top-deck cannons stood idle, and dragged Darlett astern.
“Commander!” Darlett gestured to the Cormorant, its sails visible above the frigate’s gunwale. “Is that one of our brigs? Surely we ought to board it?”
“No, Darlett, we’re taking another way—step lively!”
The Elarans were putting up a fervent struggle against the Cormorant’s crew. Sora nudged Darlett to the ship’s side so she could put herself between him and the rest of the fighting. She held her boarding axe ready.
“Has the Hardweather’s boat come for us?” he asked.
“Not the boat. Too slow, too dangerous. There’s no time to explain it, just follow my—”
“Commander, I don’t appreciate being left in the dark—I must know where you’re taking me!”
Sora ground her teeth. “Your commander has come to rescue you in person—do as I order! We’re going where Miss Harter can see us and use the aetherscope to—”
Someone yelled in the Elarans’ language above her head—Sora looked up, and only just dodged an Elaran top-hand dropping down from the rigging in an attempt to land on them. She took advantage of his fumbled landing to swing the axe straight into the back of his knee, cutting his tendons to bits.
Darlett crouched and cowered beside one of the unmanned guns. “Good blazes! Commander, you can’t be serious—Harter’s theory is lethal!”
“It works, Darlett! How do you think I got here? Get up on that gunwale. Avoid the rigging—there’s a clear spot.”
Darlett shook his head and clung to the frame of the gun.
“I’ll be cut up like that fellow on the Scallop! I might as well stay here and be cut up by the Elarans!”
Sora paused. Did Lirren really need a good report from him anymore? The Hardweather was now full of witnesses who could attest that her method worked safely.
She bent down and, for the second time that day, grabbed him by the jacket, holding the axe’s blade perilously close to his face.
“This isn’t a polite invitation—do as you’re told, or I’ll have you flogged and report you to the admiralty for wanton insubordination and inferior mathematical skills. Climb up there!”
Darlett opened his mouth to retort, then seemed to think better of it. He was far from nimble, but he used the gun as a foothold to climb up as best he could. Escape was finally at hand.
Sora’s glance darted between him and the fighting on the starboard side. The Elarans’ energies were focused on the quarterdeck, mercifully. As she watched, a woman in a blue jacket broke off from the fight and dashed towards her.
“What news?” Sora cried. “Have we taken the ship?”
As if by way of reply, the woman drew two cutlasses—one from each hip. Sora barely had time to register that her breeches weren’t white—they were green. The jacket was stolen. This was the lean Elaran who had nearly shot her aboard the Hardweather.
Sora had no time to draw her own cutlass. The Elaran came at her with both blades at once. The boarding axe could only parry one of them. The other bit into her shoulder, breaching her already ragged sleeves and slicing straight into flesh. The woman wielded both cutlasses while dodging Sora’s attempted blows with a dancer’s coordination. In
jured and drained from acting as Darlett’s shield, Sora raised the axe to parry one blade—and failed to evade the other. The Elaran brought a cutlass down upon the back of Sora’s right hand, severing the tendons. She cried out in horror as the axe fell from her grasp. Her opponent pushed her up against the gunwale and pulled back one of the cutlasses, ready to thrust it into Sora’s chest.
There was a blur of blue jacket at the edge of Sora’s vision. An almighty snap rang out, and the woman was enveloped in a puff of smoke. As she fell backwards to the deck, Sora saw Darlett had fired a pistol straight into her side where he couldn’t possibly miss. He promptly dropped it and flinched.
“I didn’t use it when they took me!” he said, his voice high and strained. “I’m a scholar, not a—”
“That’s abundantly clear, Darlett.” She held up her blood-soaked right hand and winced in pain as she tried to flex it. None of her fingers moved. “Agh! I want to get off this damned ship now. Darlett, climb up and hold onto the mast-stay as best you can.”
Darlett obeyed. With much huffing, he clambered into position on the gunwale and clung to the bundle of thick ropes that held the mainmast steady.
“You say Harter’s method works, Commander?” Darlett’s voice was still strained.
“Perfectly!” Sora climbed up after him, wheezing for breath. Darlett helped her up, and she leaned on him.
“How does this work?” he asked.
“Just stand compact and keep bloody still. She’ll bring us over when she sees us. And don’t forget, Darlett, I get no credit for this rescue. All the planning was down to Miss—”
* * *
“—Haaaugh!”
Sora landed back on the Hardweather in an uncontrolled fall. Around her, a gaggle of officers who were gathered on the poop deck applauded and whooped in delight. Sora struggled into a sitting position. She rested her injured hand on her leg, staining her white breeches red. It was dawning on her that she may never use it again, and would become another of those officers with a lifelong disablement and a corresponding nickname among the crew. She felt ill with pain, exhaustion and loss of blood, but also thrilled at Lirren’s success—and at this ready batch of witnesses whose word could restore her reputation. Elevate it, indeed. Even an injury like this was a price she was willing to pay for such an outcome.
Silk & Steel Page 28
