by Ru Emerson
Another outcry, this one of rage, as one of the Holthan ships stopped abruptly in mid-strait. It had hung up on a submerged sandbar. The second Holthan reversed direction barely in time to avoid grounding. It fell in by itself behind the lighter Sea-Raider ships. The front line, still eighteen strong, closed formation. The Narran ships were pulling hard, but the Sea-Raiders were using full sail and were gaining on them by the moment.
Ylia could see Corlin aboard the Shark, high on the tillers’ deck, vigorously waving a red flag on a long pole. The Narran warships suddenly came about and surged toward the enemy line.
“M'Lord Vess—look!” Gyseran, one of Vess’ lieutenants—an older man who had been with Lyiadd all the years of his exile—pointed across the narrowing strip of water that separated their ships from the Narran cogs. Vess, his hands full of focus stone and his mind still ringing with Lyiadd's final orders, turned on him in irritation. “M'Lord, the Narrans are attacking!”
“So? Deal with it!” How, Vess wasn't going to try and tell him; ships were something Gyseran knew and so did these Sea-Raiders. Vess had enough to manage, between the focus, the land fighters and the Fury.
He glanced down at the main deck. Brit Arren was there, among his crew—in command under Gyseran and Vess. The man's gratitude was pathetic to see, though; he practically ate out of Vess’ hand. Lyiadd had been furious, brushing aside Vess’ assurances and certainties; it was more to placate his father than because of his own worry that he kept two Ylsan guard on Brit Arren, kept him unarmed and forbade him access to the command deck.
Vess gazed along the shoreline, or what he could see of it from Fury's place in mid-line. There were armed out there; he could see a few, sense others. That would be his most important task, bridging Lyiadd's armed to secure the land and deal with the Nedaoan army. Vess would have Lyiadd's aid via the focus stone, but only he was there to put men where they were needed most. His certainty he could manage that task had faded noticeably during the cold hours of early morning, and even more when they sailed into the bay.
Not for lack of skill or ability, no. But he had not expected so many distractions; even Gyseran bothered him with niggling details! The focus disturbed his thought by its mere presence, and Lyiadd had insisted upon constant contact. Of course, without such contact, he could not control the battle. Even Vess was willing to leave the overall control to his father. But he wished he had somehow not been given responsibility for the stone, and that it were not so awkward to hold. But Lyiadd said anything used to attach it to a cloak or arm interfered with the Power that flowed through it.
He looked up as men started shouting and the Fury jolted sideways as one of her fellow ships slammed into her. Gyseran was screaming furiously in one direction, Brit Arren in the other. “Separate, damn thee all for fools, separate! Give us room to maneuver!”
The Narran ships were moving faster than their bulk had indicated they could, faster than their earlier, sloppy motion had indicated. Warships. The Sea-Raiders recognized Shark as it swung out of line, then turned sharply to come straight at the south end of the line. As Gyseran paused for breath, Vess clearly heard the sound of splintering Wood. Shark had rammed Venom, full amidships.
The second Narran was already coming in at an angle as Shark pulled back and Venom floundered to a halt. The reading, crackling sound of wood torn asunder reached them from the north end of the line. Men were shouting, screaming, cursing and the Manta listed badly. The ship that had rammed her was smoking but before Vess could open his mouth to point out that the cursed Narran was afire, he realized what the smoke was: The Narrans had a catapult, and were firing sulphur and pitch balls.
And suddenly the nine Narran ships were not retreating at all; the smell of sulphur was overwhelming. The ship next to Manta was reversing when her sails went up in flames.
"Do something!” Vess screamed. Gyseran was half-way down the decks, bellowing orders above the outcry that was racing from ship to ship, trying to get the ships nearest him to haul sail and reverse. One of his subordinates was at the back railing, on the roof of what had been Mal Brit Arren's cabin, frantically signaling the ships behind to break formation and pull back, so the front line could break free of the Narran trap.
Smoke was so thick, it was nearly impossible for the second and third lines to see what the signals were—or that there was a signal at all, though most of them saw Venom listing heavily, trying to make shore. Manta had already heeled over and sunk. But retreat was impossible at the moment, though Vess could not see what they could: more Narran ships, hidden until now by the turn in the island and the bulk of the land itself, with skilled bowmen lining the rails. Men on board the northernmost of the ships in the second line died as a rain of arrows fell among them; sails smoldered and burst into flame as other bowmen shot arrows whose tips had been dipped in the sulphur and pitch mixture.
“Do something!” Vess screamed again. Gyseran, once again at his side, eyed him tiredly.
“M'Lord, the suggestion is yours. What would you like me to do?” Vess opened his mouth to speak; his hands twitched, and his father's lieutenant would likely have been dead the next moment, but the focus in his left hand grew uncomfortably warm and claimed all his attention. Gyseran had not been the only one who had heard Vess’ cry.
Ylia's attention was drawn from the smoking, screaming maelstrom out on the bay by a sudden, fiercely intense burst of Power. Galdan dragged her around and shouted a warning to their following. “'Ware! Enemy foot!” Men stood between them and Erken's next company; more men behind them, and more further inland still. Up and down the shore, the cry was taken up, and Nedaoan armed moved to confront Lyiadd's armies.
With the shield that was her inner strength pierced as it had been and her Power so erratic, the child should have remained dangerously vulnerable for a long time. How could I have known how very little she needed to restore her sense of self?
25
It was a mixture of men who faced them: a melting pot of those Lyiadd had gathered to him—predominantly Holthan and Ragnolan, brown-faced men who wore short tunics and heavily padded, quilted cloth armor. Some were clean-shaven under bronze or copper round helmets, but most hid mouths and chins under red scarves. Many carried swords; more had lances and spears. As the aura of Lyiadd's Power faded, a few with throwing javelins ran forward.
“Nedao, ‘ware!” Galdan bellowed. “Archers, now!” Swordsmen stepped aside to reveal half a dozen kneeling archers, arrows at the ready, another half dozen behind them. Spears and arrows passed each other; but most of the thrown weapons went into the sand; one struck a young swordsman, but fell aside, foiled by Nedaoan mail. Four enemy spearmen lay dead and the second rank of Nedaoan archers was in place. More javelin throwers came at the run. When another eight fell, the rest retreated.
Ylia waited impatiently in the midst of her guard, Galdan at her side. She didn't like hiding behind her guard. Three years of leading Nedao's armed had not lessened that sense, even though she knew it was necessary for her to oversee the fighting. But she couldn't even see what chanced beyond the double circle of sword until she found a wind-fallen tree trunk to climb.
Bendesevorian had insisted she be here; she would have insisted if he had not. But the rest was all riddles, as much to him as to her. Catalyst. How am I to know when my time comes, and what to do about it?
Out in the bay there was another loud, agonized, splintering crash: Shark had sliced through the next ship in the front lines. Or so she thought: The smoke was getting thicker by the moment, making it hard to tell. Men were screaming and cursing out there, in Narran, Raider, Ylsan—and now and again she could make out the blaze of shot raining down on Lyiadd's fleet.
She couldn't see. My fool Power, again? Or Lyiadd's toys? There were no brooches among the enemy near her; she would know that. She ducked as a stone whizzed over her head; there were slingers at the rear of their lines. Their bowmen were bad shots, but the slingers had better aim and there were more of them.
> Galdan dragged her down from her perch. “No sense making a target of yourself. Let me!” He clambered up where she had been, shouted, Cover me!” The guard in front of him intensified its vigil, tightened rank. What a place to need total concentration! But his own answer to Baelfyr couldn't come otherwise. He stared intently at his fingertips, fought to keep balance on the teetering log. A tiny, wavering flame flickered at the tip of his thumb, spread across his fingers, and, as he summoned Will and strength, grew. He swore as shot hurtled past his ear and he nearly fell. Now. Now or never, he couldn't bring it higher. He folded his fingers in to careful fists, held them together, concentrated. There was warmth there, becoming uncomfortable heat. He pulled his hands sharply apart, jerked his head back before the resulting fireball could take his beard with it. He cried out and flung it away from him with a snap: The fireball catapulted away from him. Fifty or sixty red-scarred men froze in terror for half a breath too long: The fire fell into their midst.
Nedaoan archers pulled back, arms flung protectively over their faces. Galdan fell backward off the log and Ylia took his place. “Sword!” she shouted. “Go!” Bowmen staggered wide and half the Nedaoan sword charged across the sand. There were few enemy left standing. But they would not surrender; the Nedaoans killed them to the last man.
“Gods and Mothers!” Ylia demanded as Galdan clambered back to his feet. “What was that?"
“Idea of—Bendesevorian's.” He grinned and wiped his brow. “Effective as Baelfyr, don't you think?”
“Gods,” she repeated fervently. “Look—there.” She pivoted, pointed behind them. A company of at least a hundred—Ylsan and mercenary—badly outnumbered the Nedaoan. “There, next!”
“Half turn, west!” Galdan bellowed for reply. Their company came back together and moved down the beach as quickly as they could for the drag of dry sand.
There was no vantage point for her at first. The Osneran mercenaries and Ylsans were skilled and determined fighters. Many of the Ylsans were using Power, instead of sword.
But they had no bow, and that told against them, finally: Nedaoan arrows cut them down from both sides, drove them back info the cliffs. Ylia turned the Ylsan Power against them, Galdan led the inner guard in a tight charge against the Osnerans. The Osnerans fought back fiercely, then suddenly collapsed. Many tried to scramble up the sandstone cliffs and most fell to Nedaoan bow. Most of the Ylsans bridged; those who did not, died.
Ylia found a stump to climb and gazed across the bay. The Holthan was still caught on the sandbar, and she could see men in the water trying to work it free. There were only five enemy ships in the front line now. Shark still threatened their southernmost, but Barracuda was heading straight across the bay behind the Narran line, going to Merman's aid. Ships in the rear enemy line were spreading out, seeing the havoc ahead of them, and three had turned for the docks. She thought she sensed Bendesevorian there, but the Power was playing her false again, fading when she needed it. You still have eyes, fool; use them! she admonished herself tartly.
Power flared close to hand, bringing her around and Galdan back to her side: Ylsan and Ragnolan swordsmen were racing for them. Ylia leaped from her stump. For several long moments, she could see nothing, could only hear shouting and swords, the cries of the injured and dying. Galdan caught up a bow and mounted her stump; he lit arrows with Wildfire as he launched them.
The enemy broke, suddenly, a third as strong as they had been, and the Ylsans bridged out, leaving their allies behind. The Ragnolan mercenaries cried out in terror at finding themselves suddenly deserted. As one man, they threw their swords aside and fell to the ground.
Galdan swore. “Black hells! What do we do with prisoners? We can't kill that!"
“Get them over to Nalda, bar them in one of the warehouses!” Ylia shouted. It was hard to hear over the noise all around them and out in the bay. “Let the Narrans watch them.”
“Good idea.” Galdan scowled at the huddle of red-scarved mercenaries; they watched him nervously—those who were not staring in alarm at his female companion. Forty pairs of black eyes—all that could be seen above the scarves—darted from one to another of their enemy, widening in fear and amazement as a swordsman turned out to be another woman. Grim-faced women, carrying bloody swords, seemed to send their morale even lower than Galdan's Wildfire had.
But Galdan took no chances, and when Bendesevorian bridged them across to the Narran docks, he also took ten sword and four bow with him.
“That's done, now where?” Galdan demanded. Ylia pointed.
“There, I think. Lev could use help. Wait.” She pivoted, scanning the sand. She stopped abruptly. “What's he—black hells, what's he doing out there?” Galdan looked across the bay, but at first could not figure out what she was watching.
The rising wind was blowing the scattered rear line into the second line, creating even more havoc. Men hung from the lines, shouting at each other across the narrowing gap. Others fought to strap in the sails and lower the masts. The stranded Holthan ship was sideways to the incoming tide, and more men were in the frigid water, trying to pull her free, The mid-line of ships had its sails down and masts stowed, but their rowers could only hold where they were; there was no place to go until the third line retreated.
Debris from rammed ships littered the bay and washed ashore. Bodies and swimming men were everywhere. Shark was moving, taking the sharp veer to starboard that would put her ram through the bows of the next Sea-Raider ship in line. That ship worked its way forward, around the wreck of its southern neighbor. It turned, and Shark began to back away. Corlin was shouting up his archers; he was apparently running low on shot.
Fury had just pulled back and was partially protected by the second line, but the gap it left had not yet closed. Galdan saw what Ylia was gazing at, then: Vess. His inevitable black and silver were clearly visible; with the far vision Galdan could make out more of him than he wanted to see. But Vess’ habitual smirk was gone; grim purpose had replaced it and he held something in his hands that glittered red as a watery sun broke through thinning cloud cover. He was facing Shark, hands outstretched before him.
A high, painful scree knifed at Galdan's ears, an influx of Power left them ringing. A blood-red waterspout reared up where Shark had been only a moment before; the black-hulled ship that had been in pursuit of it was floundering as its rowers brought her about in desperate evasive maneuver. The waterspout was growing by the moment and the Sea-Raider vessel was directly between it and its prey. Shark swerved, and men ran to unlash the sails. The Narran line was edging back swiftly. With a blaze of light, the waterspout cut across the bows of the Sea-Raider vessel; the front two lengths of the ship simply vanished, and water spilled into the open end. Oarsmen threw themselves overboard. The tall swirl of blood-red water dwindled, was gone.
Vess stared open-mouthed at the broken and sinking Dismay. The Sea-Raiders aboard Fury were cursing and bellowing, and Gyseran could not silence them; his Ragnolans mumbled and rubbed their shoulder-stones in superstitious terror. Vess! What chanced, you have covered the stone, again, I cannot see!' His father's thought reverberated through him.
'It took the wrong ship, Father! I told you, the Narrans are maneuvering too quickly! Shark is a warship, and Corlin of Teshmor commands it!’
'There are others ways,’ Lyiadd replied grimly. And men cried out all along the shore, as a phalanx of Thullen came into being above them.
There, on the shore: Vess sensed Power there. Ylia's Power. His hands bunched into fists around the focus stone. How had she escaped Koderra? Galdan? Unlikely. It wasn't important. Once this stone can reach him, he'll die. As for her—he'd kill her himself. Soon. He smiled. He could feel her gaze, feel the hatred in her eyes. All that for me, sweet cousin. Hate while you still can! He laughed a little, and blew her a kiss.
“What's he doing?” Ylia whispered again.
“What? Don't worry him, come on!” Galdan gripped her arm; she turned as fingers bit into muscle.
“Ouch, don't! Look! That's Fury, isn't it?”
“I see Vess. He's too well protected to go against, don't even think it!”
“Not Vess,” she said impatiently, and pointed. “Below him, on the bulwarks. See?” A red-haired man was edging his way around the outside of the ship, pulling himself along the network of ropes and grips, hand over hand. “It's Brit Arren. What is he doing?”
“I don't know. It isn't important—” But Galdan watched until Brit Arren swung himself around the stern, out of sight. He took Ylia's arm again. “Don't worry about him, we've got—black hells, what's that?” But his sword was already at guard as multi-fold horror launched itself from the cliffs. Ylia tightened her grip on her sword; four Thullen broke away from the main body and dove at her and Galdan.
“Shelagn!” Her cry echoed across the water, bounced off the cliffs and came back again; silver fire seemed to tear itself free from her innermost being, to flare out through her arm and into the sword leaving her momentarily drained and half-blind. Three of the four vanished, half a dozen arrows had the other. Three more came at them; the sword took one, Wildfire the others. Ylia shook her head, blinked dazzled tears out of her eyes and sheathed the blade. The rest of the pack had split, half going after Levren's archers, the rest soaring low toward the Aresada. Galdan flexed his fingers and laughed grimly.
“Next time warn a man to look aside, I could scarcely see to hit those I did!”
“Sorry!” Ylia had already turned back to the bay.
“Ylia, come on, now! Forget Vess!”
“Gods, Corlin! Galdan, they'll be killed!” Shark had moved through the Narran line and into the front fine of the enemy ships to fill the hole Fury left, and was vigorously attacking Vess’ command ship. Narran merchanters behind Shark kept their catapults working, making burning rubble of the ships on either side of Shark, keeping boarders few.
