The Exalted leader held the hilt of his saber close to his chest in a sort of salute. His monotone voice was devoid of any feeling. “I am the First.”
Before his enemy could react, Zeren drew out a flintlock pistol with his left hand and fired it at the First. There was a brief flash of smoke while he dropped the now empty gun and dashed forward, hoping to finish off his opponent using the blade. But as he made the first step, Zeren stopped in surprise at what he saw.
The First’s left hand was stretched out before him, palm outward. The bullet that had been fired remained suspended in the air, as if time had stopped it from propelling itself towards the intended target.
Zeren was taken aback. His opponent had used the mindforce. Only now did Thalena’s cryptic words mean something to him. He stared at the First’s twisted mask of melted metal, unable to believe the awful truth. “You!”
Without warning, the bullet suddenly reversed itself, and the projectile struck Zeren in his chest, throwing him backwards with unnatural force. The last few thoughts he remembered before blacking out were of being hurled from the topmost deck of the land ship and falling into the barren sands below.
Chapter 27
Lord Vorconis adjusted his sword belt while staring out at the opposing fleet in the distance. The waning sun was still shining brightly while the wind had finally begun to pick up. It was now the time to decide who would rule the Khanate. On the lower portion of the sand sail’s deck stood more than two dozen of his men, all brandishing weapons and ready for battle.
His ever loyal assistant Bugurt stood dutifully by his side. He turned to see a red flag being waved on one of the nearby land ships stationed alongside of theirs. “Chief Cinil has now advised us to begin. The winds are now in our favor, my lord.”
Vorconis turned to his left and made a silent gesture at his two eldest sons, who were in command of another sand sail on his port side. “Where are the Gyawigo and Thethtulor fleets?”
Bugurt pointed towards the extreme left flank. “Over there, they have also waved their flags. It seems Lorrt’s banner has been raised onto the topsail of their flagship.”
Vorconis scowled. He would deal with Lorrt and the others once the battle was won. “How many ships do we have now?”
“Fifty-eight, my lord,” Bugurt said. “Though it seems I am unable to see the Letheans at all.”
Vorconis nodded. Fifty-eight sand sails against the thirty-two ships of his enemies. It was a clear advantage. “Wave our flags and signal the vanguard to advance.”
The ominous sounds of the ship’s drums were soon heard as the signal was called out. At the rear of the quarterdeck were the trumpeters and flag wavers, and it was their duty to pass along orders to the other flagships amongst the alliance. Within moments, the lead sand sails in the center of the combined fleet had begun to angle their masts to catch the wind. A large group of land ships soon began to advance along the center.
With his flagship now beginning to pick up speed, Vorconis placed his hand on the bronze guardrail beside the ship’s wheel. The slightly uneven terrain made the deck shake, and he did not want to lose his footing.
Bugurt had a looking crystal in his hand, and he would periodically stare into it to get a closer view as to what was happening. Up ahead of the main force was a flattened plain filled with numerous trikes from both sides. The small, three-wheeled sand sails had begun their skirmishing, ahead of the larger ships. He saw quite a few of the trikes colliding with each other, while the others would try to dart around, their two-man crews shooting their muskets, hoping to kill the ones belonging to the other side. Bugurt never quite understood the purpose of these little skirmishes, since they would hardly have any effect on the larger crewed sand sails. In mere moments, dozens of trikes lay wrecked on the battlefield, their crews sprawled out on the sands, most either dead or dying.
Vorconis saw the signal from Cinil’s fleet to his right. The Tooan sand sails shifted away from the main body as they had begun their flanking maneuver, hoping to surround the enemy’s left side. Turning to his left, he could still see his two sons on the sand sail alongside of his, dutifully keeping formation. Up ahead of him the small pirate contingent had begun to spread themselves apart. He tapped his aide on the shoulder. “What are those damned sand eaters doing?”
Bugurt signaled at the trumpeters to relay a command to their allies. “It seems this is the way the raiders do battle. They prefer to ride their sand sails in loose formation.”
Vorconis frowned. “If they do not act as one then their part of the vanguard will fail to break the enemy center. Order their ships closer together.”
Bugurt gave another signal to the drummers and trumpeters before staring into his looking crystal once more. “They seem to be ignoring us, my lord.”
Vorconis cursed. He would deal with those pirates once his victory over the Khatun was secure. Looking directly ahead, he noticed the enemy formation had also begun to move. “What are they doing?”
Bugurt peered deeply into the small crystal in front of his eye. “It seems the center of Wulfgen’s battle line is giving way- they are retreating!”
Vorconis scoffed. “They are withdrawing on purpose. They want our vanguard to push deep into their deflated center so they may swamp the sides. What they do not realize is I have already planned for that. Signal Chief Cinil to start attacking the flank.”
The lead sand sails of Vorconis’s advance force were now within musket range. A number of ships collided with each other, their crews fighting boarding actions on the decks. Volleys of musket fire were quickly followed by war cries as the combatants drew their swords and closed in for melee combat. Vorconis’s vanguard attempted to push through, only to be hemmed in as Wulfgen’s land ships closed the flanks off. The pirates, who had a looser formation, were able to maneuver away and now headed back towards the onrushing main force of their allies.
Vorconis saw what was happening. “Order the main fleet to close the gaps.”
Bugurt glanced back at his master in surprise. “Close the gaps? But if we do such a formation, the pirate ships will not be able to pass through us.”
“I am aware of that,” Vorconis said. “A just punishment for not obeying my orders.”
Bugurt signaled and the trumpeters sounded the new orders. The other ships alongside of them soon began to get closer and the other crews could now distinctly see one another. The retreating pirate vessels noticed the solid wall of ships coming up ahead and frantically raised their own flags in an attempt to get their allies to loosen up and allow them to pass through. When Vorconis’s fleet failed to make any adjustments, the pirates turned their ships towards the rapidly closing gaps along the flanks, hoping to get away before they collided with their own side. Two of the faster raider sand sails pushed through the now cramped breaches and into the open.
Vorconis could see five remaining raider land ships in front of them. He signaled to his captain. “Order all our vessels to fire on the pirates.”
Just as the raider sand sails attempted to turn once more, three of their ships were rammed by their own allies while muskets raked their decks. One of the pirate vessels deliberately attempted a head on collision with Vorconis’s flagship but was smashed into by a guard vessel before it could maneuver in time. A number of raiders falling to the ground were run over by the bronze wheels of the land ships as they passed through the wrecks of their former allies.
Soon the full weight of the opposing fleets had collided with each other, their once orderly formations hopelessly entangled into a gigantic hodgepodge of smashed hulls. Crews would take cover behind their ship’s gunwales while occasionally crouching up and firing their muskets before getting back into cover to reload. Gangs of men would leap out from their decks, hoping to overwhelm the defenders of the other ships stuck beside them. In mere moments the entire battlefield was filled with smoke. The noise of gunfire and the screams of the wounded and dying were heard all across the wastes.
Th
e Zaash had a reputation for ferocity, and they continued to hold the line, just as Cinil’s sand sails entered the fray and began to circle around their flanks. Instead of closing in and attempting boarding actions, Cinil deftly ordered his fleet to keep moving while using massed fire from his muskets to wear down the enemy.
With his sons by his side, Vorconis began to lead his men from the deck of one land ship to another, as they slowly made their way forward. One of the enemy crewmen, pretending to be dead, suddenly stood up beside him and attempted to stab at his throat, but one of Vorconis’s men reacted quickly and gutted him with a saber. The assailant fell to his side, blood gushing from his stomach wound. His eldest son Sudrent finished off his father’s would be assassin with a thrust to the man’s scalp.
Vorconis fired his pistol at another Zaash tribesman who attempted to close, killing the man instantly. He turned to look at Bugurt. “Where is Lorrt and his tribal allies?”
Bugurt bit his lip and pointed out into the hazy distance behind them. “They have not moved their fleet since the battle had begun.”
Vorconis grimaced. “I shall have their heads on a spear!”
“Let me lead an attack against those betrayers, father,” Sudrent said.
“Very well,” Vorconis said. “Take six vessels and destroy them.”
Wulfgen grunted as he pulled his sword blade out from the dying man’s torso. He had lost count of how many men he had killed. Since the battle had begun he had fought courageously right beside his tribesmen, and now he was covered with blood. One of his sons was already dead, killed by a lucky shot to the head from an enemy musket. His youngest son was nearby, and the youth refused Wulfgen’s command to withdraw, fully intending to fight by his father’s side until the end. Wulfgen smiled at him, praising the young man for his courage.
Another of his men came running towards him. “Chief Wulfgen!”
He recognized the man as one of Nuada’s bodyguards. “What is it?”
The man had a bandaged gash on his leg. He pointed towards the left of the smoke filled haze. “It is the Khatun.”
Wulfgen’s eyes opened wide as he made his way to where the man was pointing at. “What is she doing here?”
The nervous man walked alongside of him. “My chief, I am sorry but she had insisted on joining you into battle. The Khatun commanded her personal guard to attack the Tooan tribe’s land ships when they attempted to strike at your rear.”
Wulfgen gritted his teeth as he stepped over the bodies of his men. “She had but four sand sails, what a foolhardy thing to do.”
The man nodded and pointed towards the group of men huddled together on the deck of a nearby vessel. “Yes, I had told her that. But she felt you were in a precarious position.”
Wulfgen leapt onto the other ship’s deck, followed by a dozen of his men. Making his way to where the small crowd was, he pushed his way in. “Make way damn you, I am—”
His eyes bulged out of their sockets the moment he saw who was lying on the deck. Nuada was on the floor, breathing shallowly because of the sucking wound on her chest. She looked up at him with restive eyes.
Wulfgen knelt down beside her. He could barely find the words. “Why?”
Her eyelids fluttered, trying to stave off the final moments. “Our children … they are dead.”
Wulfgen shook his head slowly. “How could you know of such things?”
“I … sensed their cries.”
“No, it cannot be,” Wulfgen said. “My son, your daughter- they must still live.”
Nuada started coughing, bits of bile and blood seeping from the sides of her mouth. “All … is lost.”
Wulfgen gripped her hand, and he felt her strength slipping away. “No, no, no!”
Nuada started convulsing, Wulfgen tried his best to comfort her, placing his other hand over her wound but to no avail. The life had left her eyes. He placed her gently down onto the ground. For a long while he stayed silent as the sounds of battle continued all around.
His youngest son Jukin stood near his father as he reloaded his flintlock pistol. “The Khatun’s attack must have been successful. I do not see the Tooan fleet anywhere.”
Wulfgen stood up and picked up the rapier he had placed beside Nuada’s body. He was too tired to cry. “Let us prepare a welcome for Lord Vorconis, since I sense his stench nearby.”
Jukin smiled. “May the tribe of Zaash live on forever.”
Lorrt took another swig from the wineskin he was holding while looking down at the battlefield below. The deck of Chief Egyn’s sand sail seemed quite orderly compared to the wreckage of countless vessels that lay beyond. He turned to look at his newfound ally. “When do we strike?”
Egyn stood in the middle of the quarterdeck, surveying the battle in the flatlands with his looking crystal. “They seem evenly matched from this vantage. I think we need to let them keep fighting for a time. When both sides are too weak, we shall unleash our forces and slay them all.”
Chief Maskul of the Thethtulors remained standing beside him, only he was observing in the other direction with his own looking crystal. “Wait, something is occurring to our far side.”
Egyn turned and peered through his magnifying lens. Sure enough, several land ships from Vorconis’s old guard had broken off from the general melee and had now positioned themselves to the flank of his tribe’s fleet. “I expected as much. They are but few in numbers, and we can easily overwhelm them.”
Maskul shuddered as he pointed to something appearing at the edge of the haze. “Look!”
The old guard fleet was quickly joined in by another dozen sand sails with the colors of the Tooan tribe. The combined group seemed to maneuver amongst themselves for a time until all the vessels were able to form a solid line of battle. Not long afterwards, the land ships began to converge upon them.
Lorrt could now see it with his own eyes. The youth’s mouth hung open as the wineskin slipped from his fingers, disgorging its contents onto the deck. “It is Chief Cinil, they will destroy us for betraying them!”
“Be still, Khan Lorrt,” Egyn said calmly. “Our own allies shall be here at any moment.”
Sudrent, Vorconis’s eldest son, stood on the deck with Cinil as their ships approached the treacherous Gyawigo and Thethtulors fleet. “I want Lorrt for myself. I must have the honor of killing him.”
Cinil nodded absentmindedly while leaning on the secondary mast near the quarterdeck. Vorconis had given him the signal, and he had pulled his fleet away from the main battle in order to guard against a sneak attack by their supposed allies. “Yes, yes, he is yours. Do what you want with him. The winds are behind us, so these traitors shall not have the chance to flee.”
Sudrent drew out a flintlock pistol from his holster and made sure it had ball and powder to fire with. “Lorrt’s head will adorn my chambers as a trophy until all his flesh rots off. I care not for the stench it will bring, for it shall remind me of the smell of victory.”
One of the forward lookouts near the bow of the sand sail stood up and pointed. “Look! Look!”
Cinil stood fully upright while taking out his looking crystal and placing it over his good eye. After a few moments his mouth hung open. “By the gods!”
Sudrent strode over to him. “What is it, Chief Cinil?”
Cinil could hardly believe his eyes. Without warning, three strange looking land ships had suddenly appeared at the flank of the fleet, on a direct course to intercept his sand sails. The mysterious vessels had no masts with which to catch the wind, instead their gargantuan wheels seemed to propel themselves. The new enemy rapidly closed the distance, and would soon be in musket range.
The other Tooan and guard crews could only watch helplessly as the mysterious marauding vessels suddenly revealed their cannons and fired. The Tooan sand sail nearest to them was struck by a number of large shells, its main sail collapsing from the onslaught, its men quickly slaughtered by a second volley of grapeshot. A number of Cinil’s own crew cried out in despai
r.
Sudrent staggered a few steps backwards as he observed the carnage that befell the other ship. His once unassailable confidence had been shaken to its core. Everyone knew about the tales of the Exalted, only now they could see the awful truth with their own eyes.
Cinil grimaced. The prevailing winds had already locked them on a direct course to the renegade tribes up ahead. If he ordered the fleet to break off now, they would all be easily separated and torn apart piecemeal. There was only one alternative. He turned to look at his ship’s captain. “Increase to ramming speed,” Cinil said, pointing to the opposing flagship in the distance. “We must reach the Gyawigo sand sail at all cost!”
Lorrt had started laughing when he saw the Exalted land ships firing upon the Tooan fleet. He had not been told about this secret pact between the neutral tribes and the servants of the Maker. Turning to look at Egyn, he grinned and nodded. “You are a crafty one, Chief Egyn! I was right to choose you as my ally.”
Egyn couldn’t help but smile as well. Once the Exalted swept all their enemies off the battlefield, he would be in an excellent position to be the power behind the throne. “It is now two favors that are owed, Khan Lorrt.”
Lorrt nodded. “My first act as the new Khan will be to reward you handsomely. You shall have the pick of any land holds you desire. I shall even make you the lord of the Khanate guard fleet.”
Egyn made a slight bow. It was more than he expected to be offered with, but less than he would receive, for his ambitions knew no bounds. “You honor me, Khan Lorrt.”
Maskul cursed. “It is not over yet, look!”
Egyn turned his attention to the battle once more. The Exalted ships made short work of most of the Tooan and Khanate guard vessels with their guns, but two of the enemy vessels- including Cinil’s flagship- had been able to weather the storm of metal against them, and were now bearing down towards their ship.
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