by Tim Paulson
“Actually...” Werner said, still a bit winded. “I may have an idea about that.”
Mia left shortly after the plan was confirmed, barely able to stand. She had to be helped to her tent by Greta. When she pulled open the flap she lay down on the cot, pulling the blanket over herself. It was rough wool but she didn't care, it was warm, and she was very tired.
“Don't go to sleep yet. I have questions,” Giselle asked.
Mia groaned. She hadn't even seen the girl as she lay down, yet there she was seated on a stool in the corner of the tent. In the other corner was the weaselman.
“Please... There's more I have to ask you,” Giselle said.
Mia's eyes drifted to the tall creature in the corner. “Why... why is she still here?”
“We got to Magenberg, is just down road a little ways. We are wait in line for entering the big gates and girl starts talking about many thing. Then suddenly she decides we must come back.”
“Have you seen Aaron... has he come? Is he with the republic?” Giselle asked.
“I don't know... The sorcerer has come. It will be difficult. We may not make it,” Mia said softly, trying to stay awake just a little longer.
“You'll be fine. I know you will. You're so strong Mia...” there were tears in Giselle's eyes now. “I always wanted to be as strong as you... as tough. Men were frightened of you in Aeyrfeld... But you probably know that. Celia once told me that's why you'd never have a suitor... Wait. Forget I said that that. It's a bit mean.” She used her sleeve to wipe the tears away. “What I mean to say is... Please come back. You're all I have left. My mother isn't my mother. Father's gone, my brother... Lord only knows where he is. Just please... be careful.”
“I am here also,” Piotr said.
Giselle shot the weaselman a long hard stare.
Piotr crossed his arms. “I care about return of Aaron too,” he said.
Mia sighed. “Go into the city. Tomorrow... this whole area will be... destroyed.”
“There is... just one other thing, that I was thinking about...” Giselle said as her eye traced the edge of her boots.
“And that is?” Mia asked, her eyes closed now. She couldn't keep them open any more. They were so heavy.
“If... If Lady Christine Halett isn't my mother... Who is?”
“Marian...” Mia whispered.
Then she was asleep.
Chapter 24
“God help you, boy! You haven't even cleared the cannon yet! Put powder anywhere near it and it'll be you we're firing out of it!”
-Gunner's mate Patrick O'Brien of the Arden Brig Fearless, 1620
“Where the hell is it!” Robert called ahead to his man on the bow. “It was just there!”
He was speaking of the picket ship. It had been on the horizon and stayed there for hours. Now it was gone. Or it seemed to be, to Robert.
“Let me see that,” Thira said.
Robert handed her the glass.
Her longer feline snout made it more difficult to put the circular eyepiece to her eye, but she managed by forcibly jamming it into her nose fur. Painful, but at the moment, necessary.
To Thira's eyes, the sea was black, like a pool of endless ink. The only light being the reflections of the stars above. The moon had been out earlier, a waning crescent she thought, but it had just recently dipped beneath the horizon.
“What do you think? Do you see them? Perhaps a gust of wind ahead has propelled them out of our sight,” Robert fretted, pacing the deck as he pulled at the large gold ring in his right ear.
“There you are,” Thira said. Her leothan eyes were far more sensitive in low light than Robert's. Just on the edge of the horizon, she watched as a pair of stars winked out and returned, then she focused there, staring until the shape revealed itself.
“What? You found it!” Robert said. “Where is it?”
The ship's shape had changed significantly. Before they'd been looking at the stern of it, blue veil lights casting a pale glow from the captain's quarters, but now those lights had gone dark and the ship had changed direction. Now it headed east.
“It's going east now.”
“Of course it is. Must have waited for the moon to set before they doused their lights. Brilliant of them. Probably caught sight of us ages ago and were waiting all night for their chance!” Robert said, smashing a fist into his palm. “Brilliant!”
“Well, they don't know you have a leothan on board,” Thira replied.
“No they do not!” Robert said with a wide smile.
“Alright, you sea dogs!” Robert yelled. “We'll keep our lights doused, but not much longer, dawn is on her way. We're going to slow by five knots and let her drop over the horizon. Then we'll head east northeast.”
“Aye, captain!” Cemu replied, running to help the men adjust the sails.
“Sea dogs?” Thira asked.
Robert shrugged. “It's just an expression. I suppose you're a sea cat.”
She frowned at him. “I am not! I hate every second of this!”
He smiled at her. “No you don't!”
“You never explained why we're following him,” Thira said, handing back the glass and folding her arms.
“Ah... the republic navy is too new to adopt any new naval tactics from the time when they were Faustland, wouldn't you say?”
Thira nodded. “That is reasonable.”
“Standard Faustland blockade tactics, as they executed them in the little conflict they had with Laportal regarding the Bimili sugar colony some seven years ago are not likely to have changed.”
Thira nodded. “And?”
“And what they do, being that they are not the largest navy on the water, is use small fast picket ships to sight enemies trying to breach the blockade, then sail for a hammer fleet, usually five to eight ships strong, signal them to follow them back to the target.”
“So he's trying to lose us because we are fourteen ships and they are only, what nine at most?”
“Probably only five or six,” Robert replied. “But we don't have fourteen ships.”
Thira frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Haven't you looked behind us while we've been following the picket?”
“Well... no,” she fidgeted. “I didn't want... them... to think I was checking on them.”
“The leothan males?” Robert asked.
Thira nodded.
Robert laughed. “Well I'll be sure and tell them it was on my orders, go ahead and look.”
She did... there were only two ships.
“What? Where are the rest of them?” she asked.
“Captain Mendoza signaled me that another picket was sighted so I gave her permission to attack.”
“With eleven of our fourteen ships?” Thira asked.
“Of course. The Pyrolians weren't enjoying following an Arden man anyway... I gave them permission to go glory-seeking. It'll be fine. They're likely to outmatch the group on the port flank.”
“But we're only three ships!” Thira snapped, grabbing his puffy sleeves. “And two of them don't have any guns!”
“Unhand me, fair lion maiden,” Robert said, grinning at her. “They do have guns, they're just... itty bitty little ones,” he added, using his fingers to pinch a really small space.
Thira's eyes widened. Yet another innuendo. “We are going to be destroyed!” she said.
“Bah... nonsense!” Robert replied.
“Wait a moment...” Thira said as something occurred to her. “Do you want us to die!”
“Why would you think that?”
“You could have attacked the picket ship, hours ago. Then they would never tell anyone and Wilhelm's goliath barges would get through unscathed! Why not do that?”
“First... because she's a brigantine. That's far faster than us. If we approached she'd speed up and pull away. You can see it. On a brigantine, the aft mast is the main one and she's only half sail.
Thira nodded. Even at this distance, she could see the big back sail on
the ship was only partially unfurled.
“Second,” Robert said, “because we're a small group of ships that she thinks she's luring away to meet her attack group, probably just after dawn breaks.”
Thira frowned. “So any second now is what you're saying!”
Robert nodded. “Aye,” he said as he turned the wheel, hand over hand, to the right.
“And you have some plan? Some way to handle six ships?”
“Five...” he replied. “Maybe even four.”
Thira folded her arms, glaring at him.
“I do! I promise. Just... ah look back at your friends again?”
“They are not my friends!” she said. “What about them?”
“Are they turning with us?”
“They are,” she replied.
“Bloody perfect,” Robert replied softly.
“I'm glad they're with us but I don't see what help they'll be...” By his tone though, Thira suspected Robert was talking about something else. His eyes were ahead, toward the east where the brightening sky had just been pierced by the first rays of the morning sun as it rose. There was only a fraction of a second where she saw them, a row of little black shapes against the horizon.
Ships.
“I saw them... that's not five ships!” Thira said.
“Nope... eleven,” Robert replied as he looped two lengths of rope around the wheel to hold her steady. Then he went to the far back of the ship and picked up a flag. It bore the red and white pyrolian colors and crest. Robert raised it and held it up into the wind, moving it back and forth, or trying to, the wind was strong and making it difficult for Robert's relatively spindly arms.
“What are you doing?” Thira asked him.
“What the bloody hell does it look like? I'm signaling the others.”
Thira grimaced and snatched the flag from his hands. “Here,” she said, “let me,” and she held it high and swung it back and forth. Only moments after she glimpsed similar flags being waved on the bows of the two other ships.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because it's time!” he said, “HARD to STARBOARD!” he yelled. “CEMU, BEAT TO QUARTERS!”
Robert unslung the lengths of rope from the wheel, bracing himself before it. “You better grab onto something lion lass.”
“Trim the sails mates!” Cemu yelled at the crew as he ran to a bell which he rang as hard as he could, letting everyone on the ship know: battle was coming.
Thira put her hands on the railing nearby as Robert rolled the wheel to the right and the whole ship swung starboard in an arc tight enough for the whole ship to lean to port. Thira felt her stomach 's contents of mostly fish, rise up, and threaten mutiny. She closed her eyes, hoping it would help a little. It didn't.
Liam climbed out of the hold, two long muskets strapped to his back. Thira had no idea how he kept his footing with the deck pitching as hard as it was but he did. The boy found her at the railing and approached.
“Where are your friends?” she asked.
“The others are below, praying,” he replied. “Brother Coughlin says we fight witches, not republicans.”
“Then why are you here?” Thira asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I... I want to help my uncle,” he said.
“The more the merrier!” Robert yelled from the wheel. “But it probably won't be necessary.”
“Why is that?” Liam asked.
Thira could already see it, however. The ship had swung around to face almost the opposite direction they had been, the other ships had turned as well. Instead of a chevron pointed east northeast, they were now a line, three abreast, all sailing south.
“Because we're fleeing,” Thira replied.
Liam looked angry. “We're what?”
Robert held up a single finger. “We are not.”
“What would you call it?” Thira asked, “You saw eleven big ships on the horizon at daybreak and now we've turned right around and we're racing away as fast as we can go.”
As the ship righted herself, Liam stood, a hand over his eyes to shield the morning sun. “You can run all you want. You won't get away.”
Thira and Robert both looked at the boy.
“What do you mean?” they said at the same moment.
“Those are Snelle haai. Father told me about them last fall. They're frigate size ships with the speed of a brigantine. Thirty-four guns each, all eighteen-pounders. They pack quite a punch for a ship that fast. They're meant just for this sort of thing. How fast does this old thing go?” Liam asked.
“In the right wind, she can make twelve knots,” Robert replied. “The wind isn't the best right now, so I'd say we're making about half that, but-”
“Not nearly fast enough. They'll be on us in thirty minutes, blast us to the bottom, catch up with uncle Wilhelm's barges and still have time for tea and stroopwafels,” Liam said.
Robert's hand went to his chin. “Hmmm... we'd better start now then. Thira wave the flag again.” He produced the spyglass from his jacket and extended it.
Thira picked up the flag and waved it once more. “Why am I doing this?” she asked.
“CEMU! Ready the charges!” Robert bellowed.
On the other two ships, two more flags waved in response. However, they were close enough now for her to see the two leothan captains. One blew her a kiss. The other bowed.
Thira rolled her eyes.
“Are those leothan males?” Liam asked.
“Adorable aren't they?” Robert said with a slight smile.
“I've never seen them before. They're huge!” Liam said.
“Not where it counts my boy. Not where it counts!” Robert quipped.
Thira groaned. “Would you shut up?”
The crew ran along the deck in every direction. The grate atop the hold was being winched open as a man crawled down inside with a pulley cable tied to... something. Other crew ran to the other side of the pulley and began yanking the rope hand over hand. Up rose not one thing, but several... tied together like pearls on a string.
“Bombs?” Liam said. “You filled the hold with bombs?! Are you insane?”
“You are not the first man to ask that,” Robert replied with a chuckle.
“That is not funny!” Thira said.
* * *
Aaron stood, rooted to the moving goliath beneath him as Narael sat before him in a soft reclining throne. Behind them Buckley sat on his stone couch, pulling at his goatee so hard Aaron thought the man might rip it from his face. Ahead of them, through drifts of light snow, could be seen the lines of red goliath arrayed against them.
The lines were tight and bolstered by rows of large trees setup like pikes. Typical Ganex fashion, Aaron thought. Slow the enemy, hammer them with javelins, then attack. His father-in-law had been very clear on that point: the Ganex were masters of the frontal assault. That was why it was suicide to attack them head-on. Yet here they were, standing atop a ridge, ready to do exactly that.
He really hoped Marcus had been right. If he wasn't, Narael would make it to Magenberg before nightfall. Aaron had no idea what would happen then but he really didn't want to find out.
Please Ganex, he thought, destroy us. Destroy him.
Narael raised his arm and pointed forward. Leading from a couch perched atop a goliath's head. If he was not watching it happen, Aaron would not have believed it possible.
The line on either side of them, composed of nearly two hundred golden-eyed stone monstrosities all stepped forward at once, in perfect harmony. Down the hill they moved, step by step, forty-foot tall knights of stone, each holding a veil sword that glowed like the sun. As horrible as it was, Aaron had to admit some curiosity at how the sorcerer's minions fought. They had no shields to defend themselves from the blows of other goliaths. Perhaps this battle wouldn't be as one-sided as he'd expected.
On the other side, in the distance, Aaron heard the horns. All along the enemy line, they sounded. It was a signal used by the Ganex for centuries. Javelins were
being readied.
Aaron waited...
There was a pause of a few seconds as Narael's line marched forward, flanked on either side by the remnants of the republican goliaths with their purple stripes. To think that months ago he'd hoped they would come to Aeyrdfeld's rescue by defeating the Ganex. Now they'd done just that and all Aaron could think was how much he hoped they'd lose. Well, that... and he hoped Greta wasn't out there among them.
Then it came: a short horn sound. Movement from the Ganex ranks as hundreds of goliaths threw spears of veil tipped metal into the air as one. Aaron watched as the cloud of glowing steel rose up above them, peaked, and began to fall, leaving pale lines of light in the sky.
Kill him, Aaron begged them.
Just one spear, straight through Narael's center, would end it all.
No such luck.
Narael was already moving. His right hand was crafting a series of symbols which he then pressed into action with a wave. There was a small flash of light and a tiny glowing ball rose into the air about a hundred feet in front of their formation. The javelins were crashing down now, about to pierce through their ranks... until they stopped, dead, at exactly the level of Narael's sphere, which then collapsed into nothing. All the javelins dropped to the ground with an incredible clatter of ringing metal.
It was so loud it made Buckley cry out, cupping his hands over his ears.
Narael seemed not to notice at all.
Well so much for the javelins, Aaron thought.
Next, the Ganex parted, revealing huge siege cannons that had been situated along the lines. They must have been pulled down from the walls on the opposite side of the city. A smart move when dealing with an intractable enemy like the sorcerer, who seemed to have no fear.
A second horn blew, at a higher pitch, and twenty-five of the massive cannons fired. The explosions were deafening and the slugs they propelled were truly huge. It seemed they were all focused on the center of the line. They were trying to kill the sorcerer's goliaths. Good.
Were Narael not walking them forward shoulder to shoulder in a perfect line, targeting cannons of that size would be impossible, which is why they were used to attack forts and castles. Tons of spherical iron balls slammed into their lines, hitting several of Narael's goliaths directly in the chest, knocking them down like a child's toy soldiers. Aaron watched as the dust and snow, kicked up from the impact and the goliath's fall, cleared, revealing undamaged stone, standing up again, picking up their swords, returning to the line.
