Antiagon Fire (28 page)

“A bit. I was a seaman and then quartermaster apprentice on a merchanter for several years before I became a scholar.”

“And yet you’re a commander now, not to mention an imager.”

Quaeryt wondered how Nykaal had learned that.
Possibly from Bhayar’s dispatch … or from his officers or crew listening and asking company officers or men.
It really wasn’t a secret, although that was something Quaeryt still wasn’t totally used to, not yet. “I was pushed into leading troops in the Tilboran uprising, under Submarshal Skarpa. One thing led to another.”

“How did you become captain of the
Montagne
?” Vaelora looked to the ship’s captain.

Nykaal laughed, quietly. “You’re most protective, Lady.”

“Only because my husband has been most protective of me and of my brother and his interests.”

“I would doubt that is solely the reason for your protectiveness, but I admire and commend you for it.”

“It’s far from simple, Captain,” said Quaeryt. “After we ended the uprising, I was acting princeps of Tilbor before Bhayar confirmed me in the post. I was ordered to become temporary governor of Montagne after the eruption there, and was then ordered to form imagers into a fighting force against the Bovarians. I was successful—”

“Exceedingly successful, according to Lord Bhayar. But no one ever suspected … your talents?”

“Lord Bhayar and I have known each other since we were students of the same tutor. He suspected I was more than a scholar, but Lady Vaelora was the one who discovered the usefulness of my abilities. Lord Bhayar punished us both for that by insisting that we wed.”

“Such punishment!” Nykaal laughed, but the laugh faded. “How effective are your imaging abilities at sea?”

“I have no idea. Why do you ask?”

“I hope they will not be necessary, but the Antiagons do have fast vessels with their Fire, and a good captain always seeks all possible defenses.”

“It’s likely we can mitigate such an attack. If you need imaging, let me know, and we will see what we can do.”

“I do appreciate that, Commander, Lady, and I will bid you good evening.” Nykaal inclined his head, then turned and walked back toward the wheel and the steersman.

“He’s worried,” said Vaelora.

“Wouldn’t you be? He’s carrying Bhayar’s sister, and he has two warships, the only ones your brother possesses, and four merchanters, and Aliaro has a fleet of warships. In his boots, I’d be worried, too.”

Vaelora shivered, possibly not from the cold.

“Are you ready for bed?”

“I am. I get tired more easily.”

“I haven’t noticed that.”

“You have. You were insisting I needed more rest just days ago.”

“I haven’t noticed that in the past few days.”

She smiled. “You haven’t been here much … and I did get some rest. The bed in the stateroom is more comfortable than those in the inns.”

“It should be.” Quaeryt took her arm.

As they headed for the ladder leading down to the hatch that afforded access to the captain’s stateroom, Quaeryt gazed briefly off to the starboard, and the dark line of the shore that marked the southern edge of the Gulf of Khellor.

Can you fit everything together? So that it will last?

Vaelora squeezed his hand before she released it to start down the ladder.

27

On Solayi morning Captain Nykaal had insisted on having Quaeryt and Vaelora served breakfast in his stateroom, and Vaelora had insisted that Nykaal join them. In turn, Quaeryt had added his invitation, not only out of courtesy and thankfulness, but also because he sensed a certain tenseness about the compact captain. The steward served tea to everyone, and set platters with egg toast, biscuits, and ham slices before the three, then slipped out of the stateroom.

Quaeryt sipped the tea, then said, “The weather’s holding so far.”

“The test of that will be when we round Cape Morain and set a northwest course.” Nykaal took another swallow of tea from his porcelain mug before continuing. “We may have another more pressing problem.”

“Antiagon warships?” asked Quaeryt.

“There are sails to the southeast, and they’re closing. Five vessels. The
Montagne
and the
Solis
could put on more sail and likely outrun them, but the merchanters can’t…”

Quaeryt nodded politely, but privately doubted that the two warships could outrun Antiagon warships designed for speed.

“If they’re Antiagon, and with five ships they’re not likely to be anything else, they’ll insist that the merchanters pay passage tariffs. That’s just an excuse to board and pillage.”

“Aliaro’s still insisting that the Gulf waters belong to Antiago?” asked Quaeryt.

“When it suits his purpose,” replied Nykaal dryly. “Or that of his captains. They’re more like pirates at times.”

“How long before we’re in range of their cannon?”

Nykaal shrugged. “If the winds hold, midafternoon. They must have set sail within a glass of when we lifted anchor. The tides would have been against them for the first few glasses.” He took another swallow of tea. “Can you and your imagers do something about them?”

“How close can you get without endangering the ship?”

“There’s always danger, but their cannon are limited to about six hundred yards, and they’re not very accurate above four hundred.”

“I heard that some of the cannon from Kephria could almost reach ships anchored at Ephra.”

“They’ve got one or two huge long-barreled things at Kephria that might reach half a mille on a good day with the wind behind them. They’ve occasionally hit or come close to careless captains. But on board a ship…” Nykaal smiled ironically. “Anything with that range would be too heavy or too small to fire a ball heavy enough to break a ship’s timbers.”

“They don’t have Antiagon Fire shells?”

“They say some of their ships do. There’s a merchant fleet out of Estisle or Nacliano that has cannon like that. Wouldn’t carry those for the world. Too easy to set the entire ship ablaze.”

Quaeryt nodded once again. He saw no sense in mentioning what the Diamond ships could do, especially after seeing how careful the captains had to be.

After Nykaal had finished breakfast and excused himself, Vaelora looked to Quaeryt. “You didn’t agree with some of what he said, did you?”

“I don’t think a vessel this big with this broad a beam could outrun an Antiagon warship. They’re designed almost as pirates and raiders.”

“So Nykaal either doesn’t know or is misrepresenting what his ship can do?”

“One or the other.”

“Then we must be even more careful.” She paused before going on. “Dearest … whatever you do … do what is necessary with the smallest effort possible on your part. Use the other imagers as much as you can.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Quaeryt Rytersyn, husband dearest … do not condescend to me, and do not patronize me!” Vaelora’s eyes flashed.

Quaeryt winced. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be. I rode across most of Lydar for you.”

“I am truly sorry,” he replied. “I was thinking about how it never ends.”

“Dearest…”

He laughed ruefully. “You’re right. I was condescending, and I shouldn’t have been.”

“No … you shouldn’t.” She smiled. “But since you admit it, I’ll forgive you. This time.”

Quaeryt managed not to wince again.

Somewhat later, he met with Zhelan and then went through the troopers’ quarters, undertaking an informal inspection.

When he returned to the upper deck of the sterncastle, he could see that the sky remained clear, especially to the northwest, and that the wind had shifted slightly, coming from more to the south. The Antiagon ships were closer, but still several milles astern.

Nykaal crossed the deck. “The wind shift will favor them a bit more than the merchanters. We’ll need to drop back slightly before long. What they’ll do is send two or three of their ships to engage us and the
Solis,
while the other ships pick off the merchanters.”

“So we need to stop the ones readying to attack the
Montagne
as quickly as possible?”

“Anything you can do would be most useful,” said Nykaal dryly.

“If you can get us as close as possible, but just out of cannon range, we may be able to take care of several of them. We’ll have to see, but I have several things in mind.”

Over the next several glasses, as the
Montagne
reefed sail enough to slowly drop to the rear of the Telaryn formation, Quaeryt kept track of their pursuers. In between that, he checked with Vaelora, who alternated resting and reading
Rholan and the Nameless
. He refrained from asking her what she thought, fearing such a question might be thought patronizing.

Before he knew it, or so it seemed, the ship’s bells were striking third glass, and Quaeryt and the four imager undercaptains stood on the port side of the upper deck of the sterncastle. He could hear the commands and the movement of sailors and gunners on the lower decks, as well as see the men stationed by the lighter guns on the main deck.

The lead Antiagon vessel was perhaps eight hundred yards away, two hundred south and six hundred off the port quarter of the
Montagne.
The ensign flying from a jackstaff was large and clear—a jagged lightning bolt of green and yellow crossed with a stylized halberd, all against a bright maroon background.

The second Antiagon ship was less than a hundred yards astern of the first, with a third behind, and two others moving northward, as if trying to close on the
Solis
and the four merchanters ahead of and to the north of the
Montagne.

Nykaal crossed the deck to Quaeryt. “They’re getting close enough to range us with their bow gun.”

“We’ll see what we can do.” Recalling Vaelora’s advice, Quaeryt again studied the Antiagon ship, clearly narrower in the beam than the
Montagne,
with a lower fo’c’sle and gun ports not that much above the waterline. He thought about imaging out a chunk of the lead vessel’s keel, then recalled Vaelora’s advice.

“Imagers! Stand by.”

Quaeryt concentrated on removing a section of the hull perhaps a yard square, just below the waterline immediately aft of the stem, then followed up by imaging out a chunk of the mainmast. A flash of light and pain seared across his eyes, then vanished. He watched as the mast swayed, then slowly toppled back, smashing through the sails and the yards of the mizzenmast. As it did, the upper section of the mizzenmast snapped as well.

The second Antiagon vessel turned in toward the
Montagne,
just enough to clear the faltering first vessel.

After another quint, the second ship was close to cannon range. Quaeryt turned. “Horan … image out a chunk of the mainmast on the nearest vessel. That’s the second mast,” he explained.

“Lhandor … can you put a large hole in the hull below the waterline just aft of the bow?”

“Yes, sir.”

The young undercaptain swayed, then grabbed the railing, but straightened. “I think I did it, sir.”

“Good.”

Quaeryt looked to Khalis. “We’ll wait a moment or so.” His eyes went back to the first Antiagon ship, whose crew was trying to cut away the tangled mass sails and rigging, as well as the shattered and fallen masts. The bow was definitely lower in the water, and dropping, if not as much as Quaeryt would have liked.

After a moment, he imaged again, this time concentrating on creating a smaller hole, perhaps a half yard across, midships and below the waterline. He scarcely felt the effort.
Smaller holes are better.
Then he shifted his attention to the second ship, smiling when he saw similar damage there, as the second ship seemed almost to stop dead in the water.

Even so, the third ship began to close on the
Montagne,
continuing past the first two stricken vessels under full sail. Quaeryt considered the distance, almost a half mille, then concentrated, wincing, and watching as another mainmast toppled backward, snaring the mizzenmast. He didn’t want to try holing the third ship at that distance. Still …

“Khalis … a hole in the third vessel there, below the waterline and as large as you can make without overstraining yourself.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt turned his attention to the two vessels that had been angling northward toward the
Solis,
but as he did, Nykaal issued an order to the steersman, and the
Montagne
eased onto a more starboard heading, as if to close the range to the two remaining Antiagon vessels. He wondered if the two remaining Antiagon ships would continue to pursue or whether they would break off the engagement and see to the three sinking ships.

After perhaps half a quint, both remaining pursuers reefed sails and turned, heading back toward the stricken vessels. Quaeryt watched for a time, but it was clear the two surviving ships were trying to aid the others.

“Imagers, take a break. Get some lager or ale and biscuits, but stand by … just in case.”

As the
Montagne
swung back to the northwest to move up on the slower merchanters, Quaeryt crossed the deck to where Nykaal stood to the side of the steersman. “I think we’ve removed that threat … for now, anyway.”

“How did you break their masts?”

Quaeryt smiled. “We just imaged out sections of the mast. We also put some holes in their hulls. I don’t think the first ship will make it back to port. I don’t know about the others.”

“How big a hole?”

“One a yard square in the lead vessel, and a second one midships half that size.”

“You can image away things?”

“Sometimes.”

Nykaal shook his head. “With two masts gone … and that kind of holing … they won’t be going anywhere.”

Except to the bottom of the Gulf.

“They might try a night run, though.”

“Not tonight,” said Quaeryt. “They’re not that much faster than the merchanters, and by the time they deal with the damaged ships…”

“They might be waiting for us to return.”

“What are your orders?”

“We’re to see what the situation is in Kherseilles. I’m to consult with you, then decide.”