Scimitar War (46 page)

Joslan watched as
Resolute,
Cape Storm, Stalwart
and
Lightning
formed a closely spaced line and headed toward the northern side of Akrotia. The remaining four frigates lined up behind
Indomitable
and headed toward the southern side of the floating city. Joslan had assumed the city would turn its damaged section away from them, and had devised the two-pronged attack to thwart that tactic. Seawater dashed his boots and rained down from above as sailors doused the deck and rigging, but he ignored it. He focused on his target and his ships.

The wind shifted, blowing them away from their goal, and the ship jibed.

“Man your sheets! Helmsman, watch your heading!” Captain Betts came up beside him, concern creasing his face. “What do you suppose this means?”

“It means the bloody thing’s trying to push us away, Captain,” Joslan said with a grin. “It knows we can hurt it, and it’s afraid. Compensate. We have to get within range on this first pass.”

“Aye, aye, Admiral.”

The ship trembled with another shockwave, heavier now as they drew nearer, but as yet, Joslan could see no discernible effect of the seamage’s attack.

“Target coming to bear, Captain!” the lookout called from above.

“Get us in range, Captain!” Joslan ordered.

“Twenty degrees port rudder! Increase the cadence on the sweeps!”

Indomitable
swept slowly to port, steepening her approach. Joslan could see the hull breach now, the damaged section getting closer and closer as it rotated toward them. The catapult crew watched the target and adjusted their weapon, oblivious to all else.

A little closer
, Joslan thought as he glared, one hand clenched on the rail. Akrotia loomed over their heads, its tallest spires towering several times the height of their masts. It was like attacking a bloody mountain.
Just a little closer
…

“Ready…” The commander of the catapult crew bellowed into the screaming wind. “FIRE!”

The siege engine cracked, and the huge ball of granite arched high, but the wind hindered its flight and the shot fell short, splashing into the sea fifty feet from the target. Joslan swore and turned back to gauge the progress of the frigates behind them.
War Hammer
was next in line. Her captain had obviously seen their shot fall short, for they were bearing in at an even steeper angle.

Then Joslan felt a sudden cool breeze on the back of his neck, and his blood went cold.

“It’s a trap!” he snapped even as the opposing wind died, and a gale-force gust hammered them from the starboard stern quarter. With a vicious lurch, the sails backfilled and ship heeled to port. “Akrotia’s pulling us in! Hard to starboard and loose the sheets! Bear off! Signal all ships to bear off!”

Heat blasted them as the city drew closer, and a sail burst into flames over Joslan’s head. The captain shouted orders, but men were already cutting the burning canvas free. Joslan retreated to the smoldering windward rail as flames flickered to life all around the ship. Men threw buckets of seawater on everything, dousing fires and sending gouts of steam flying on the wind.

An impact rocked the ship, different from the seamage’s attacks, closer and more solid.
Indomitable’s
bow lurched to starboard, and the admiral looked over the side. Mer were lined up alongside, their tridents and lances thrust into the hull, tails flipping madly to propel the ship away from Akrotia. Joslan grunted a grudging acknowledgment of the aid, but the crew was more generous, cheering and thrusting fists into the air.

“
War Hammer
!” the lookout called. “She’s ablaze!”

“Gods, no!” Joslan looked aft, and his darkest nightmares came true. The frigate, having steered closer to the city to bring the target into range, had been caught by the same wind shift, but hadn’t been able to bear off as quickly. She was being drawn in like a fly in a spider’s web, her sails aflame and her deck smoking. Her catapult exploded in a chaos of fiery splinters as its tensioning ropes gave way, scattering men like burning leaves. Both mer and men fought to turn the ship away, and it was working, but too slowly.

“Signal
Sea Drake
to aid!” Joslan bellowed, but it was too late.
War Hammer
’s deck ignited. Even against the wind, he heard the horrific screams of burning men. Many leapt into the sea, but the sailors and marines manning the sweeps belowdecks were trapped. The banks of oars lost their cadence, and smoke began to pour from her ports. Joslan choked as he imagined the men fighting through the blinding smoke and flames to make it onto the deck, only to be greeted by more fire.

With no hand on the wheel, the burning frigate veered, victim to the vicious winds. Joslan watched helplessly as
War Hammer
met Akrotia with a crash of shattering timbers and a shower of sparks and ash. The ship was ground to splinters by the unforgiving coral lining the city’s hull. Her masts fell, and the dying ship disgorged a slick of carnage. A few thrashing figures could be seen amongst the wreckage, but there was no way to send anyone to rescue them. Joslan looked away, his teeth clenched so tightly that his head pounded with the hammering beat of his heart.

Bright Star
,
Joyous
and
Lancer
were bearing away, too distant to get in a shot, but out of danger. The first wave of their attack had been an utter disaster; one ship and hundreds of men lost, and not a scratch on Akrotia. The city had tricked them, and Commodore Henkle’s force was undoubtedly being lured into the same trap.

≈

Edan raged in pain, triumph, and frustration. His ploy had worked, but he had only been able to destroy one ship. And the seamage had not surfaced to aid the burning ship as he’d hoped. He could feel her presence, but he could not reach her underwater.

New spears of agony shot through him as she pounded him with her sea magic, breaking away his undersea spires. The first fingers of fear began to brush against his mind; fear of the sea, the cold darkness below.

He let the pain feed his anger, burning away the fear. Every piece of stone she broke away made him lighter, and he floated a bit higher. In fact, with the decreased resistance, he could move more freely using the winds. Whatever her plan was, it was helping, not hindering him. A niggling worry gnawed at him—
Something’s not right
!—but the rage pushed it aside.

Let her pound away
, he thought as he readied himself to attack the other phalanx of ships. He rotated his damaged hull toward them, and just as he had hoped, they turned to attack. If they were as eager and foolish as the others, he would lure them in and burn them all.

≈

*Take them to the ships,* Broadtail ordered, pointing toward the fleeing vessels.

A few of the landwalkers still struggled, coughing bubbles and flailing their arms and legs. They were unfamiliar with the spell that allowed them to breathe through their skin, but they would settle down soon. For a moment, he watched the priests and priestesses tending the injured. A mer swam by, towing an unconscious sailor who was badly burned, his skin charred. A priest came and laid his hands on the landwalker, and the water glowed blue with the healing power of Odea. This one would survive. Broadtail was proud of his school; they had done what Seamage Flaxal Brelak had asked of them. The landwalkers would see that the mer were not their enemies.

He turned away from the carnage, and signed, *The rest of you, follow me! The other ships will attack, and there may be more injured.*

He flipped his tail and dove, heading for the other side of the city. His sensitive lateral lines tingled with the thundering force of the seamage’s attacks, and he dodged bits of rubble and shell that rained down. The cables came into view, and he led his force past Tailwalker’s contingent, who pulled madly against the rotation of the city.

Emerging from the shadow of Akrotia into the light, Broadtail thrust his trident toward the surface and leapt high, quickly surveying the positions of the ships. He hit the water in a torrent of bubbles, and was signing even before they all cleared.

*Be ready! They are coming!*

The school took position, two main groups to help the ships move away from the city after their attacks, and a smaller one to rescue landwalkers that hit the water. Many landwalkers had died in the previous attack. He had no doubt that many more would die in this one.

≈

Commodore Henkle steadied himself against the rail of
Resolute
’s quarterdeck, his spyglass fixed to his eye. The damaged area of Akrotia’s hull had just come into view. Unfortunately, it looked the same as it had before Joslan’s attack. That worried him. If none of Joslan’s phalanx had hit the target, something was wrong.

“Signal all ships to proceed with caution,” he ordered his first mate.

“Aye, sir!”

Henkle glanced behind at the line of ships following closely in
Resolute
’s wake, then at Akrotia, to gauge their line of attack. Akrotia seemed to be rotating more slowly than Joslan had reported from the encounter at Rockport. In this wind, his ships were moving at about six knots, while the city was rotating at about half that. They were moving in the same direction as the city’s rotation, which would give them plenty of time to hit the target and get clear.

The commodore opened his mouth to order the turn for attack when the wind picked up, blistering hot against his face and dead against them. Akrotia was pushing them away.

Maybe Joslan’s ships never reached their target at all
, he thought, firing off an order to steepen their angle of approach.

“Sir!
Sea Drake
’s signaling something, but I can’t make it out,” called the lookout. “She’s too far.”

“Signal
Lightning
to relay!” Henkle ordered, casting a glance at the distant ship. “I need to know what they’re sending before we attack.”

Signal flags fluttered aloft. Long minutes stretched out, and Henkle paced his quarterdeck, gauging their progress relative to Akrotia’s slow rotation. Finally the lookout called down from above.

“
Lightning
signals relay: Beware wind shirt!”

“Wind shirt? What the hells?”

“Correction, sir,” the mate said, lowering his glass. “I think that ‘r’ was supposed to be an ‘f.’ ‘Beware wind
shift
,’ sir.”

“Wind shift!” Henkle stared into the hot wind at the city. The wind
had
shifted; it was pushing them away.
Resolute
continued its approach, its course angled toward the city. If he timed it right, they would be perfectly positioned to fire as their target came to bear. Then it struck him. If the wind shifted again, the entire phalanx would be on a very bad heading, unable to turn into the opposing wind and victim to the lee shore of Akrotia. They’d be pulled in and roasted alive or ground to a pulp.

Options flew though Henkle’s mind. Naval battles were like chess matches, with wind, tide and current all considered well ahead of making each play. Being upwind of one’s opponent was generally a huge advantage, but Akrotia could shift the wind, confounding that principal.
How can I compensate
? he wondered.
How can I position my forces such that a wind shift doesn’t risk the entire phalanx
? An answer popped into his mind, and he frowned. He didn’t like it at all. Then again, he didn’t have many options.

“Signal the others! Continue parallel to the target and widen our dispersal. We’ll break formation and all attack the target from different directions simultaneously.
Resolute
will tack and come in against the city’s rotation.
Lightning
is last in line, and will attack at a shallow angle with rotation.
Cape Storm
and
Stalwart
will attack at steeper angles. Akrotia may shift the wind, but simultaneous attacks from different angles should allow at least two ships to attack effectively and escape. Maneuvering will be tricky, but it’s our only chance.”

“Aye, sir!”

His first mate relayed the orders, his voice strained. Henkle understood his officer’s trepidation: if they pulled this maneuver off perfectly, all four ships would arrive at the same point from different angles, at virtually the same moment. The tactic should thwart the effectiveness of a wind shift, but if only they managed not to collide with one another in the process.

≈

“This puts us right in the middle, sir,” Lieutenant Parks said, his brow wrinkled with worry as
Cape Storm’s
bow turned into the wind. “And if the wind does shift, we’ll have the hardest time turning away.”

Donnely looked out across the water, taking in the ships’ positions, the city’s rotation, the wind, and the angles of attack. It had taken them almost half an hour to reach the proper positions for the simultaneous attack, and all four ships had just made their turns toward the target. Henkle was a good tactician—this last-minute plan was a wise strategy—but still too timid, in Donnely’s estimation. And Parks was right; once they got within range of the target, if the wind shifted,
Cape Storm
’s position would be untenable.

The captain looked at his men. They kept glancing up at Akrotia, shuffling around and barking out nervous laughs. It didn’t help that the ship shuddered relentlessly as the seamage continued her assault. At least now it looked like it was doing some good; Akrotia had developed a list, though not enough yet to allow water through the breach. And the breach needed to be much wider for there to be even a hope of sinking the city.

“Steer an intercept course with the target, Lieutenant.”

“But sir…”

“Don’t worry, Lieutenant Parks. I have no intention of dying today.” Donnely grinned and clapped the man on the shoulder. “But we might be forced to abandon ship quickly, so let’s prepare. Trail the boats and open all hatches. Those manning the sweeps should escape through the ballista ports
if
and when the word is given, but not a moment before. Understood?”