Chương 44: 43 The Slaver’s Fleet

A low horn blasted from the Black Chain, Thaddius' flagship. The Black Chain took its position at the head of the fleet, its four heavy bow cannons ratcheting up on mechanical cranks. Massive chain grapples jutted from her port, starboard, and stern, capable of punching hulls before reeling in enemy craft. I swallowed, watching the trajectory cones arc toward the incoming Naga fleet. A steel-bladed ridge ringed the Black Chain's bulwark. I imagined trying to board the wide deck.

One mistimed swing across the gap, and an attacker might end up impaled on its spikes. As a child, I'd played Navy with the other kids, pretending to be a captain in the Paradise Navy or even a Hobgoblin in one of the three mercenary fleets. I'd never seen myself rushing into battle against the Ophidian Empire in a slaver fleet. My hands tightened on the helm, scanning the small slaver fleet sailing in a wedge formation. The Ash Zephyr and the Night Shroud were the next biggest ships.

I sailed on the Black Chain's starboard side, while the Night Shroud mirrored us to port. I glanced over at the Night Shroud, expecting to find the Raven Reaper at the wheel. A human helmsman steered in his place, his men rushing to their battle stations. No, the Raven Reaper didn't strike me as the sailing type. My gaze slid up, clocking the feather-clad assassin perched in the crow's nest. The horn sounded again, and I picked out the approaching vessels.

The blockade had us outnumbered fifteen to ten; only I didn't mark a single cannon. At least an entire technological age separated the fleets. While we harnessed the wind and primed cannons, oars cut the waves beside every Naga galley. Mordisco lowered his spyglass.

"Decks are crowded with infantry," he announced.

"Plenty of boarding ropes and grapples."

"Brace," I said.

"Aye, Captain?" The python said, appearing at my side.

"You were Ophidian Empire Navy. What's their tactical doctrine?"

"No cannons, Captain," Brace said.

"They'll break formation and use the embolon. If it doesn't sink you, it'll pin you. They'll target the rudder if they can."

"The embolon?"

"A battering ram beneath the waterline," Brace explained.

"They'll try to ram first. If it gets stuck—well, I hope you've sharpened your sword. They'll board and kill up close." Down below, my men, mixed with the slavers, moved, casting wary glances at the blockade. If we died here, we died beside slavers; if we won, we'd condemn more to chains.

"Well," I rasped.

"Let's ensure they swim before they get that close. How do they counter cannons?"

"With speed. Two decks of Lizard-kin rowers," Brace said.

"Don't be deceived. A windsail ship might beat a rower across the ocean, but in closing gaps, muscle beats wind." I studied the Naga line.

"See anyone you know?" Brace squinted.

"That far ship there, with the flat deck and the red flags. That's a rocket ship. Captain Tilgress runs it."

"A friend?" His eyes narrowed, and he smiled, flashing sharp teeth.

"Not anymore."

"Captains. Report," Lonnie's voice pressed directly into my mind. I flinched, looking down at the medallion that carried the psionic link. I glanced over at Lonnie's sloop to my starboard side. Much smaller than my ship, it was the only one in our fleet with an arcane deck. The old crone grinned at me from her position on the elevated platform—psionic glyphs shivering as she clutched the rail. Lonnie couldn't rain fire down onto enemy decks. She didn't have to.

Instant communication was worth more than another battery of guns.

"In position," The Raven Reaper's voice carried through the link.

"Ready!" Thaddius responded, as if his deep voice existed directly in my mind.

"All good," I thought, trusting the amulet and Lonnie's talents to carry the intent. The captains from the other cutters and sloops responded in kind. Mordisco snapped his spyglass shut.

"They have three ships we need to worry about," he said.

"Their flagship has an arcane deck. To its starboard, that's the rocket ship. It'll go up quickly if we can start a fire, and on the portside, that's a massive troop carrier." I nodded, appreciating the insight, then I relayed the information across the psychic link. I caught sight of Thaddius standing near the bow of the Black Chain between two of his heavy guns, canted at an upward angle. He leaned over the Black Chain's figurehead. I tried not to look at the wooden statue too long.

It was a weeping wooden feykin woman with black chains binding her wrists. It made me sick. Thaddius relayed orders down the link.

"Reaper, you get the rocket ship. Anton, you get the carrier. The flagship is mine." I ground my teeth. That was the wrong assignment. My Trajectory Read made me the ideal counter to the rocket ship.

"Are you sure that's our best option?" I sent across the general mind link.

"I'm better equipped for that rocket ship. I have delayed detonation shells." On his ship, Thaddius' head swiveled toward me.

"You're in the wrong position. You'd have to pull ahead of the entire fleet and switch places with the Night Shroud." I frowned, studying the waves and both fleets. The blockade ships swelled from ant-sized specks to distinct hulls. On the Black Chain, the four heavy bow chasers boomed, testing the range. I watched the shells follow their projected arcs. None would hit—they weren't trying to. The heavily canted bow chasers behaved more like mortars than traditional cannons, and Thaddius was finding his range.

"Let me detach," I sent.

"My guns are accurate. I can broadside from far. Sink a few of their lighter ships before they even get close."

"They're still far too distant," Thaddius returned, grinning at his monster artillery.

"Leave the big shots to me." I clenched my teeth. He didn't think I could make the shot. Perhaps a demonstration was best. The distance between fleets shrank to less than nine hundred meters. I reached up and flipped the cap on one of the polished brass talking tubes surrounding the helm, speaking into the mesh-covered funnel.

"Dustnose!" On the bow, the little Kobold yelped as my voice reverberated out to the funnel on the other end. Vurel and William had tagged-teamed the talking tubes. I wanted to pair my Trajectory Read with quick communication to my gun crews.

"Crank your guns up!" I called into the bow tube.

"Aye, Captain!" Dustnose barked back, his voice buzzing through the funnel's wire mesh. The young Kobold had taken to his new position very seriously, so much so that he'd managed to instill a semblance of confidence in Vurel. His crew, on the other hand. Not so much. I watched my trajectory cones arc up as Dustnose and the Kobolds cranked gears. The trajectory cones from my lighter guns were faint and wide at this range. They'd clear it as we closed the range.

A rocket detached from the enemy rocket ship, trailing a tail of smoke as it shrieked through the air. It spiraled down, impacting the waves disconcertingly close to the Night Shroud. A roaring flame flashed on the waters.

"Dustnose, prepare to fire, wait for my mark!" I studied the far end of my trajectory cone as the bow rose and dipped with the light waves. Even with relatively calm waters, at this impossible range, my trajectory paths washed past the Naga line before sweeping back down in front of them. Timing would be everything here.

"Dustnose, Port gun, down five degrees." The Kobold grabbed the crank, ratcheting the nose down very slightly to bring the barrels truly parallel to each other.

"Ready—" Two of the gunners raised their hands high. The Black Chain let out another four shots, tightening their grouping on the blockade. I watched the shafts of light spread wider with distance. They lifted past the fleet as we rode a wave, then the bow dipped slightly, a micro-movement to us, a sweeping arc hundreds of meters away.

"Now!" I thundered. My two light bowchasers belched flame, and my ordnance was away, riding the light tracks visible only to my eyes. One impacted the water between the carrier and a rammer. The other landed squarely on the deck of a troop transport. I couldn't hear the screams at this distance, but my imagination filled in the gaps. Mordisco let out a whooping cry.

"Direct hit, sir."

"Dustnose, stop staring, reload!" I barked into the talking tube, earning a furious scramble from my bow gunners. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

"Most impressive," Thaddius pressed into my mind.

"Those were my light guns," I sent back,"That could have been a broadside. I'm underutilized, sir." A contemplative hum pressed directly into my mind.

"New approach, The Ash Zephyr will split off and go wide to port. Focus on consistent bombardment. Let's see if we can't split their attention, perhaps open new avenues." Lonnie relayed new orders, and the entire port side of the fleet slowed, allowing me to cut in front, arcing around. For its part, the Black Chain slowed, the rest of the fleet easing off behind it.

Another pair of rockets zipped from the Naga rocket ship, one spiraling far off course, the other impacting the water next to a cutter and nearly flinging the sparse crew from their ship. My head bobbed as we drifted away from the others. Two sloops trailed behind me, acting as escorts. I flipped the caps on all three port-side talking tubes.

"Alright, men, listen up, time to calibrate, we're going to give them a volley." A voice from one of Jaser's slavers buzzed back through the tube.

"At this range? Waste of shot."

"Listen carefully," I spoke directly into the cone, making a slight adjustment to the helm.

"You're not aiming. I am. Everyone, lift your guns. As high as they'll go. I'm getting us into position now." Mordisco squinted through a spyglass.

"Captain, we're falling out of line with the blockade. We won't line up our shots well if we keep on our course."

"They're not shifting course for us?" I asked.

"Not yet," my first mate responded.

"Well," I called, shifting the helm further.

"Let's give them a reason to notice us." I leaned into my speaking tubes.

"Open gunports!" Trajectory paths lit up my port side, painting a broad swath of ocean.

"A One, right twenty degrees. A Two, you as well. A Seven and Eight, crank it left. Say—fifteen degrees…" I continued making adjustments as I watched the paths overlap and converge on each other.

"... A Three, down just a hair. Stop there!" A startled murmur drifted back up the tube as the men blindly executed my commands.

"Fire on my command!" I called. In the main fleet, the Black Chain's bow guns roared, and one round shattered half a dozen oars on one side of a Naga Galley. I watched the projections shift as the ship rocked.

"Now!" I bellowed. The guns boomed, not in unison, but as a disjointed salvo. Water plumes rocketed around two of the ships on the enemy flank. The majority of the guns fired far too late. At nearly eight hundred yards, we were striking remarkably close—yet still far too inaccurate. I whirled on the talking tube, spittle flying from my lips.

"When I say fire, I mean fire now, you fools. Get those guns reloaded. You have three minutes!" The tubes carried the muted sound of grumbling sailors.

"Primary fleet, turn, show them your guns!" Thaddius bellowed mentally, and gunports snapped up as the slavers shifted. The Naga ship with the arcane deck thrummed, and an underwater pulse hurtled toward one of the smaller cutters, a wave of bubbles carving a white path beneath the surface. The men on the cutter screamed, and the pulse struck their vessel with a splintering crack. The cutter jerked, then rolled onto its side, mast crashing down like a felled timber.

"Find your targets, boys!" Thaddius' voice boomed in my mind.

"Make them come to us." Cannon A Four winked back on, first to be reloaded. In under two minutes, whoever ran that one knew what they were doing. On the slaver battle line, cannons cracked, and thunder rolled. The bombardment had begun. Water leaped at a score of different points between fleets. Two balls impacted Naga ships with splintering snaps.

"Load!" I snarled as my other cannons winked back to life.

"A One, right three degrees. Up two!" Rather than relying too much on calibrating the guns, I aimed them with the helm, angling the wheel, and bringing my overlapping cones of light to bear on a small troop carrier. Ballista bolts started launching from the Naga ships, and deck-top catapults hurled flaming alchemical bombs. They lacked the range of our cannons. The slavers still held the edge.

"This time, on my mark, you hear?" I called into my talking tubes. Sweat trickled down my brow as I held my breath. I watched, studying the trajectory cones.

"Now!" All eight cannons thundered, this time only one lagging. I tracked the shells, already knowing what to expect before they arced down. Four impacted the carrier, two slamming down on infantry on the deck, one smashing the hull just under the bulwark, and one spraying mist just below the water line. A mad cackle escaped Mordisco, who had somehow assumed the role of spotter.

"They're taking water, Captain!"

"Tex, good shooting!" I hollered into the tubes in response to the murmured surprise from the gunners below as we hit far beyond our accurate range.

"Now reload while I reposition." The Naga rocket ship fired off four more missiles. Two missed. One struck high on the Black Chain's hull, and another engulfed a sloop's mast in flames. I eyed the rocket warily.

"Load bomb-shot!" I called the gunners, a horrible idea forming in my mind. I flipped the caps down and leaned over the wheel toward the speaking tube that led to the bow.

"Dustnose, switch to chain!" The Kobold scratched his head, confused.

"We already put balls in," he shouted into his funnel.

"Spunge them out!" I called.

"And aim them low." Sliplock barked orders to my deck crew, getting them to adjust the sails as I angled toward the battle. Mental commands and psionic shouts from the other captains tempted me to rip the medallion off as I focused on steering. I tuned into the boom of cannons and the rumble of drums, trying to drown out the mental fatigue. Two ramming ships veered from the Naga fleet angling for me. The trajectory lights winked back on the port side as my gunners finished loading.

My lip curled as I looked at the approaching ramming ships. Their embolons churned the water several feet before them. A luminescent echo of the ships lurched ahead several meters, marking their projected course. In the chaos of the main battle, the Black Chain sank a rammer, and a troop transport coupled with the Night Shroud, serpentine warriors swinging over on ropes. A shadow darted from the Shrouds' crow's nest, the Raven Reaper dropping down among enemy sailors. My hands tightened.

I wouldn't get a clear shot at the rocket ship before the rammer galleys reached me. Oars chopped the water in time with drums as they closed the gap. I exhaled sharply, glancing back at my sloop escorts. Could I detach them to deal with the galleys? No, the math didn't add up.

"Port, you loaded?" I demanded.

"Aye, Captain!" Vurel's voice responded through the tube.

"Delayed detonation shells." I flipped the caps from the speaking tubes to my right.

"Starboard, you loaded?"

"Loaded with ball," one of Jaser's slavers reported.

"Prepare to fire, wait for my command! We're going to get close." I rolled onto my toes.

"Deck crew, they might try to swing aboard as we pass. None of their marines get on my boat, you understand?" Ukark stamped a hoof and snorted as he hefted a heavy battle axe. At his side, Flast flicked a hobgoblin wedge, and Drogo cocked the hammer on a shotgun. My attention shifted from the battle to the two nearing galleys. Slitted eyes painted on the peaked bows glared at me.

"Flast, move!" I barked at the Lizard-kin. He rolled without hesitation as a flaming ballista bolt slammed down into the deck where he'd been standing. I'd nearly missed the Trajectory Read on that one. Another bolt sailed down from the other ramming galley, sinking harmlessly into the deep. Then I caught sight of the Naga-kin crowding the decks. Many of the serpent men nocked arrows. I swallowed, feeling suddenly exposed on the deck.

"Dustnose!" I called, panic creeping into my words.

"Loaded!" he called, panting as he stepped away from the bow chaser. The old ball they had spunged out rolled loose across the deck. I angled at the ramming galleys, trying to keep one between the other, but they had an advantage I didn't—an engine of muscle and oars.

"Angle down, Dustnose!" I called.

"And get the port gun to the right as far as it can go!" Wind blasted my sweat-soaked face, and my eyes were drawn to the ram rushing at us.

"Starboard, ready to fire!" I wanted to swing to the left side of the galley, maybe smash into its oars while we broadsided it, but I saw now. I didn't have the speed. Well then, I suppose I'd have to pour hot iron down its throat. Jerking the wheel, I took us hard portward. We angled, exposing our side to the left galley. A flaming ballista bolt punched through our sail, leaving a smoking ring in the canvas.

"B Eight, fire!" I barked. Our forwardmost starboard gun bucked, slamming a hole into one of the snake eyes painted on the galley's bow.

"Seven. Six. Five…" I counted down, each ball slamming into the galley's bow in more or less the same place as we drifted past. Our last two shots hit high, skipping across the decks and earning a series of screams from the marines up top. The wedge-shaped ram sped at our hull, low and sharp. I gritted my teeth, jerking the wheel hard to starboard. We started angling with the galley, but it was too late.

"Brace!" I screamed. The ram hit our armored hull, and the Ash Zephyr lurched; several deckside sailors tumbled from their feet. The impact swung my stern around, lining us up with the oars.

"Dustnose, Now!" The Kobolds slammed their fists down on the bow gun sparkers. Chain shot, designed to destroy masts and rigging, shot low, scything the entire line of oars like a box of matchsticks.

"Breach!" the call came from the tube.

"Armor held, but we've got a crack!"

"Patch it, Starboard," I snarled.

"Port, prepare to fire!" Flaming arrows zipped down around me, embedding into the planks. Mordisco slashed at the air, flick-knife launching from his wedge and impacting a Naga-kin who swung over on a rope. Drogo's shotgun boomed as half a dozen snake men leaped across the bulwarks.

"Mordisco, snakes!"

"I'm on it!" my first mate called, rushing past and rallying the men. I left the boarders to him; they weren't my target. Behind, my escort sloops hammered the damaged galley with grape shot, blasting the crew on the decks with smaller balls meant to shred flesh.

"Ready port?"

"Aye, Captain!" Vurel responded through the tube. Our armored hull scraped against the galley's wooden side. I angled my ship into the enemy rammer and watched as my port cones swept across the battle. A Naga-kin with an Adder's head hissed as he rushed me, but Needles dropped from the rigging, slamming twin daggers into his neck. I ignored the melee, carefully easing the wheel, centering our cones past my target.

"All guns, down twenty degrees!" We were much closer now, and the paths brightened as the arcs shortened. I waited, neck craned as we spotlighted the Naga rocket ship with trajectory cones.

"Fire!" I screamed. My guns bellowed, five of the Scorched shells slamming down on the rocket ship. I watched the clash of steel and screams muted to my ears. After a pause, the bomb shots detonated, igniting the rocket ship's magazine. I winced away from the fireball that swallowed the ship. Vurel's voice whooped through the tube. We finally drifted past the ramming galley, its twin, shifting and striking one of my escort sloops headlong with a terrible crash.

"Great shot, Tony, my boy!" Thaddius boomed in my mind. The Black Chain had coupled with the massive troop carrier, and Naga marines battled slavers on both decks. I grinned, bringing us around for broadside against the ramming galleys. The Ash Zephyr lurched violently, and I slammed into the wheel. I snapped my gaze around, looking for what we had struck. We hadn't hit anything; we'd been caught in a sharp, localized riptide.

It made no sense, there was no way we should have— My gaze locked onto the Naga Mage ship, sailing our way, arcane deck flashing with power. The ram galleys circled back around, one executing useless circles with half its oars destroyed, the other angling to take us square in the side. I swallowed, jerking the wheel, but the magic riptide roared around us, locking us in place.

"Captain!" Drogo called, pointing. I looked up—right into the painted eyes of a Naga ram as it sped towards our exposed side. <<Time to Seal Collapse: 04: 00: 05: 18: 56: 43>>