It
was like a storm had rolled in off the ocean.
Guns thundered across the black surface of the sea, almost drowning out
the low hum of hypostatick engines.
Flashes of light illuminated the scene every few seconds like sheet
lightning, catching drifting clouds of smoke like thieves sneaking across the
battlefield. The flotilla of mostly
manned Shoalstrike vessels darted around the Dusk Raider like flies
around a horse and in the midst of the chaos, Ellis tried to take aim and fire,
take aim and fire, take aim and fire.
Most
of his shots were going wild, which was not a surprise at all. Occasionally he thought he had managed to
put another hole in the Raider’s impressive sheets, or had splintered
another section of a mast, but mostly he wasn’t sure if he was doing anything
worthwhile at all, save adding to the general confusion.
Harker’s
men on the Fo’c’sle weren’t having a much better time of it, he noticed, which
was just as well as they weren’t aiming for the Shoalstrike vessels, but the
crew. As each small boat whizzed past
the bow they would send a volley of fire after it, but only a few shots hit
anything at all and then it was usually some part of the boat’s armoured
hull. No one had been injured yet, so
far as Ellis could tell, although in the madness that surrounded him anything
was possible.
As
Gulliver circled the galleon and Ellis tried, once more, to aim for something
useful, he caught a glimpse of Siren standing in the prow of another vessel,
gun in hand, her expression fierce and determined. He only saw her for a second before her boat and his went in
separate directions through the smoke, but it was enough to make his heart
leap. Stay safe, he thought.
The
unmanned vessels were circling as well and they had switched weaponry to
something that might cause some actual damage, although they were not as
powerful as the ones which were to be following them, led by Rockspark and
Marveille. Those vessels were armed
with miniature cannons and carronades which would cause great amounts of damage
to Harker’s ship, enough to bring about a surrender if it looked like they were
going to sink her, but without them they were left with only small arms
fire. It felt a bit like fighting a
bear with a peashooter. The only plus
side was that, fighting in such close quarters and as small as they were, the Raider
couldn’t use her own guns and so they were assaulted by the handheld weaponry
of the crew only.
The
battle continued like this for what seemed like hours - although Ellis realised
that it couldn’t have been any longer than about half an hour – and all the
while the Dusk Raider and the attacking swarm of Shoalstrike
boats drifted further and further out to sea, until the lights of the Shalereef
district seemed very far away indeed and several small islands, aglow with
their own lights, had seemed to sail past them like stately yachts.
“This is
exhausting,” Ellis said as Gulliver swung their boat under the shadow of the Dusk
Raider’s stern once more.
“It’s not
good,” the pirate agreed, “and I’ve seen no sign of Rockspark or M. Marveille
with the rest of our fleet.”
“Do you
think something’s happened to them?”
“It’s
possible, ain’t it?”
Ellis
sighed as he stared out across the watery battlefield, at each of the whizzing
Shoalstrike vessels, mostly manned, and at the shots firing to and from the
deck of the Dusk Raider. Even as
he watched, one of their men took a pellet in his chest and flopped out of his
boat, into the water. The sight
appalled Ellis, especially when he knew they were trying not to harm Harker’s
crew, but he also knew that these things would be inevitable. “This isn’t going very well, is it?” he
asked.
“It could
be better,” Gulliver agreed and then they were out of the shadow of the galleon
and back into the fight.
The sails
of the Dusk Raider grew ever more tattered, its masts and deck became
speckled with splinters and shot and the crowd of little boats circling the
great galleon grew thinner and thinner as they were taken out one-by-one by
Harker’s men.
The
battle had gone on for about forty-five minutes, with no side claiming the
advantage, and with the fleet drifting ever further out to sea, when there was
a sudden commotion on board the galleon.
Even amidst all the chaos in the water, Ellis noticed the shout from the
captain’s cabin and the strange stillness which fell over the deck.
“I’ve had
enough!” the voice had called in a tone which echoed strangely around the ship
and out across the churned, black sea.
The crew
on deck had stopped firing and all were looking towards the cabin with fear in
their eyes. Even the Shoalstrike
vessels paused in their assault and only the sounds of their whirring engines
interrupted the silence.
“What’s
going on?” Ellis whispered.
“I ‘ave
no idea,” replied Gulliver, who was staring intently at the captain’s cabin at
the stern of the ship. Eerie coloured
lights were flickering within, transforming the wooden structure, in Ellis’
eyes at least, into a mad scientist’s laboratory in some Transylvanian
castle. At another time he might have
found the image amusing, given the company he kept these days, but at that
moment it sent a chill down his spine.
The feeling only got worse as Gulliver continued, “but that wasn’t
‘Arker’s voice.”
“Then
whose voice was it?”
“I really
don’t know.”
The
flickering lights in the cabin abruptly went out and the strange stillness that
had befallen the ocean battle was stirred by the sounds of mechanical action,
machines whirring, gears engaging and the sudden, unexpected roar of a
furnace. The crew on the deck of the Dusk
Raider were now looking as confused and terrified as those in the
Shoalstrike vessels and, one by one, they began to back away from what they
perceived as the source of the noise: the dragon figurehead attached to the
bowsprit.
By this
point Gulliver, Toby and Ellis were making their way, slower than before,
around the port side of the Raider, where they got a very clear view of
the figurehead as its wings began to
twitch, its claws unfurl and its jaw swing open into an even more gaping roar
than before – this time accompanied by the sound to go with it. It cut across the quiet waters, interrupting
the low hum of engines and the soft breathing of uncertain sailors, bringing
the battle back to life as it did so, but it wasn’t finished yet.
As Ellis’
boat approached the creature’s wings began to arch up into the air, as if
preparing for flight, and it lifted its head to roar at the sky before sending
those wings rushing down through the air with a mighty clack. Ellis almost expected the beast to rip free
of the galleon and begin circling the boats, but what it did do was almost as
bad.
From its
splinter-fanged maw it let forth a great jet of flame which spewed across the
water for more than thirty feet, turning the waves to steam and incinerating
any of the boats in its path. There
were screams as those in the boats leapt for their lives, some barely escaping,
others boiled in the water they thought was refuge, others still trapped in
their own ready-made funeral ships.
Ellis realised that he was shouting, standing like a madman, half out of
the boat, scanning the terrible scene to make sure Siren was okay. He felt a guilt-laden rush of relief as he
spotted her on the other side of the stream of fire, one hand covering her
mouth as her eyes flickered restlessly over the scene before her.
The
dragon’s breath suddenly stopped as the beast closed its all-too-lifelike mouth
with a gulp and Ellis and Siren were left on either side of a wall of thinning
vapour and burning wrecks. Ellis was
too stunned to do anything, but Siren dropped her hand to her side, raised her
gun and shouted out loudly so that all could hear her. “Regroup!
Remember the plan and head for Stonerib! To Stonerib!”
As soon
as her sword dropped the air thrummed with the sound of engines as each of the
remaining manned Shoalstrike vessels picked up speed and began to tear through
the water ahead of the Dusk Raider.
Gulliver flicked a lever to set their hypostatick engine to full power
and followed after them. Ellis stared
back at the Galleon and watched the dragon figurehead with deep
apprehension. It had ceased moving, but
he was not convinced that he had witnessed the end of its show.
As
Siren’s fleet streamed away through the dark, the Raider began to fall
behind, its bow cresting the tiny waves made by the wakes of the boats which
had previously been attacking it.
Small, charred bits of debris scraped along its hull, clawing at the
wood before being sucked down to the keel.
On deck the crew were huddling together, staring at a ship they no
longer trusted as it drifted, creaking in the sudden stillness.
In the
stern the captain’s cabin was once again lit by strange lights, flickering and
dancing as if to some haunting, unheard melody. The colours paraded across the waves like a procession of ghosts
and when they went out…
Clack!
Clack!
Clack!
…the Dusk
Raider came to life, its rigging working itself, trimming the sails and
changing its heading, picking up speed as it swung hard to starboard, to the
north, propelled by the wooden wings of a dragon.
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