Against the Tide

Chapter Twenty-nine

“Prepare for air-ops!”

“Enemy flight off the port-quarter!”

“Well, Shar, it begins,” Edmund said, stepping out from under the dragon platform to look off to the east. The anti-dragon dreadnought had automatically changed course and now was coming into line on parallel course to the carrier, close alongside. Close enough that he knew the helmsmen on both ships had to be sweating.

“Better than three to one odds,” Chang commented as the first of the Silverdrake dropped off the crosstrees and climbed for altitude to engage the oncoming dragons.

“I don’t count that many,” Edmund replied squinting against the light. “I think some of them are going for the dreadnoughts.”

“That ought to be interesting.”

“UFS dreadnoughts at two o’clock,” one of the riders -signaled.

“They’re carrying troops,” Captain D’Allaird yelled to his second in command. “No anti-dragon frigates covering them.”

“Some of those damned Silverdrake, though,” Lieutenant Ringle signaled, pointing to the smaller dragons that were bearing down on them.

“Second division, go for the Drakes,” D’Allaird signaled. “The rest, bear on the dreadnoughts. Close in, they’re not rigged for anti-dragon defense.”

“You think they’d have gotten word,” Gunny Rutherford said, shaking his head as the dragons lost height and lined up for the close drop on the dreadnought.

“Every Cannae requires a Varius,” General D’Erle chuckled. “Or, more appropriately, every Agincourt requires the French. Prepare to receive dragons!”

“Message from Corvallis, sir,” the messenger said. His face was blackened with soot from the fires that had just been put out. The main-sails were going to have to be replaced but other than that the ship was fit to fight.

“Corvallis reports fires out,” Shar said, passing the message form to Edmund. “That firefighting system of Evan’s is a life-saver.”

“But they also report that their dragons had to turn back from the attack on the fleet,” Edmund growled. “And they lost nearly half their dragons.”

“I hope we do better.”

Sergeant Fink had wanted to be a dragon-rider from the first time she saw them. She had a normal fear of heights, she wasn’t insane, but dragons were the only thing in this Fallen world that gave any of the powers that had been lost. She had enjoyed high-floating, a form of hang-gliding, before the Fall. And she’d even thought about getting a wyvern or doing a full-flight mod. But that was before the Fall.

She’d joined the Navy because they told her that she could apply for dragon-riding. And she had but she hadn’t been accepted. Too many applicants. So she’d done her job and bided her time until, by luck as much as anything, she made it in. Now she spent as much time as she could riding. Some of the riders had gotten a bit burned out and there weren’t many that would take even the slow, boring, reconnaissance flights. But she would, any flight she could.

So now she was up, on a pleasant day, slightly overcast with high cirrus clouds. Winds were pretty solid but that just made the gliding easier. She had about another hour and a half to go before she was relieved, lying on the back of her dragon, banking occasionally to keep the fleet in sight while still staying as far out as she could to the southwest. Somewhere out there was the New Destiny fleet. With luck, she’d spot it before either she or her own ship was spotted.

Charoo rumbled in his chest and turned slightly to the south and she spotted what the dragon had. Regular splashes and the wide V of wakes. She turned and looked behind her and, sure enough, she was right into the sun from the New Destiny fleet. There was little or no chance that she had been spotted. She looked for their own security dragons but didn’t see any.

“Okay, we’ve got ’em,” she muttered to the dragon, banking it back to the north. “Let’s see if the lookouts are paying attention.”

She withdrew a curious mirror from a pouch on her harness and put the back to her eye. The mirror had a clear spot in the middle with a metal grid buried in the glass. The bright sun caused a small intensely bright reflection to form in the grid. By laying the reflection over the distant ships she could be sure the reflection of the main mirror was pointed at them. As soon as she had it aligned, she started angling the mirror so that it was reflecting towards them and then away, careful to avoid pointing at the New Destiny fleet.

“Commander Gramlich?” Captain Karcher said, dropping through the overhead and landing lightly.

“Ma’am?” the dragon said, getting to her feet.

“We’re about to start air-ops,” the captain said. “Be damned if I’m going to sit this one out. The New Destiny fleet is in range to attack. I’ve put out a mer team as a turning point. Get your damned wyverns in the air.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“Take the Powells and head for the New Destiny fleet,” Karcher said, springing back through the hatch. “I’ve got another job for Vickie.”

“I thought we were staying out of it!” Megan said.

“Corvallis and the Richard are outnumbered,” Herzer replied, calmly, as he finished putting on his leathers. “We’re in range. We can’t just let them carry the whole fight.”

“What if we’re attacked while you’re gone?” she asked, angrily. The shambles from the fight still wasn’t cleared from her quarters and, ignoring the suggestion of the captain, she had installed herself in Herzer’s. Bast was still sharing the quarters but despite the crowding the elf seemed actually pleased that she was here. So was Megan, until this stupid plan had come up. “For that matter, you could be killed!”

“Megan,” Herzer said, gently. “I’m a soldier. Sometimes I ride a dragon, sometimes I swing a sword. I… hope that we have something special between us. But you’re going to have to accept that one of the problems of being my friend is that I go out to try to kill other people. And they try to kill me. It’s my job and I’m good at it. You’re going to have to decide if that’s what you want in a… friend.”

“I know that,” Megan said. “I even like it, except when you’re going out to get yourself killed.” She reached up and touched his face, then kissed him. She’d meant for it to be a light, chaste, kiss, but she suddenly found herself holding him tight. Finally she pulled away brushing at his face again. “Get out there, Herzer. Go get me a carrier.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned, then picked up his helmet and left the compartment.

“Corvallis is sinking,” Shar said, sadly. “Edmund, I think we have to retire.”

“Damn if I will,” Edmund said, shaking his head. The second flight of dragons from the New Destiny flight had been lighter than the first; they were hurting them. But with the Corvallis out of the fight both flights would concentrate on the Richard. “Angle in closer. If we can’t get them with the dragons then we’ll damned well board the bastards.”

“We lost how many dragons?” Admiral Trieste shouted.

“The dreadnoughts are filled with archers,” his chief of staff said. “We only got five back, those that were engaging the Silverdrake. And they lost three of those to the Drakes. The rest of the flight is… gone. They flew right into the trap. It looks to be at least a battalion, maybe a regiment, of longbowmen.”

“Where are the dreadnoughts now?” the admiral asked.

“They’re sailing towards us,” the chief of staff said with a grimace. “Depending on the winds they’ll be here in an hour. I’m not sure we can face them with anything we have.”

“Forget the dreadnoughts,” Trieste said. “Go for the carrier. And point us away from those damned archers.”

“Wyvern off the port bow!” the lookout called.

“At least sixty,” Chang said.

“Looks like the gamble didn’t pay off this time, Shar,” Edmund admitted. The UFS dragons were in the air already but he wasn’t sure they’d have anywhere to land. They’d recovered a few of the Corvallis Powells and they had been added to the strike force. But that wouldn’t help their carrier.

“The ballista frigate will get some,” Shar said. Maybe one in five from past experience, which wouldn’t be enough, he didn’t have to add. “But the Drakes are worn out.”

“More dragons to stern,” the aft lookout called. “It looks like Drakes!”

“Son of a bitch,” Edmund said. “Damn that Karcher!”

“You think they’re from the Hazhir?” Shar asked.

“Have to be,” Edmund growled. “Which means Hazhir is completely uncovered.”

Shar watched as the flight of Drakes descended upon the New Destiny dragons. From the angle they had come right down out of the sun and they dropped at least a dozen before the New Destiny flight broke up. The Drakes flew right through the formation and then banked back, taking up a rear position and firing at the flight from behind. More dragons dropped but the flight bore into the carrier nonetheless. They still had to run the gauntlet of the anti-dragon frigate and as that ship opened up the Drakes hastily banked off, heading for other ships in the fleet to land and rest.

The reduced New Destiny forceÑa bare twenty had made it through the hail of fire from the ballista frigateÑlined up on the carrier and dropped their loads. One by one the bundles of fire rained on the deck, covering the carrier in fire.

Edmund covered himself with his cloak, then threw it off as the napalm splashed on it. Some more had landed on his leg and he grimaced in pain as he covered it with foam from an extinguisher. Sailors had been covered with the stuff and he saw several jump over the side in unspeakable agony. He gritted his teeth at his own burns and looked around, shaking his head.

“Abandon ship,” he growled. “This thing is done for.”

“Agreed, Admiral,” the captain said, giving the orders.

“I’ll transfer my flag to the Shuiki,” Edmund continued, -limping to the side to see if there was a whole boat. “Save everyone that you can.”

“There are only two carriers left,” Joanna bellowed. Unlike the UFS, New Destiny had their fleet bunched up. “Go for the carriers; ignore the damned anti-dragon frigates.”

Herzer gestured to the south where another flight of dragons had just appeared out of the haze. It was apparent that they were carrying a full ordnance load. If they were New Destiny dragons they would have unloaded already.

“Suggest we concentrate on one carrier and leave the other for them,” he signaled.

“Agreed,” Joanna bellowed. “Go for the nearer carrier.”

Herzer looked over at Sergeant Fink and signaled “Stay on my tail.” The young rider looked scared but she nodded.

He lined up behind Joanna and headed for the nearer carrier. The sun was setting in the west and they had maneuvered to have it at their backs; they should be dropping right out of the sun on the fleet. Hopefully they would have the element of surprise.

The southerly group, however, was apparently sighted early and one of the ballista frigates changed course to get between it and the southerly carrier. The dragons came in low, determined to destroy the carrier, and the slaughter was terrific. Herzer could see dragon after dragon falling into the water to no apparent effect. There were three ships firing up at the wildly maneuvering dragons and the few that made it through missed the carrier completely.

“Change of plan again,” Joanna bellowed. “Herzer, take first and second division and attack the south carrier. Get the damned thing. Burn the bastards.”

“Will do,” he yelled, signaling for the formation to split. They were still high but as they passed over the edge of the fleet he put the group into a stoop, angling to the rear of the southern carrier.

It was apparent that the fleet had finally spotted the formation but it was too late for them to maneuver. Before the ballista frigates could even begin to turn, Herzer’s force had lined up on the carrier. It hauled its wind and started a turn, trying to tack away from the dragons, but Herzer was having none of it. He lined up on the maindeck and dropped his force lower, getting in so close he was afraid they’d tangle themselves in the rigging. He saw a crossbowman on the mast lining him up and could have sworn he heard the click of the bow being triggered. Where the bolt went he had no idea and by then it was too late anyway. He’d dropped his load and watched it track in smooth and true onto the deck. One, two, three bombs, right down the middle, beautiful wide splash. The carrier immediately triggered its firefighting apparatus but, one by one, the dragons dropped their loads of fire, many of the pots hitting the masts and shattering to spread their fire over the sails. All the foam in the world wasn’t going to put that fire out.

He banked away and turned to the north where the other carrier was on fire, seriously roasting, as well. Looking over his shoulder he saw that it appeared that the carrier was done for and, what was more, they’d taken no casualties at all.

“That’s just flipping amazing,” he muttered. He checked his mount but the wyvern was flying well and no bolts seemed to be sticking out of anywhere. Then he noticed a sharp pain in his rear. He looked back and shook his head in anger as the pain really hit.

“Damn,” he muttered, grimacing against the burn of the bolt sticking out like a flag. “I would take one in the ass.”

“Hazhir reports attacking the New Destiny fleet,” Shar said, looking up from the signal he’d been handed. “They got both remaining carriers.”

“That’s confirmed?” Edmund asked.

“Confirmed,” Shar assured him.

“Casualties from Hazhir?” Edmund asked.

“Essentially zero,” the admiral said. “They had two wyverns injured and a rider. Other than that nothing. They’re prepared to continue operations against the fleet and requesting orders.”

“Damn it’s nice having capable subordinates,” Edmund said, shaking his head. “Forget the rest of the fleet; there’s nothing there worth fighting for. Break off the attack. Signal the dreadnoughts and the fleet to assemble and turn for Balmoran. We’re not done yet.”

“General Magalong?” Bue said, saluting the officer behind the desk. “New Destiny landing fleet approaching from the south. Just sighted southwest of the point.”

“Very well,” the general said. Cierra Magalong was a political appointee but he’d been through the Blood Lord training, even at his age, and had attended the abbreviated Raven’s Mill War College. He was as prepared as almost anyone for the war that was coming. But he had very limited actual combat experience and nobody, not even Talbot to his knowledge, had any experience on war of this level.

Second Legion had six thousand legionnaires and just under three thousand supplementary combat forces, engineers, provosts and the like. In addition there were four thousand support personnel with basic training as spear holders but essentially useless in a fight. And he had twice the normal perimeter to protect.

He had been given the mission of holding the core of Balmoran, primarily to protect the nascent metal- and woodworking industries for which the town was famous. To do this he had assembled a slightly enlarged camp around the most important foundries and emptied the dockside godowns into it. If he could hold out, and he had more than enough supplies to do so, he’d eventually be relieved. In the meantime, New Destiny was going to find the Second Legion a remarkable pain in its rear area.

“Send the order to fire the docks,” Magalong said to one of the runners stationed in the office. “Pull back the outposts and tell the Naval base to evacuate.”

“I spoke to the surgeon at the base yesterday, sir,” Bue said. “She was reluctant to evacuate the remaining wounded because she feared they’d die if they were moved.”

“Well, tell her to fish or cut bait,” Magalong snarled. “And get her ass into the camp.”

“Captain Cicali, I really don’t care what you think,” Conner said, smiling thinly. “My mission has priority over your ship. Get it in there.”

The small fleet of fast schooners had swung wide to the west of the New Destiny fleet and was now approaching the Balmoran peninsula well to the north of the town. So far, it appeared to have remained unobserved. Or, if it was observed, it had probably been dismissed as a reconnaissance mission.

“I understand, Mr. Conner,” the captain said, unhappily. “But you’ve got to understand. There are shoals up here. If we go tearing in at max speed, it’s not just going to ground my ship. It’s liable to sink us. And you and your… people.” The captain glanced at the hulking monster behind Conner and gulped. “Then your mission will have failed anyway.”

“Get us in as fast as possible,” Conner said, after a moment’s thought. “And as close to the south end of the base as possible. If you can’t make it through the shoals, we’ll go to the boats. Just do it.”

“Yes, sir,” the captain said, one ear on the leadsman. “I need to reduce speed, though. Slightly.”

“Whatever,” Conner said, watching the distant shore. “As long as you get us to the base before it evacuates.”

“Miss!” Keith yelled from the lobby. “Dr. Ghorbani!”

“Here, Keith,” Rachel said, emerging from the last occupied ward. “What?”

“There are ships coming, Miss!” Keith said, grabbing her arm. “We’ve got to go!”

“We’ve got wounded to move,” Rachel said, dragging her arm away.

“No time!” the orderly said, desperately. “They’re at the wharves! They didn’t fire them in time. They’re coming now.”

“Here?” Rachel said, angrily. “Why here? They were supposed to attack the town.”

“They’re here, miss,” Keith said, pulling at her again. “Come on. We have to go.”

Faintly, but not far away, Rachel heard the banging of metal. It sounded like a small smithy but she recognized the sound having heard it before. Then there was a scream, not far away at all.

“Go hitch up the carts, Keith,” she said, her mouth dry. “We’ll…”

“I don’t think we have time, Miss,” Keith argued, shaking his head.

“Do what I say!” Rachel snapped as the door to the clinic opened.

The man who walked through the door was tall, with fair hair, wearing a gray robe that was embroidered with silver. On the hem of the robe were symbols Rachel didn’t recognize. The robe had a few spots on it, dark black in the light from the windows. But Rachel had no question what the spots were from. If she had any question, the monstrous, blood-covered thing that followed the man into the lobby answered them.

It was at least two meters tall and broad in proportion, with a face that was both bestial and, in a horrible way, beautiful. It had protruding canine fangs that interlocked from top and bottom, black lanky hair and mad, red eyes. But the face itself, the high cheekbones and forehead, the aquiline nose, struck a cord with her and she found herself searching it in horror.

“Elf?” she whispered.

“One of my mistress’s toys,” the man said, walking up to her with his hands folded behind his back. “Just one of her things. As, I suppose, am I,” he concluded, looming over her. Rachel found herself mesmerized by his gray eyes.

“Dr. Rachel Ghorbani, I presume?”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Rachel asked.

“Looking for you, of course,” the man said, smiling. “There are some people who think you might be useful. We’ll have to see, won’t we?”

Rachel looked around but there was clearly no escape.

“The hell…” she muttered just as there was a yowl from the landing. She turned around and raised a hand as Azure strutted forward, tail raised and bristling. She had seen the cat come home with full-grown bob-cats in its jaws, but the group of orcs and especially the elf would mean the death of a pet she had had since childhood. “No!”

The orcs had all drawn their swords and were looking at the puma-sized house cat nervously. The elf-thing slowly drew its own sword and pointed the tip at the hissing cat.

“Graaa,” the thing snarled, crouching and following the moves of the cat with focused intensity.

Azure was crouched, tail lashing, ready to spring, but the cat’s eyes were locked on the elf’s as if it knew that the thing was the only real threat. Azure’s rear paws scratched at the floor, searching for purchase, and his tail thrashed again. He shifted his hindquarters, then turned his head to the side with a yowl.

“Sraaa,” the elf replied, the tip of his sword swinging back and forth lightly.

Azure took another look, then sat up, licked his shoulder in disinterest, turned and trotted up the steps.

“Azure?” Rachel said, her eyes wide. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved at the fact that her pet was going to survive or crushed at the desertion.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way,” the man said, taking her by the arm, “let’s go see what use we can put you to.”

“Sir,” the messenger said, sticking her head in the door. “Duke Edmund is arriving.” She’d knocked this time.

“Great,” Herzer growled, wincing as Bast rubbed more unguent into the wound. “Has Commander Gramlich been informed?”

“Yes, sir,” the messenger replied, glancing at the councilwoman. Megan was sitting at Herzer’s desk, frowning.

“Any word on the situation at Balmoran?” Herzer asked.

“No, sir,” the messenger replied. “But we got the word that we’re the last carrier. Duke Edmund is transferring his flag here.”

“He can have my cabin,” Megan said, one cheek twitching up in a grin. “Happily.” It still had bloodstains on the floor; they were soaked in deep enough that the wood would have to be replaced.

“The captain would like you there to greet him if… you’re recovered from your wounds, sir,” the messenger continued. “And she asked me to ask the councilwoman if she was willing as well.”

“Oh, definitely,” Megan said, smiling thinly. “I look forward to meeting the redoubtable Edmund Talbot.”