The Grand Design (33 page)

“The cruiser’s maneuvering to overtake
Gray Lady
,” he told Vax. “Probably been trying for days. We’re going to shake ’em loose. Full sails, Lieutenant. Bring us along starboard.”

“Between them?” asked Vax incredulously.

“Right between them. We’re going to cut them off. Make haste, boy. Do it now.”

Vax nodded and passed the order down the line. The
Prince
lurched left, slicing to port as she pointed her prow between
Gray Lady
and the cruiser. If the
Prince
were quick enough, and Prakna knew she was, he could get in between them and open fire with the starboard cannons before the dreadnoughts got much closer.

“Let’s make some noise, lads!” cried Prakna to his crew. “I want those bastards to know we’re here!”

Admiral Danar Nicabar stood on the forecastle of the
Fearless
, laughing in disbelief. Two days out of Nar, and he had not only ensnared the Lissen schooner, but now another fish had entered his net, and this one was a prize indeed. The admiral rubbed his hands together, anticipating the coming battle. He had only seen the
Prince of Liss
once before, and only from a distance, but its flag and keel design were unmistakable. For two days Nicabar’s ships had pursued the fleeing schooner, sure that it would lead them to others of its ilk. They had damaged her only slightly when they could have easily burned her to pieces, but Nicabar had held back the order to sink the Lissen vessel. Biagio wanted the Lissens to see the Black Fleet. And Nicabar, never one to question his count, had planned to let the schooner escape him. But not anymore. Now Prakna himself had seen the
Fearless
in Naren waters, and that meant Nicabar could quench his lust on the wounded, fleeing schooner.

“You’re a brave and clever fool, Prakna,” said Nicabar softly, studying the logistics playing out in front of him.

Prakna was moving in between the schooner and the
Relentless.
If he had cannons on the
Prince
, he
would have shifted them starboard to fire on
Relentless
’ rigging. Nicabar hoped Captain Carce had figured this out. Did Carce even recognize the
Prince
? Nicabar’s brow furrowed with worry. The cruiser
Relentless
was quick, but not quick enough. The admiral looked to the right, toward the dreadnought
Notorious.
She was hanging back from the
Relentless
and flanking her. Prakna’s course would take him straight toward
Notorious.

“Captain Blasco,” said Nicabar calmly. His second-in-command was at his shoulder, waiting for instructions. “Change course. Give me ten degrees starboard, toward
Notorious.
Let’s make things more interesting for Prakna.”

“Aye, sir,” said Blasco, grinning. “Should we prime the flame cannons?”

Nicabar took a long time considering the question. He didn’t want to sink the
Prince
or damage her too badly. She was to be their pawn, after all. She would tell the others about the Black Fleet. And Biagio would be proven correct—again. The admiral’s smile grew. Maybe Herrith was right about Biagio. Maybe he was a devil.

“Yes,” decided Nicabar at last. “Yes, prime the cannons. I want to bloody Prakna’s nose a bit.”

The
Prince of Liss
swept over the waves, devouring the distance between herself and
Gray Lady.
Prakna could see his sister ship clearer now, tacking wildly as she tried to out-maneuver the cruiser. Normally, the fast ships of Liss could out-pace Naren cruisers, but
Gray Lady
’s condition prevented her from gathering enough wind to escape. The two combatants seemed evenly matched now, neither any quicker than the other, and since she was out of range from her prey, the cruiser had stopped firing.
Gray Lady
had no doubt seen the
Prince
coming to her aid and had tried
to keep as straight a course as possible so that the flagship could get between them. On the
Prince
’s starboard side, the four cannons had been readied, and the cannoneers watched as they approached the cruiser, ready to fire. The cruiser hadn’t slowed, and no orders had flashed from the
Fearless.
But the big dreadnought had changed course to intercept the
Prince
, and Prakna fretted a little over his plan. They were already heading toward one of the smaller dreadnoughts, and Prakna had gambled that his vessel’s superior maneuverability would keep them safe. But now the
Fearless
was bearing down on them too. It was either change course and let the
Gray Lady
die, or take their chances against the two dreadnoughts. Prakna cursed under his breath, just loud enough for Marus to hear him.

“Shall we change course?” asked the captain anxiously.

Prakna shook his head. “No. Not an inch.”

“Sir, the
Fearless
—”

“I see her, Marus.”

Marus said no more. He was not a coward, and Prakna knew his officer would do as ordered. So the
Prince
held its course, and in mere minutes was only leagues away from the two vessels.
Gray Lady
pulled hard to port to close the distance between her and the
Prince.
A giant wave slammed into the
Prince
’s prow, pitching her up like a surfacing whale. The pursuing cruiser stayed on course, perpendicular to the
Prince
as if to ram her. Prakna’s four starboard cannons were almost in range, ready to shred the cruiser’s rigging. Up in the far distance, the dreadnought on the left of the diamond formation had changed course to intercept the
Prince of Liss
, and the
Fearless
was grinding relentlessly toward them, her masts straining as the northern winds filled her sails.

“Get us closer,” Prakna shouted to his pilot. “Closer!”

The short-range cannons needed to be close to be
effective. The fuse poles of the cannons fizzled and popped eagerly, waiting for the chance to light the powder and launch the grapeshot. Prakna glanced over his shoulder toward the third dreadnought. She had changed course, too, and was eating up the distance to the damaged
Gray Lady.
The fleet commander’s heart sank at the sight of the dreadnought. At her angle she would be able to reach
Gray Lady
and fire her flame cannons before Prakna could take out the cruiser. Prakna grit his teeth.

“Ready …” he shouted to the cannoneers.

The
Gray Lady
slipped behind them.

“Ready …”

The Naren cruiser was just ahead, nearly in range.

“Ready …”

The
Lady
was safe. The cruiser aimed amidships to the
Prince
, barely a league from ramming and refusing to change course. Prakna balled up a fist and screamed the order.

“Fire!”

All around him the deck erupted. One by one the cannons detonated, rocking the schooner. Red lightning shot from their muzzles as they expelled their barrels full of shot and shrapnel. The deck of the
Prince
filled with white smoke. Prakna squinted to see through the haze and watched as the cruiser’s rigging suffered the barrage, wailing in torture as the hot metal of the cannons ravaged it. The cruiser churned onward, damaged but still on course. Prakna shouted to his pilot to steer hard to port to avoid the collision. The Lissen flagship bent to its new course, nearly pitching the sailors overboard as she groaned with effort. The cannoneers hurried to reload for another barrage, but the
Prince
was already past the cruiser and out of range. The cruiser skidded by, missing the
Prince
by mere yards, and as she passed, Prakna caught a glimpse of her ruined rigging, now in flames and coming apart at the yards. A victorious cheer went up from his men,
but Prakna barely heard it. The
Fearless
and the other dreadnought were bearing down on them. Behind them,
Gray Lady
, who had so narrowly escaped the cruiser, was now being stalked by the third dreadnought.

The signalmen along the deck of the
Fearless
passed their admiral’s orders to the other ships of the escort. To the
Notorious
they sent the order not to fire on the
Prince of Liss.
But their signal to the
Black City
was far more dire.

Sink the damaged schooner.

Admiral Nicabar had remained on the prow of his flagship and had watched as Prakna maneuvered the
Prince
between the
Relentless
and the fleeing Lissen schooner. He had even laughed when
Relentless
’ rigging had been ruined, cursing Carce’s stupidity at trying to ram the
Prince.
The
Relentless
was driving without sails now, and would have to limp back to Crote. But Prakna’s bold move had come at a price. Now he was looking down the throat of both the
Fearless
and
Notorious
, passing between them in much the same way he had the two other ships. This time, however,
Notorious
was angled guns forward, and the
Fearless
herself was positioning to fire.

“Ten degrees left rudder,” Nicabar called to his captain, who relayed the order to the pilot. At once the giant warship lurched left, positioning her starboard side toward the
Prince of Liss.
On the gun deck below, the starboard flame cannons hissed to life. The
Fearless
had a battery of six flame cannons on both the port and starboard sides, and any one of them could easily reach Prakna’s vessel. One shot could put down a vessel’s rigging, setting it aflame. Nicabar knew he needed to be cautious. He didn’t want to cripple the
Prince of Liss.
He just wanted to teach his old enemy a lesson.

In just a few moments the
Fearless
was in position. The upper deck shook with the mechanical movement of the cannons on the gun deck below. While the flame cannons cranked into position, the
Notorious
made a bold turn to sail parallel to the
Prince.
The two dreadnoughts sailed a southeast heading. The
Prince
was heading northwest, directly between the two of them, but in the opposite direction. It looked like a foolish move, Nicabar knew, but it would give Prakna a much needed escape.

“He’ll think me an idiot for this,” sneered Nicabar. “I promise you, Prakna. I’ll kill you another day.” He turned to call over his shoulder. “Blasco, get ready to fire. And signal
Black City
again! What the hell are they waiting for?”

The
Prince of Liss
was at full speed. The wind cut into Prakna’s face. A terrible exhilaration went through him as he watched the big silhouette of the
Fearless
grow ever larger. To port was the smaller dreadnought, its flame cannons bearing down on them, just out of range. To starboard loomed the
Fearless
, her own guns certainly in range but holding their fire. Prakna wondered why. Both dreadnoughts would be sailing past the
Prince
, and Prakna was dead in their crossfire, ready to be pommelled with fire. His mind skipped over the possibilities. His own starboard cannons were ready to fire again, but they were no match for the heavy armor of Nicabar’s flagship, and so Prakna didn’t bother giving the order to fire. The shots would have simply bounced off the
Fearless’
hull. He had no cannons to use against the smaller dreadnought to port but it wouldn’t have mattered either. Like her big sister, the dreadnought was dressed to withstand such small attacks. Only a full-speed ramming could sink one of Nar’s warships. Prakna took a deep breath of cold air and made his decision.

“Marus,” he said quickly. “Left full rudder. Turn us against the small one.”

“Left full rudder, aye, sir,” shouted Marus. He called the order down to the pilot. At once the
Prince
moved to port, turning her shining metal ram toward the hull of the smaller dreadnought. A giant concussion ripped open the air. Prakna turned to look at the
Fearless
, afraid she had opened fire. But it wasn’t the flagship that was firing. It was the third dreadnought, the one stalking
Gray Lady.
Far in the distance, the dreadnought’s flame cannons exploded to life, sending streams of fire against
Gray Lady
’s already damaged hull. The guns sang out in unison, obscuring the dreadnought behind a wall of flame and black smoke, and in a moment the
Gray Lady
was engulfed in fire. The flames caught the wind and spread across her deck and rigging.

Prakna watched, horrified. The dreadnought’s flame cannons detonated again. And again they blasted
Gray Lady
, scorching her hull and blowing apart her yard-arms, until she was only a flaming hulk drifting across the ocean. The men on board the
Prince of Liss
fell mute.

“Attention, lads!” Prakna screamed at them. “Look alive!”

The sound of their commander’s voice snapped the sailors from their stupor. Each of them braced for the ramming. The dreadnought was perpendicular to them now, growing ever closer but still refusing to fire. The
Fearless
opened fire instead.

To Prakna, it was the like end of the world. Only once before had he heard the Naren flagship’s cannons, and then it had been from a great distance. This time, he was the target. The sky overhead ripped open with an orange blast, burning down the tops of his masts and incinerating the men in the crow’s nest. Louder than an earthquake came the wave, searing off the flag and slicing through the high rigging. Another
blast ripped past them to starboard and another one to port, and all at once the air turned rancid with the smell of burning kerosene. Prakna’s eyes flooded with tears and the skin beneath his uniform cooked in the heat. The
Prince
roiled forward, toward the smaller dreadnought. The blasts from the
Fearless
dissipated, and Prakna knew suddenly why he was still alive. The
Fearless
couldn’t fire directly at them for fear of striking her sister.

“Stay on course!” Prakna shouted to his crew. The other dreadnought was still not firing on them, probably for fear of striking the Naren flagship. The
Prince of Liss
, the top of her masts smoldering, churned toward her prey, her giant ram extended. Quickly the dreadnought changed course, steering hard away from the advancing schooner. Prakna cursed and shook his fist at them, but the dreadnought was just fast enough to avoid the
Prince
’s ram, scraping away from her. Behind the
Prince
, the
Fearless
was still sailing away in the opposite direction, almost out of gun angle and not maneuvering to re-acquire. The small dreadnought followed her big sister away from the
Prince.
Prakna gripped the railing, his knuckles white, his mind racing. Miraculously, they had escaped, and with enough sail intact to carry them away. Slowly, ponderously, the
Fearless
tried to turn its starboard guns against the
Prince
, but the schooner was already pulling away from them. The crewmen cheered at their escape, howling at the Naren vessels as they skirted away. But the burning hulk of the distant
Gray Lady
tempered their mirth. Already the three dreadnoughts were converging on her, and the little cruiser with the ruined rigging had managed to turn back toward the
Fearless. Gray Lady
burned in the center of them, helpless.