Antiagon Fire (66 page)

“Yes, sir.”

“Baelthm … just stand by to see what you can do.”

The oldest imager nodded solemnly.

A quint passed before Quaeryt could easily make out the three sets of sails, and there was no doubt that the lookout had identified the vessels correctly. The first two flew the maroon battle ensign of Antiago, while the third, a ketch, bore no ensign, although the rigging was clearly Antiagon.

“There’s no sign of another ship?” Quaeryt asked Sario.

“No, sir. The lookout would have called it out.”

Just where is the other warship? Still off Kephria?
Was it possible that the
Montagne
or the
Solis
might have encountered it and sunk it? Or had the Antiagons sunk or damaged both Telaryn warships?

Quaeryt watched and forced himself to wait as the Antiagon ships drew nearer. Finally, he turned to Horan. “We’ll need shields now.”

“Yes, sir.”

The distance continued to close, and the Antiagons continued to hold their heading and course.

“In another few hundred yards, Lhandor…” Quaeryt began.

A large flare of Antiagon Fire exploded in midair, less than fifty yards from the bow of the
Zephyr.
At that moment Quaeryt could see the nearest ship begin to turn to bring her guns into play, and then a puff of smoke from the forward gun port.

Those are pretty good indicators that these are some of the ships that went to Kephria. But how did they know where we are?
Quaeryt glanced to Horan. He could see the perspiration on the big undercaptain’s forehead … although his shields had held.
But at least one of the imagers at the road wall had known where first company had been, even behind a concealment.
“Just keep holding those shields, Horan.” Quaeryt turned, glad that whatever the Antiagon had fired had not struck the
Zephyr
. “Image the first vessel, Lhandor.”

Abruptly the first five yards of the Antiagon warship vanished. Totally. What remained of the forecastle and the bow plowed into the swells, and the entire vessel shuddered, coming to a halt in what seemed to be a handful of yards.

Quaeryt imaged two yard-wide holes in the hull amidships, just in case. Flashes of light flared across his eyes, and he could feel the unsteadiness in his legs. “The second ship, Khalis.”

Another fireball slammed into Horan’s shields, and then a third, before the stem section of the second ship vanished, and it too plowed into the swells and began to nose down.

Quaeryt could see the ketch swinging hard to port trying to get the wind full in its sails, in hopes of outrunning what had struck the two larger vessels. “Khalis … can you stop the third ship?”

“I’ll see, sir.”

A portion of the ketch’s stem disappeared, but not a large section, and Khalis went to his knees on the deck. “Harder to image over water.”

Abruptly parts of the sails of the ketch caught fire, and then the mainmast swayed and then toppled, as if some of its stays had parted. From beside the others, Baelthm staggered and sat down hard on the sterncastle deck.

“I can do a little more,” said Lhandor.

Another hole appeared at the waterline of the ketch, just aft of midships.

Almost inexplicably, both warships exploded into pillars of fire, burning fiercely.

“What?”

“How did that happen?”

It took Quaeryt a moment to realize what had happened. “Water … you must have opened the forward magazines to the sea, and cracked or severed a fire grenade or shell. That sometimes happens with Antiagon Fire.”

“They must not have had much left,” said Sario from behind the imagers. “Otherwise, the entire ship would have vanished. I saw that happen once when I was a boy.”

Must not have had much left?
Quaeryt managed to keep his face impassive as he watched the ketch, hoping he did not have to image anymore, and wondering if he even could, but the fire had spread, and the smaller vessel was markedly lower in the water than even moments before.

“Can you circle here, Captain, until we’re certain?”

“Yes, sir.” Sario’s voice had returned to the impassive tones with which he had spoken earlier.

Quaeryt understood. He also knew that the captain didn’t understand all that was at stake, and there was no way to explain it, not to a merchant captain who loved ships and cared for those who sailed them. “Imagers. Stand down, but stay on deck here.”

Lhandor sat down, and Khalis actually stretched out on his back on the hard planks, his face pale and damp. “We’ll need some watered ale or lager here,” Quaeryt called to the duty ranker.

“Yes, sir.”

In moments, several rankers appeared with water bottles.

After another quint Quaeryt directed Sario to have the
Zephyr
resume its course for Kephria. By then, the undercaptains looked less worn-out. Quaeryt finally dismissed them, but he kept looking back, long after they had left behind the scattered debris remaining, moved up and down by the regular swells of the Gulf.

Behind him stood Zhelan, equally silent.

After a time, Sario eased over to Quaeryt. “You gave them no chance.”

“You saw those fireballs they sent at us.”

“Why did they do that? The
Zephyr
is an Antiagon schooner, with an Antiagon rig.”

“Because we raised imaging defenses, and that told the imagers on the warships that we were not friendly. I had not realized that they could detect those defenses,” Quaeryt admitted.

“Did you have to destroy them all?”

“Not to have done so would have risked too much.”
At Liantiago, Aliaro would have given us no chance. Nor did he give Kharst’s imagers any chance. And then there was Chaerila.
Quaeryt smiled sadly. “There are times when to afford mercy is foolish. This was one of those times.”

“These are terrible times, when whole ships go down in moments, and cities topple into dust.”

“I hope we can end these times before long,” replied Quaeryt.
But how many warriors and leaders have thought that? Did Hengyst? Or Chayar? Or Kharst when he took Khel?

The captain eased away.

Quaeryt continued to watch where the third—and smaller—Antiagon vessel had gone down.

He kept thinking.
Three warships and a courier or sloop or that ketch … What happened to the other ship? Is it still off Kephria? Or have we missed it entirely? And what did they do in Kephria?

Quaeryt was all too afraid that he knew. The only question was if anyone survived … and who.

71

On Mardi, the weather held, as did the wind, but Captain Sario remained distant, although by Meredi afternoon, his occasional comments and responses to Quaeryt were less clipped and almost pleasant at times. Quaeryt found himself pacing the deck on the sterncastle, searching for sails and listening, but all that the lookout had sighted were two fishing vessels and a beaten-up Ferran trader with what Sario called a “bastard rig.” He was again able to hold full shields, if not for so long as he would have liked, and his headache had vanished, as had the intermittent flashes that had disrupted his eyesight.

“You always pace like that, Commander?” asked the captain.

“Not when I’m riding,” returned Quaeryt with a smile, not that he felt like smiling, worrying as he did about Vaelora and Eleventh Regiment and what had likely happened to Ephra, Kephria, and possibly Geusyn.

Sario frowned, then opened his mouth, as if to speak, then closed it as the lookout called from above.

“Sail ho! Antiagon warship, flying a battle ensign.”

Sario looked to Quaeryt. “You want a closing course again?”

“If you would.”

Once the captain called out the orders to the helmsman, he turned to Quaeryt. “Are you going to sink this one, too?” asked Sario.

“If we can. It’s likely to have another imager aboard and Antiagon Fire.”

“Why? Haven’t you won?”

“Not until Aliaro’s imagers are all dead.”

“That won’t bring your wife back.”

“No … it won’t, and I can hope she’s survived … but I also have to answer to her brother. What would you do?”

“You don’t think he’d be reasonable?”

“After his older sister died in Liantiago and Aliaro barely acknowledged it?” asked Quaeryt dryly. “Or the dead daughter she tried to give birth to?”

“Oh…” Sario’s voice dropped off for a moment. “You’re close to him.”

“At times.”
When he wishes it.
“He tries to be fair, and from what I’ve seen of the other rulers in Lydar, he does a much better job of it.”

“Even those in Khel?”

“The High Council seems fair enough, but after the Red Death and the Bovarian depredations, Khel is too weak to stand alone. Bhayar has offered terms to the High Council. They’re considering them.”

“What sort of terms?” asked Sario warily.

“He’s trying to work out a way to let the Council handle local matters while having the same laws and tariffs as in all the rest of Lydar.” Strictly speaking, that wasn’t quite true. That was what Quaeryt and Vaelora were working toward.

“Why do they get more favorable terms?”

“Well … they didn’t attack Telaryn the way Kharst did, and they didn’t send troops to support Kharst against Telaryn, and they didn’t attack Telaryn ships that weren’t bothering them … among other things.”

“Are those things true?”

“Every last one of them. We fought Antiagon troopers and their Antiagon Fire when we marched up the Aluse to take Variana. When the
Montagne
was carrying Bhayar’s sister to Khel as an envoy, Antiagon warships attacked.”

“That was not wise,” temporized Sario, “but…”

“Should we have invaded and destroyed much of Liantiago on that basis?” Quaeryt offered a sad smile and a shrug. “We did it not because of those provocations but because those provocations indicated that there would always be fights and conflicts so long as Antiago and Telaryn were separate.”

“The worst of acts are often justified by the best of reasons.”

“They are,” agreed Quaeryt. “Sometimes those reasons are right. Sometimes they are wrong. We often live to see where they were wrong. We seldom live to see where they were right.” He turned and ordered, image-projecting his voice, “Undercaptains on deck!”

As usual, Zhelan was the first to appear. “Another Antiagon, sir?”

“That’s what the lookout reports—flying a battle ensign.”

“You think they’ll attack?”

“If we raise a concealment. If we don’t, they’ll likely try to board, and I’d rather not deal with them at close quarters. Imaging isn’t terribly effective against cannon.” Quaeryt paused. Was that the reason why the Antiagon ships were so effective? Cannon at long range, and imaging and Antiagon Fire up close? It certainly fit in with the pattern of power he’d observed in Antiago—demand absolute obedience and destroy anyone who failed to obey. And that pattern made sense, in a way, for a land that was not all that wealthy.

“Sir?” pressed Zhelan.

“Sorry. I was thinking.” Quaeryt glanced around as the undercaptains formed up.

When they were all there, including Elsior, he began to speak. “There’s another Antiagon warship headed toward us … flying a battle ensign. We’ll handle this in the same way as we did the last one. Just stand by for the moment.”

“Yes, sir.”

When the Antiagon was still barely visible from the deck, Quaeryt turned. “A concealment shield, if you would, Horan.”

“Yes, sir.”

Quaeryt had decided to see how the Antiagon responded to the concealment and the shields before making a final decision as to what to do with the warship. So he—and the captain and the imager undercaptains—watched and waited.

As in the case of the other Antiagon warships, the oncoming vessel continued directly toward the
Zephyr
until only a few hundred yards separated them. At that point, the ship began to turn to bring its guns to bear, and a huge fireball exploded against Horan’s shields, with such force that the undercaptain staggered, even though his shields were linked to the
Zephyr
itself.

“Lhandor! Shields!”

“Yes, sir! Shields in place.”

“Horan … release your shields. Khalis, image away the stem of the Antiagon. Now!”

Almost simultaneously, the first seven or eight yards of the attacker’s bow vanished, and another massive fireball flared against Lhandor’s shields.

As the stricken vessel nosed into the swells and shuddered to a halt, without a single gun firing, thankfully, Quaeryt imaged out a chunk of the hull midships. He didn’t even feel light-headed.

Another firebolt, far smaller than the first or second, splashed against Lhandor’s shields.

Then Quaeryt could see crew members jumping off the waterlogged vessel. Some were caught in midair as the ship exploded with such violence that debris rained down from Lhandor’s shields, and the Pharsi undercaptain turned pale.

Quaeryt immediately extended his own shields. “Lhandor … you can release shields.” He just hoped he didn’t have to weather another explosion, but he continued to hold the shields, even as he began to feel light-headed, until he was certain that there were no hidden survivors who might be imagers.

Belatedly, he also realized why the Antiagons tended to attack without quarter—with all that they carried, they were also more than vulnerable, unless they could force another ship to surrender by pounding it with guns from a distance.
But why didn’t anyone consider that?

The answer was strangely obvious when he thought about it. Neither Bovaria nor Telaryn, nor Tilbor, when it had been ruled by the Khanar, had ever built a fleet because they were not trading powers, and the High Council of Khel probably hadn’t had the resources to do so.

“Imagers. Stand down.”

After another quint passed with no sign of other vessels, Quaeryt dismissed the undercaptains.

“Do you think we’ll see more Antiagons?” asked Zhelan.

“I have no idea,” Quaeryt admitted. “Over the past months, we’ve taken care of more than a few warships, but I have no idea how many the autarchs had. Once we get to Kephria, I hope we won’t have to worry about that anymore.”