Chronicles of Gilderam: Book One: Sunset (36 page)

“
Gilderam,
sir? You mean…?”

“Just send it along.” Then he added to himself, “The elves must’ve been harboring the fugitives.”

“Looks like they’re headed directly for the fleet, sir.”

“What?”

“That’s affirmative, Captain.
Gilderam
on a direct approach. Bearing zero degrees.”

Holth almost laughed out loud.

“That’s not all, sir,” said Lowol from the communications table. “I’m getting a report…. Apparently they’re… what? That can’t be right.”

“What is it?” Holth demanded.

“Sir… I’m told
Gilderam
is flying… pirate colors.”

“
Pirate
colors?”

“Yes sir. The Raven Queen, sir.”

Holth narrowed his eyes at Lowol, who shrugged in response. The captain turned back to look at the approaching green ship.

“They’ve got to be out of their minds….”

“We’ve got to be out of our minds…” Vrei accidently said aloud.

She stared down the entire Imperial Navy through the brand new, crystal clear bridge window. She tried consciously to steel herself when she saw Cavada, at the wheel, looking far more stricken than herself.

“Thataboy, Cavada,” she said, strolling around him. “Keep her steady. If we fly confidently, they’ll think we’ve got something up our sleeve.”

“And what do we have up our sleeve, Captain?”

“Well,” she took hold of the rail beside him and surveyed the armada. “…Not much. At present.” He gulped. “But don’t worry. I’ll keep you posted as the situation progresses.”

“Wonderful.”

“Despite the odds,” said Weiden from the helm, “somehow it makes me feel better to be flying with you, Captain. With the Raven Queen.”

“I never much cared for that nickname,” said Vrei. “I preferred the other one.”

“What other one?” asked Reeth.

She leveled her eyes at the armada. They gleamed with bloodlust. “The Butcher of Bluejacks.”

“I’ll take the fore deckgun,” Owein said to the crewmen gathered on the weather deck. “Gor’m will take the starboard one, and Fulo the portside.”

“Then I’ll take the aft gun!” The voice belonged to Levwit. He marched up to Owein and snapped to attention. He wore a proud smile, and regally hung an arm from his vest collar.

Owein smiled back sarcastically.

“Good then. Jerahd will aid in reloading the guns. And keep a close eye on the Marquis. You’ll need to take over for him as soon as he’s killed.” Levwit’s jaw dropped.

“As for the rest of you, stay inside the ship and only come out to put out fires. There’s going to be a lot of bullets flying around. Now go! We’re almost in range.”

Bodies scattered.

“Wait! Owein!”

He turned. It was Shazahd.

“And what about me?”

“What about you? You think I’m going to put you in the line of fire?”

“Well, I could –”

“Get inside. You stay below deck until this is over.” He turned for the fore deckgun.

“Hey!” she grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. “I’m not just some child, you know!” she shouted into his face.

He met her intensity measure for measure.

“But you are my responsibility.” He stepped closer, bringing them toe-to-toe. “And until that changes, you’re going to do
exactly
as I –”

“As what?!”

Owein froze. He stared into her big, brilliantly green eyes – just a couple
plirum
from his own – but didn’t respond. He realized it was because he was speechless. He didn’t know what to say – couldn’t think of a thing.

In the pause, her face softened and her hostility vanished. Now they were just staring at each other. Scanning her flawless face, he even forgot what they had been yelling about in the first place.

A grating, crescendoing
buzz
, carried along the breeze, caught his attention off the starboard bow.

“Those little flying machines…” he said absently, noticing a flock of them circling beside the Inner City.

“What?”

“Those little….” He watched their trajectory. They wound around in a tight circle. One aircraft led the pack on another attack run… but not toward the city. His eyes widened.

“They’re coming for us! Get inside!” and he was off to his gun.

Gor’m’s gun was already firing while Owein strapped himself into the gunner’s seat, smashed between the fat loading ends of two barrels.

On the left side of his seat was a hand crank that rotated the whole mount from side to side. On his right, another hand crank raised or lowered both barrels of the gun together. Between his legs a third, smaller crank, altered the alignment of the two barrels, thereby allowing adjustment for range. Beneath his feet were two pedals, each connected to one of the firing mechanisms, and directly in front of him was a magnifying lens and the targeting reticle.

He wheeled the crank on his left, swinging the gun starboard. A horizontal hail of iron signaled that
Gilderam
was taking heavy fire as he came about. Owein let loose with both pedals just as the first of the planes shrieked past overhead. The pins hammered into primers, discharging the rounds with a deafening double
boom
. Smoke belched out on both sides, and blinded his peripheries until the
baethes voth
blew it clear.

But he hadn’t hit anything.

His left hand spun the crank madly, turning him around portside. Owein heard the clinking of a ratchet, and the
kerplunk
of a mechanism discharging the spent shells. The smoking empties rolled around on the deck, and two fresh ones were automatically inserted in their place.

The last of a squadron of fighters flew by him with an earsplitting squall while he carefully accounted for range on the dial between his legs. The little red ships became so minute in the distance that they nearly disappeared. The furthest ones out were already beginning to turn around for another run.

Owein lowered the barrels a little, and his left hand slowly and steadily rotated the deckgun, tracking one of the tiny ships on its long, sweeping arc across the sky. He waited until it was almost pointing right at him before he pushed in one of the pedals, and launched a heavy slab of hot iron at it. The metal chunk hurtled right past the ship, missing by an
entil
. But Owein kept with it, kept adjusting, and patiently altered his aim to compensate….

He fired a second shot.

This one caught the wing, very near the fuselage. A tuft of fire and dark smoke sprouted from the wound, and the little aircraft lost altitude.

Gilderam’s
portside was now assailed by gunfire as the horde of fighter craft leveled out. Fulo’s gun traced arcs of shot into the oncoming pack, finally getting one, though not fatally.

Once Owein’s gun was reloaded he fired immediately again, having led another target since his last. His aim was true – right through the cockpit – and the vessel went down.

Beyond it he noticed two more fall in quick succession. They had been flying together, one just behind the other, and Owein was forced to surmise that Levwit, firing from the rear of the ship, must have dropped them each with a single shot.

He grimaced to himself as the remaining ships crossed over and beneath
Gilderam
.

Mlec
… he thought.
He really is a good shot
.

Facing starboard again, Owein sent one more plummeting to the forest floor while they sailed away to regroup.

“Captain, enemy vessel nearly within range, sir.”

“Good. Order the guns to fire when ready.” Holth looked over his shoulder to Lowol and added, “And notify the admiral.”

“Aye aye.”

Captain Holth drew in a big breath, and pushed himself harder into his chair.

“We have them now…” he said softly, watching the little green airship crawl right into his lap.

The light changed outside the bridge. It got suddenly a bit darker, then returned to normal. It was as if something had passed by overhead, catching them in its shadow.

Holth rose from his chair to inspect. The helmsmen had noticed it too.

But he couldn’t see anything in the sky above, so he put a hand on the helm console to lean forward. Now the sun was in his eyes, but he was sure there was something hiding between him and it. He couldn’t look directly at it – the sun was too bright – but he could swear that something was moving. He waited until it revealed itself.

“What the
gweith
is that…?” he heard Rodroth say.

“Certainly not one of ours,” said Emdun.

Holth resituated himself to get a better look. The object in the sky was growing bigger. No, not bigger. It was getting closer – coming straight down. And fast.

“
Threithumé
…” Holth exclaimed as realization dawned on him. He tried to think of what order he should give, what words he should say, but his mind failed him. And now he was mesmerized by the sight of tiny packages falling from above. He knew exactly what they were.

“Lowol!” he roared. “Inform the fleet that we have inbound enemy airships –!”

That was as much as he got out before one of the packages landed on his deck, just in front of the forecastle, supporting the bridge. It exploded upon impact, and sent up a tower of flame, shrapnel and smoke. The blast shattered the window, filled the bridge with soot and debris, and rocked the whole destroyer.

The mysterious airships fell from the heavens, directly above the armada. The Gresadians had not been expecting any competition for the air, and so did not bother to look up to see them coming. On approach they came in on an angle aligned with the sun, stealthily hidden in its blinding light. 

Avladian aircraft were similar to the Empire’s only in their use of varride balloons to produce lift. Beyond that, they were completely alien.

Whereas Gresadian engineers had been using nexane-combustion engines for years, the Avladians continued to use cloth sails to capture the wind for propulsion. The wide-sweeping apparatuses protruded from the ships like great, spiky fins, which made the vessels look more like exotic fish than like man-made aircraft.

Their sleek, darkwood hulls were narrow and lithe, not bloated and hulking like the Gresadian kind. They possessed a graceful, organic design, and no two of them were alike.

A hundred Avladian ships now danced around the Imperial armada, dropping bombs and hurtling flaming spears. They were nimble craft, and Avladian sailors were famous for the physics-defying stunts they were able to coax out of their vessels.

The Gresadian formation shattered instantly. Ships broke off in random directions, each one desperate to separate itself from the rest. Their gun crews hurried to return fire, and cannons were blaring in short order.

Though the smaller Avladian ships were harder to hit, when one was, often one shot was enough to destroy it. Only a handful of them were equipped with more than one balloon. But their surprise tactic allowed them to preemptively bomb a great many Gresadian vessels, which were now burning and sinking in droves.

Some Avladian ships flew dangerously close to their enemies’ decks to risk dropping a handful of warriors. They landed, rolling, and hopped to their feet, armed with swords and spears. Boarding parties created sheer havoc right on the deck, disrupting a ship’s use of its biggest and best weapons. Though invariably suicidal missions, they served the Avladians by both hindering Gresadian defenses, while simultaneously terrifying her airmen.

The fighter craft assailing
Gilderam
and the Inner City turned tail and flew back to rejoin their comrades.

“
Nieva
…” Weiden cursed. “Captain! Look!”

Vrei leapt down the stairs to the front of the bridge.

“
Threithumé
,” she said. “It’s… it’s a whole fleet…
another
fleet!”

“Those aren’t Gresadian airships,” said Cavada.

“No,” she said. “They’re Avladian.”

“What’s that one doing?”

“It’s turning around.”

One Avladian ship, a three-ballooned felucca, steered away from the action to point herself at the Inner City. It was directly in
Gilderam’s
flight path.

“Looks like they’re coming in on an approach, Captain,” said Weiden.

“Slow us down. We’ll –” but Vrei cut herself off.

“…Captain?”

Reeth turned around. Vrei was staring out the window at the oncoming Avladian ship. She looked transfixed.

“
Threithumé
…” she said under her breath. “It’s him.”

“Who?” he asked, looking forward again. There was someone on the prow of the felucca. Locks of white hair blew around his head.

“All Stop!”

“Well I’ll be
zatszved
…” Owein said as the Avladian ship pulled up alongside
Gilderam
. He heard the hatchway behind him bang open, and Shazahd ran onto the deck.

“Father!” she cried as Mentrat Ranaloc jumped over the gunwale to board
Gilderam
. He wrapped up his daughter in a tight hug. Behind him the Avladian ship pushed away, turning back around toward the battle raging over the forest.

“Father, I –”

“Shazahd.” Mentrat pulled her back to look into her eyes. “My dear little girl… I’m sorry. I’m so very, very sorry. I’ve been terrible to you. I’ve been a wretched father.” Shazahd’s eyes welled with tears.