The Saints of the Sword (56 page)

In the hills, Jelena’s troops had emerged from their cover, pulling back their camouflage and revealing their cannons. There were swarms of men and women with scimitars, clamoring to fight. Kasrin glimpsed Jelena’s blonde head. She had a sword in her hand and was shouting orders.

“Get us broadside, Laney,” cried Kasrin. “Now!”

The
Dread Sovereign
slowly turned to port, trying to get the
Fearless
in her arc of fire. As he looked down the barrel of flame cannons, Kasrin wondered what Nicabar was thinking.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I swear, I am.”

On both sides of the cliffs, the Lissens opened fire. Two dozen batteries roared to life. The gorge shook with thunder and red lightning, and a veil of gun smoke obscured the hills. Kasrin heard shouting from the
Fearless
and watched as the shots from the hills tore into the dreadnought’s sails and rigging.

The
Fearless
took the bombardment. Her starboard cannons rose into position. Kasrin gave the order to fire, just as Nicabar did the same.

From her place on the cliff, Jelena watched the two titans begin their battle. The
Dread Sovereign
fired first. She had three port flame cannons and opened up with two of them. Great blasts of fire blew across the river, buffeting the
Fearless
. Jelena put her hands to her ears, thinking she had never heard anything so loud.

Until the
Fearless
fired back.

With one massive gun, the
Fearless
trained her sights on the smaller dreadnought. The volley turned the river orange. An earsplitting boom detonated in the gorge, shaking loose rock and sending the cannons jumping. A haze of smoke and fire veiled the passage. Jelena shouted at her fighters to continue firing, desperate to save Kasrin from the onslaught of the flagship. The single shot had torn the
Sovereign
’s mainshroud. Bits of blazing cloth floated down to her deck. Jelena saw Kasrin on the prow shouting orders that were swallowed in the noise.

“Keep firing!” she told her troops. “Send that big bastard to hell!”

Kasrin’s head split with the noise. The
Fearless
attacked again, sending out a wall of flame. Kasrin and Laney ducked behind a railing as the fireballs flew overhead. An enormous heat tore at their skin. Below, the gun deck rang with the hoarse cries of officers returning fire. The
Sovereign
’s flame cannons exploded, drubbing the
Fearless
and glancing off her armored hull. The barricade of rocks had lifted the front of her keel out of the water and a shot from the
Sovereign
splintered it. Jelena’s cannons continued to pummel her decks and riggings. Her port cannons fired uselessly into the hills; the Lissens were out of her arc. Jelena was safe, at least.

But still the
Fearless
fought on. Her starboard cannons continued to pound the
Sovereign
. Kasrin stumbled as a
blow detonated against the hull, sending him tumbling. He smashed his jaw against the deck and felt a tooth fly from his mouth. Bleeding, he staggered to his feet just as a second blow incinerated the bowsprit.

“We have to get out of here!” cried Laney.

“Don’t stop firing!”

“Blair …”

“Don’t stop!”

They weren’t going anywhere, not with the mainshroud shredded. Kasrin knew this fight was to the death. The stink of kerosene assailed him, and he realized his face was burned. Blood dribbled from his jaw as he shouted to his men. Already the stern was ablaze. Crewmen battled the flames with blankets. Soon the cannon barrels would be melting, but there wasn’t time to rest. Only continuous fire could sink the
Fearless
.

On board the
Fearless
, bedlam reigned.

Nicabar stood in the center of the forecastle, trying to see through the smoke and flames. His head rang and his ears bled from the bombardment; he could barely stand against the dizzying concussions. Around him, men were screaming as cannonballs rained down from the hills, blasting holes in the deck and pulling apart the flagship’s rigging. High above, the Black Flag of Nar was in tatters, clinging defiantly to the mainmast. A man had fallen out of the crow’s nest and lay broken on the deck. His crewmates stepped over him as they fought off the attack.

Nicabar stumbled across the forecastle. In front of him was the
Dread Sovereign
, badly damaged and unable to move. Her heavy armor had defended her against most of the flagship’s attacks, but the continuous volleys had destroyed her bowsprit and cracked her foremast, which was leaning like a falling tree. Her stern was in flames.

But Nicabar knew his own ship was faring no better. The massive dreadnought continued to take damage from the constant barrage from above, and because the cliffs were out of their arc, they couldn’t return fire to beat back the Lissens. Soon they would swarm aboard with their
scimitars. The thought made Nicabar cringe. A cannonball collided a few yards away, boring a hole in the forecastle and sending up a shower of wood. Men were jumping overboard to avoid the barrage, some with only stumps for limbs. Nicabar shook his fist at the hillside.

“You won’t defeat me!” he cried. “Do you hear? I am your master!”

The Lissens replied with a blanketing barrage. A storm of cannonballs riddled the deck.

Captain Blasco hurried toward him, dodging the cannonade. “Sir? We have to get out of here, seek cover!”

Nicabar barely heard him. On the eastern hillside he saw Lissens jeering. One in particular caught his attention, a hissing wildcat of a girl with long blonde hair. She called down to him, shaking a scimitar in her fist.

“Admiral,” cried Blasco, “the sails are in flames. We can’t stay here. We must abandon ship!”

“No!” cried Nicabar. “We won’t leave the
Fearless
to these dogs!”

He turned to glare at his captain just in time to see a shot slam into his skull. Blasco’s head shattered, showering Nicabar with brain and bits of bone. Blasco’s body teetered for a moment, then crumpled to the deck. The sight stunned Nicabar. For a moment he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even breathe. Absently he wiped at his bloodied face.

“Kasrin,” he growled. “Kasrin!”

Quickly he stumbled from the forecastle, shouting the order to abandon ship. The
Fearless
had been defeated the moment they’d run aground. Despite the continuous fire from their flame cannons, there was no way they could best the waiting Lissens.

But Nicabar still had a score to settle. And if he couldn’t do it with cannons, he would do it with his bare hands. When he had finally made it amidships, he tore off his coat and tossed it to the deck. Far below was the river, quickly filling with flotsam and turning red with blood. Nicabar took one last look at his beloved vessel, then jumped overboard.

• • •

Kasrin scrambled across the deck of the
Sovereign
, desperately dodging the flame cannon blasts. The last shot had completely felled the foremast, which had cracked and now lay half in the water. Nearly all the sails had been burned away, and Laney had reported that their own flame cannons were exhausted, their barrels melted. The air stunk of blood and fire, and as Kasrin skidded toward the middle of his vessel he noticed his wounded crew. Many had terrible burns, while others had bits of wood embedded in their bodies. Those who could helped the wounded toward the portside, where they awaited Kasrin’s order to abandon ship.

“Get these men out of here, Laney,” he cried. “I’ll follow directly.”

As his first officer started getting the crew off-ship, Kasrin studied the
Fearless
. She was badly damaged, almost completely in flames. Her cannons had slackened. Now only a few shots struggled out of her, mostly misfires that hardly struck the
Sovereign
at all. But the damage had been done. All around Kasrin, his ship was in ruins. They had won the day and destroyed the
Fearless
, but at a ghastly cost.

Kasrin joined Laney in getting the men overboard. When the last stragglers were safely off-ship, the captain and first officer followed them down. The estuary was full of debris and blood, and men screamed as salty water entered their wounds. Around them, the burning
Sovereign
continued to shed pieces. Kasrin looked around desperately. Lissens hurried down from the cliffs, splashing into the river to pull them safely ashore. Kasrin almost felt relieved, then heard a dreaded cry.

“Shark!”

He turned toward the scream and saw his boatswain pointing up the river. Near the
Fearless
, where her own wounded crew bobbed in the water, the first grey fin of a shark was slicing through the waves. Attracted by the blood and thrashing, it was soon joined by another and then another still, until at least a dozen dorsals were swishing among the men.

“Move!” Kasrin shouted. “Get ashore, now!”

He burst into action, shoving his men toward the shore. Each of them swam as quickly as they could. Kasrin urged them on, staying behind to shoulder a man whose legs had been incinerated in the bombardment. Dragged down by the extra weight, Kasrin could barely make it toward shore. A nearby scream told him that a shark had taken one of his men. He looked back and saw the bloom of blood as the screaming sailor was dragged beneath the waves. Other sharks joined the frenzy, and soon Kasrin and his men were surrounded as they raced toward shore. Men from the
Fearless
swam with them, equally desperate to reach safety. Kasrin didn’t recognize them; he didn’t even care. He just wanted to make it ashore.

Suddenly, something grabbed him. Kasrin panicked. The man he was ferrying dropped away, thrashing and screaming for help. Kasrin waited for the inevitable pain—but it wasn’t a shark.

Kasrin turned and looked into the twisted face of Nicabar. Before he could get free, Nicabar had his hands around his throat.

“Traitor!” roared the admiral. “I’ll kill you!”

With all his weight Nicabar shoved Kasrin beneath the waves. Kasrin let out a gasp of bubbles. Blood and sharks were everywhere. He could see the frenzied creatures thrashing around him. Desperate, Kasrin brought up a fist and smashed it into Nicabar’s face. The blow did nothing. Nicabar wrapped his fingers harder around Kasrin’s throat, then lifted him out of the water.

“You God-cursed traitor!” he screamed. “You did this!”

“Nicabar, stop! The sharks …”

One more sailor fell to the jaws. A gurgling cry broke from the waves. Most of Kasrin’s men were near shore now. He could see them through his watery vision, frantically climbing the rocks. Even as Nicabar continued to throttle him, Kasrin was grateful. They were almost safe.

“You want to join the Lissens, eh?” cried Nicabar. “You want to betray
me
?”

“Stop!” Kasrin sputtered, trying to work free of Nicabar’s
fingers. Behind the admiral, he saw a giant dorsal fin breaking the surface. “Nicabar …”

Once more Nicabar dunked him. Through bulging eyeballs Kasrin watched the white jaws open. Nicabar’s thrashing legs churned up the river. Then the monster struck, wrapping its jaws around Nicabar’s torso and puncturing him. Nicabar shrieked as the water turned crimson. Kasrin popped to the surface. Nicabar was whipped back and forth in the shark’s jaws as the monster thrashed. Blood spewed from his mouth like a fountain. He reached out for Kasrin, gasping.

“Kasrin, help me!”

Kasrin splashed forward, trying to reach him. But the shark was already dragging him down. He screamed for Kasrin one more time, then cried out in horror as the beast took him below the surface. The last thing Kasrin saw was Nicabar’s shining blue eyes, dropping like gemstones into the depths.

Jelena half ran, half slid down the rocky slope as she hurried to the rescue. The craggy shore was jammed with Naren sailors and Lissens who had come to help, wading into the water to fish out their broken, exhausted bodies. Jelena had dropped her sword and was now knee deep in the river, looking for Kasrin. The
Fearless
was a burning skeleton smoldering on the rocks. The bombardment had ceased, and now all she could hear were the cries of the wounded.

“Kasrin!” she called. She saw a wounded man staggering ashore and raced to help him. Sliding his arm over her shoulder she ferried him toward the rocks. But it wasn’t Kasrin. Desperate, she looked back out across the river.

Then she saw him. Amazingly, Kasrin had slipped to safety while the sharks satisfied themselves with Nicabar’s crew. He swam toward her, got to his knees, then quickly collapsed against the rocks. Jelena splashed toward him.

“Kasrin!” she called.

Groggily he opened his eyes. She went to him and lifted his head, cradling it in her arms. His jaw was swollen and
blood trickled from his mouth. His eyes had the most disturbing look to them, vacuous and dead.

“Jelena,” he croaked. “We did it …”

“Yes,” she said easily. “We did it. But you’re hurt …”

“I saw Nicabar,” Kasrin gasped. “He’s dead.”

“Shhh, don’t talk.” She put his arm around her shoulder and dragged him higher up onto the rocks. There she laid him on his back and brushed the blood from his face with the hem of her garments. “Breathe,” she urged. “Easy …”

“My ship is ruined.”

“Hush, Kasrin. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does!” He put his hands to his face. “I need her to get to Talistan. Don’t you see?”

Jelena understood perfectly, but she merely stroked his head, trying to calm him. Out on the river, the
Dread Sovereign
was heavily damaged. Her cracked foremast had fallen into the water and her sails were nearly gone. Little fires burned along her deck, sending up ghosts of smoke. But it didn’t matter. They had defeated the
Fearless
. And Kasrin was safe.

“What am I going to do?” groaned Kasrin. “Biagio needs me.”

“You will rebuild her,” said Jelena gently. “We’ll help you.”

Kasrin gave a bitter laugh. “Rebuild? Look at her, Jelena. It’s impossible!”

“Nothing is impossible,” Jelena assured him. “Just like the
Fearless
wasn’t unsinkable.”