The Storm of Heaven (53 page)

"Heel! Ship right oars!"

The steering oars bit the sea, digging deep on the right side of the ship. Sunlight flashed on the bronze beak as it cut up out of the water.
Khuwaylid
heeled slightly, swinging to the right. Oarsmen in the right rowing gallery hauled feverishly on their oars, sliding them inboard. Smoke rose from the thole ports as the waxed oars squealed in. The Sahaba raised a great cry and shook their spears and swords in the air. On the deck of the Roman ship, the Imperial marines, responding to the chopping signal of their centurion, loosed a cloud of arrows into the Arab galley.

Gray fletching suddenly sprouted from the mast and the fighting platforms. Sahaban fighters too slow to raise their shields in time toppled backwards, limbs askew. Blood suddenly puddled on the decking. The
Khuwaylid
turned in savagely on its enemy, but the Roman captain and crew were already in motion. With a great squeal of wood on wood, the three banks of birch oars on the near side of the Roman galley slid inboard. At the same time, the enemy ship heeled and turned as well, trying to swing away from the Arab ram.

"
Corvus
away!" Shouted the Yemenite captain.

The flank of the
Khuwaylid
surged past the rising oaken wall of the Roman ship. Sailors in the rowing galleries stared across as each other, catching a glimpse of white and brown faces as the ports whipped past. The Sahaban archers loosed at point blank range, sending their iron-tipped arrows into the mass of Roman marines. The legionaries had raised their rectangular
scuta
as well, though some of them fell back, blood gouting from wounds, as well.

The ramp of the
corvus
plunged down, loosed from its restraining ropes and splintered through the railing of the Roman ship. Soldiers leapt away from the heavy spike, stumbling into their fellows. The spike struck the deck of the Imperial galley with a screeching sound, then bounced back. Mohammed flinched back as the two ships rushed past each other. The
corvus
failed to get purchase on the Imperial deck and slid along the aft decking, bouncing and jiggling. Roman marines screamed in fear, but the impromptu scythe mowed down a dozen men. The iron spike tore through four men, gutting them as with a giant flensing knife. Then it slammed into the aft piloting deck, the planks of the
corvus
snapping like an over strung bow. Splinters knifed across the Roman deck, cutting down one of the pilots.

On the
Khuwaylid
, the restraining post that held the base of the
corvus
groaned under the sudden stress, then cracked lengthwise with a
bang
. The iron ring twisted into a figure eight, then burst its bolts and decapitated the nearest sailor before he could flee. It bounced away across the deck, then plunged into the rowing gallery. Mohammed heard shouts of alarm rise up from below. At the same time, he ducked and a gray fletched arrow spiked into the wall of the fighting platform beside his head, humming like a lyre.

His own archers continued to fire as fast as they could draw and loose, littering the Imperial deck with dead marines. The Romans gave as good as they took, too, the
Khuwaylid's
deck was slicking with blood and urine. With a splash the
corvus
, now loose from either ship, plunged into the sea. The Yemenite captain cursed, staring ahead. The bulk of the Roman fleet was upon them.

"Keep turning!" The men on the steering oars held on, digging the planes into the water.

A sharp
crack
echoed from the Roman ship and Mohammed looked up in time to see the Imperial galley continue turning. The ships were parallel again, but rapidly reversing their course. Now the Imperial scorpion fired, hurling a stone at point blank range into the Arab galley. The missile crashed into the starboard side of the
Khuwaylid
, ripping through the railing and smashing six Sahaban marines into a gray-red paste. Then the stone bounced across the deck, skipping on the hardwood and sailed off the opposite side and fell into the water.

Zoë's patience was rewarded as the first two lines of galleys crossed. The even lines of ships almost immediately dissolved into a swirling melee, but the two big Imperial galleys forged straight ahead, protected by a wedge of smaller, single-banked ships. The shape and pattern of the air around the two
dromons
began to flex and a distinct gradient formed, coiling and writhing. Thaumaturges on the enemy ships were drawing power from the air and the sea, preparing to unleash it upon the Arab fleet.

Time to get to work.
Zoë grimaced, narrowing her concentration to a pinpoint. The enemy galleys rode through a writhing storm of energy, reflecting off the glowing wards, refracting up from the surface of the water. The division of air and sea rolled endlessly, as sharp in the hidden world as it was in the physical. Zoë sent her perception winging out, then plunging like a cormorant into the sea. There was a moment of resistance, a tugging, and then she was below the waves in a completely different realm of shifting subtle patterns and deep abysses. Sharks flew past, drawn to the spreading red stain in the waters above. The hulls of the ships plowed overhead, leaving a swirl of countless tiny vortices in the hidden world. It was difficult to guide her sight at first, but she managed.

The hulls of the two great galleys loomed up. Even here, under the water, the glittering shields of the wards shone in the dimness. In truth, there was no less light than above, but it was obscured, scattered, fouled by sparkling motes of plankton and microbes. Everything in the sea, even the density of the water, distorted raw perception. Zoë struggled with the roving Eye. It got harder to control the farther it flew from her.

She sped closer to the wards and saw, as she closed in, that they were weak and diffracted by the constant motion of the water and the ship. They swelled up before her, glittering and splitting her vision of the black-tarred hull above her into a dozen distorted images. For a moment she hung just out of the pattern of the ward, waiting.

A crosscurrent surged past, thrown out by the churning oars of another ship. As it washed across the ward, the pattern fractured and Zoë leapt into the breach. There was a burning sensation and then the curving hull was directly before her. In her sight, ghostly fingers stretched out, giving shape to her intent. Fingertips caressed the black tar Imperial shipwrights used to seal the planks. A dozen coats had been applied during the last careening. Only a few barnacles had managed to attach themselves.

Zoë bent her will to the incredibly complicated pattern of the tar. It was smooth and composed of uncountable flat ribbons sliding across one another, intertwining like a coil of snakes. The structure formed a watertight barrier, but it was filled with hidden fire. Zoë brushed invisible fingers across the ribbons, calling on a fragment of the sign of fire that Dwyrin had shown her.

A white-hot spark lit in the surface of the ship's hull.

Zoë released her Eye, snapping violently back into her own locus of perception.

The
Khuwaylid
cut in across the wake of a Roman galley, ram breaking free of the blue-green waters, then plunging down again. Mohammed clung to the railing, feeling the whole ship flex as it plowed down into the trough. On the deck, sailors slid amongst sea spray and blood fouling the channels along the rowing gallery. They were busy stripping the bodies of the dead. Naked corpses were thrown over the side. The Imperial galley had turned away, but the
Khuwaylid
had not given up the chase. Another Roman galley was busily stroking forward, directly across the Arab ships' line of sail. The Yemenite captain shouted for a double-stroke and the flautists shrilled wildly.

Mohammed felt the air tremble and looked up.

A mile away, through a drifting forest of ships' masts, he saw a massive, four-banked Imperial galley shudder violently. The huge ship, main deck easily fifteen feet higher than his own, advanced at a stately pace through the battle. The air around the galley was hazed with mist. Red banners flew from the foredeck and painted eyes snarled at every enemy in its path.

Then the sea heaved around her flanks, and a blinding flare of red-orange fire bloomed out of the water. Mohammed's jaw dropped open and he raised a forearm to shield his eyes. A tremendous
boom
snapped across the water as the Imperial galley convulsed, rising up in the air, spilling men and oars into the sea. Fire rippled up the hull, burning white-hot, and steam billowed from every oar port. Blazing fragments of mast spiraled into the sky, trailing curlicues of smoke.

The debris slammed back down in a concussive roar, disappearing into the boiling sea. Waves leapt up, hissing and steaming, swamping the nearest single-bank galley, which was turning away. Even across the distance, Mohammed's blood ran cold as he heard the shrieks and screams of agony from the doomed ship. Boiling water smashed into the smaller ship, turning the galley sideways, then swamping her. The men within perished in the scalding water, swallowed up in the dark sea.

"Ramming speed!" the Yemenite captain screamed, completely focused on the enemy ship dead ahead. Oars dug deep into the water and the
Khuwaylid
leapt forward. Mohammed bowed his head in prayer, wishing the souls of the dead a swift journey into Paradise.

The
Khuwaylid
ground into the flank of the Roman ship, bronze beak shearing through oaken planks and hide-wrapped shields. An enormous screeching followed as the ram crushed through the planking. Water poured into the wound, drowning men trapped in the wreckage of their oars. Sailors clawed out of the rowing gallery, dragging their fellows down in panic The Imperial galley shuddered, then began to list to one side.

"Back oars!" the Yemenite captain howled. Obediently, the rear half of the
Khuwaylid's
oarsmen began rowing in reverse. The fore half had shipped oars back into the body of the ship to avoid having them fouled or shattered in the collision. The bronze ram scraped and squealed out of the stricken galley. The sea poured into the gaping hole, causing the Imperial ship to wallow deeper into the waves. Sailors plunged into the water. Grayish-black shapes were already busy in the wreckage, rolling and diving, fins cutting above the water.

Mohammed heard another
crack
and caught a glimpse of a scorpion stone, wreathed in green fire, whirling through the air towards him. With a warning shout, he leapt from the fighting platform. He hit the deck hard, but managed to get his legs under him and rolled away. The stone shattered the platform with a
boom
, then rolled out of the wreckage and bounced across the rear deck. Fire spattered from the missile, leaving burning trails on the deck. Splinters scythed through the air. Mohammed flinched, wiping blood from his cheek. One of the Yemenite captain's legs was lying on the deck. The rest of the round little man was nowhere to be seen.

Mohammed picked up a helmet and tied the strap tight under his chin. The battle was growing fiercer. He stood scanning the horizon. The first two lines of Arab ships were fully engaged with the Imperial fleet. Driven by the wind, the entire battle was drifting towards shore. Mohammed's reserves were hanging back, though the right wing of the Imperial fleet was trying to swing upwind.

The shattered Imperial four-banked galley burned furiously, sending up a thunderhead-shaped pillar of smoke. Steam boiled from the sea around the wreck. Mohammed's lips drew back in a snarl. The sinking ship was still burning underwater, lighting up the dark sea with a shimmering blue-white light.

Wizardry!
He did not like this kind of war. He felt very tired for a moment, but roused himself.
There is work to be done.
He stepped away from the burning deck. A pair of Arab sailors ran up onto the rear deck with buckets of sand. There was nothing to be done about the captain or the archers. They were just gone.

"Signal the reserves," he shouted to the remaining signalman. "Go after the Roman wing with all speed."

The sailor, face half covered with blood, nodded weakly and began running up banners on the rear signal mast. Mohammed turned back to more immediate concerns. A pair of Roman galleys were cutting in from the
Khuwaylid's
port beam. Unlike the Arab ship, neither vessel boasted a ram at its prow. Its decks were thick with men.

They'll want to board us,
Mohammed thought, fingers drifting to the hilt of his sword.
Well, now;
that
we can accommodate!

The big
quinquereme
continued to burn like a star, even as the sea swallowed it. Zoë had to block it out of her perception, for the fury of the combusting tar was furiously bright in the hidden world. The golden sphere around the ship had winked out just a grain after the ship had exploded, which filled Zoë's heart with a grim humor. The other four-banker had swerved away from its stricken sister and the glitter of its protections had doubled or tripled at the same time.

Eager to keep the Roman thaumaturges distracted, Zoë bent her will upon the sea itself, trying to rouse the choppy waters to new heights. In moments, she realized she had made a serious mistake. The sea had its own mind about such things. Affecting the waves required a long reach and greater power. The gelid patterns in the water slid away from her intent, leaving her drained and the sea undisturbed. Worse, the effort flared bright, drawing the attention of the enemy.

Violet fire licked across her pattern, hissing and snapping in the matrices forming her battle-ward. Zoë sweated, still kneeling on the quilts. At least two more thaumaturges had been lying low amongst the Roman ships and now they attacked. By great good luck, neither had taken the time to raise his efforts into the realm of the physical. They strove against her solely in the hidden world.

Zoë invoked a quicksilver lattice, a shining gradient drawing away the stabbing power, dissipating it into the body of the sea. Even that response was too weak and too slow. While she deflected one attack, the other struck. Heat flashed through her and she gritted her teeth, retreating behind a hasty blue sphere. The poorly formed shield buckled and cracked within half a grain, crushed by licking black flame.