Chronicles of Gilderam: Book One: Sunset (10 page)

“You lying
jefeth!
” Shazahd seethed as she was dragged aboard the
Silus
. “You’re so full of
gweith
– I can’t believe you!”

“Hey –
hey!
” Owein said. “I don’t have any idea what’s going on! I didn’t do anything! I’m not a criminal!”

“Then why are you ‘
a wanted man?!
’”

“All right, you two, shut up!” someone yelled. They were handed off to two sailors waiting with shackles on the foredeck of the
Silus
.

“Listen,” said Owein as his wrists were fitted into the cuffs. “I don’t know what they’re talking about. There has to be some mistake!”

“I said shut
up!
” A sailor thwapped Owein across the back of the head.

“Why don’t you try that again,
pucith?
” he goaded. The bluejack grabbed Owein by the collar and reeled back to smash his face with a fist.

“Knock it off!” another voice shouted. The sailor released him. The order had come from an officer. “Back to your post, sailor.” The crewman left Owein with a vicious sneer.

“So. You’re Owein Maeriod.”

This officer was much younger than the captain. The lapels on his jacket identified him as a lieutenant. He maintained a stately handlebar mustache with modest sideburns, and his uniform fit him like a second skin.

“Yeah, you found me. Mind telling me why you’ve been looking?”

The lieutenant smiled congenially. “There’s a warrant out for your arrest, Master Maeriod.” He pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket.

“For what?”

The lieutenant chuckled. “How should I know? Says here… ‘…
renegade outlaw known as Owein Maeriod
…
enemy of the state, criminal fugitive
…’ et cetera, et cetera. Ah, here: ‘
Sentenced to die for his crimes
…
to be executed immediately upon capture
.’ There you have it.” The lieutenant casually folded the paper and put it back in his pocket.

“That’s it?! What’s the crime?”

“Doesn’t say, I’m afraid. I don’t know what you’ve done, Master Maeriod, but it must’ve been something quite severe for a verdict like that. A shame, too. I’ve heard of your exploits in Shinira. As a soldier myself, it saddens me to put such a great military mind like yours to death. Still, an order is an order.” He leaned in close. “And I always carry out my orders, Master Maeriod. Whatever it takes.” To the sailor holding Shazahd he said, “Take the
zvec
below. I believe the captain would like to see her.” To another he said, “Take Master Maeriod, here, abeam and have him shot, would you? Don’t throw the body overboard, though. We’ll need it for identification.”

“Aye aye.”

“Wait!” Owein shouted. “You can’t do this! I’ve done nothing wrong!”

But the lieutenant wasn’t listening. He was already walking away, giving orders to release the moorings. The two men holding Owein by the arms hauled him toward the starboard gunwale. A third followed them, the executioner, loading a shell into his pistol.

Shazahd kicked and thrashed so hard that three more sailors had to come assist the first in carrying her below deck.

“Owein!” she cried out as they dragged her away. “
Owei–!
” and the hatch slammed closed behind her.

The gangplank was withdrawn and the tethers were untied from the bollards. Slowly at first, the two ships drifted apart. Once they achieved a safe distance they resumed cruising speed, heading northeast together.

Mentrat, Pawl and Cavada were the only ones left standing on
Gilderam’s
weather deck to watch the
Silus
pull away.

“I don’t believe it,” said Pawl. Mentrat snorted and turned away, walking slowly down the deck with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Mentrat? Where are you going?” He didn’t answer. Pawl and Cavada exchanged worried looks.

“Mentrat!”

The sailors threw Owein against the gunwale. As he stood up, the pistol was leveled at his heart.

“Owein Maeriod,” one of them said. “You are hereby sentenced to death by the Imperial Crown of Gresadia. May the gods have mercy upon your soul and shepherd you from the
Mavracum Relené
while you are doomed to hide in the shadows of night for the rest of eternity. All right, go ahead.”

Owein swallowed dryly and drew in a rickety, spasming breath while his executioner pulled back the hammer of the gun.

He shut his eyes.

In that second, all the noise and clatter on the deck was drowned out by an oppressive, pure silence. All Owein could hear was the emptiness inside his own mind. He opened his lips to exhale, and even that was soundless. Owein’s consciousness was bombarded with thoughts of death. What was it like? What does it feel like to die? Will it hurt?

Probably
,
he thought.

But maybe not.

Maybe it was peaceful. Maybe everything he’d heard about death was wrong. Maybe his soul wouldn’t be torn from his mortal body as he died, and maybe he wouldn’t be cast eternally into the silent exile of the damned, forced to flee from the horrors they talked about in the afterlife, and destined to one day be enslaved by them and forced into the service of their ghastly cause….

Maybe
, he thought,
it wouldn’t be that bad
.

The reverie was shattered by an earsplitting
bang!

Owein’s body fell into the gunwale and slid to the deck. He heard something collapse in front of him, and then the sound of cursing voices cut through the silence. Suddenly there was shouting all around.

Owein opened his eyes.

He saw bluejacks running frantically around the deck. At his feet was his executioner. But he was on his back, lying still. The two men who’d been holding him were gone.

Sitting up, Owein saw the body of the bluejack before him was lying in a pool of blood with a huge hole in his chest where his lung should’ve been. The pistol lay beside him, still cocked.

Unfired.

Owein scoured his body for a bullet hole but found nothing. He heard gunshots ringing from all around. Bluejacks scrambled to man the deckguns – officers barked orders. It looked as though they were under attack. Lifting himself up the gunwale, Owein saw what had saved his life.

It was a pirate ship – a small sloop – descending from a cloud formation with guns blazing. Five more sloops dropped down right behind it. They flew red flags depicting a black bird topped with a golden crown. The emblem was unmistakable. It was the mark of the most fearsome and ruthless pirate captain still living: the Raven Queen.

The sloops were much smaller vessels than either
Gilderam
or
Silus
. Each used a single balloon for lift and carried only ten to twenty guns. Their engines were tiny in comparison, but because they had less drag they could move faster than hunkering warships, and were far more maneuverable.

They came bearing down on an attack run, heading right over the
Silus
. Normally it would mean suicide to fly right over the artillery on a galleon’s weather deck, but the bluejacks were unprepared, and these pirates meant to take full advantage of their surprise.

Owein ducked beneath the gunwale as the sloops roared overhead, unloading shells into the deck and, once above it, dropping flaming bombs. The little burning crates were packed with explosives, usually gelatinous nexane or black powder, along with nails or scrap metal. They exploded upon impact and sent fire and shrapnel in every direction.

They targeted the exposed cannons and heavy ballistae, swamping the weapons in clouds of bright fire and black smoke. The men struggling to operate them were either blown apart, peppered with shrapnel, or engulfed in burning fuel.

Sloop after sloop flew past overhead, each unloading its own supply of bombs. Two flew over the aft and set fire to battlements there as well. Before the bluejacks could mount a decent defense, their biggest and strongest weapons were destroyed – and the pirates were already circling back for another pass.

One gun had survived the first wave, and its operators had it functioning now. It was a long-range deckgun, similar to the ones aboard
Gilderam
, and it began launching fat rounds at the circling sloops with a rhythmic blasting. Targeting one, the gunner adjusted his aim to lead the ship, and soon the rounds were matching up perfectly with the sloop’s trajectory.

From far away, the bluejacks watched as the bullets pounded into the enemy vessel, knocking apart the hull and tearing holes in its balloon. Varride gas spewed out in little yellow puffs with each hit. Keeping exactly with the flight pattern, the gunner kept the bullets flying until it eventually began to lose altitude and, billowing dark smoke, started its long fall to the ground far below. Once it was clearly plummeting the gunner switched to a new target, but by then the pirates were almost on top of them again.

Owein scurried low along the gunwale, his hands still shackled, running for cover behind the forecastle as the second pirate barrage began. Their cannons tore holes through the plate-armored forecastle and shattered portholes in a relentless rain of shot. When the firing stopped, more bombs fell.

The lone gunner managed to take down a second sloop, but too close to the
Silus
, and it crashed right into her port side, exploding upon impact. The entire galleon shuddered from the hit.

Burning crates fell, most of them aimed for the one working deckgun, and the ensuing series of explosions rocked the gun from its fastenings and threw it across the deck. Those working nearby were incinerated, and their charred remains flew through the air.

Orienting himself by a capstan, Owein saw
Gilderam
speeding away, apparently overlooked by the pirates for the time being. It was wise of them to attack the better-armed ship first, but that didn’t mean
Gilderam
would be spared.

He heard footsteps coming toward him and so ran to the nearest hatch, entering the
Silus
. The first thing he encountered on the inside was a bluejack crewman on his way to the deck. All he got out was, “Hey –!” before Owein punched him in the face with one of his cuffed hands and knocked him out cold.

“Lord Ranaloc,” Cavada said forcefully. “Lord
Ranaloc!
” He had to shake the old man to snap him out of his trance. “Hey! Are you all right?” He was sure he had Mentrat’s attention now. The old man blinked several times. He looked between Cavada before him and Pawl beyond.

“We still have no ammunition for the deckguns. We’re unarmed.”

“We’re… we’re – what?”

“We’re sitting ducks for those pirates right now,” Cavada said. “We need to do something or we’ll be next.” He directed Mentrat’s attention back to the
Silus
. It was spewing deadly smoke. The crashed sloop had set her portside on fire.

“Lord Ranaloc…” he said, putting a pistol in his hands. “We need to take your ship back.”

Mentrat shoved the gun right back at Cavada. “Get that thing away from me!” he said. “I’m not going to kill anyone.”

“You won’t have to.” He held the gun out again. “Trust me.”

“Can’t this thing go any faster?” said one of the three bluejack officers. The column of air rushing into
Gilderam’s
bridge through the hole in her windshield made them squint. It blew out into the hallway, since the door was still off its hinges. The other two bluejacks held the bridge at gunpoint, including Fulo and Gor’m, who were in the back near the doorway.

“We have only one working turbine,” said Reeth, one of the replacement helmsmen, “that’s barely operable, and we blew the hydraulic manifold. We don’t have a chance of outrunning them.”

“Fine. Bring us into those clouds.” He directed him with a finger. “We’ll hide in there.”

The new helmsmen, Reeth and Weiden, exchanged pessimistic glances.

“Aye aye.”

Ranaloc, Cavada, and Pawl appeared from the hallway with Dez and Aroda – all brandishing pistols.

“Nobody move!” Ranaloc shouted bombastically, waving a gun in each hand. “I’ll
shoot!
”

“Just what the
mlec
do you think you’re doing?!” one of the bluejack officers demanded. Ranaloc poked him in the chest with a pistol.

“Reclaiming stolen goods,” he said with a psychotic glint in his eye. Fulo and Gor’m took the officers’ weapons.

“This is treason,” said one of the bluejacks.

“Noted. Gentlemen, kindly escort these men to their rooms, please.”