Scimitar Sun (43 page)

*Perhaps. We will see when they return, I suppose, if the seamage will even sign to us after our attack of the landwalker warships.* He swished his tail in irritation. *If only the landwalkers had not brought warships while she was away! By the time she returns, it will be too late!*

*When will we attack?*

*That is Eelback’s decision, but I do not think he will wait long before the sun rises.*

*I must go, then,* Tailwalker signed, making the gesture of taking his leave.

*You cannot dissuade him, my son. The Voice has spoken!* Broadtail’s surprise and anger flushed him with color, his torso seeming to expand as his gills puffed out.

*I understand, Father. I do not intend to defy The Voice; I intend to honor it. If The Voice tells us that we must make war on the landwalkers, then I will fight.* He made a gesture of honorable submission. *I would not dishonor you so.*

*My son, I…* Broadtail’s color faded, his ire melting away. *I did not think you would dishonor me, but I know that you disagree with Eelback. You are friend and betrothed of the seamage, a landwalker.*

*All the mer are friends of Seamage Flaxal’s Heir, father,* he signed, a flicker of regret showing in his posture. *Whether we are still her friends when this day’s deeds are past, we will see.*

With a flip of his tail, Tailwalker left his father’s grotto, comforted by the tiny faces peeking out at him from the nooks and crannies of coral and the knowledge that if he died in battle, there would be others to take his place at his father’s side.

Chapter Thirty

The Wrath of the Mer

A rap at his door brought Edan fully awake and sitting up in the span of a heartbeat. Flicker let out a cry of alarm and tumbled off his chest before she could flutter into the air. She shook herself and glared at him, but only earned herself a chuckle. He’d been dozing for the last hour, watching the glow of dawn brighten through the port and wondering if yesterday had been a dream. Watching Flicker sleep on his bare chest, her flame licking at his skin without burning, and feeling the winds coursing along above the ship had confirmed that it had not been.

“Yes? I’m awake,” he called, wondering instantly if something was wrong. The motion of the ship felt normal, but what did he know of normal and ships?

“We’ve raised Plume Isle, Master Edan,” a voice called through the door. He thought it sounded like the mate, Horace. “The Captain and Mistress Flaxal would like to know if you’d like to break the fast with ‘em.”

“I’ll be right there,” he said.
Raised
Plume Isle? How did one raise an island? He shook his head and reached for his trousers and shirt, flipping Flicker’s chain from one wrist to the other as he put his arms through the sleeves.

He found the mess a bustle of activity, which rather surprised him given the hour. The sun was not to rise for at least a half hour and the sailors were acting like it was halfway through the morning. He exchanged good mornings with several of the crew and grabbed a tray bearing a huge bowl of porridge, half a loaf of bread, butter and a slab of cheese as thick as his hand, along with a mug of blackbrew. He sat down on the bench across the table from the seamage; as he had noticed last night in the launch, it was uncomfortable for him to be much closer.

“Good morning, Edan,” she said, sipping her own mug of blackbrew. “You look much rested from your ordeal.”

“I am. Thank you, Mistress Flaxal.” He sampled the porridge and decided it needed sugar and cream to make it palatable. There was a bowl of sugar on the table, but no cream. He put a double portion of sugar on the porridge, stirred and sampled it with distaste.

“Sorry there’s no cream,” she said, lifting her cup of blackbrew. “I know how you feel. I can barely choke this stuff down without something to lighten it.”

“When ya design a schooner with a cow byre in the hold, you’ll sail with milk in yer blackbrew,” Brelak said, earning a chuckle from the crew.

“Not a bad idea, though it would cut into cargo space a bit,” she countered, raising her cup. “It might be worth the cost after a week at sea with a surly seamage.” That earned a few more chuckles and a light-hearted comment or two, but things settled quickly into easy conversation and diligent eating.

“I’m eager to hear what you remember of your ascension,” she said to Edan. “Like I said, I was knocked senseless during my own, and remember very little.”

“I remember being overwhelmed,” he said, thinking it best to skip the bits about the welcome Flicker had given him. “I felt like I might explode, like I’d been filled with too much…too much of everything. Like a cup that was filled to overflowing, but not allowed to overflow.” He shrugged, unable to choose words adequate to describe his experience.

“And now you control fire, like Cynthia controls water?” Feldrin asked.

“Yes, but it’s strange. I used to watch my master create fire from nothing, like he called it up from the air. I don’t think I can do that, at least not yet. Any flame, like the lamps here,” he gestured to the oil lamps in their gimbaled brass brackets, “I can feel those. And things that will burn readily — wood, parchment, cloth — I know that I can call fire to those, with a little concentration. It’s easier if there’s already a flame nearby.”

“And the winds?” Cynthia asked, her eyes alight. “You can feel the winds and call them, we saw that already.”

“Yes, Mistress Flaxal. That’s easier. The air is always moving, so I can call the winds any time. It’s like there’s this big living thing around me all the time, and all I have to do is…”

“Ask,” she finished for him. “I imagine the tricks your old master used to do were simple spells, Edan, not true elemental magic. I’ve learned a few spells from the mer, things to help me, but the center of your gift is you. You’ll learn as you go along how to fine-tune your gifts, how to — ”

“Sail! Sail to the north!” The call came from the watch on deck.

Everyone looked at one another, then the captain said, “Probably just a merchantman makin’ fer the — ”

A sailor burst into the mess. “Yer pardon, Captain, but there’s a warship in sight.” Captain Brelak was on his feet and moving before the man could even continue. “She’s standin’ off to the lee of Plume Isle, and she’s the biggest damn thing I’ve ever seen!”

“Bloody hells,” Feldrin muttered, leading the procession onto deck.

Cynthia and Edan waited for the crush of sailors to pass before venturing up to see. By the time they arrived on deck, the captain was lowering his glass, his face as grim as a headstone.

“Yer gonna love this, Cyn,” he said, handing over the glass. “It’s the
Clairissa
.”

“The emperor’s flagship? Impossible!” She brought the glass to her eye and Edan watched the color drain from her face. Her seasprite landed on her shoulder, his mood subdued for once.

“That’s what I would have thought,” the captain agreed, “but that’s her pennant, no mistake. There’s a couple of other ships anchored closer to the cut, but they’re still hull down so we can’t make ‘em out yet. They could be warships, too, for all I know.”

“Three warships?” the seamage said in a stunned whisper, lowering the glass. “What’s the emperor thinking!”

“I don’t understand,” Edan interrupted, the old fear rising up from his belly. “Why would the emperor send warships here?”

“Other than the fact that he’s obviously got a sea urchin up his arse about the Seamage of the Shattered Isles and her own private
empire
, and probably wants Scimitar Bay as a naval base? Oh, no reason.”

“If it were that simple, I’d let him have it, Feldrin,” the seamage said, her tone grim. “It’s the mer I’m worried about. I warned him they would react poorly to warships, and he sent them anyway.”

“Aye, and if they attack, he’ll probably blame you!”

Edan blanched, staring at the two in shock. The seamage had angered the emperor of Tsing, they were sailing into a conflict between the merfolk and the emperor’s warships, and neither had even suggested changing course. He wondered if there was someplace they could put him ashore before they took the ship into battle.

≈

*The seamage’s ship approaches, Eelback,* the scout reported, gills pumping hard from her recent exertion. *The sun has not risen yet, but the sky lightens. She will be here in less than one quarter of a tide.*

*Good! Excellent!* Eelback turned to his school leaders and gave the gesture they had been waiting for. *Our time is now, school leaders! You know what you must do! Everyone in position! And remember, we must lure the larger ship into the shallows!*

The six school leaders gestured agreement and flipped their tails in unison, speeding off to their groups. Eelback looked up at the copper-clad hull of the warship floating over their heads and signaled his group to move out of the line of fire. Kelpie swam right up to him, her fins splayed in challenge.

*You do this to provoke the seamage,* she signed, her luminous eyes flashing in the predawn light.

*I do this for the honor of the mer, Kelpie,* he signed, splaying his fins wide. *The Voice made the decision to attack the landwalkers. I merely choose the time, and that time is now! When the seamage arrives we will see which school she chooses.* She glared at him, but her fins smoothed.

He turned away and watched the first group surround the ship — still beneath the sea’s surface but with harpoons at the ready, poised to strike — and his lips pulled back from his teeth in an eager grin. The school leader gave the signal, and the vanguard rose. Harpoons flew, trailing lines that snapped taut as they struck home.

Several thrashing forms hit the surface around the ship, and the water darkened with crimson clouds.

≈

“A fine morning, isn’t it Sergeant?” the young ensign said, rocking from toe to heel on the quarterdeck. His hands were knotted at his back, his eyes facing the glow of the rising sun.

“If you say so, Mister Lafferty,” Torrance agreed. He rarely addressed an ensign as “sir” unless the captain was standing near. “A bit quiet fer me, though.”

“Quiet?” Lafferty turned to look at him and smiled. “I like the quiet. It lets me think.”

“Aye, and that’s why I don’t like it,” the sergeant said with a chuckle. “Too much thinkin’s bad for morale. All this
diplomacy
…”

“Well, you can’t be hoping for action on a cruise like this, Sergeant Torrence.” The ensign smiled again. “Naught but half-naked savages and fish folk? Not much of a challenge for his majesty’s flagship!”

“No challenge is just how I like my fights, Ensign Lafferty,” he admitted, staring into the young man’s eyes. “And from the native folk I met last time I was here, I’d think that’d be enough of a challenge for any man — ”

“Deck Officer!” the lookout called, snapping their conversation like a twig. “Sail to the south!”

“Where away, lookout!” the lad shouted, craning his neck to look up at the man.

“There!” the lookout called, pointing. “Bearing one-six-oh! Just comin’ hull up! Looks like one o’ them schooners!”

“Well, there’s your action, Sergeant!” The ensign raised his glass and looked to the south, unaware of the marine sergeant’s scowl. “Mister Jims, please wake the captain. Mister Mollins, have the first watch come up early. I think we ca — ”

A splash and half a dozen cries warned Torrence even before Lafferty’s voice was cut off with a sickening crunch and a truncated cry of shock. He turned, his sword out in a flash, just as the line on the harpoon that had transfixed the young ensign’s torso went taut. Ensign Lafferty’s telescope clattered to the deck as he was snatched off his feet and dragged over the railing and underwater. A glance confirmed that a dozen others had also been taken, some killed outright like the ensign, some thrashing and fighting as webbed hands dragged them under.

“Alarm!” Torrence bellowed, ducking behind the bulwarks as another flight of harpoons flew aboard. One missed him by a hand’s breadth. “General quarters! Sound alarm! All hands repel boarders!”

Even as he shouted the commands, a webbed hand reached over the gunwale and a mer hauled itself up and over, almost right into the sergeant’s lap. He rolled away and jumped to his feet as a serrated dagger slashed through his jacket, clashing against his mail shirt. He struck back with his cutlass and opened a wide gash in the mer’s shoulder, but it flipped around and used its tail to knock his feet out from under him. Two more mer came over the rail before he could scrabble away, and a blade was in his leg and another in his hip before he could hack down the invaders. Blood, a good deal of it his own, ran through the scuppers and down the
Fire Drake’s
sides as Sergeant Torrence kicked the thrashing forms away from him. He struggled to stand, but three more merfolk were already coming over the side right before him.

≈

“
Fire Drake’s
making signals, sir, but I can’t make them out.” The lieutenant on the
Clairissa’s
quarterdeck squinted into the light of early dawn and frowned, reaching for his glass.

“Sail to the south!” the lookout cried from overhead. The lieutenant raised his glass for a closer look.

“That’s probably what they’re signaling about, Lieutenant,” Captain Flauglin said, taking another sip from his cup and savoring the bitter jolt of the strong morning blackbrew.

“Yes, sir, I…” The lieutenant’s voice trailed off as he lowered the glass then raised it again, his face draining of color. “No, sir! They’re being attacked, sir! The signal’s general quarters, but the flagman’s injured!”

“Attacked? What in the name of…” The captain’s cup and saucer smashed to the deck forgotten. He reached for the lieutenant’s glass and brought the instrument up to his eye. In an instant he saw what was happening aboard the
Fire Drake
.

“It’s the merfolk, sir! They’re attacking the
Fire Drake
!” called the junior officer.

“I can see that, Lieutenant! Sound general quarters and bring her up into the wind. Signal to
Lady Gwen
. We’ll have to use the sweeps at this point of wind, but keep the jibs hauled close and set tris’ls.” Flauglin raised the glass once more and cursed under his breath, watching men being dragged over the side of the smaller ship. He waited until the lieutenant had relayed his orders, the trumpet ringing out the call to arms, then said, “Tell the marine commander to rig to repel borders, Lieutenant. Oh, and wake the commodore; he might want to see this for himself.”