Douglas Niles - Goddess Worldweaver

“Then we need to make another attack at first light,” Rudolph said. “Follow up on Fritzi’s blow, wreck as many of them as we can.”

“I agree,” Natac said, “though I will not order such an assault. Whatever gains are made must surely be offset by another day of grievous losses.”

“We have a lot of strength on the beach,” Tam reminded them. “You can let them land, and we’ll try to stop them at the water’s edge.”

“We’re here to fight,” Cloudwalking Moon said. She was a plump, round-faced woman of bronze brown skin, like Crazy Horse, of Native American heritage. Her ancestors had dwelled among the Nez Perce tribe. “No point in standing back now, when the issue will be decided. If we perish, we know we give ourselves to a great cause.”

“I think we are all agreed on that,” Christina said, her head held high. “We are here, and we can hurt them. No matter the cost, we need to strike, and strike hard.”

Natac had a hard time speaking, so tight was his throat. He loved these warriors and druids, loved them all with a passion that he could not even begin to comprehend. It grieved him to know that, tomorrow, so many of them would die. But he also knew that Christina and Cloudwalking Moon were right: there was nothing for it but to continue the battle, no matter what the cost.

“You have the admiration and respect of all Nayve,” he said thickly. “Try to get a good night’s rest; then do what you have to do tomorrow.

T HE druid boats came on in two waves, white sails aloft, magical winds propelling the sleek hulls through the coast waters. When the first rank drew close to the fringe of the armada they began to shoot, and once again the heavy steel fire-bolts wreaked havoc on the black ships of the Deathlord. One after another of the ghost-crewed ships burst into flame, breaking apart, sinking, or careening wildly as the small, nimble sailboats darted between them and drove deep into the crowded seas at the great fleet’s heart.

Natac and Regillix flew overhead, knowing there could be no retreat, not anymore. This time they would have to press home the attack, inflict as much damage as they could. The serpent tightened his wings, arrowing toward the skies over the armada.

Again the harpies sallied forth, a great squawking formation in the sky. This time, the serpent had a new tactic ready-a maneuver he put to instant use. Climbing toward the flock, Regillix belched a great cloud of fire into the midst of the beasts, searing a hundred or more in the killing blast. Natac, meanwhile, fired shots from a specially modified crossbow. Each missile launched a spray of marble-sized canisters into the air, and when these flew out to several hundred feet, each of them exploded with a violent burst, knocking many more winged attackers right out of the sky.

The dragon immediately tucked his wings and dove away, as the warrior launched one more shot at the flock, which was not so much a cloud as a tattered sheet by now. They plummeted downward, wind stinging past as they plunged through the murk toward the black ships. This time Natac and Regillix Avatar wasted no time, displayed no caution. The dragon roared above the black decks, striking with his claws to knock down tall mainmasts, belching clouds of fire that quickly engulfed one death ship after another in roiling conflagration.

Natac was armed with two bags full of another of Karkald’s inventions: metal canisters with fins on one end and a metal trigger on the other. He pulled one out as the dragon swerved over a death ship. Seeing that Regillix was still drawing a breath after his exhalation of fire, the warrior took this target as his own. He timed his throw carefully, tossing the bomb toward the middle of the deck. The fins stabilized the flight, angling the trigger downward, and the canister struck the vessel near the port railing.

As they swept past, flying fast, Natac saw the device break through the planks of the deck with a bright flash. He looked back as the serpent drove his wings downward and was rewarded by the sight of a fiery plume, oily flames mixed with timbers, rigging, and the shredded forms of numerous ghost warriors. The main and foremasts of the ship toppled into the water, carrying rigging and sails with them, and before his scaly mount swerved into another attack, the Tlaxcalan saw flames cracking along the length of the vessel’s port side.

Impressed, he reached for another of the bombs, holding his throw as Regillix leaned down to belch a cloud of fire across another death ship. Once more they swept past their doomed victim, and Natac made another toss, cursing angrily as the speed of their flight carried the bomb too far; he saw it explode harmlessly in the sea.

But he had more of the bombs-ten slung from each side of the dragon’s powerful neck-and so he readied for another throw as Regillix banked sharply and came around, winging toward the fringe of the armada where the death ships were heavily engaged with the advancing line of druid-steered sailboats. In places the invading vessels were packed so tightly that it seemed as though the ocean itself was afire. A dozen of the black ships had collided and were locked in a tangle, masts toppled across each other, flames leaping hungrily from one ship to the next.

Nimble boats sailed past the confused mass as more flames skyrocketed upward, turning the group of doomed ships into a waterborne pyre. Still more of the Deathlord’s fleet closed in, however, and Natac grimaced in almost physical pain as he saw one of the black hulls bear down on a sailboat, crushing the smaller craft into kindling before the druid could steer out of the way.

“I want that one!” he snarled, and Regillix heard. The dragon dove past, and the man lobbed another of his bombs, grimly satisfied as this one shattered the stern of the black sailing ship and quickly brought the vessel to a curving halt. Flames erupted from the deck as the dragon dove low, reaching his talons down to strike the masts and rend the sails from another pair of boats. They heard the cheering of druids and warriors as they swept past, and more and more of Roland’s ships soared into the great breach they were tearing in the armada’s flank.

The individual plumes of smoke from burning death ships merged into a pall of darkness, a cloud that stung Natac’s nose and brought tears to his eyes. The dragon swerved wildly, banking right and carving a tight turn; as he looked to that side, the warrior had the impression of a world turned on end, a great cliff of dark ocean marking the periphery of space. With another lurch the serpent leveled his flight, then curved the other way, and Natac closed his eyes as they sailed right through a thick spume of churning smoke. He felt the heat against his skin, then a rush of coolness as they emerged.

“Can we get above this murk?” he called. “See what’s really happening down there?”

Obligingly, the mighty dragon sliced his great pinions through the air, pressing downward, lifting himself and his passenger as he flew a great circle above the entangled fleets. Regillix snorted, releasing a thin cloud of smoke, and Natac knew the wyrm was letting the magical blaze smolder in his belly, building pressure for a renewed series of fiery exhalations. A thousand feet above the sea they found cleaner air, and by the time Regillix had completed another full circle and gained hundreds more feet of altitude, Natac could get a good view of the entire battle.

Again the harpies rose toward them. This time Natac launched several blasts while they were still far below, and when the dragon turned his head as if to breathe, the cowardly creatures dove back down to harass the druid boats. Ignoring the flying pests, Regillix and his rider turned their attention back to the vanguard of the armada.

“There, to the left-all of Roland’s boats are engaged,” Natac observed. “Can you get us over there for a better look?”