Энтони Райан - Queen of Fire

“Raise all sails, Captain,” she told Larhten. “And signal the Red Falcon to remain at our starboard side. The other ships are to follow us.”

Larhten gave a sombre nod, eyeing the Volarian fleet with well-justified but controlled trepidation. “The course, Highness?”

She gave a laugh as she moved away, making for the bow, “Towards the enemy, good sir. With all possible haste.”

She found Alornis busily checking her engine, her hands moving with a speed and deftness that seemed almost unnatural. “Any damage, my lady?”

“Had to drain water from the pipes. And the fittings require a slight realignment.” Alornis hefted a mallet and began hammering at a copper tube on the engineʼs underside. “But sheʼll work, Highness.”

“Good. Take yourself below. Lords Iltis and Benten will see to the engine.”

Alornis didnʼt even glance up, continuing to hammer away as the Volarians drew ever nearer. Lyrna sighed and turned to Murel. “Thereʼs another mail shirt in my cabin. Please fetch it for Lady Alornis.” She drew Davoka aside, speaking softly in Lonak, “No harm is to come to her, sister. Promise me.”

“My place is by you.”

“Not today.” She gripped the Lonak womanʼs arm. “She is your sister today. Promise me.”

“You fear her brotherʼs wrath so?”

Lyrna lowered her gaze. “You know itʼs not his wrath I fear.”

Davoka gave a reluctant nod, taking the mail shirt from Murel and striding towards Alornis. “Put this on, little one.”

Lyrna joined Lord Nortah arranging a fighting party on the deck, fifty of his best fighters equipped with broad wooden panels for shielding against arrows. “My lord, I should like to address your troops.”

He bowed and issued a curt order, the company snapping to attention with a uniform stamp of boots. She scanned their faces, gratified by their lack of fear and the devotion that continued to colour every gaze. “I said once I wouldnʼt lie to you,” she told them. “And I wonʼt. We face a hard fight because I have made a grievous error. But I also tell you no lie when I say that this battle can be won, if you will stand with me.”

The instant shout of acclaim was enough to convince her further words were unnecessary. “Spare no enemy,” she told Nortah. “Every Volarian that sets foot on this deck must be killed before he can take another step.”

Unlike his soldiers, Lord Nortahʼs agreement was softly spoken, his expression the same cautious frown he always wore in her presence. “Iʼll see to it, Highness.”

She returned to the bow, taking a position on the raised platform just behind Alornis and the engine. Benten and Iltis were close on both sides of her whilst Murel stood behind, dagger in hand. Davoka crouched at the side of the engine, spear held low in readiness.

“I should fetch some shielding, Highness,” Iltis said. “Their arrows were many at the Teeth if you recall.”

“I recall very well, my lord. But that wonʼt be necessary.”

Lyrna watched the Volarian ships come ever closer, the leading vessel closing to a range of about five hundred yards. She glanced towards starboard, taking satisfaction from the sight of the Red Falcon alongside, a man standing ready at their own engine. She could only hope he had been properly taught how to use it. A glance towards the stern confirmed the other ships in their small fleet were following in an orderly narrow line, every deck crowded with soldiers and pirates.

The port-side ballista began to clatter as the Volarian ships closed, casting its bolts at the rigging of a small but swift warship tacking into their path. At first the arcing fountain of projectiles seemed to have no effect but they were soon rewarded by the sight of a figure tumbling from the warshipʼs mast to land heavily on the deck, raising an instant cheer from the ballista crew. Soon, however, the Volarian archers were able to bring their own weapons into play, a shower of arrows thumping into the Queen Lyrna from end to end. Lyrna watched a shaft smack into the planking an armʼs length away but managed to control an instinctive flinch. Fear is a luxury today. They need to see a queen.

The port ballista continued to clatter, the crewman winding the mechanism whooping with excitement at the effect on the Volarian vessel, his first bolt striking with sufficient force to pin a man to the deck. A dozen or more close-packed Free Swords fell as the archers in the Queen Lyrna ʼs rigging soon joined in, wreaking havoc on the warship as it veered away, littered with corpses.

A whooshing roar dragged Lyrnaʼs attention back to the bow where she was greeted with the sight of Alornis raising the engine to its full elevation, a stream of fire arcing towards the oncoming Volarian ship. It was one of their troop-ships, only slightly smaller than the Queen Lyrna , the archers in her rigging assailing them with a cloud of arrows as they closed at ramming speed. At first Alornisʼs fire-stream fell into the sea, raising enough steam to momentarily obscure the oncoming ship. However, when it cleared, they were rewarded with the sight of a blaze covering her bow from sea to rail. The Volarian ship seemed to shudder, her course altering abruptly like a wounded boar shying from a spear-point.

Alornis turned a fierce glower on the two soldiers working the bellows. “Pump harder! I need more pressure!”

She realigned the engine as the Volarian vessel wallowed in their path, unleashing another torrent of flame that licked along her side before ascending to sweep the deck, igniting men and rigging alike without distinction. Flaming bodies began to leap from the ship, a chorus of screams reaching them through the thickening smoke along with the stench of burning flesh. Alornis faltered then, her hand falling from the spigot, the flames dying, a pale stillness seizing her features.

Lyrna moved quickly to her side, placing a hand on her shoulder and turning her. “A burden not to be shirked, my lady,” she said, taking her hand and placing it firmly back on the spigot. “To your duty, if you would.”

An arrow came arcing down to smack into the engine, its steel head shattering on the iron fittings as it spun away. Alornis barely seemed to notice, her pale face still frozen as she nodded and returned to her task, altering the angle of the engine to cast flame at the Volarianʼs sails. Lyrna could see men running around the ship, buckets in hand as they fought flames that wouldnʼt die. Soon her rigging was ablaze and her crew began to abandon ship with a frenzied alacrity, men trailing flames as they tumbled into the sea by the dozen.

Lyrna cast about for another victim, spying a fast-moving warship some two hundred paces off the port bow. “Tell the captain to make for that one,” she said to Murel before turning back to Alornis. “My lady, I believe your engine requires more fuel.”

By evening they had burned their way through the centre of the Volarian line, dividing their fleet in two and sowing chaos and panic in every sailor and Free Sword to witness the spectacle of a dozen warships blazing in the gathering dark. But the battle didnʼt end. Although their cohesion had been lost, the Volarians fought on, ships mounting lone, often suicidal attacks, soon left burning in their wake or stormed by the Meldeneans. Only one came close enough to mount an assault on the Queen Lyrna . Her helmsman displayed considerable skill by swinging her around just beyond the range of Alornisʼs device, then hauling the tiller to slam into the Queen Lyrna ʼs starboard side, her complement of Varitai heaving ladders into place and storming across despite appalling losses inflicted by the ballista and the archers above.