Mark Chadbourn - The Silver Skull

"More than you have at your disposal."

The ship came to a juddering halt, almost throwing Will from his feet. Don Alanzo laughed at Will's puzzlement, and then nodded slowly as Will's eyes fell upon the globe, now pulsing with even greater intensity. Slowly but steadily, the fire ship began to move backwards, towards the English fleet.

"And so the world turns on its head, and what was a threat to us now becomes a spear driven into the heart of our hated enemy. With allies like ours, nothing can ever be as it seems," Don Alanzo mocked.

"Yes, you think you are on the road to heaven when you are sliding down to the pits of hell."

Will lunged with his sword, but Don Alanzo parried easily. The ship gathered speed as it moved towards the English fleet. Wind drove sheets of flames at Will and his opponent. It was a nightmarish arena even for two such master swordsmen. The raging heat seared Will's face and hands, and brought stinging tears to his eyes that blurred his vision as he attempted to attack. With his left arm thrown across his face to shield him from the heat, Don Alanzo was pushed off balance, each thrust a fraction awry.

Ducking and thrusting, Will tried to get close to the glowing globe, but Don Alanzo continually maneuvered himself in the space between. Whatever the nature of the object, Will could see it was no longer operating as it had in the cabin. Neither he nor Don Alanzo was affected by the globe; its power was seemingly directed into the ship itself, forcing it ever backwards.

The intense heat sapped Will's energy. Blazing chunks of wood falling from the yardarm and flames racing across the deck from the burning pitch left him little room to maneuver.

A wall of flame now enclosed them. Even if the English ships had their lanterns alight, Will would not have been able to see them. If the fire ship crashed into the fleet, all would be lost. The ships were so tightly packed that the fire would spread rapidly from one to another.

Thick smoke snaked around both of them. The air was now so hot it burned his throat and lungs every time he inhaled, and the fumes from the brimstone made his head spin.

Bounding back and forth among the flames, he and Don Alanzo performed an intricate ballet. Despite the conflagration drawing closer by the second, he could see in the Don's fierce eyes that he would not desert his post. His hatred for Will's slaying of his father burned as brightly as the fires, and Will was convinced his opponent was prepared to go to his death as long as he took Will with him.

The fire forced them into closer combat, making every sword-stroke even more difficult to direct. Will's blade tore through Don Alanzo's steaming cloak. The Don's missed Will's cheek by a hairbreadth. But whatever thrusts and feints he executed, Will could get no closer to the globe.

Smoke rose from where their clothes were singed by the fire, and their skin reddened, and their breath shortened, but still they fought on.

Will had a sudden shocking vision that he was in hell, that his entire life had prepared him for that moment, and that fire would be all he saw forevermore.

And then the air was torn by a resounding crack that sounded like the ship itself was splitting in two. The main mast cracked near the base, falling towards them in a cascade of flaming sail, rigging, and yards. Throwing himself sideways, Don Alanzo slammed hard on the smoking deck.

As the mast rushed towards him, Will propelled himself beneath the falling fire. His boot crashed hard against the globe and it shattered in an explosion of light with a sound like a child's cry. Will continued his motion in a tumble that took him mere inches away from the mast's thunderous impact. Flames soared up with a whoosh and the deck crumbled beneath it. Kicking out, Will launched himself towards the rail as the boards fell away beneath him.

Behind there were only flames. Don Alanzo had either been consumed by the fire or fallen into the gaping, blazing hold.

Will's clothes were alight, flames licking up his back. Placing one foot on the rail, he dove. A trail of fire followed him into the black water.

After the tremendous heat, the cold water was a shock. Striking back to the surface, he saw the fire ship now headed back towards the Armada where the other fire ships were already causing chaos among the Spanish fleet. Upwind, the signal cannon set the English ships in motion.

The battle had begun.

CHAPTER 53

drift in the high swell of the night tide, Will struck out towards the distant cliffs of Calais, but the sea was too strong. The blazing beacons of the fire ships cast a ruddy glare across the water, and for a while he thought it was the last sight he would see.

"Swyfte! Swyfte!"

His name was barked over the surging waves and the wind, but whoever called was hidden by the rolling swell.

"Here!" he yelled back.

A moment later a skiff crested the swell. Carpenter leaned over the prow, searching the water, Launceston and another seaman rowing behind. Carpenter hollered when he caught sight of Will, and they quickly fished him from the sea.

"We saw you dive from the fire ship," Carpenter said. "You prevented it from sailing into our fleet."

Shaking the saltwater from his hair, Will observed, "You came back for me, John."

He waited for Carpenter to claim the moral high ground, but he wouldn't meet Will's eyes and only said acidly, "Could we leave England's greatest hero to drown?"

"You have my thanks, John, and you, Robert." He glanced towards the soaring flames. "Together we led the start of the battle here, but there is much more to do. Let us head back to the Tempest, for I suspect those grey sails will soon hove into view."

A series of tremendous explosions tore through the night. Near the Armada, the cannon aboard one of the fire ships had exploded, blasting hot metal and burning wood into the scattering pinnaces and small boats. Columns of fire rose from the water, reminding Will of the Templar chamber in Edinburgh.

The fires of heaven and hell.

One by one the fire ships' guns exploded, raining burning fragments on the Armada's front line. Confusion was already rife among the Spanish fleet as ships raced haphazardly to escape the coming inferno, with most breaking free of the constrictions of the bay for open sea. There were collisions, torn rigging, shattered yards as the panic escalated. Many commanders ordered the mooring cables to be severed by the crew so they could sail away rapidly without anchor, a desperate act that would hamper them regaining any stable position. The defensive crescent formation fragmented across its entire length.

"Damn them!" Carpenter raged. "The Spanish have the luck of the Devil."

Vessels avoided the path of the fire ships by ten feet here, a foot there, but none of the Spanish fleet caught alight. Still blazing thirty feet into the air, the remnants of the fire ships came to rest in succession on the shore.

Will shrugged. "A bonfire of Philip's ambitions would have been a good sight, but the confusion itself is enough. We have increased our advantage."

They sculled the skiff back to the English fleet where they could hear the jubilation rising up from every deck. After the protracted fight along the channel, they had finally destroyed the Armada's formation. The ships were scattered to the four winds.

On board the Tempest, Courtenay roamed the deck, singing his bawdy shanties at the top of his voice. As the men cheered, and as Launceston looked faintly baffled by the attention and Carpenter embarrassed, Will leapt onto the rail and grabbed the rigging for support.