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“Don’t let any of the bastards climb over the gunwales, or we’re done.” Fenrir hoisted his weapon. “Steady now, lads, steady.”
Shots from the few remaining pirate muskets whined past the crew’s heads as the first grappling hook came sailing over the side just aft of the starboard cathead.
The nearest sailor leaned over and fired his shotgun. An upthrust spear tip almost caught him before he could take cover again.
Another grappling hook caught on to the port gunwale, a little further aft than the first one, but the sailor who exposed himself and fired into the boat wasn’t quite as lucky as his mate. An arrow caught him in the left shoulder, though mercifully, he held on to his shotgun as he dropped behind the railing with a loud groan. Aswan Trader’s medic scurried over to the man and examined the wound while more grappling hooks sailed through the air. Horam and the other railgunners were now firing as fast as possible from their positions on either beam. At this range, each slug tore through wooden hulls and countless bodies, birthing fountains of blood that fell back upon the boats and the water like a horrible red rain.
A pair of hooks appeared level with the quarterdeck, and Rianne braced herself back-to-back with Lilith and Alcide. When the first head appeared on either side, the Brethren fired their needlers, and the pirates disappeared.
Throughout the brief engagement, the barquentine kept moving westward at the same speed, her quartermaster’s eyes on the waters ahead, ignoring everything else as best he could. More shotguns fired, one barrel after the other, drawing howls of agony from unseen Saqqarans in their sinking boats, then the first of them came into sight astern, their gunwales awash, surrounded by reddish stains.
Around the ship, sailors ripped grappling hooks from the railing and tossed them overboard while dodging upthrust spears, and the odd arrow fired at too short a range for both power and precision.
A fight that seemed eternal to Rianne’s hyper-sensitive awareness ended abruptly, and she felt fatigue envelop her while the railgunners took parting shots over Aswan Trader’s stern.
She touched Lilith’s arm.
“How many are left?”
The younger woman closed her eyes and reached out with her mind.
“I can make out approximately forty souls.”
“Meaning we killed over a hundred.”
“It would appear so.”
“Any injuries other than Paolo?”
Lilith took a quick look around the deck but saw only the medic tending to the man with the arrow wound.
“No.”
“Good. Take Alcide and help with Paolo. They have smeared the arrowhead with a noxious substance, perhaps human excrement, and his wound could fester quickly if it isn’t cleaned with care.”
Lilith knew an order when she heard one and bowed her head.
“Yes, Sister.”
The two hurried off while Rianne leaned against the mizzenmast, exhausted. When Horam finally stopped sniping at the increasingly distant pirates, he slipped his gun’s sling over a shoulder and joined her, an air of worry on his plain, square face.
“Are you okay?” He asked in a low-pitched voice.
“I reinforced the crew’s courage and determination, and it took every bit of energy I could muster.”
“Ah.” Understanding lit up his eyes. “I wondered why they fought with more resolve and less fear than I expected, even under the circumstances. Maybe ships using the Central Passage should take Lyonesse-trained Sisters as part of the crew.”
“Or the Thebans can take the Northern or Southern Passage and count themselves lucky using either only adds a week or so one way to a given trip.”
“What was that?” Fenrir asked as he joined them behind the wheel while his first mate secured the ship from action stations.
“I was telling Horam you and your fellow captains might consider trading distance for safety by using the other passages until the Saqqaran pirate problem is sorted.”
Fenrir rubbed his chin, the shotgun in his left hand forgotten.
“Well,” he drawled, “this one was worse than the attack that put three of my crew in your hospital, Sister. Much worse. Without your warning, our railguns, and Friar Horam’s military training, things wouldn’t have ended well.”
“And the pirates will adapt. Today’s survivors will make sure their people use different tactics the next time a Theban ship enters these waters.”
“They lost a lot of men.”
She nodded once.
“True. But we don’t know how many of them salivate at the idea of capturing an ocean-going vessel crammed with trade goods and, for Hatshepsut, modern technology such as it is. I would feel happier if our return voyage was through another channel, one without a recent history of pirate attacks.”
“That’ll cost extra on the charter.”
“The priory would rather pay for another week at sea than for the burial of four Brethren.”
Fenrir inclined his head.
“Point taken, Sister.”
“And,” Horam said, “if it weren’t for our ability to snipe at their boats from a distance with your railguns, they’d have made it over our gunnels. Thankfully, those boats were rather low in the water by the time they reached us, and their crews were more than a little damaged.”
“Aye. Point taken as well, Friar. It’s a shame we can’t yet talk with our home port and warn other ships headed for Aksum that the Central Passage has become too dangerous. Unless...” He gave Rianne a speculative look.
“Yes. We brought a pair of shortwave radios so we can contact the priory in case of an emergency. I think this qualifies. Let me warn Sister Hermina, and she’ll speak with the shipping authority.”
“Tell me, Sister, would you have thought of doing so if I hadn’t brought it up?”
“Yes. Perhaps not at once, but within the hour. You must excuse me. I’m still a little out of sorts.”
“Understandable. If you’ll excuse me in turn, I must see that we leave this place pronto.” Fenrir nodded once, then headed for his first mate, who was re-organizing the watches so they could hoist as much canvas as possible.
“You’d have called home without his suggestion, all right.” A sly smile crept across Horam’s face. “But you wouldn’t have told Lars, would you?”
She shrugged.
“At this point, I’m not sure I can answer that question honestly, but yes, I would most certainly have warned Hermina on my own.”
“Do you need help getting below deck?”
Rianne took a few tentative steps, then shook her head.
“I’m fine, but after the evening meal, it’s to bed until morning. I never boosted forty minds at once before today.”
“And this one thanks you for the effort. Calmer spirits are more apt to hit the target. If not for our engaging them at extreme range, we would have suffered more than just one casualty. Though they’re solid men, my fellow railgunners aren’t Marines, capable of keeping their wits about them while facing three times our number in drugged-up savages screaming like the souls of the damned. This channel must be placed out of bounds until someone cleans up the pirate problem. And with no nation on Hatshepsut fielding a Navy, it’ll probably wait until our people set up a military outpost here.”
“Which will take a decade or two. I’ll warn Hermina now. There’s nothing we can do for ships already at sea, but it might offer the Thebans added impetus to move ahead with building a radio network and equipping their ships. The government hasn’t been overly enthusiastic at diverting the resources.”
Horam winked at her.
“Not enough potential for graft.”
“Cynic.”
“Realist. The Thebans are no worse or better than any other politicians and bureaucrats throughout the ages. Besides, graft has always been omnipresent in one form or another. Even back home on Lyonesse.”
“Sadly.”
She gave him a vague wave and vanished down the aft stairs.
Horam rounded up the railgunners and checked their weapons, power packs, and ammunition stocks before chatting with them informally about the battle. It was a habit he’d picked up when he wore the Republic of Lyonesse Marine Corps uniform with command sergeant stripes on the sleeves and led a Pathfinder troop. All three were still keyed-up, their synapses firing at high speed, but Horam knew they would hit a sudden wall within the next hour or two, certainly the moment Aswan Trader left the Central Passage.
After ensuring the weapons were back in their cases and the used power packs rigged to their solar chargers, Horam knocked on Rianne’s cabin door.
“Enter.”
He pushed the wooden panel aside and stuck his head in. She was sitting on the bunk, one of their shortwave radios in her lap, a tired expression lining her face.
“Any luck.”
She shook her head.
“No. Either no one’s listening back home, or I’m not getting through.”
“Try again after sunset. Shortwave radios work better at night, and if nothing else, it’ll be late enough in Thebes that the duty Friar will be in the main office and capable of hearing your call.”
Rianne put the radio on the bunk and stood.
“Is the end of the channel in sight?”
“Not yet, but it’s widening, or at least that was my impression just before I came below deck.”
“The sooner we’re away from this evil place, the better. The effort of dealing with its oppressive aura is becoming increasingly difficult in my weakened state.”
“Since I also feel it in an attenuated fashion, for once, I can imagine what it’s doing to you.”
She grimaced at him.
“In which case, it must affect the crew as well, though they know it not.”
Later, when the sun was kissing the western horizon, all four Brethren stood at the stern and watched the last Saqqaran islands drop away on either beam. The barquentine, a full suit of sails aloft, had entered the Aksum Sea and turned her prow several degrees to starboard.
Rianne let out a soft sigh and smiled at Horam.
“The evil aura is fading away; praise the Almighty.” Then, a frown crossed her tired features. “Now that it’s not blotting out everything else, I can sense the crew’s dismay. Slaughtering so many Saqqarans will leave a mark on their psyches. Whether it heals is up to each individual.”
“The Void giveth,” Horam intoned, his right index finger raised up.
“The Void taketh away.”
A new voice joined them at that moment, Captain Fenrir, who’d heard them reciting the Order’s overriding mantra and stepped over from his side of the binnacle.
“Blessed be the Void.” He inclined his head. “And its servants. Without Friar Horam directing the railguns, we surely would have fought on this deck and perhaps lost lives of our own.”
The former Lyonesse Marine grinned.
“I’m always happy if I can send blackened souls into the Infinite Void where they can no longer harm the righteous, sir.”
A smirk appeared on Fenrir’s tired-looking face.
“Remind me to never piss you off, Friar. But am I mistaken in believing the Order’s Rule forbids taking another’s life? I thought you religious types were pretty scrupulous about the sanctity of life.”
“Usually,” Sister Rianne replied. “But the Almighty allows exceptions, such as when we face evil, especially one trying to kill the innocents around us.”
“Then I should take a closer look at this faith of yours that so many of my sailors are embracing.”
“I would be glad to teach you, Captain. But right now, I’d be even gladder for a warm meal and a comfortable cot.”
At that moment, the galley bell sounded, and Fenrir chuckled.
“Your first wish is granted, and the timing for your second is entirely up to you. But the Aksum Sea is usually calm at this time of year, so the night should be peaceful.”
“When will we arrive in Mazaber?”
“The day after tomorrow.” He waved at the aft stairway. “I won’t stand between you and supper. Enjoy.”