image [https://i.imgur.com/9JnFmXw.jpg]
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A sailor called down to Mirabelle from The Rogue Wave’s top platform, shouting out names as the approaching ships were identified.
The smaller of the two was The Sunriser, a light military frigate, probably hosting a similar crew size to The Rogue Wave at roughly a hundred and fifty sailors.
Fig was more worried about Rathulin’s Star, the massive war galleon following close behind its ally. She recognised the name as belonging to a warrior king from the age of myth, and it certainly fit the grandeur of the warship.
The war galleon was a floating fortress, four decks of reinforced hull and railing mounted ballista that towered out of the water, packed to the brim with Dynasty soldiers. It must have crewed at least five-hundred, practically an army all on its own. Most frontier towns had garrisons smaller than that.
‘You’re mad,’ Fig said to Mirabelle, who only beamed wider and started walking down the deck towards the prow.
The Dynasty vessels were painted blue and white, with blazing sun insignias shining from their sails. They were just under four miles out, and growing slowly closer, though the wind favoured The Rogue Wave.
‘Battle stations!’ Grisson roared, and Mirabelle’s pirates flocked to grab spears and crossbows from crates brought up from the hold. They strapped on leather armour, light enough to potentially swim in, and prepared ladders and grappling hooks on deck..
Fig saw another of Mirabelle’s officers drawing charged ether crystals from a strongbox and handing them out to the small cadre of pirate mages, who took up positions across the deck.
They were an odd group; none had the scholarly air Fig associated with Magisterium wizards, nor the martial edge of imperial war-mages.
Mirabelle’s mages looked like a cast of misfits, but if Fig had learnt anything about magic users, it was that the stranger they looked, the more dangerous they normally turned out to be.
The youngest mage was a young eastern Alfir man covered in tattoos of blooming flowers, and dressed in a bathrobe that showed a lot of leg.
Looming beside him was a broad and bare chested Rossak with green and red skin, covered in scars. He had black hair so long it was woven into a braid that swung down by his ankles as he walked.
An old Mardin woman joined them from below decks, so stooped and weathered with age that her skin hung off her like wet cloth. As she walked, she leant on an enchanted staff of brass and wood, covered in rippling runic sigils.
Finally there was Mirabelle’s quartermaster Grisson, the ex-magisterium mage who’d left the Heartland to become a pirate for reasons he’d never explained to Fig. He spoke softly to the other mages and directed them about the ship as they prepared for the battle.
‘Remember what I said yesterday?’ Fig said to Rick, following Mirabelle across the deck, ‘about this ship getting sunk.’
He nodded, and she saw he was shaking slightly, ‘You just had to tempt fate didn’t you.’
‘Me and my big mouth,’ she agreed, drawing Whisper from its sheath.
‘What’s happening?’ Dorian poked his head out of the hatch in the centre of the deck.
‘We’re being attacked. Stay down there,’ Fig said as she passed him.
‘Attacked! By who?’ he demanded, puffing himself up with indignation.
‘Two warships of the Imperial Navy,’ Rick said.
‘Oh… Oh dear. What are our chances?’ Dorian asked.
‘Not good,’ Fig said, and kept moving towards the prow.
Depending on the wind, they still had probably ten minutes before the enemy ships were within engagement range for naval combat, which was roughly five-hundred metres. At that range, squads of skilled imperial war-mages from The Sunriser and Rathulin’s Star would open fire on The Rogue Wave with spells designed to cripple the ship for boarding. She doubted Mirabelle’s mages could hold them off for long, outnumbered as they were.
Between the two warships there were probably a dozen imperial war-mages, maybe as many as eighteen or twenty. More than enough to blast The Rogue Wave to the bottom of the ocean, should they so wish.
‘Are you sure about this?’ Fig asked Mirabelle through gritted teeth as she arrived at the front of the ship. Rick scurried behind them, keeping close to Fig and squinting fearfully at the horizon.
‘Mirabelle, as somebody you’ve hired to keep you alive on the journey to Loverlock, I have to say, it’s not the best fucking idea to go into battle against two fully armed warships!’ Fig continued, trying to get Mirabelle’s attention.
‘Duly noted,’ Mirabelle said, casually motioning two of her sailors to unveil the mysterious crate they’d mounted on the forecastle before leaving Saltcrust, ‘It’s wonderful to see you taking your job so seriously, Fig.’
‘And yet, I get the sense you’re not going to listen to me,’ Fig muttered as the canvas was pulled down.
‘With you as my bodyguard, I feel completely safe,’ Mirabelle flashed her a wink, ‘After all you’re fully healed, aren’t you? I’ve seen you swinging that sword around and exercising on deck.’
‘That isn’t the point,’ Fig protested, ‘We’re ridiculously outnumbered!’
‘Have a little faith that I know what I’m doing,’ Mirabelle said, and stepped up to help her crew open the crate.
The top of the long wooden box was pried open, and the walls collapsed outwards, finally revealing the contents to the world.
Some kind of huge artillery gun sat in the centre of the forecastle.
Fig’s jaw dropped, and she heard Rick gasp at the sight.
The barrel was long and ridged in a hexagonal shape, with an attached gunner's seat at the side, and a pair of crank handles on the base that could rotate and tilt the entire mechanism for aiming.
Fig could see the intersecting gear crest of the northern city state of Garrel, stamped onto the metal of the gun barrel.
There were always insane stories about inventions being cooked up by artificers in the independent north, and she’d mostly dismissed them as outlandish speculation, but Fig had to believe her eyes now that she could see for herself how far they’d come. This gun looked like something from another world.
Black powder and cannons, both the large siege pieces and smaller handheld fire spewers, had been around in the Dynasty for a hundred years or more, but they’d never gained mainstream adoption by the military or armed civilians, due to their cost, awkward reloading, and enormous drawbacks compared to the versatility of war mages.
A single trained war mage with a stock of charged ether crystals, could dish out more destruction in a few minutes, than an entire cannon line could in twice the time. As a result, magic took up the role of artillery and crowd suppression in almost every aspect of contemporary warfare, both on land and at sea.
That was why most warships didn’t bother with cannons, except handheld flame spewers for clearing hallways, or as a close range tool for igniting sails. Battles were determined by superior mage power and brutal boarding tactics.
The same had been true since The Forgotten War, with no sign of changing, until now it seemed.
Someone behind Garrel’s walls had clearly continued pushing this technology forward, despite its drawbacks, because the gun looked nothing like the few clunky and inaccurate cast iron cannons Fig had seen before. It was sleek steel, precise, and cruelly beautiful in a way that filled a classically trained swordsman like Fig with the existential dread of obsolescence.
Mirabelle strode over and placed an admiring hand on the long barrel of the gun. The glint in her eye was pure joy and danger.
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
‘Let’s start with the incendiary piercers. It’ll give them something to worry about.’ she said to one of her officers, who nodded and ran off to retrieve a box of ammunition from the ship’s armoury.
‘The new toy you’ve been talking about?’ Fig asked, tentatively stepping up to the gun.
‘Do you like it?’ Mirabelle turned and grinned, ‘I’m still trying to come up with a fitting name.’
‘It’s terrifying,’ Fig said honestly, ‘How far can it shoot?’
‘It’s supposed to be effective below two miles,’ Mirabelle said, ‘But that’s on land, we have to account for ship sway. I’m thinking we’ll start firing when they’re a mile out.’
‘That’s farther than most mages can project their spells,’ Rick said, looking at the gun with awe, and then back at the approaching ships, ‘If we maintain distance they won’t even be able to respond.’
‘That’s the plan, Master Crichét,’ Mirabelle said, swinging herself up into the gunner’s seat, ‘Let's put her to the test. Heading to forty-five degrees, Mr Grisson! Let’s get right in their dead zone and make them tack towards us.’
The Rogue Wave swung out further from the coast, using their favourable angle of approach to draw the warships onto a heading that meant they had to fight the wind to advance, then the pirate ship slowed to half sail and waited for the enemy to get within gun range.
Dorain arrived nearby, taking notes on a pad and drawing up a quick sketch of the long gun.
‘I told you to stay below deck,’ Fig hissed at him.
‘And miss out on recording a dramatic sea battle in the flesh, no thank you!’ Dorian shot back, ruffling his hair in the breeze ‘My readers demand firsthand accounts, no matter how perilous. And besides, I’ve been shipwrecked before. It’s best to be above deck when everything starts sinking.’
‘Suit yourself, just try not to get in anyone’s way,’ Fig sighed. If the writer wanted to put himself in more danger, that was his business.
A small gunnery crew loaded the long gun with practised efficiency, they’d clearly trained in secret for just this situation. The rounds they used were aerodynamically sharpened at the end, and contained a fuse poking out of the back. Incendiary piercers, Mirabelle had called them. Fig was curious to see what they would do to a ship.
When The Sunriser, being the faster of the two warships, drew into the long gun’s comfortable range of just over a mile, Mirabelle lined up her shot using an aiming apparatus in the gunners chair that helped to account for distance and prevailing wind.
‘Fire!’ she called, and one of the gunnery crew lowered an ember rod that ignited the powder charge in the belly of the long gun.
A deafening boom rocked the ship, and the long gun fired its round in a flash of fire and smoke that drifted over the waves.
Fig squinted, trying to follow the projectile as it tore across the distance towards the enemy ship, but it moved so fast she completely lost track of it.
A couple of seconds later, their lookout with a spyglass called a successful hit. The crew of The Rogue Wave erupted into cheering and applause.
Fig’s eyes were glued to The Sunriser. It was too far away for her to make out the impact with the naked eye. What was visible came a few seconds after the initial strike, when a furious gout of flame suddenly burst out of the hull and flared over the deck and rigging.
The flames were tall and burnt with the awful brightness of an alchemical concoction. Fig made herself a promise to never get anywhere near those incendiary rounds with an open flame.
In moments, it seemed half the ship was smoking, but she could see flashes of spell-casting as the Dynasty war-mages fought to get the fires under control.
‘Outstanding! Let’s go again, like we drilled,’ Mirabelle called out, and the crew cheered once more as the gunnery crew sprung back into action, reloading the long gun with a new powder charge and incendiary piercer.
While The Sunriser and Rathulin’s Star struggled against the wind to approach, Mirabelle nailed them with round after round, adjusting between shots as she sank another three into the frigate, and landed two shots into the lower decks of the war galleon. A few shots went wide and sent up nothing but sea mist, but in a few minutes, The Rogue Wave was able to start vicious alchemical fires on both approaching warships, while the pirates skirted away from their enemy and prevented them from getting anywhere near close enough for the war mages to muster any kind of offensive response.
‘This is brutal,’ Rick whispered, standing at Fig’s elbow as they watched the crew of The Sunriser desperately fight the fires that were pouring out of their lower decks.
‘This might be the future of warfare,’ Fig responded, ‘I’ve never been so happy that I didn’t join the military when I left home.’
‘Yeah…’ Rick said, ‘Most of those sailors are probably just kids from the Heartland who signed up with the navy so they could see the world.’
The flames climbing the rigging of The Sunriser, caught on the sails, and spread fast, burning up the blazing sun crest of the Radiant Dynasty.
The mages on board were trying to put out fires, and defend against incoming shots with deflection wards, but everything had gotten out of hand so fast, there was nothing more they could do.
People started throwing themselves overboard, and swimming away from the flaming hulk of the ship.
Mirabelle’s crew cheered victory as The Sunriser dropped out of the battle. They’d never even drawn close enough to retaliate.
Rathulin’s Star was faring far better.
Flames licked up the hull, but the massive war galleon had enough mages to spare that they could deal with the fires already onboard, and set up effective defensive wards at the same time to stop new shots landing.
Teams of Dynasty soldiers worked pumps, drawing seawater up to soak the hull and help quell exterior fires. Smoke still billowed from below deck, but they were responding swiftly and getting things under control.
As the next shot from the long gun flashed towards the ship, it glanced off a shimmering barrier and plunged into the ocean to the right.
‘Let’s switch to conventional shot but keep up the pressure!’ Mirabelle yelled, ‘I want them to waste as many of their ether crystals as possible before they reach us.’
'I thought they might back off when they saw The Sunriser go down,' Rick said.
'No, Mirabelle got them good and pissed off, and I bet their captain's main priority now is to capture this gun so the Dyansty can take it apart and figure out how it works,' Fig replied, 'They aren't going to stop until they take this ship, no matter the cost.'
The Rogue Wave was able to maintain distance and fire off a few more shots, until Rathulin’s Star’s sails suddenly filled with wind.
The war galleon lurched forward, turning out of its tack and heading directly for The Rogue Wave, much faster than it had previously managed. Fig could see white surf gathering around the prow as it crashed through the waves toward them.
‘Shit!’ Mirabelle said, ‘Everyone get ready!’
‘How are they doing that?’ Fig asked Rick, ‘The wind should still be against them.’
‘I think their mages are summoning their own wind to drive the whole ship forward,’ Rick said, ‘It’s got to take a lot of power, but it means they can close in on us fast.’
‘We can’t stay ahead of them at this rate!’ Mirabelle called down, ‘But they’re burning a lot of juice to catch us. Hopefully it’s enough for our mages to have a chance when we engage.’
Grisson hurried over and spoke to Rick.
‘Up on the quarterdeck, boy,’ he said, ‘We’ll need your help once the spells start flying.’
Rick seemed to shrink away at first, but he nodded and followed the quartermaster.
‘Good luck,’ he called back to Fig.
‘You too,’ she saluted him with Whisper, ‘Stay alive.’
Mirabelle fired a final shot as Rathulin’s Star closed to 7oo metres.
The shot deflected harmlessly off the war-mages’ magical defences and into the water.
‘Right, cover the gun,’ she roared as she jumped down from the gunner's chair, ‘Hard to port. I want a three-hundred degree heading. You know the deal. Follow your officers, protect our mages, and keep this deck clear. Fuck the Dynasty! Let’s send these bastards to the deep!’
The pirates howled in response, as The Rogue Wave turned and caught the wind, racing in to meet Rathulin’s Star.
‘Fig, with me!’ Mirabelle called, and Fig fell in at her side.
Mirabelle cracked open a chest and pulled out a hand-cannon, except it was longer and thinner than most, with a stock to brace against the shoulder and a pair of peculiarly cut ether crystals set beside a groove for feeding powder into the barrel. Another gift from the inventors in Garrel from the looks of it.
‘More tricks up your sleeve?’ Fig asked.
‘An investment in good faith from my allies in the north’ Mirabelle said, ‘I’m gunning for war-mages, but I need to get up high so I can fire down on the galleon’s deck.’
She passed another hand-cannon to Fig, this one shorter and meant to be fired with one hand.
‘I’ve never used one of these,’ Fig said.
‘It’s already charged and loaded, just don’t swing it around too much before you fire it, or everything could fall out of the barrel,’ Mirabelle said, ‘Cock it by raising this – she indicated one of the spring loaded arms holding a shard of ether crystal – then point it at your target and pull the trigger. I’d advise getting as close as you can, these small ones aren’t very accurate. I want you down here with your enchanted sword, keeping their boarders off our mages, and if you get a chance to kill one of theirs, take it. Use the pistol, they won’t be expecting it.’
Fig nodded to show she understood, ‘Mirabelle, this is going to be a shitshow.’
‘My crew know what they’re doing,’ Mirabelle shouted back as she grabbed a box of preset cartridges and started climbing the rigging with her gun slung over her shoulder. The Alfir mage with the flower tattoos was already up in the mainmast platform, and he helped Mirabelle finish her ascent.
Fig ran over to the portside railing of the main deck, and hunkered down with Whisper and the hand cannon held at the ready.
Moments later, the ships got into spell-casting range and the world became a roar of lights and fire.
[End of Chapter 17]