The dragon broke the surface forty yards distant, scales glinting wet, wings powering its body out of the water, its belly exposed for a few precious moments.
'Aim high. High. Now!'
He jerked down an arm though they wouldn't have been watching. The IceWind, the single product of all thirty mages, howled away.
The dragon climbed fast but not fast enough, the spell catching it on the lower belly and along the length of its tail. An unearthly screaming wail tore from its mouth, a sound that rose above the roar of the wind and the crashing of the waves.
Vuldaroq watched it still climb but its tail could no longer balance it and the IceWind gouged into its flesh. Slower and slower, the wings beat. It angled its head down on its slayers, long neck curling down, tipping its body over. Its eyes glinted, another bellow, answered by the others, escaped its mouth and it fell from the sky.
He'd been disoriented under water and had surfaced too near the enemy, and now Hyn-Kaan couldn't drag in his breath. Where the spell had struck, his whole lower body was numb, alien to him; his scales were cracked with cold and his flesh burned like it was on fire.
He called to the Kaan and entreated the Skies to keep him though he could never now return to Beshara. It was to be a lonely death, far from the Brood ancients, far from peace. His great body shuddered, his mouth gaped and his wings swept at the air but drove him no furthier. Hyn-Kaan's energy was spent, his mind registered the slowing beating of his heart and the deep cold spreading up to his. chest.
He sucked another breath into his tortured lungs. In his final moment of clarity, he knew there was one more thing he could do.
The cheer from the deck was cut short.
'Oh dear Gods,' muttered Vuldaroq. He rounded on the mages. 'ForceCones now. Linked spread. I want that reptile bounced. Do it!'
Feverish muttering rose from the deck, the mages kneeling for stability as they prepared. The dragon barrelled on in, neck outstretched but wobbling, wings beginning to ripple but determinedly spread, its angle steep but true. It would hit the ship. They only had a few heartbeats.
He felt a movement in the mana. ForceCones flashed out, invisible barriers anchored by the casting mages, a desperate attempt to deflect the beast as it hurtled right at them.
Hyn-Kaan struck the wall of ForceCones, his massive bulk slapping them away, catapulting mages from the deck or crushing their bodies into the rails.
'Run!'
Anyone that could already was, fore or aft, scattering from the point of impact. Men jumped into the sea and the helm spun the wheel, the ship lumbering into a turn.
Too late.
The dying dragon smashed head first into the vessel, catching it square, just below the level of the main deck. The impact was enormous, echoing out over the ocean. The huge body slammed in amidships, breaking its neck and driving its shoulders straight through the hull. The ship shuddered, whipping sideways and down, pitching some men into the turbulent sea and knocking every other over.
Wood and timbers exploded up and out, the main mast was chopped at its root to slap on to the ruins of the deck and bounce into the water. The dragon's wings tore rents in the weakened hull, buckling back as they went, the frozen tail shattering as it struck.
Its back broken, the ship collapsed in on itself, Hyn-Kaan's body coming to rest amidships, dead weight dragging the vessel down.
Above the noise of splitting timbers and rushing water swallowing the ship, the screams of the injured and trapped, doomed and pleading for help, was a wailing cacophony, smothered by the ocean that sucked them all down.
Slipping away on the ShadowWings he had prepared as he ran, Vuldaroq flew close to the waves to a sister ship, shaking and terrified, fearing what might fall next from the storm-filled sky.
Sha-Kaan's bellow of rage and grief tore the silence that followed. He and Nos-Kaan sliced through the heavy sides, entering the water where Hyn-Kaan and the ship had gone, wings tucked in, bodies like great bolts, seeking their lost brother.
And he was dead when they found him, tangled in rope and wreckage, his carcass slipping gently deeper. His head, with eyes
glazed, pointed skywards as he went, his slack, broken neck graceful with the support of the sea which bore him down so carefully.
Sha-Kaan turned, pulsed Nos to follow him and drove back up to the surface, breaking into the air, his wings thrashing, his mind ablaze, his brother lost after so much hardship on Balaia, his life taken by man. There would have to be revenge.
But as he soared up to just beneath the clouds, neck coiling round, his head searching for the next enemy, one man saved him from himself and his anger.
No, Sha-Kaan, said a voice in his mind. They'll kill you.
And he looked down again, saw the massed mages on the decks of the surviving ships and knew that Hirad Coldheart was right.
The Calaian Sun ploughed on, riding through the wreckage that was strewn across the sea. Sail cloth, baggage, broken timbers, ropes and lines. Bodies. Dozens of bodies. All rippling on the swell, the rain still pounding down.
The Kaan had scattered the Dordovan fleet. Only three ships still sailed and they were all angling away from the battle, north and west. Two mortally damaged vessels subsided into the ocean, their surviving crew frantically lowering any boats they had left and leaping into the sea. A third was also in serious trouble, its sails and mast fragments dragging in the water, its deck tilted at a crazy angle while waves crashed across it, battering the helpless crew.
They could be seen hacking and pulling at line, mast and sail, trying to shift the dead weight that dragged them over. And, with no control over direction, they sat broadside to the swell which was inexorably destroying them.
But Hirad didn't really take it all in. He had watched Hyn-Kaan's death plunge and had seen the surviving but severely wounded dragons dive after him. Now he tracked them high in the sky as they flicked in and out of the cloud layer. His heart was heavy. He had bade them come to The Raven's aid. And now Hyn-Kaan was dead and neither Sha nor Nos would survive a further spell attack.
Fly to Herendeneth, pulsed Hirad. Rest.
We will stay above you for now, came the reply. No enemy will fly to attack you. When darkness comes we will find a hiding place. The spells
burn us still. We had no defence. We weaken with every beat of our wings.
I am sorry, Great Kaan.
Skies save me, Hirad Coldheart. Tour land has brought us to this, not you. The air is bad, the food does not sustain us and we cannot renew ourselves. Good luck in what lies ahead.
Thank you, Great Kaan. You have made it possible for us to win this.
But Sha-Kaan's mind had closed to him. Hirad knew they would be gliding in the upper skies, resting on the wind until they had to land when darkness came.
Hirad looked again at the ocean. The Kaan had done their work. Whether it would be enough, only time would tell. Small sails were up and long boats were struggling to make headway as crews abandoned crippled vessels. Some of them headed for sister ships. Others, lost in the swell with the soldiers and mages they carried, might make it to shore. The Raven had the Protectors and they were worth five of any warrior. If they could force battle in tight confines, they could win.
But mages were what The Raven lacked. Dordover must have sixty-plus left alive. Maybe more. The Raven had three, and whatever the Al-Drechar could summon up. Very little, if Erienne's assessment of their deteriorating condition was anywhere near accurate. Even before any mage battle, though, they had to establish what it was they had to defend. And they had to get there with enough time to make preparations.
There was work to be done. Hirad turned from the bow rail and walked back down the ship. He waved Darrick over from where he was standing near the forward doors.