The Harbinger skipped the waves again, racing directly at the city, but it was no use. The following ship, with its larger bank of sails, was still eating up the distance between them and moved to cut their wind again.
“Elden, Hadrian!” Wyatt called. “I will be going about, but when I do, I will then change my mind and go back to my previous tack, do you understand? The moment you get my signal, run the jib up to port.”
Hadrian looked at Elden, who was nodding. “Show him, Elden. This has to go perfectly or we’re dead in the water. Also, get Alric and Mauvin on the lines. More hands will make this easier. The moment we are back on tack and under way, drop the jib. Let’s see how good their crew is. They have the advantage of more canvas, so let’s turn that against them. With all that sail, it will take them longer to recover, and if they don’t pull back in time, they will stall.”
“Your Highness,” he said, addressing Arista, “I will need to be facing forward to time this just right, so you need to be my eyes astern. I need you to watch the Ghazel ship and tell me the moment you see them starting to come around, got that?”
“Yes,” she replied, nodding in case her feeble voice was lost in the wind.
“Then get forward and hang on.”
She nodded again and began crawling to the front of the ship, moving hand over hand along the rail.
“Stand by to come about!” Wyatt shouted.
He waited. She watched as the Ghazel ship once more glided over, aligning itself, eclipsing their wind. Wyatt flexed his fingers on the wheel and took a deep breath. He even closed his eyes for a moment, perhaps saying a silent prayer; then he stiffened his back and turned the wheel hard over.
The ship sheered back to port. “Tacks and sheets!”
Elden and Hadrian went to work once more, and Mauvin and Alric followed their directions, pulling the yards round. Arista focused her gaze on the Ghazel ship behind them. She could feel the Harbinger shifting, sensed it slowing underneath her as it started to lose the wind.
“They’re turning!” she shouted as she saw the Ghazel coming about. The tiny spiders scattered across their deck in sudden fury. They were not just trying to match their turn; they were trying to beat them to it.
Wyatt did nothing.
“They’re turning,” she yelled again.
“I heard you,” he said. “We need to wait for them to be fully committed.”
Arista gripped the rail with nervous hands, feeling the ship moving slower and slower.
“Avast!” he finally shouted. “Back all braces! Raise the jib!”
The ship still had some wind, still some forward motion to it, and when Wyatt turned the wheel, it responded. The jib out front had the angle and caught what was left of the wind, turning the bow. A wave caught them dead on and broke, washing the deck, but the ship held true. The sails caught the wind and filled. Elden hauled down the jib as once more the Harbinger flew.
Behind them, the Ghazel realized their mistake but were too late. They tried to mimic the turn and she watched as their sails went slack.
Wyatt looked behind them. “They’re lost, stalled in the eye of the wind,” he declared, grinning, his chest heaving with excitement. “It will take them several minutes to catch it again. By then we will-”
“Sail!” Royce shouted. “Starboard bow!”
Wyatt’s grin melted as his head turned. Ahead of them appeared a ship that looked nearly identical to the one behind. It flashed a light and behind them the other Ghazel ship replied.
Wyatt looked fore and aft and she could see the story written clearly in lines of fear on his face. Through great skill, and a bit of luck, they had barely managed to avoid one ship. They would not fare well against two.
“Sail! Port bow!” Royce shouted, and she could see Wyatt visibly slump against the wheel as if struck from behind.
Wyatt lay off the wheel and let the ship slow and level off. There was no need to hasten their approach. Everyone on board looked to him.
“What now?” Alric asked, coming aft.
Wyatt did not reply. He just turned his head, looking back and forth at the ships. His forehead glistened. He bit his lip, and Arista noticed his left hand starting to shake.
“We’re out of options, aren’t we?” Alric asked.
“This ship doesn’t even have nets to impede boarders,” Wyatt replied.
“How will they attack?” Hadrian asked. “Will they board?”
“Eventually, yes, but first they will clear the deck with arrows.”
“Fire?”
“No,” Wyatt replied. “They have us. We’re boxed in, overwhelmed. They will want the ship.”
“Do we have to surrender?” Alric asked.
“Ghazel don’t take prisoners,” Hadrian told him. “They don’t even have a word in their language for surrender.”
“What do we do, then?” the king asked.
“We don’t really have a lot of options, Your Majesty,” Wyatt told him. “Those ships hold sixty, maybe as many as a hundred Ghazel each, and we don’t even have a means of shooting back. Their archers will drive us into the cabin; then they will grapple on and come aboard uncontested. At that point they could lock us in and sail us to their port.”
“Which they will do,” Hadrian added. “Then they will drag us into a ring and… and, well, you get the idea. No sense in spoiling the surprise.”
“I hate ships!” Magnus growled. “Infernal things. There’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide.”
“We’re going to… die?” Gaunt asked, stunned. “I–I can’t die. I’m going to be emperor.”
“Yeah, well, we all had plans, didn’t we?” Hadrian said.
“I didn’t,” Royce said, climbing down from the rigging. Arista noted a modest smile on his lips. “I don’t think I’ll be joining you in the cabin. I don’t mind a game of arrow dodging.”
“Actually only Arista and Myron should go in the cabin,” Hadrian said. “The rest of us will remain on deck. We’ll need shields-anything of wood about an inch thick will do, or metal even thinner. Trilons don’t have much penetration power. We can also use the mast as cover.”
Arista looked out at the approaching ships, coming at angles to intercept them. The Ba Ran Ghazel were coming and there would be no rescue by a dashing prince- the Ghazel always ate their victims.
“Not this time,” she told herself, and letting go of the rail, she walked forward. She stepped around Wyatt at the wheel and passed through the group of men in the waist.
“Arista?” Hadrian called. “You should get in the cabin.”
She looked out at the water.
“Mr. Deminthal,” she shouted, “take hold of that wheel. Everyone else… hang on to something.”
Taking a breath, Arista calmed herself and reached out into the dark-into the energy that lay around them, above and below. She could feel the depths of the ocean, the weight of the water, the floor of the sea, the fish, the seaweed, the glowing algae. She felt the breeze and grabbed it tight.
The wind, which had been a constant presence since they had climbed out of the shaft to the beach, abruptly died. The sails drooped; the incessant quiver and clank of pulleys and ropes halted. Not a breath remained and the world became silent. Even the waves perished. The ships stopped as the sea became as tranquil as a bathtub. The silence was deafening.
Then across the water the hush was broken by Ghazel voices. She could hear them, like the barks and howls of dogs. She felt them too. She felt everything and held it all in her grip.
She raised her hand, holding her fingertips lightly.
Fire? she thought. She had played that note before. She knew just how to do it. But as enticing as the thought of three flaming pyres against the water was, the light would alert the shore.
Wind? She could sense that chord. It was powerful. She could shatter the ships. No. Too unwieldy, like trying to pick up a coin with mittens.