“Oh fuck me,” he heard a Wash Lane Volunteer mutter then curse as one of his fellows cuffed him to silence.
Hilemore tracked the leading Greens until they reached the base of the wall on the far side of the river. They boiled over the partially ruined structure in a leaping, snarling torrent, some charging directly into the town whilst others scrambled onto the battlement and sprinted towards the bridge.
Hilemore closed the spy-glass with a brisk snap and handed it back to Talmant before descending the tower steps at a measured walk. He moved to the box positioned at the point where the bridge met the eastern wall. One of the Volunteers barked out a command and they moved to position themselves alongside him in two ranks, kneeling in front, rifles and carbines levelled.
“Save your rounds,” Hilemore advised, turning the locking switch on the box and elevating the handle. Chief Bozware had rigged this some hours earlier, Hilemore unwilling to trust the task to anyone else. “Once the lock’s off just push it forward, sir,” he said. “There’s a one-second delay, give you a chance to put your hands over your ears.”
He told the Volunteers to do this now, but, receiving only puzzled glances in response, shrugged and turned his attention back to the bridge. The first Green crested the span almost immediately, flames already blooming in its maw. The Volunteers all fired as one, peppering the bridge with bullets and scoring hits on the beast’s forelegs and shoulders but failing to stop its charge. Seeing another two Greens behind it Hilemore decided further delay would be unwise and pushed the handle on the detonator before clamping his hands over his ears.
The blast wave was sufficient to send Hilemore and the Volunteers sprawling, blinking rapidly against the instant pall of dust then huddling or dodging to avoid the falling cascade of debris. Hilemore shook his head to clear the ringing from his ears, rubbing at his eyes and wafting smoke. When it cleared he was rewarded with the sight of a dozen or more Greens tumbling into the space where the central span of the bridge had been. They fell screeching into the fast-flowing torrent below to be instantly swept over the falls. The momentum of the Greens’ charge was such that the cascade of falling drakes continued for several minutes, much to the amusement of the Volunteers.
“That’s it, drown, you scaly fucks!” a thin-faced girl yelled across the divide where a dense throng of Greens milled about the end of the stunted bridge, shrieking in rage and coughing out flames. “Try and eat us now!”
Hilemore shifted his gaze from the enraged Greens to the west-side streets below the wall, seeing them packed with a tide of onrushing drakes. The first booby trap went off a few seconds later, the explosion destroying the fountain in one of the palatial squares in the administrative district. Hilemore saw at least ten Greens tumbling amidst flame and debris. The remaining traps exploded in quick succession, each blast seemingly bigger than the one before.
Despite the carnage the Greens charged undaunted through the streets towards the harbour. The bulk of the booby traps had been placed in and around the harbour side, explosives strapped to the piers and wharfs in the expectation the Greens would be drawn there, and so it proved. The entire water-front seemed to instantaneously erupt into a wall of flame. Numerous mansion houses were transformed into rubble by the multiple blasts, which birthed a series of raging fires.
Hilemore called for Talmant to toss him the spy-glass and trained it on the water-front, seeing a mass of drifting smoke and rising flame. For one brief moment he entertained the notion that they had stopped the Greens completely, perhaps destroyed them all, but a brief scan of the neighbourhoods beyond the inferno revealed ever more Greens thronging the streets. Undeterred they charged through the raging fires and into the harbour waters, churning them white with multiple overlapping wakes as they swam towards the western side of the harbour.
Hilemore was impressed by the discipline of the merchantmen who, as instructed, held their fire, waiting for the moment when the Superior let loose with her broadside. The first mine erupted when the Greens were a third of the way across the harbour, producing a sixty-foot-high spout of water along with several dismembered drakes. The remaining mines exploded in quick succession with similarly grisly results. For a brief time it seemed the harbour waters were boiling, such was the energy released in so short a time. Water lapped over the east-side wharfs like waves in a storm-tossed sea and the line of ships heaved in the swell.
“Did we get all the bastards, Cap?” one of the Volunteers asked, the hefty lad who had shown an interest in Hilemore’s medals.
“It’s Captain,” Hilemore replied, watching the displaced water subside back into the harbour in a miniature rain-storm. “And I very much doubt it.”
An instant later a Green shot from the water barely ten yards from the hull of a Blue-hunter and latched itself onto the forward anchor chain. It managed to scramble halfway to the prow of the ship before a fusillade of rifle-shots from the crew sent it flailing back into the water. Small-arms fire erupted as Green after Green shot through the surface, reminding Hilemore of a huge shoal of salmon making their way up-stream. Most were cut down in mid air but some managed to gain purchase on the rails, casting their flames across the decks and roasting several crewmen before being shot down. Hilemore saw with dismay the numerous white flashes close to the Superior and knew the mind overseeing this attack had recognised the greatest threat and concentrated its forces accordingly.
Thankfully, under Steelfine’s command the Superior proved equal to the task. The cannon arrayed along the starboard rail fired successive blasts of cannister as the Greens rose into their sights, blasting most to pieces. The few who did manage to clamber up the hull were swiftly cut down by experienced marksmen on the upper works.
Taking the sound of the Superior’s cannon as their cue the other ships opened fire with their heavy ordnance. At Hilemore’s insistence they had all been loaded with cannister or, in many cases, a collection of any hard metal that could be found. The deadly rain lashed the harbour, killing Greens still attempting to swim across from the west side and catching many as they leapt clear of the water.
The cannon fell silent and Hilemore knew this to be the moment of greatest danger as the gun-crews frantically began reloading their pieces. The burden of holding off the Greens now fell on the riflemen and those merchant crew with small-arms. The crackle of rifle- and carbine-shots sounded the length of the ships, the marksmen moving to the rail and firing down at the Greens below. The drakes seemed to have abandoned their tactic of leaping for the rails in favour of climbing up the hull with the aid of their iron-hard claws. Several ships began to take on a serious list as the weight of drake flesh dragged them down. Hilemore bit down a curse at the sight of drakes swarming over the side of a small steam-packet. The potentially disastrous loss was averted when the next ship in line, the freighter commanded by the Dalcian pirate woman, turned its freshly loaded cannon on its neighbour and raked it with cannister-shot. Blasted free of drakes, the steam-packet righted itself but there was no sign of life, either drake or human, on its deck.