“Got room for two more?” Loriabeth asked, appearing in the bridge hatchway with Skaggerhill at her back. Steelfine had already assigned a squad of riflemen to the captain’s guard, but additional guns couldn’t hurt.
“Of course, miss,” Hilemore told her. “You’re very welcome.”
He went outside to check on the Endeavour, finding the Voter volunteers lining her rails, crews standing ready at her cannon, a half-dozen four-pounders and two rifled six-pound pivot-guns. It was poor armament for what they were about to face but ordering Zenida to remain on station would have been pointless. Hilemore climbed up to the bridgehouse roof, taking the signal lamp and flashing out a brief message: Will proceed at full speed. Follow as best you can.
Zenida appeared at the door of the Endeavour’s wheel-house, silhouetted in the light from within as she raised her own signal lamp to respond: Try losing me, sea-brother.
Hilemore allowed himself a brief smile before handing back the signal lamp and climbing down to the bridge. “Mr. Talmant!”
“Sir!”
“Signal the engine room. Three vials to the blood-burner.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Mr. Scrimshine . . .”
“I know the way, Skipper.” Hilemore saw Scrimshine’s hands shake a little before he took a tight grip on the tiller, eyes locked on the dark sea beyond the prow. “Dead west it is.”
They heard it before they saw it. The flat crump of cannon carried through the morning mist that hung on the horizon. The sea was calm and the Superior steamed westward with the needle of the speed indicator dial pushed well past its maximum. By sunrise the Endeavour had fallen at least a mile behind causing Hilemore to entertain the faint hope the whole affair might be over before she could join the battle.
“Five miles until landfall, sir,” Talmant reported, glancing up from the map table, ruler in hand.
Hilemore swallowed a curse at the lingering mist. At her current speed the Superior would run aground before she could slow enough for a turn, and they had yet to catch sight of a target. “Switch to auxiliary power,” he said, sending Talmant rushing to the speaking-tube. “Tell the Chief to let her drift for one minute before engaging the engine. Ahead one-third.”
“Aye, sir.”
Hilemore saw flashes in the mist as they drew closer, then the first dim outlines of ships. He made out the shape of a Corvantine sloop and an armed Varestian freighter, both steaming in parallel to the as yet unseen shore, guns firing in relays along their port sides. More and more ships resolved into view as they drew closer and the sound of cannon fire became thunderous. There were so many ships steaming back and forth Hilemore at first had difficulty in making out the shore, but then he saw the imposing silhouette of the Redoubt rising above a narrow beach.
“Receiving multiple hails, sir,” Talmant said as a plethora of flags ascended the masts of the nearest ships, accompanied by the flicker of numerous signal lamps.
“Send the response in plain,” Hilemore said. “Here to assist. Blood-blessed aboard.”
Hilemore scanned the ships for their response then found his attention captured by a whispered mutter from Scrimshine, spoken in a strained reverential tone he hadn’t used since their first encounter with Last Look Jack. “Honoured ancestors accept the soul of this miserable wretch.”
The helmsman was staring through the forward window, eyes wide and wet, hands shaking again. Hilemore followed his gaze, spying what he initially took for a large dark cloud to the right of the Redoubt. Scrimshine evidently had keener eyes, however, for the cloud soon expanded to fill the sky above the shore-line, Hilemore making out the winged shapes amongst the mass.
“That’s . . .” he heard Loriabeth say in a tone eerily similar to Scrimshine’s. “That’s a whole lotta Reds.”
Hilemore’s gaze snapped to the fore-deck, seeing Clay share a brief embrace with Kriz before moving to climb up onto Lutharon’s back. “Don’t!” Hilemore shouted, rushing outside, cupping his hands around his mouth as he leaned over the walkway. “There are too many!”
Clay turned to him as Lutharon clambered up onto the prow. Hilemore saw him offer a grin of farewell before he raised his hand, drinking down the three vials it held in a few gulps before tossing them away. Hilemore’s protestations died on his lips as the drake launched itself from the ship, mighty wings raising vapour from the sea and tail whipping as he climbed into the air.
CHAPTER 49
Lizanne
“Get them all up!” Lizanne shouted as she sprinted towards the Typhoon, the other aerostat crews all running across the Redoubt’s courtyard to where their craft waited. Tekela was already strapping herself into the pilot’s seat when Lizanne clambered inside. Morva and the three gunners followed in short order. The top gunner climbed the ladder to her station in the upper cupola as the others prepared their guns and Tekela tilted the engines toward the ground, simultaneously opening the throttles to take off.
Lizanne slotted one of her three remaining Redballs into the chamber of her Smoker, positioning herself at the rear port hatch, gaze fixed on the top of the Redoubt wall as the Typhoon rose, expecting the Reds to appear at any moment. Instead they ascended into an empty sky, the reason becoming obvious as the walls fell away beneath them. The Red swarm was streaming by a half-mile distant, keeping out of range of the repeating guns as they flew over the coast and banked towards the Varestian fleet in a dense crimson mass.
“They’re going for the ships!” she called to Tekela, moving to the blood-burner’s ignition tube. “Take us east. Maximum speed. Morva, trance with the Hurricane and the Whirlwind, tell them to form up alongside.”
She waited until she could see the two aerostats through the port and starboard windows then injected Red and put her eye to the ignition tube, lighting the thermoplasmic engine. She managed to catch hold of the central support beam before the instant acceleration sent her flying and hauled herself forward to stand at Tekela’s shoulder.
She could see the ships already firing at the oncoming Reds, the diminishing space between them lined with criss-crossing tracer and exploding cannon shells. White splashes pock-marked the sea beneath the swarm as drake after drake fell to the guns, but it was clear no amount of fire-power would stem their charge, there were just too many. The ships closest to shore were blotted from view as the horde of Reds swept over them, Lizanne seeing others diving onto the neighbouring ships, talons opening to deposit Greens on their decks. Within seconds the entire fleet was obscured by the multitude of drakes, Lizanne catching sight of explosions blossoming beneath as ships began to fall victim to the assault.
“There,” Lizanne said, pointing to the densest part of the drake horde. “Take us straight through.”
“Swarmers?” Tekela asked, hand poised to trigger the firing mechanism for the rockets. There were four switches, one for each row of ten Swarmers fitted to the underside of the gondola.
“Not yet,” she said. “Let’s see if we can get some to follow us. We need to take the pressure off the fleet.”
A trio of Reds spotted the aerostats as they approached, peeling away from the flock to fly directly into their path. Tekela pulled the switch fitted to the top of the main control lever, triggering the forward guns and blasting the lead Red from the sky. The stream of bullets tore the wing of another, sending it spiralling down into the sea, but the third dodged aside, banking hard to assail them from the side only to be cut in two by a burst from the starboard gunner.