Steven was up again and firing back, sending a barrage of fireballs, one after another, slamming into the cutter’s stern. Three explosions later, the stern rail was on fire and the officers, with their sorcerer, had retreated amidships. ‘One down,’ Steven murmured, ‘and now for the stays.’
His next volley was aimed at the knots of heavy hempen cord and the wooden tackle and metal spikes bracing the cutter’s masts. Without mystical protection, the stays were easy to hit and surprisingly easy to sever. When the hawsers snapped, the reports carried like gunshots.
The sound brought the Malakasian captain round. It took just a moment for him to realise that he was beaten and the captain and crew of the Morning Star heard him shouting orders to douse the fires and tack to safety.
The brief engagement was over.
On the quarterdeck, Captain Ford hooted wildly and danced like a drunken schoolboy. ‘Outstanding!’ he shouted at Sera, who took over at the helm and kept the Morning Star running north. As the gap quickly widened between them, Steven returned the captain’s excited embrace, then ran for the stern.
Cupping his hands again, he screamed, ‘Don’t do it! You must stop now!’
But the Malakasian magician, enraged and embarrassed, leaped high, whirled his hands above his head and cast a destructive spell at the fast-moving brig-sloop.
Steven felt it coming, felt the air and the water around them almost flinch in anticipation, but the attack was easily deflected. Steven closed his eyes, concentrated, and felt the assault shatter, shards of magic spinning across the water. ‘Don’t,’ he whispered, fearing it was too late. ‘You don’t understand.’
‘What’s the matter?’ Brexan asked. She and Kellin, armed with longbows, had watched the exchange from the quarterdeck. With the danger apparently behind them, Kellin now propped hers against the rail and snaked her injured arm back into its sling.
‘Hopefully nothing,’ Steven said, turning to rejoin the others. ‘We’re free, and unless any other patrolling vessels we come across just happen to have a crewman who doubles as the ship’s magician, we have a dead-certain way to convince them to give up the chase.’
‘I heard those ropes snap,’ Kellin said. ‘They hold the masts up, don’t they?’
‘Not any more,’ Steven laughed, looking around for Tubbs. ‘What’s for breakfast?’
‘Whatever you wish,’ Tubbs replied. ‘I think this morning you’ve earned captain’s honour.’ He cocked an eyebrow at Captain Ford, who nodded.
‘Oh God,’ Steven sighed, ‘anything I want? I’d kill for a Western omelette, Cajun hot sauce on the side, black coffee, orange juice and a copy of the Denver Post.’
Tubbs’ brow furrowed. ‘You’re really not from Orindale, are you, young man?’
Steven laughed. ‘Not exactly, no. If you’ve got some fruit, I’ll have that with some bread and tecan.’
‘That I can do. I’ll be right back.’ Tubbs scurried off as the others turned back to their interrupted conversation.
‘At least we know how they tracked us overnight,’ Kellin said.
‘True,’ said Brexan. ‘He probably knew where we were the whole time.’
Gilmour said, ‘That was smart of you, Steven. You didn’t use anything too resonant. That little bit of fire wasn’t more than a couple of pebbles in a pond. We should be all right.’
‘But it may be too late, anyway,’ Steven said, ‘not because of us, but because of him, the Malakasian. He was blasting away at us with a goddamned Howitzer. I’m worried that fool alerted Mark, hammering away like that.’
‘You’re right,’ Gilmour said. ‘We’ll need to be prepared for anything, just i-’
‘Captain!’ Kanthil had been in the rigging all morning and now, gesticulating wildly astern, he was screaming, ‘Great whoring gods, Captain, look at it!’
‘Did they hit something?’ Ford called, running to the stern.
‘No,’ Kanthil cried, distressed, ‘it’s just opened, like a hole in the ocean!’
Partisans and crew alike leaned on the aft rail and watched as the Ravenian Sea opened and swallowed the Malakasian cutter whole.
‘Mother of Christ,’ Steven whispered.
‘That answers your question,’ Gilmour said. ‘He didn’t pinpoint our position, but he found them.’
No one else spoke as the surface boiled white and choppy, then wrinkled back into soft swells. Nothing remained of the cutter; there were no survivors in the waves.
‘Brace yourselves,’ Kellin cried, looking nervously over the side. ‘We could be next.’
Garec took her hand. It was cold and trembling. None of them had slept in two days. ‘We’ll be all right, won’t we?’
Still staring at where the naval ship had been, Steven murmured, ‘Yes, we should be fine. Mark figures he just killed us… killed me. This ship was under attack by a powerful sorcerer with a penchant for big, showy attacks. That sorcerer was targeted and is now dead.’
‘So Mark thinks that was us,’ Garec said.
‘That’s right. Unless he sensed the orbs I was using, I guess he believes we’re just a Malakasian ship. If the table had been open, he’d have felt my deflective spells and we’d be swallowed up too, so it must have been closed until he used it to drown them.’
‘Nerak would have been able to sense the resonant spells that blazing idiot was hurling at us,’ Steven went on, ‘that’s why I was trying to stop him. And Mark in turn felt them, found him, opened the table-’
‘And ate him,’ Garec finished.
‘So what are you saying?’ Captain Ford interrupted. ‘Do I need to worry about my boat or not?’
‘I don’t think so, Captain,’ Gilmour said, ‘because it would have happened already, and because Steven didn’t use any magic that Mark Jenkins would have been able to sense from this far away.’
‘Very good,’ he said. ‘Well then, let’s get some breakfast and then set the watch. We could all use a few avens’ sleep.’ He turned to Sera and ordered, ‘Downwind run, sailor. Everyone else, come.’ He smiled, even at Garec. ‘Let’s get below; Tubbs will have breakfast ready in a moment, I’m sure.’
As the others disappeared beneath the forward hatch, Gilmour motioned for Steven to join him in private.
‘What is it?’ Steven fought off a yawn.
‘I cast the deflection over you and Garec when he sent that second blast at us.’
Steven stopped. ‘Oh shit, oh shit, Gilmour, oh shit.’
‘What do you think?’
‘I don’t know,’ Steven said, suddenly lucid. The magic began swirling again, tumbling and folding over itself in the pit of his stomach, ready to continue the fight. ‘But hold on: the air was full of noise and echoes, wasn’t it?’
‘True.’
‘So maybe he didn’t get it. Maybe we were too close to the other ship and maybe he thought it was just another ripple-’ He was trying hard to convince himself that they were out of harm’s way.
‘We need to be wary.’
‘I can see why you never sleep,’ he said wryly, starting below.
‘It does help from time to time. And seeing as how the last occasion that I decided to get some sleep, some rutting Malakasian spy-’
‘Brexan says his name is Jacrys,’ Steven interrupted.
‘Fine, so the last time I slept, a spy called Jacrys came into camp and rammed a knife into my heart. Believe me, I’m happy to stay up late.’
Later, tucked together inside the Morning Star’s main cabin, the company, now all fed and in dry clothes, sat around a crate of beer donated by the captain, pleased with the outcome of the morning’s encounter. Gilmour smoked ceaselessly, and after a while Kellin joined him for a pipe.
‘I didn’t know you smoked,’ Garec said, surprised.
‘I don’t,’ Kellin said, ‘but Gilmour always smells so alluringly sweet, I thought I might try some.’
‘So that you can smell alluringly sweet, too?’ Garec asked.
‘I’m a woman who knows what she wants, bowman,’ she joked, winking over the pipe stem.
Gilmour passed a beer to Brexan, who had been content to sit quietly and watch the interplay. She still felt a bit of an outsider, despite her relationship with Versen and Sallax.