Tithian turned to Saanakal. “Cancel the order to flee toward the islands,” he said. “Tell each ship to engage the giants at close quarters. They’re to move the vats of Balican fire to the gunnels and dump them over the side as the giants tip their ships.”
The high templar stared at him as if he were mad. “That’s suicide!” he gasped. “Without a ship-”
“The giants will sink our ships anyway. We may as well take as many of our enemies with us as we can,” Tithian replied. He looked to the ship’s mate and helmsman, then added, “Does anyone else prefer a fighting death to that of a coward?”
The helmsman was the first to reply. “I will follow your orders, High One,” she said, speaking to Saanakal. “But I prefer a fighting death.”
Several junior officers added their support, which only angered Saanakal. “Silence!” he ordered. He switched his gaze back to Tithian. “King Andropinis commanded me to follow your instructions, so I have yielded to your wishes up to now. But what you ask is madness. I won’t do it.”
“That would make you a mutineer,” responded Tithian. He allowed his hand to drift toward his satchel, but did not put it inside.
“Refusing to squander my fleet is not mutiny,” countered the high templar.
“Your fleet will sink anyway,” Tithian said, stepping toward Saanakal. “What is there to be afraid of? Dying an honorable death?”
“There is always the hope-”
“Truly?” Tithian scoffed. He looked to Ictinis and asked, “How many ships remain?”
“Eleven,” answered the shipfloater. “No, now only ten.”
“Your schooners are sinking like stones, Navarch. The only men who stand a chance of surviving are those who can cross the silt without a ship.” Tithian glanced at the young officers crowding the quarterdeck, then asked, “Who would that be? Your sorcerers, your shipfloaters, and perhaps your captains?”
The high templar’s face darkened to an angry crimson, while bitter whispers of speculation rustled through the gathering of officers.
“I’m sure you have a magic ring or talisman that will see you to a safe place,” Tithian pressed. Although he did not know whether or not Saanakal actually possessed such an item, it seemed a logical assumption-and that was what would matter to the crew. “Perhaps that’s why you don’t want to fight at close quarters. When the ship sinks, you can escape. But your magic won’t save you if a giant grabs you.”
“One more word and I’ll have you launched from a catapult!” the high templar hissed. “Now return to the floater’s pit and let me command the fleet!”
“So your crew can die while you escape?” Tithian replied, shaking his head. “No.”
“Take this passenger below,” Saanakal commanded, motioning for his first mate to obey the order.
Before the man could step forward, Tithian stared him straight in the eye. “Andropinis himself loaned me this fleet,” he said. “By refusing to obey me, Navarch Saanakal is defying your king. Do you wish to join him in that?”
When the mate remained where he stood, the high templar cursed and reached for his dagger. “Enough!”
“I don’t think so,” said the first mate, grabbing Saanakal’s wrist. “If I’m going to die, then I will do it as I have lived-at King Andropinis’s pleasure.”
With that, he handed the king’s eye to the helmsman, then picked up the templar and pitched him over the side. Screaming in fear, Saanakal thrust a hand into the pocket of his robe. The dust swallowed him before he could withdraw the object hidden inside.
“Prepare yourselves to die like soldiers,” Tithian said, giving his crew an approving nod. “And take us into battle.”
As the astonished officers obeyed, Tithian had his shipfloater relay his attack orders to the surviving ships. Next, he took the king’s eye from the helmsman and began to scan the haze.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
“My giant,” Tithian replied.
It did not take the king long to find what he was after. Within a few minutes, he saw Fylo’s ugly form leading an attack against another ship. The giants had already thrown their boulders and were plowing forward through the silt, their rams cradled under their arms.
As Tithian watched, the ship fired its catapults, but the wizard mistimed his command word and dropped the flames behind the giants. Nevertheless, the king could see that the battle was far from over. Vats of Balican fire were lined up all along the gunnel, ready to be dumped on the attackers, and the ballista crews were holding their fire until the giants came closer.
Tithian gave the king’s eye to a junior officer. “Which ship is that?”
“The King’s Lady,” he replied.
“Good,” he said, pointing at Fylo’s ugly face. “Do you see that giant?”
“The one whose head looks sort of human?”
“Yes. Keep us pointed toward him,” Tithian replied. Next, he turned to the shipfloater. “Tell the King’s Lady to hold her attacks. We’re coming alongside and may be able to save her from this bunch.”
For the next few moments, Tithian watched in grim silence as the Silt Lion bore down on its targets. The giants were approaching the King’s Lady cautiously, suspicious of the lack of resistance from the ship. Nevertheless, they were close enough to hoist their rams and charge at any moment.
“Captain Saba asks permission to defend his ship,” reported the shipfloater.
“No!” Tithian spat.
“But we’ll never get there in time,” objected the helmsman. “If they don’t resist-”
“The King’s Lady is sunk anyway!” snapped Tithian. “And I don’t want anyone killing my giant-not yet.”
Several of the ship’s officers exchanged skeptical glances, then one ventured to ask, “Why not?”
“He must be the one who set up this ambush, and I want to know why before I deal a very special punishment out to him,” the king answered. He looked back to Ictinis. “Tell Captain Saba this: when the giants hit his ship, he’ll be protected by the king of Tyr’s magic-but only if his counterattacks don’t interfere.”
The shipfloater sent the message.
A moment later, Tithian and his officers watched as Fylo and his giants crashed into the King’s Lady. Unhampered by any resistance from the ship, their charge hit with such force that it ripped the foredeck off the rest of the ship. The ballistae discharged harmlessly and the vats of Balican fire toppled, instantly creating an inferno on the decks. Trailing long tails of flame, sailors and dwarves leaped over the sides, their agonized screams falling silent as they disappeared into the dust.
A burly man stepped toward Tithian, his silt-scarf hanging loosely around his neck. His jaw was set, and his puffy cheeks were pale with the horror of what he had just witnessed. “You said you’d save them!” he gasped.
“Come now,” Tithian replied. As he spoke, he turned his palm to the deck, using his body to shield it from view as he drew the energy for a spell. “You heard me say that the King’s Lady was lost. You knew I was lying to Captain Saba when I said I would protect him.”
“When I tossed Navarch Saanakal overboard, it seems I traded a coward for a liar,” growled the first mate, stepping toward Tithian. “You said we were going to kill giants-not protect yours!”
“This fleet has already killed more giants under me than it would have under Saanakal!”
With that, he collected a pinch of dust from the gunnel and threw it into the air. He spoke his incantation, then the mate, officers, and the helmsman all dropped to the deck, their eyes closed tight behind their dust-shields. Without a steady hand on the helm, the ship veered toward the burning King’s Lady. As the bowsprit of Tithian’s schooner touched the blazing wreck, the ship’s wizard leaped off the bow. He flew a hundred yards in the direction of the island chain before a giant swatted him down.
The jib sail of the Silt Lion burst into flames, and smoke began to roll over the main deck. Sailors and catapult slaves alike cried out in alarm and looked up to see what was wrong, then the whole ship shuddered as the bow crashed into the side of the King’s Lady.