On the deck of Sapier’s Glory, Comdar Rief raised the colorful blue-and-green battle flag to the top of the mast. For weeks, the navy had waited for the signal that it was time to go to war, and now the Tierran ships sailed forward to take the piers and destroy or seize any vessel that remained in the harbor. His sailors whistled and cheered. He expected the holy city would fall within days.
As the Tierran warships closed on the harbor, the lookout on Sapier’s Glory shouted and pointed out to sea. Rief turned his spyglass to study the distant Uraban fleet that waited in open water far beyond the harbor.
The hodgepodge group of Uraban vessels kept station far away out to sea, obviously unwilling to come closer. The large collection of enemy vessels had arrived in the past weeks, but Rief judged that his own vessels could defeat them in a straight-up fight. The Uraban ships protected the mouth of the canal leading inland, concentrating their efforts there, rather than trying to repel the Aidenist fleet. Their commander must be very cautious, Rief decided.
“They’ve set sail and are racing in, sir,” said his first mate. “I think their commander is trying to stop us.”
Rief just smiled as he gazed through his spyglass. “He won’t be able to intercept us in time.” Strategically, the enemy might plan to bottle them up in the harbor, but the comdar didn’t particularly care: once the seventy-three ships reached the piers, his fighters would swarm onto the docks and race through the streets to join the Tierran army. They would hold the holy city, and Comdar Rief could deal with the enemy warships as part of routine mopping-up operations.
Tied up in the harbor, the blockaded Uraban ships were caught unawares by the sudden move after two months of waiting. The siege-weary Uraban sailors scrambled up onto the decks, and a ragtag group of Curly soldiers ran to the ends of the piers. But they wouldn’t get their ships ready in time, even if they had a place to go. This was going to be easier than he thought.
As the Tierran navy approached, sails swollen with wind, Fishhook banners and pennants flying, Rief noticed two pairs of black cylinders mounted in emplacements at either side of the harbor mouth. Soldiers wearing white olbas busied themselves at the tubes, fumbling with…kegs of firepowder? He saw a wisp of smoke. Before he could point them out to his first mate, loud explosions split the air, followed by a whizzing sound.
A black projectile hurtled toward them, smashed one of the spars, tore the rigging, and hammered into the deck of the adjacent ship. Rief was dumbfounded to see a gaping hole torn through his mainsail.
The second metal cylinder belched fire and smoke and hurled another iron projectile; the third and fourth weapons also fired. Monstrous and destructive firepowder weapons. With a sudden chill in his gut, Rief wondered if this was what had wrecked all of Destrar Tavishel’s ships.
The Tierran sailors were in a panic, but Comdar Rief could not change course now. “Straight ahead! Stay on course—and put out those fires!” The men rushed to follow their orders, and Rief wondered how long it would take the men at the emplacements to reload those monstrous weapons.
* * *
Aboard his own ship, Soldan Vishkar was preoccupied in his cabin, writing a few more lines of poetry inspired by the fresh sunny day. Now he dropped his pen as the cabin boy hollered for him. “The ’Hooks are moving, Soldan!”
“Not the canal again?” His orders had been explicit, to guard the waterway at all costs. The Tierrans could blockade Ishalem harbor, but they must be prevented from sailing into the Middlesea. Vishkar simply did not have enough ships to break the blockade and guard the canal.
“No, Soldan—their ships are pressing Ishalem.”
Vishkar felt a surge of adrenaline. “Set our sails, then.” His breathing came faster, and he realized that all the planning in the world had not prepared him enough, now that the time had come. Fortunately, his captains had discussed numerous strategies and maneuvers at gatherings aboard his flagship. He hoped that his powerful fleet itself would be enough to do the job.
Vishkar had always been a merchant, and he preferred delivering exotic cargo to embarking on adventures himself. But Omra had put him in command of a defensive fleet that consisted of ships he had scrounged. He hoped his crew and the other captains knew what they were doing.
Several weeks ago, when he proudly brought his fleet to Ishalem harbor, Vishkar had been dismayed to find Aidenist warships already there. He was too late! His ragtag fleet might have looked intimidating, but the ships weren’t built for war. Even with his numerous vessels, he would be unable to crash through the Aidenist blockade (and he was sure that the Tierran commander must have far more naval experience than he did). For days, then weeks, Vishkar hoped that the size of his impressive fleet would intimidate the Tierrans and drive them away. Instead, the two fleets had remained at a standoff—until now.
Racing out on deck, he was half blinded by the sunshine. Antos, the captain of his flagship, watched the Tierran ships close in on the harbor. “It’ll be crowded in there, Soldan. Close quarters for fighting.”
Vishkar pursed his lips. “You are all seasoned swordfighters, aren’t you?”
Captain Antos patted the hilt of his scimitar. “We’ve had training, and we’ve had some experience. So has everyone. Never can tell when ’Hook raiders are going to strike one of our seaside towns.”
“Good, good. Tell everyone to prepare. We’re moving into the fray.” Yes, that was what the soldan-shah expected from him. The Uraban vessels sailed toward the ’Hooks.
His crew laughed and cheered when the four harbor cannons opened up. The Nunghal weapons took the enemy navy completely by surprise, belching fire. The hot projectiles pounded the foremost vessels, wrecked the sails and rigging, started fires.
“They didn’t expect that,” Antos said with a grin wide enough to show that one of his back teeth was missing.
“Too bad we have only four cannons. It’s enough to surprise them, but not enough to stop them.”
“We’ll be enough to stop them, Soldan.”
“Good, good. I hope you’re right.”
Soldan Vishkar carried a scimitar, though he wasn’t accustomed to using it. He supposed he was going to get some practice very soon. As the two fleets closed, the cannons fired again, smashing another Tierran ship.
This would be a very bloody day.