Chapter 82: 81. The Battle of Sinel Shallows

Thirty four square ships sat in a huge line in front of us, a wooden wall stretching from Sinel to half a mile out into the water. Each of them flew the colours of Ostip and the crown, and each deck teemed with hundreds of soldiers. In comparison to our measly twenty, they looked a proper fleet. The dread inside me leaped at the sight of that, wondering just how it was possible that we could endeavour to move them. 

 

Our ships had been deployed in three smaller lines with some space between them. The lefternmost hugged close to the coast, as close as they could manage with the ice, and consisted of six ships in a jagged line. Two of them were smaller than the larger warships we had, and almost a half faster, and those were further ahead of the others. To our right was then seven of the large type, and to our centre was the rest, including our command and signalling ship, a role I was told wasn’t always the same. Andril, myself, and our admiral all counted ourselves among this ship, while Amelia waited on one of the ships towards the shore.

 

Floating chunks of ice floated between the two sides like sharpened tumbleweeds, and a soft dusting of snow drifted down from dark clouds above. Thunder rumbled in the distance, but we weren’t forecast for anything more than what we were getting. 

 

“They’re in battle lines, my lord.” Admiral Randin said. “Their scouts must’ve brought news of our coming. Could make things hard, I think.”

 

He wasn’t a true admiral, of course, not if you wanted for real combat experience. The role was apparently typically given to academy trained scholars who had only read a ton of books and undergone mock battles in the subject, but that was the best they had. Minua had never actually sent their fleet against anything but the odd pirate. Even the sailors were from civilian vessels pressed into service, and nobody on our side truly knew how a large navy battle like this was supposed to go. It felt incredibly unnerving to think that we would all just be winging it as we went if the plan didn’t go right. 

 

And after seeing how many ships they had, the plan had already gone wrong.

 

“‘Hard’ might be the wrong word, Admiral.” Andril swept his telescope over the enemy line and grimaced at what he saw. “I should’ve had these ships blessed before we left.”

 

“We could double back if you wish.” Admiral Randin said. “I see no great reason to engage here, not when they have us at advantage.”

 

The admiral was an older Summarkan gentleman, with short white hair and a finely trimmed beard to match. He wore a shortened version of the normal red long-coat that only came up to his upper thigh, and he had no cloak. His boots were not wrapped hide like the typical fashion, but formed leather, and he had a simple silver strip of cloth wrapped around his waist that signalled his rank. A fish-like mask hung at his hip, and his right hand fiddled with it as he spoke. Strangely, the mask had elements that looked like fur upon it.

 

“I can’t, not now that they’ve seen us. It’d ruin my reputation, and I’ve an unfortunate need for that in coming months. We’ll have to move in.” Andril said with a touch of irritation.

 

“Andril, I’d wager that a reputation can be salvaged.” I said. “Your life can’t.”

 

Andril shared a sidelong look with the admiral, one that said something along the lines of ‘ladies, huh?’ before waving my argument away.

 

“It is not as poor as it seems. Captain Gelarin waits in the city with his fleet assuredly armed and waiting for combat. Once we engage he will be sure to push at them from behind, and then we’ll have them encircled. With the Star to guide us, we will taste victory today.” 

 

That little hope now extinguished, I stepped back with a slight nod. There would be death today, Andril had decreed. Pain and fire and death.

 

“Or at least a standstill, but even that is a victory if Gelarin can get out.” Admiral Randin turned to the messenger standing behind us. “Boy, tell the signal officer to give a general forward. The wings have individual command unless I give them something, but tell them to stick with the plan until it becomes untenable.”

 

With a nod, the soldier hurried off to below decks, which I found a little strange. I had thought he would be climbing up to the crows nest or something, but they must’ve had some other, arcane way of getting messages to the other boats that I wasn’t aware of.

 

We settled into our spots by the railing and waited.

 

It was horrible, the waiting. There had been so much of it already, from waiting for the ships to leave to waiting for the trip to Sinel to end, to waiting for the battle to start, and I was simply sick of it. Gone was the gut-wrenching fear and excitement, now all I could wish for was that the battle would start so that the apprehension could find an end.

 

Was this how it was for everyone? Or did it eventually become routine? I couldn’t imagine that even grizzled veterans could get used to this. It felt as though I was on a roller coaster climbing for four days straight, ever fearing the eventual drop straight down.

 

I leaned against the railing and tried to compose myself, and felt a growing distaste for the snow falling on my eyelashes. Thankfully, today I was equipped for war and weather, with a tailored long-coat and cloak to match the lords. There was a chainmail shirt under my coat, and the ends of it came out of my coat just below my knee. They had knitted thin metal plates onto the fronts and tops of my boots, and I had the same setup with the fur-covered gloves that came almost up to my elbow. My socks came up from my boots to halfway up my thigh, leaving no skin open to the elements, and though I wore a skirt underneath I had no real pants to speak off, which I was told was common for all soldiers in Verol. I had a red cloak pulled over my head and the glass tiara, and the coat had a small flap of metal and banded leather that stood up just behind my chin to protect the neck. A silver mask in the shape of a falcon hung from my neck. It was nothing like the plate armour I had imagined, but from the strangely hard feeling of the cloak and the runes weaved throughout I had a feeling it was effective at turning blades through other means. Hopefully, at least.

 

In my hands was a spear-staff, and in my arm sheath was my wand. It was much the same kit as a regular foot soldier’s, though mine was higher quality and enchanted to be lighter than normal. Despite that, the staff still felt as heavy as a metal rod in my hands.

 

As we waited, I glimpsed a strange phenomenon under the lake. As I peered over into the waters, I could see brief flashes of light play against the lake floor, distorted and strange as if emanating from the bottom of our ship. It continued to flash for a few more moments before stopping, and all was still.

 

Then, with a great unfurling of sails, our fleet moved forward. With the wind at our backs, two dozen ships hurled themselves through the water like beasts from a pool, lumbering and slow under the shadow of Mount Sacil. A flute on each ship began to play, and their piercing song was chipper and light hearted. The air of anticipation began to boil through the air as men did final checks on their weapons and adjusted mask straps. Everyone on the command deck did the same, and I pull my own over my eyes and pulled the strap tight.

 

Then came the responding call of flutes from the Ostiper fleet, a raucous tune of long notes that sounded the southerners to war. Their ships did not sail straight however, but turned half against the wind to tack, showing us their long sides. I could see the flickers of magic over the gunwales even from where I stood, and the pit in my stomach grew deeper.

 

[Fuck] all that crap about no longer being afraid, this was terrifying! The ships supposedly had strong shields in the same way as our masks, but how could anything withstand magical attacks from that many mages? They could probably tunnel straight through a mountain, and we were sailing towards them! Insanity! This was nothing like the duels I’d had so far! Absolutely nothing!

 

“We’ve got the manoeuvring advantage with the wind.” Admiral Randin said smugly. “They’re not even bothering to go around. Utterly idiotic mistake, I’m sure they’ll find.”

 

“Or it means they believe their advantage that much greater.” Andril said. “We’ve cleared the surrounding waters for reinforcements?”

 

“The caravels reported nothing, my lord. You fret over shadows.” Admiral Randin said.

 

Being awakened to this new fear myself, I looked fearfully over to the west and south, wandering if I might happen to glimpse yet more foes sailing into view. None came to sight, though that lent no much more ease than an empty mousetrap might.

 

“Tell me you’ll fly if we’ve sunk, right?” I whispered to Gideon. “Without me you’ll be able to fly to Fangpeak I’d wager.”

 

Stop that. We’ll be fine.

 

“Oh, I’m sure we will. Finely chopped or burned, that is.” I quipped. “Never have I sailed, and certainly not into a storm such as this.”

 

Gideon didn’t respond to that, but gestured towards the water again. Following his movements, I could see that the lakebed had erupted into a rainbow of colours and lights. Flashes bloomed against passing fish and aquatic plants, silholetting them against the overwise dark water. I couldn’t quite understand what I was looking at, but almost none of the others seemed to care for the show.

 

“By the Star, what’s that?” I asked. “Are we fighting already?”

 

It didn’t feel like the explosions and fires I’d imagined, but Gideon only shrugged.

 

For once I have little idea. We dragons are not fonts of all lore.

 

I ignored the ‘we dragons’ for the moment and pulled on Andril’s sleeve instead to ask him. After taking a singular look he flashed me a curious expression.

 

“That’s the ships signalling each other. They use lamps under the lake in calm waters.” Andril explained.

 

“Eh, just like that? Like through glass?”

 

“As I’m told.”

 

“I didn’t know they could make glass so clear and thick.” I muttered. “Is that reliable? What if the water's foggy? Doesn’t the water block some light even when it’s clear? It must have a short range.”

 

Andril chuckled to himself, jostling me from my line of thought.

 

“What?”

 

“So quickly your worry fades.” He chuckled again. “Though I never would’ve imagined that I would be explaining lakecraft to a Summarkan.”

 

True enough, I did feel a little better about the coming fight, even when I cast my gaze over that line of approaching ships. They seemed lesser somehow, in the face of my curiosity.

 

We would make it through this, simply because it would be a stupid place to die. I had an ending already imagined in my head for how I’d get back, and if it needed a brief interlude of swimming half burned through freezing waters so be it. And if luck would have it, I’d have the time I’d want to look over these ships in detail.

 

“Fair enough. But I suppose we have more pressing matters to talk about anyway.” I nodded towards the approaching ships, the foremost of which had sprouted more glowing lights along its side. “What’s the plan for me, anyway? You must’ve thought of something, and I don’t quite believe it is to sit up here and look pretty.”

 

“Let’s just begin with the skirmish and see what happens.” Andril said. “It’s a poor field for an amateur mage, I’ll admit. These battles have a tendency in the annals to include quite some time of long range spell casting to overwhelm the ship’s shields, and even then it’s not likely many will be sunk.”

 

I raised an eyebrow. The ships had shields themselves?

 

“Aye, the prince has the right of it.” Admiral Randin interjected. “It is said that battle is won in the skirmish, land and sea, but out here there is no cover to get close with. And once a ship has worn its shield it will make for withdrawal rather than face annihilation, and only the fastest ships can catch them at the range we’re working with. Some battles even spoke of hours of combat rotating the ships with no sinking. If a ship does sink, it is because its captain was too greedy or it lost the race in the rout.”

 

“That seems… anticlimactic.” I said honestly.

 

“That’s why the soldiers are so calm.” Andril said. “They’ve heard the stories and read the books. The ones that can read, at least. They know what to expect.”

 

“So we have some hours of pelting each other with stones before we leave.” I said. “Is that really war?”

 

“Hours would be the stuff of legends.” Admiral Randin said quickly. “We haven’t had a proper naval action on the Arguin for decades now, and neither have even the Summarkans, but the lore says minutes might be more appropriate if a ship is focused. We will see plenty of excitement today, mark these words, but if I can trust my captains we will be careful. It’s unfamiliar waters, this, if not exactly unknown.”

 

That seemed better to me. I had been worried that the fear and apprehension would stretch on for long hours while two turtles clobbered each other with spit and grass, but minutes sounded more doable for my heart. I could withstand an hour of nervous fighting, at least.

“I’m sure the enemy admiral is much the same.” Andril reassured the Admiral. “Ostip is not known for its navy. Actually, I’m not sure where this navy came from at all, as Ostip had under a dozen warships last I could count the ledgers.”

 

The three of us inspected the enemy ships again. Now that they were closer, I could divine that some of them were subtly different from our own, though the exact details I couldn’t list. They seemed leaner and deeper, somehow, and faster at that. All of them had upon their flags an image of a half sun, the other half filled in with the body of a roc.

 

“I think I can make out some trader hulls between them.” Admiral Randin finally said. “I’ve seen plenty of those.”

 

“And that’s…” Andril’s face darkened. “That’s the device of the Sun Fang Company. My brother and I found them when we looked into Lord Agos a few months ago, and the count owns a good portion of it. I hadn’t thought they had so many craft, though. Not enough to double a duchy’s fleet.”

 

“It must be the entirety of their fleet.” Admiral Randin suddenly pointed towards some of the different ships. “Look! Some of those ships are tall-hulled and sit high in the waves. That’s unnecessary for lake-sailing, but essential for oceancraft. They must’ve dragged some of these out of the Mirrorguine, if I’d wager a guess.”

 

“In so short a time?” I asked, a little shocked. “Isn’t the ocean hundreds of miles away? And most of the intervening months have been winter, as well.”

 

Andril’s grip tightened on the gunwale so that his knuckles turned white.

 

“Shadows and conspiracies.” He hissed. “This has been planned for at least a year now, I have no doubt.”

 

‘You think they planned the war?” I asked.

 

“They obviously planned for Minua, if they’ve gone through the effort of bringing ships up.” He said. “And the Brepolese are in on it. Unless Cyrstil has betrayed Summark, that is, and that doesn’t seem likely.”

 

“Damned lowland traitors.” Admiral Randin muttered. “The heavy air corrupts their minds, I tell you. They can’t see what a warring Verol could do to them.”

 

Andril didn’t respond, and I could see him trying to control his newfound rage.

 

We stood in silence for some more minutes, only breaking it when the Admiral or Andril noticed something they thought important. At several points, our sailing would slow and we would wait for any of the slower flanks to catch up, but other than that it was just long boring minutes of watching the enemy grow larger while the snow piled taller onto our shoulders. The enemy seemed content to do the same, only occasionally switching direction to zig-zag against the wind.

 

The weather gradually darkened as we advanced, though it was not yet midday. The thunder in the distance seemed to crackle like taunting laughter among the boiling masses of cloud, and I could see sparks of lightning arcing through the shrouded mountains to the east. It was turning into quite the miserable day, I knew, though thankfully the wind and snow seemed reluctant to follow suit.

 

I had just begun to let my mind wander when a cry came from a soldier behind.

 

“Casting, sir!”

 

Along the farthest flank of the enemy ships, a hundred plumes of fire launched from the side of the ship. The sound hit us a moment later, of a stiff gust of wind and the rush of a firestorm.

 

It was a fantastic sight to witness, that first volley. It caterwauled through the air like a colossal firework, gleaming across the dark sky as would a falling star. I could see the beauty of the Whitesky reflected in its fires and in the great plumes of smoke that followed, and in the mirrored lake it was doubled. Two beautiful tears of flame, two colourful mountains of heat. For a moment I was transfixed, and transported to the most beautiful firework shows of the fourth back in [America].

 

That shining mass hit the shields of the targeted ship a moment later, wreathing it in an obscuring cloud of smoke and fire. Most of the shots went wide or far, splashing with huge blasts of steam into the lake, but many hit true, exploding against the ship like dragon’s fire. Cries of shocks came from nearby soldiers as the ship disappeared into the night, and I began to think it was lost, that it had simply evaporated under the stream of fire and melted into the waves.

 

And all was silent as the battlefield watched. Younger soldiers bustled in panic and shock as the reality of their lot came due, and the older ones passed through their ranks offering quick words of encouragement. Even the enemy ships seemed to fall silent, as if they were just as curious to see the outcome of their attack as we were.

 

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“By the Star…” I muttered.

 

But then, a single spark of red could be seen through the smoke, and then a hundred more. The ship, completely unharmed, burst through the wall of smoke ahead of the rest of the fleet. In seconds, the same plume of flame exploded from its railings to fly towards the offending ship. It was angry and red, and a cheer came up from the younger soldiers who hadn’t known any better when it made contact and exploded against the tradeship.

 

I let go of the breath I’d unconsciously held, glad that oblivion would not come quite so easily to us. Around me, I could see soldiers aiming wands to targets lords and officers set, and the shouted commands of ‘Aim higher!’ and ‘Adjust for a thousand enchia!’ echoed up and down the waters. The lakebed lit up with a bright rainbow of colours and lights as the ships all turned and communicated directions and orders. Across the way, the same transformation had come over the enemy, and the bottom of their ships glowed white and yellow, save for the single ship who still languished in the smoke from the return volley.

 

And then, the explosions began.

 

“Cast! Eleventh from right! Cast!” A nearby noble called.

 

With a great blast of air and conflagration of fire, our own volley launched from the side. Hundreds of spells blinded my vision in smoke and light, and I felt weak in the knees as the wave of residual magic washed over the ship. The ship rocked gently with the feedback, and it was all I could do to hold tight to the railing. Similar sounds could be heard as the other ships followed suit, and soon I could not make out anything over the water but the fire and heat.

 

After a moment we sailed out of our smoke and laid eyes upon the battlefield, and I couldn’t help but gape at the wonder of it all.

 

Where one volley had been a shooting star, half a hundred of them was a calamity. The waters shone as if it were a clear summer day, and the sky was falling  with the parabolic plumes of fire like the eruption of a volcano. Ash rained from the air like black snow, and the clouds lit up as if two gods were at war. And when the volleys had crossed the distance, they descended upon us.

 

It stormed then, not of wind and rain, but of hellfire and brimstone. They fell upon our ship and the waters in the dozens as multiple ships targeted us, blowing huge spouts of water into the air to add to the ash and douse our top deck. Of those few rays that were aimed true, they instead collided with the air above, a strangely angular invisible wall in the sky just a metres away from the deck. One such projectile even hit the tip of the highest mast, and it was clear that it poked out of the shield for it immediately exploded in flames before burning out against the shield just a foot below the tip. We lost vision of the world and instead coughed horrible smoke from our lungs. It was as if the ship had sailed right into another world and was floating through some ethereal mist, and my burning eyes could hardly see an end to it. 

 

I found myself on the ground as we broke free of the cloud, coughing and gasping like a plague victim. Andril swiftly hauled me up to the railing and patted me on the back, though I could feel the shaking in his arm. Even the unshakable prince couldn’t help but shiver in the receipt of that fire.

 

The air roared and quaked as another volley was released, and the ships began to fire at will. All of those on our side began to turn and twist in our approach, flipping in circles and spinning as we attempted to dodge subsequent attacks while straightening out for just long enough to launch our own. The squeal of fireworks and wind gusts became background noise as the minutes wore on, and soon the battlefield was filled up with smoke between us so that our only indication of the enemy’s position was from their casts and their underwater lights.

 

Andril did not bring me to cast, for I had nothing that could cover the range like the soldiers. The artillery spell they used was not suitable for ice, as it relied on heat for its long ranging propulsion. So I could but sit, and watch, and cough behind Andril, all the while hoping that each volley that hit our shields would not be the last. I feared the sound of a shattering shield above all others, but for the din of spellwork I could not hear if such a fate had overcome any other ship.

 

The fighting seemed to go on and on like that, and I could do little to help. And so I stood on the top deck and flashed smiles and cried words of encouragement at the soldiers whenever they cast, for it was all I could think of. I was just sitting in a boat waiting for fate otherwise, and that thought scared me enough to ignore it.

 

And after a furious twenty minutes of this confusion and fighting, a messenger finally came up from the below decks and rushed to the admiral. Randin seemed shocked at the revelation, for he immediately barked orders for the fleet to turn around.

 

“What’s wrong?” I asked Andril. “Have we lost already?”

 

“It’s hard to tell nowabouts.” Andril said back, barely audible over the din. “Keep calm.”

 

I found that last command a little hard to complete, so I instead strained my eyes as I searched for our sister ships through the smog. It took a few minutes while we turned and floated back the way we came, but eventually we broke free of the smoke and floated into open waters. I could immediately tell that our command ship had drifted east towards the coast, almost to the section of lake where the first squadron had been deployed. White-planked ships holding the flags of Minua came afterwards, and the first squadron came out around us while our original group came out staggered between us and the third. I counted them as they emerged, blinking in astonishment as I finished. 

 

Not a single ship had been lost.

 

The roaring of casting gradually dimmed and died as we shied away, and I was sure that our foe was wandering about the cloud wondering what exactly had happened to us, just as assuredly as I imagined those hurried lights between our ships to be questions about why we withdrew.

 

“Randin?” Andril stared off towards the groups of ships we had, as shocked as I had been in his counting. “I’ve heard of the stories of naval combat, but this…”

 

“Maybe they were just missing us?” I said, not quite believing it.

 

“No, some of those ships took well over ten volleys.” Admiral Randin murmured. “The histories say five is the limit. This is… a miracle. We should have ashes to carry home by now.”

 

“Then why withdraw?” I asked. “Did we win then? I’ll admit I couldn’t really see the enemy very well, but perhaps your eyes are-”

 

“We were getting too close.” Admiral Randin interrupted. “I didn’t want to risk getting stuck in, in case our luck didn’t hold.” 

 

He turned to the messenger waiting on the stairs.

 

“Tell the fleet to pull back while the smoke clears, we’ll re-engage once we have the range.”

 

“Yes sir!”

 

Group by group, the ships began to pull back to the north. The smoke cloud had drifted to the west, and eventually came to obscure the third squadron as they sailed. After the hurried drums of the battle, the sudden peace was jarring and wrong, and it felt as if I was being tricked. I had feared to see death, and now that it hadn’t come I almost felt disappointed. Almost.

 

This battle couldn’t have been that easy, right? That hadn’t seen nearly as horrible as I had imagined, only loud and terrifying. 

 

“I’d be glad if the smoke cleared soon enough.” I confided in Gideon. “I don’t much like waiting around to see what trouble we’ve left.”

 

Agreed. This seems too… It went too well. Gideon thought. There’s no way we’ve ended it that quickly, or without any casualties.

 

“I’m coming to the conclusion that war is just organised confusion.” I said. “That and waiting for the confusing to happen.”

 

Suddenly, another round of explosions could be heard from the west, and the soldiers stopped their duties to look over at the cloud of smoke. Seconds later, the third squadron raced out at an angle, all seven of their ships casting back blindly into the cloud.

 

And right on their tail, sailing fast, were seven Ostiper vessels.

 

“Tell the fleet to turn about!” Admiral Randin called to the soldiers below. “Sir Nael, get your company to the railing! Let’s scare them off.”

 

After relaying the orders to below deck, the ship turned and starting cutting towards the new group. The first and second squadron did as well, and the closest ships began launching volleys towards the chasing vessels. The Ostipers did not turn at the sight of the whole fleet, however, but sped towards their targets with abandon.

 

“Damn overzealous…” Andril shook his head. “Don’t they know when they’re outwanded?”

 

At that moment, I suddenly realised that something was wrong with the oncoming ships.

 

“Admiral?” I squeaked.

 

He continued to bark orders to messengers, and my cry was lost in the noise of our volleys.

 

“Admiral.”

 

Again he ignored me and kept talking, and I raised my voice again.

 

“Admiral!” I cried.

 

Randin reared on me then, puffing with anger at the interruption.

 

“What, you pitching girl, what? I have no time for-”

 

“They aren’t firing back, sir.” I said quickly. “They’re not even casting.”

 

‘What?”

 

The admiral and Andril peered off towards the Ostipers and found that I was right. They hadn’t fired off a single volley since emerging from the smoke, and in fact I could see now that they barely had any men on the upper deck at all.

 

“They… They mean to get in close?” Randin said in shock. “But why? They’ll be blown apart!”

 

His tone implied that he assumed the very thought of it to be suicide, but Andril looked less sure.

 

“They have to have taken over twelve direct volleys at this point.” He said. “Surely it’s not that…?”

 

I met his gaze, finishing his sentence in my thoughts.

 

That the shields can’t be broken. That, somehow, both our fleets were completely immune to magical attacks.

 

“When was the last major naval battle on the Arguin, admiral?” I asked carefully.

 

“Forty years ago.” He muttered. “But the new shields… they can’t be this…”

 

He grimaced as he realised the same that Andril and I had guessed. The sudden loss of a great majority of his tactical knowledge played over him, and he immediately turned to the messengers again.

 

“Have every ship cast at the leading vessel!” He shouted. “Blow that match-box out of the water!”

 

A flurry of signals flew through the water, and every ship in the fleet turned broadside to the Ostipers, all except for the fleeing seven. After a minute of preparation, the third squadron turned sharply to the side, leaving the Ostipers open to everything we had.

 

“Cast!” Randin commanded, almost certainly for effect.

 

The sound of thousands of gusts of wind shook against the mountain behind us as great tongues of fire leapt towards the leader. The closest of our ships cast different, stronger spells in place of the artillery one, but they hit at much the same time. An ungodly explosion of steam erupted all around that ship, and I heard a sickening crack from clear across the water. The entire Ostiper advance was again engulfed in shadow and smoke.

 

There was silence across the water as we waited for the air to clear.

 

After a moment, a single charred husk of hull floated out of the smoke, and the tension finally broke. Men cheered around the ship, while Randin looked as though his worldview had been once again reinstated. Andril looked troubled, however, and I shared that feeling for a few seconds more.

 

“They can be killed. And I doubt it required nearly as much as that!” Randin laughed. “You almost made me fear in a devilish ghost, I swear!”

 

‘That was every mage in the fleet.” Andril muttered. 

 

“And the hull’s still recognisable.” I added.

 

Just after, as if to confirm our worries, the other six ships came out of the smoke far closer to the third squadron than they’d been, and no slower for having witnessed the death of their comrades.

 

“Again!” Randin called to a messenger. “Have the second squadron fire on the leader. Every ship north of us will fire on the next two! Rout them!”

 

Again, we sat in the water as the third squadron ran towards us, and again they split off to open the Ostipers to attack. Same as before, and with closer targets, the fleet fired everything they had. Plumes of fire licked across the lake and engulfed the three specified ships, but this time the crack did not sound. The cloud of smoke pushed up to the backs of the fleeing ships before stopping, leaving the result unknown.

 

I felt the dread build up in my chest as the seconds wore on.

 

Where was the ‘crack’? Surely they didn’t… Shields weren’t…

 

And with a magician’s puff, the Ostiper craft blasted out of the smoke and connected with the back of our fleeing ships. The smashing and creaking of wood could be heard cleared as their rams broke planks and tore rope, and the ship it latched onto began to slow. Flickers of fire and battle cries drifted over as the Ostipers began to board and fight the men with spells and spears. The same happened for two more of the third’s ships, and soon those three were each engaged with multiple Ostiper boarding parties.

 

“Everstar preserve us…” Admiral Randin muttered.

 

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Gideon wordlessly pulled on my cloak, pulling my attention to the south. Upon seeing what came there, I could only do the same to Andril.

 

“Wha-” Andril’s face went white. “Pitch it.”

 

For several hundred metres behind us lay the rest of the Ostiper fleet. All twenty-seven of them.

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