shrapnel, or engulfed in burning fuel.
Sloop after sloop flew past overhead, each unloading its own supply of bombs. Two flew over the aft and set fire to battlements there as well. Before the bluejacks could mount a decent defense, their biggest and strongest weapons were destroyed – and the pirates were already circling back for another pass.
One gun had survived the first wave, and its operators had it functioning now. It was a long-range deckgun, similar to the ones aboard Gilderam , and it began launching fat rounds at the circling sloops with a rhythmic blasting. Targeting one, the gunner adjusted his aim to lead the ship, and soon the rounds were matching up perfectly with the sloop’s trajectory.
From far away, the bluejacks watched as the bullets pounded into the enemy vessel, knocking apart the hull and tearing holes in its balloon. Varride gas spewed out in little yellow puffs with each hit. Keeping exactly with the flight pattern, the gunner kept the bullets flying until it eventually began to lose altitude and, billowing dark smoke, started its long fall to the ground far below. Once it was clearly plummeting the gunner switched to a new target, but by then the pirates were almost on top of them again.
Owein scurried low along the gunwale, his hands still shackled, running for cover behind the forecastle as the second pirate barrage began. Their cannons tore holes through the plate-armored forecastle and shattered portholes in a relentless rain of shot. When the firing stopped, more bombs fell.
The lone gunner managed to take down a second sloop, but too close to the Silus , and it crashed right into her port side, exploding upon impact. The entire galleon shuddered from the hit.
Burning crates fell, most of them aimed for the one working deckgun, and the ensuing series of explosions rocked the gun from its fastenings and threw it across the deck. Those working nearby were incinerated, and their charred remains flew through the air.
Orienting himself by a capstan, Owein saw Gilderam speeding away, apparently overlooked by the pirates for the time being. It was wise of them to attack the better-armed ship first, but that didn’t mean Gilderam would be spared.
He heard footsteps coming toward him and so ran to the nearest hatch, entering the Silus . The first thing he encountered on the inside was a bluejack crewman on his way to the deck. All he got out was, “Hey –!” before Owein punched him in the face with one of his cuffed hands and knocked him out cold.
“Lord Ranaloc,” Cavada said forcefully. “Lord Ranaloc! ” He had to shake the old man to snap him out of his trance. “Hey! Are you all right?” He was sure he had Mentrat’s attention now. The old man blinked several times. He looked between Cavada before him and Pawl beyond.
“We still have no ammunition for the deckguns. We’re unarmed.”
“We’re… we’re – what?”
“We’re sitting ducks for those pirates right now,” Cavada said. “We need to do something or we’ll be next.” He directed Mentrat’s attention back to the Silus . It was spewing deadly smoke. The crashed sloop had set her portside on fire.
“Lord Ranaloc…” he said, putting a pistol in his hands. “We need to take your ship back.”
Mentrat shoved the gun right back at Cavada. “Get that thing away from me!” he said. “I’m not going to kill anyone.”
“You won’t have to.” He held the gun out again. “Trust me.”
“Can’t this thing go any faster?” said one of the three bluejack officers. The column of air rushing into Gilderam’s bridge through the hole in her windshield made them squint. It blew out into the hallway, since the door was still off its hinges. The other two bluejacks held the bridge at gunpoint, including Fulo and Gor’m, who were in the back near the doorway.
“We have only one working turbine,” said Reeth, one of the replacement helmsmen, “that’s barely operable, and we blew
Sloop after sloop flew past overhead, each unloading its own supply of bombs. Two flew over the aft and set fire to battlements there as well. Before the bluejacks could mount a decent defense, their biggest and strongest weapons were destroyed – and the pirates were already circling back for another pass.
One gun had survived the first wave, and its operators had it functioning now. It was a long-range deckgun, similar to the ones aboard Gilderam , and it began launching fat rounds at the circling sloops with a rhythmic blasting. Targeting one, the gunner adjusted his aim to lead the ship, and soon the rounds were matching up perfectly with the sloop’s trajectory.
From far away, the bluejacks watched as the bullets pounded into the enemy vessel, knocking apart the hull and tearing holes in its balloon. Varride gas spewed out in little yellow puffs with each hit. Keeping exactly with the flight pattern, the gunner kept the bullets flying until it eventually began to lose altitude and, billowing dark smoke, started its long fall to the ground far below. Once it was clearly plummeting the gunner switched to a new target, but by then the pirates were almost on top of them again.
Owein scurried low along the gunwale, his hands still shackled, running for cover behind the forecastle as the second pirate barrage began. Their cannons tore holes through the plate-armored forecastle and shattered portholes in a relentless rain of shot. When the firing stopped, more bombs fell.
The lone gunner managed to take down a second sloop, but too close to the Silus , and it crashed right into her port side, exploding upon impact. The entire galleon shuddered from the hit.
Burning crates fell, most of them aimed for the one working deckgun, and the ensuing series of explosions rocked the gun from its fastenings and threw it across the deck. Those working nearby were incinerated, and their charred remains flew through the air.
Orienting himself by a capstan, Owein saw Gilderam speeding away, apparently overlooked by the pirates for the time being. It was wise of them to attack the better-armed ship first, but that didn’t mean Gilderam would be spared.
He heard footsteps coming toward him and so ran to the nearest hatch, entering the Silus . The first thing he encountered on the inside was a bluejack crewman on his way to the deck. All he got out was, “Hey –!” before Owein punched him in the face with one of his cuffed hands and knocked him out cold.
“Lord Ranaloc,” Cavada said forcefully. “Lord Ranaloc! ” He had to shake the old man to snap him out of his trance. “Hey! Are you all right?” He was sure he had Mentrat’s attention now. The old man blinked several times. He looked between Cavada before him and Pawl beyond.
“We still have no ammunition for the deckguns. We’re unarmed.”
“We’re… we’re – what?”
“We’re sitting ducks for those pirates right now,” Cavada said. “We need to do something or we’ll be next.” He directed Mentrat’s attention back to the Silus . It was spewing deadly smoke. The crashed sloop had set her portside on fire.
“Lord Ranaloc…” he said, putting a pistol in his hands. “We need to take your ship back.”
Mentrat shoved the gun right back at Cavada. “Get that thing away from me!” he said. “I’m not going to kill anyone.”
“You won’t have to.” He held the gun out again. “Trust me.”
“Can’t this thing go any faster?” said one of the three bluejack officers. The column of air rushing into Gilderam’s bridge through the hole in her windshield made them squint. It blew out into the hallway, since the door was still off its hinges. The other two bluejacks held the bridge at gunpoint, including Fulo and Gor’m, who were in the back near the doorway.
“We have only one working turbine,” said Reeth, one of the replacement helmsmen, “that’s barely operable, and we blew
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