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more-resting on the shoulders of manlike giants, then a barrage of stones came
flying out of the haze. Most dropped short of the ship, sending silvery plumes
of dust shooting into the sky. Four of the boulders found their marks, sending
a series of thunderous crashes resounding through the decks.
One stone shattered a foredeck ballista. As its tightly wound skeins sprang
loose, the cords knocked half the weapon's crew over the side. Two more
boulders hit the main deck, opening kank-sized holes in the planking and
dropping a handful of reinforcements into the hold below. The last smashed a
vat of Balkan fire. Five dwarven slaves screamed in pain as yellow flame
splashed over their shoulders, and small puddles of burning, syrupy liquid
formed on the deck.
The fire corps rushed forward, pouring their bags of silt over the flames to
smother them. At the same time, the catapult crews pulled their release cords
to return the giants' barrage. Even the dwarves who had been burned unleashed
their missiles, still howling in agony.
The Balkan fire streaked away from the ship with a loud sizzle, lighting the
sky and filling the air with such a caustic stench that Tithian choked on the
acrid fumes. As the fiery balls reached their zenith, the ship's wizard raised
his gnarled finger and cried, "Shower!"
The globes exploded, spraying burning gobs over everything beneath them. For a
moment, all was quiet, then a portion of the sea itself erupted into fire and
greasy black smoke. A chorus of pained screeches rolled across the silt and
broke against the hull. Then, as the flames slowly sank beneath the dust, the
cries died away.
When the smoke cleared, the twelve giants that had attacked the
Silt Lion were gone. The reinforcements stopped battling the fire long enough
to give a rousing cheer. The dwarven crews simply began to pry their catapult
arms down again, though the five who had been burned earlier lacked the
strength to succeed-no matter how hard their templar overseer lashed their
charred backs.
Tithian turned to Saanakal. thought you said we were doomed?"
"I
"Our wizard's timing was remarkable-this time," the high templar said,
pointing over the stern. "But when his good fortune runs out, so does ours."
When Tithian looked in the direction Saanakal had indicated, a cold hand
closed around his heart. In the heat of the
Silt Lion's exchange, he had lost track of the rest of the battle. Now, he
found himself looking on in horror as
eight giants charged the
Wyvern.
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Each carried a large battering ram in his hands.
The
Wyvern's foredeck ballistae fired. One tree-sized lance lodged in the breast
of a goat-headed giant. Another harpoon pierced the scaly throat of a
serpent-headed giant. Both attackers fell immediately, vanishing into the silt
as if they had never been there. The remaining six hit the ship with their
rams, opening great breaches in the hull and shaking the masts with the force
of the impact.
Dust poured through the holes in rivers, but the shipfloater continued to hold
the schooner aloft. Dozens of sailors rushed forward to thrust their lances at
the giants, while the catapult crews used their ladles to fling Balkan fire
over the side.
Neither effort was to much avail, for the giants slapped the lances aside and
easily dodged the clumsy attempts to pelt them with flame. They pushed upward
on the rams with which they had punctured the hull. The schooner, still
levitated by the shipfloater, tipped easily. Men, catapults, cargo, and
everything else not firmly attached to the decks went tumbling into the silt.
After the shipfloater and his dome fell away, the
Wyvern itself settled into the dust.
When it was about three quarters buried, it touched bottom and stopped
sinking. Survivors immediately swarmed to the portion of hull still showing
above the dust, but it was clear they would not live much longer. As the
Silt Lion sailed away from the wreck, the giants were using their rams like
clubs to smash the hull into tiny bits.
Tithian turned to Saanakal. "Cancel the order to flee toward the islands," he
said. "Tell each ship to engage the giants at dose quarters. They're to move
the vats of Balkan fire to the gunnels and dump them over the side as the
giants rip 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
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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,
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