Much of the fear remained-of course!-but after a dozen or so heartbeats Teldin was able to shake off the worst of the mind-numbing terror that kept him frozen in his seat. He forced himself to his feet. Where would Estriss and Aelfred be during battle stations? The bridge, of course.
The forward bridge was almost as crowded as it had been during the passage into the phlogiston. The captain and first mate were there, as he'd expected, as were Sylvie and Sweat Tobregdan. Vallus Leafbower was conspicuously absent, but his place was filled by two others, whom Teldin had met but had barely spoken to: Liono Marlot and Bubbo.
The latter two made an almost absurd contrast; even in his present state, Teldin could appreciate that. Liono Marlot, the ship's "tactician," was a quick-tongued man, slender in build, and short. The top of his gray head came up to Teldin's chin… and up to Bubbo's armpit. Bubbo-if the man had a second name, Teldin had never heard it used-was the Probe's weapons master, and his body matched the scale of the ship's heavy weapons, which were his responsibility and chief interest. He was a black-bearded mountain of a man with a good layer of fat sheathing powerful muscles. Friendly in a gruff sort of way, Bubbo would never use two words when one would do and seemed to prefer using none at all. Despite these differences, or perhaps because of them, Liono and Bubbo were fast friends and inveterate drinking companions in the saloon when both were off duty. Their normal camaraderie was absent now, and they shared the same air of tense expectation as the rest of the bridge crew.
Everyone's gaze was fixed firmly forward, presumably toward the approaching neogi vessel. Teldin scanned the bizarre sky of the flow. It was hard to make out anything against that background, through the intervening ribbons and sheets of color.
Finally he picked it out. At this range it was just a black dot, but Teldin's mind and memory filled in the details: a grossly swollen black body and the eight angular legs that gave the deathspider its name. Teldin fought the desperate urge to turn aside, to cover his eyes… to hide, but there was no safety in that. He struggled to force down the terrible memories that threatened to paralyse him. "Fear is the great killer," his grandfather had once told him. "Conquer that, and the battle is halfway yours." How would the old man deal with this, he wondered, a foe he'd never known existed, in an environment he could never have imagined? Very well, more than likely, Teldin admitted with grim humor. In any case, the thought of the old man's calm wisdom seemed to lend him strength. He forced the fear from his mind and observed.
"When did we drop to tactical speed?" Aelfred asked. "I had the alert bell rung as soon as the ship was sighted," Sweor Tobregdan answered.
Aelfred looked upward at the overhead. "What heading the deathspider?" he bellowed.
After a moment, the answer echoed down from above- presumably from the spotter on the forecastle, or maybe relayed down from the high lookout in the crow's nest atop the mast. "Still directly toward us."
The first mate glanced over at Estriss and nodded in answer to a silent order. "Hard a-port," he boomed.
It was impossible to sense the ship's maneuver from watching the flow itself, but the black spot that was the deathspider shifted slowly to the right until it vanished behind the bulkhead.
"We should fight this from the forecastle," Aelfred said grimly.
"It's a fight, then?" This from Sylvie.
Aelfred raised an eyebrow skeptically. "With neogi? Of course it's a fight." He looked around the bridge. "Sylvie, stay below. Sweor, head aft. If we have visitors, I want you in command." Without a further word, he strode to one of the ladders that led up to the forecastle and started to climb. The others-Estriss, Bubbo and Liono-followed him, while Sweor left through the aft door.
Teldin hesitated. What about him? He wasn't an officer, not strictly speaking, but Aelfred, Estriss, and the others certainly seemed to accept him as more than just another crewman. He had no battle station duties-at least, nobody had told him what they were. Probably the best thing he could do would be to stay belowdecks and keep out of everyone's way, but he wanted to see what was happening. He didn't think he could stand knowing there was a neogi ship out there, apparently closing for the attack, but not being able to see how the battle was going. He didn't want to depend on what little information might trickle down to him. That was a sure recipe for madness.
Besides, Aelfred hadn't specifically told him to stay on the bridge, or to go anywhere else, for that matter. Teldin looked over at Sylvie, who was still standing by the map table. The lovely half-elf seemed to sense his scrutiny, and his thoughts. "I don't think they'll mind if you go up," she said with a quick smile. "Just stay out of the way."
Teldin returned her smile. "Sometimes I think that's what I'm best at." He scrambled up the portside ladder.
The. forecastle turret was fully manned-Dana was among the four-person crew, Teldin noticed-and the heavy ballista had been pivoted around to point roughly astern. The large weapon had been cranked back, and a huge bolt placed in position, ready for a shot as soon as the enemy drew into range.
Estriss, Aelfred, Bubbo, and Liono were at the aft rail of the forecastle, near the mainmast. The first mate had a spyglass to his eye. Teldin moved aft, just close enough so he could hear their conversation, but not close enough to get in anyone's way. He squatted down, his back against the sloped metal wall of the turret. He looked out into the flow in the direction that Aelfred's glass and the ballista were pointing. It didn't take him long to spot the neogi vessel. It was still too far away to show as anything other than a black dot… but wasn't that dot looking bigger?
"She's still closing," Aelfred was saying. "She's fast, faster than the Probe." He lowered the spyglass and glanced over at Estriss. "No," he responded to a silent question from the illithid. "Vila's on the Helm. Thorn just got off duty, so he can't do anything." A pause-obviously another question. Aelfred frowned and shook his head. "No," he replied definitely. "We'd be faster if Vallus took the helm, but not much. Probably not enough to make a difference. Plus we'd lose ground during the changeover." He bared his teeth in an expression that mixed smile with snarl. "And finally, I want Vallus's spells. They're the only equalizer we've got."
Even through his fear, Teldin was able to notice-and be fascinated by-the dynamics of power that occurred between Estriss and Aelfred. The illithid was captain of the Probe, and everyone including Aelfred treated the creature with deference and respect,… but it seemed as though the captaincy might be in name only. Certainly, Aelfred seemed to have taken over the reins of command at the moment, and Estriss appeared unconcerned and uninclined to challenge his authority. Why is that? Teldin wondered. Because the crew would rather follow a human master? No, that didn't make sense. When Estriss issued orders, all the crew obeyed them willingly.
Wasn't it more likely that Estriss knew his own limitations and was acting within them? After all, by his own admission, the illithid was a scholar. What would a scholar be expected to know about ship-to-ship combat, particularly in this alien environment? Aelfred, on the other hand, was a mercenary, a warrior by trade and inclination. He'd be much more likely to respond correctly in a combat situation, more likely to give the correct orders, and to give them in a manner in which they'd be instantly obeyed.
He returned his attention to the group by the mainmast. Aelfred was speaking again. "All right, we have no doubts. The deathspider can outrun us. So what do we do about it? Turn and engage?" He looked one by one at the other officers.
Liono, the Probe's tactician, answered. "No," he said resolutely. "We run, as fast and as long as we can."
Why? The illithid's question formed in Teldin's brain. In discussions like this, Estriss must broadcast his thoughts to everyone nearby, he concluded. Why run? Estriss asked again. They will catch us eventually. You have said so.
"That's so," Liono agreed, "but think. Most of a deathspider's weaponry aims aft. If this is a standard configuration, all they've got that fires forward are two ballistae. Aft, they've got two ballistae plus a heavy catapult and a heavy jettison."
"Lot of firepower," Bubbo rumbled.
Liono nodded. "The only way to keep us out of its arc of fire is to stay ahead of the deathspider," he said, "and the only way to guarantee that…"
"-is run," Aelfred finished.
"Right," Liono confirmed. "When they draw closer, we can fire on them."
"And they on us," Aelfred reminded the tactician. "Bubbo, can we hurt them?"
The huge man looked doubtful. "Some," he grumbled through his beard. "Maybe not enough. Big ship. With the forward catapult, we'll hurt 'em more."
Teldin understood what the huge weapons master was getting at. In a chase, the forward heavy catapult was masked by the rest of the hull and couldn't fire on an enemy approaching from astern. If the Probe had its bow to the enemy, on the other hand, all three heavy weapons could be brought to bear.
Aelfred was silent. He didn't look happy with what he'd heard, finally he squared his shoulders and announced, "We're going to turn and close, hit 'em with everything we've got on tie way in, and try to disable their grappling rams in case that's what they've got in mind, I want to get in close enough for Vallus to do what he can." He gripped Liono's shoulder. "Your points were well taken, old friend," he told the small tactician. "We'll do our damnedest to stay out of their rear arc, but we've got to hit 'em hard. Who knows? Maybe they haven't got the stomach for a foe that wants to fight."
Echoes of Horvath and the Unquenchable, Teldin thought uncomfortably,
Liono didn't seem convinced either. "Neogi?"
Aelfred slapped him on the back. "There's a first time for everything." Now that the decision had been made, the big first mate-acting captain?-was in much better spirits. He raised his voice and yelled, "Weapons forward! Prepare to come about!"
From the main deck,, crewmen clambered into the rigging, while others pulled on ropes to trim the ship's small sails. The hammership turned. As before, there was no sensation of movement, but the black dot of the neogi vessel swung through the sky until it was almost directly ahead of the Probe. With the vessels now speeding toward each other, the death-spider seemed to jump closer. Within a dozen heartbeats Teldin could make out the spindly "legs" that made up the vessel's grappling ram.
Aelfred was speaking quietly to Estriss, giving bearings and small course adjustments. Presumably the illithid was mentally relaying these to the helmsman two decks below and to the crew still in the rigging. The neogi ship shifted, then finally settled down off the port bow.
The forward turret rumbled as the ballista crew turned their weapon around. The same was happening with the aft turret's heavy catapult. For the first time, Teldin saw that the old man, Shandess, was part of the five-man catapult crew. Corded muscles stood out in his thin arms as he threw his weight against the massive weapon.
"Bubbo," Aelfred barked, "the weapons are yours. Fire as soon as we're in range. Aim for the head. If you can damage the helm, we've won."
Bubbo scowled. "I think gnomes messed with the ballista," he grumbled.
"Too late to worry about that now," Aelfred pointed out. Then he grinned. "Maybe they've improved things."
The big man didn't look reassured, but he nodded. He squinted into the flow-light, estimating the distance to the enemy. "Soon," he growled.
"Estriss," Aelfred went on, "get Vallus up here."
"Already done." Teldin turned at the soft but carrying voice. Vallus Leafbower stepped off the ladder that led to the main deck and joined the others on the forecastle.
"What can you do to that?" Aelfred stabbed a finger toward the deathspider.
The elf thought silently for a moment, then answered slowly, "I have several spells that should help the issue. The fact that we're in the flow limits me considerably, you understand."
"I understand. How close do we have to be?"
Vallus appraised the distance, a frown creasing his brow. "Closer than this," he replied.
Aelfred chuckled mirthlessly. "Oh, we'll get closer," he told the elf mage. "You're on your own, Vallus. You know better than me how to handle the magic side of it. Do whatever you can to give them trouble. If you can take out their helmsman, do it."
The elf nodded. "I'll do what I can." The first mate turned away to study the approaching enemy.
The deathspider was nearer, and Teldin was able to make out more details. Multiple round ports were set into the vessel's head. They glowed a sullen red, like inhuman eyes filled with hatred and blood-lust. Rigging was strung between the upper two pairs of legs: diaphanous sails that could almost be made of cobwebs, linked by silvery ropes. The ship's bulging abdomen seemed to have taken on a dull red tinge. Perhaps it was just the flow-light reflecting off it, or maybe it was light from within transmitted through the deathspider's crystalline hull. The overall effect was horrific, threatening. Even if Teldin hadn't known what he did about the neogi, there was no way he could picture any race using such a ship as anything but rapacious and evil.
To Teldin, it seemed that the rate of approach had slowed somewhat. Perhaps Aelfred was right and the horrors aboard the spidership were hesitant about dealing with a vessel that turned to the attack rather than fled. Or, more likely, the creatures were just being cautious. Why rush into something when there was little or nothing to be gained through speed?
It was difficult to judge the range accurately, both because of the shifting background and because the head-on attitude of the deathspider gave precious little detail from which to judge distance. Nevertheless, Teldin guessed the enemy was now less than ten thousand paces distant.
Bubbo had borrowed Aelfred's spyglass and had it trained on the approaching vessel. Now he lowered it and roared,
"Catapults away!"
Teldin turned to watch the aft catapult. Shandess pulled the lever that fired the heavy weapon. The catapult's arm pivoted forward and up, slowly at first but picking up speed at a frightening rate. Then the arm reached the full extent of its travel and slammed into the forward stop with an echoing boom. The massive stone that had been loaded into the cup at the end of the arm shot clear. Teldin heard it whistle overhead, barely clearing the rigging, as it hurtled slightly to port, directly at the deathspider. Almost simultaneously, he heard the forward catapult fire. He tried to follow the flight of the two stones, but quickly lost them against the turbulence of the phlogiston.
Bubbo had the spyglass back to his eye. "Two clean hits," he announced after a few moments, satisfaction apparent in his voice. "One to the head." Teldin tried to imagine the impact of one of those massive catapult stones, the splintered timber and shattered crystal. How could anything weather such a blow? The deathspider seemed unaffected, though-at least, any damage was totally invisible from this distance-and continued on its course.
The aft catapult crew was at work reloading the massive weapon. Four burly crewmen were heaving on two mighty windlasses, winching the catapult arm back toward its cocked position, while Shandess stood ready to lock it into place. It was slow work, and Teldin could sense their intensity.
He turned forward. The ballista crew in the forecastle turret was tense, ready. The weapon was cocked, ready to fire, and the head gunner was squinting along the length of the huge bolt, checking the accuracy of his aim. There was something different about the ballista's appearance, Teldin noted for the first time. It seemed more complex, somehow. He couldn't immediately identify what the changes were, but they made the heavy weapon look even more dangerous than ever.
After a moment, he saw what he knew to be the source of those changes. Dana was crouched by the firing lanyard, apparently making some quick adjustments to the mechanism. As if sensing Teldin's gaze on her, the gnome turned, and their eyes met. If the eyes are truly windows to the soul, then it seemed as though imminent danger had opened the shutters.
Teldin felt Dana's emotions hit him like a physical shock. Fear and determination were there, of course, but these were in the background. At the forefront were feelings directed at Teldin: respect and affection… and something more than affection. Shaken, Teldin gave the small woman a reassuring smile, then turned away. Now wasn't the time to deal with this new complexity, later, maybe. If there was a later.
"Range?" Aelfred snapped.
"A thousand paces," Bubbo rumbled. "Closing."
The first mate nodded. "Now it gets interesting."
There was no warning, nothing to prepare Teldin for what happened next. Suddenly, shockingly, something tore through the rigging above his head. Canvas ripped, and a secondary boom shattered, raining wood splinters onto the deck. Instinctively, Teldin ducked below the rail, shielding his head with his arms. He heard something else whoosh harmlessly overhead.
"I take it we're in ballista range," Aelfred said dryly.
"Ballista away!" Bubbo ordered.
The head gunner checked the aim a final time, then nodded to Dana. The gnome pulled the lanyard. With a force that Teldin could feel through the deck, the huge bow fired and the bolt, with its massive metal head, hissed toward the enemy ship. Before the bow limbs had stopped quivering, the crew had leaped to the windlass and were winching the bowstring back for another shot.
"Hit!" Bubbo called. "Good hit!" He stared at Dana with undisguised surprise.
Both catapults fired again, within a few heartbeats of each other. This time Teldin had better success tracking the shots. One massive stone flew wide, passing harmlessly below the deathspider's head. The second, though, flew straight and true, smashing into the hideous ship at the base of one of the legs. The leg tilted drunkenly, but didn't come away from the hull.
"Clear the rigging," Aelfred cried. "Lookout down."
The crewmen who'd been aloft in the ratlines scrambled down to the relative safety of the deck, while the lookout came down the mast from the crow's nest scarcely slower than he would have had he fallen freely. Precise maneuvering didn't count for much now, Teldin assumed, and there was little use in putting a man at risk at high lookout when anyone with the poorest eyesight could see the enemy perfectly well from the deck.
The two ships were closing fast now. The distance between them halved, then halved again. The deathspider loomed large and hideous, its red-lit bow ports like eyes glaring at the Probe, its spindly legs seeming to reach out to grasp the hammership. One ship, or maybe both, had changed course, and the spidership was now directly ahead of the Probe.
"Too close for catapults," Bubbo grumbled. "Release the crews?"
Aelfred nodded. "Catapult crews to damage control stations," he yelled.
Words formed in Teldin's mind. Are we to ram head-on? Estriss asked.
"No," Aelfred answered, "I've got something else in mind, but let 'em think we are."
The Probe's ballista fired again, at virtually point-blank range. Teldin watched the heavy missile slam straight into the bow of the deathspider. A circular port shattered, spraying debris into space. A strident cheer went up from the ballista crew….
And quickly turned to screams of horror and agony. A missile from the deathspider slammed into the Probe's forward turret, shattering the ballista and flinging the weapon's crew around like rag dolls. Without hesitation, Teldin hurled himself up the ladder and vaulted over the turret's rim.
The scene in the turret was total confusion. Wreckage was everywhere. When the enemy bolt had struck the hammer-ship's ballista, the considerable energy contained in the partially bent limbs of the big bow had been released and had to go somewhere. In this case, it had torn the heavy weapon apart, throwing fragments everywhere. Two of the turret crew were still up and moving-Dana among them, Teldin was happy to see-but even they were bleeding from multiple small wounds and seemed somewhat stunned. The other two, however… Teldin saw at once there was nothing he-or anyone else-could do for them. One was crumpled against the turret wall, his back bent the wrong way; the other apparently had been struck directly by the neogi's shot, and the enormous missile had torn him in two. Teldin averted his eyes from what was left of the unfortunate man and struggled to control his rising gorge.
"Report!" Aelfred bellowed.
Teldin leaned over the turret rail, glad to turn his back on the carnage. "Two dead," he said, trying to keep his voice level and matter-of-fact, "two injured. The ballista's wrecked."
Aelfred's face had a grim cast, and his eyes were as cold and hard as flint. "If there's anything to salvage, do it," he ordered, "then get below and under cover. This is going to be bloody."
"No!" The vehemence of his own response came as a surprise to Teldin, and to Aelfred as well, judging by his expression. "No," Teldin repeated more reasonably. "You need every able-bodied man you can get."
Aelfred's face clouded over, and he blistered the air with a soldier's oath. Then, suddenly, his frown faded, replaced by an unwilling smile. "Your call," he told Teldin. "Make sure you're armed… and watch your back."
Teldin smiled. He didn't need that last bit of advice. His skin was very precious to him, and he'd do everything he could to make sure it remained reasonably intact. But… armed? He looked around the turret quickly. For the first time, he noticed-or let himself notice-the identity of the crewman who lay broken against the turret wall. It was Gendi, the one who'd lent Teldin his short sword for his practice session with Aelfred. The sword was still in its sheath on Gendi's belt, and it was certain that Gendi wouldn't be wanting it anymore. Carefully avoiding the messy reminders of the other crewman's fate, Teldin crossed the turret. He hesitated a moment-there was something about taking from the dead that gave him pause-then he drew the sword from Gengi's scabbard. He clutched the weapon in his fist tightly, to stop the disturbing tremor he noticed in his hand, and ran his left palm along the flat of the blade. The metal was cool and smooth, and somehow it seemed to shore up his flagging courage. He had nowhere to put the weapon and considered for a moment removing Gendi's sword belt. That would be too much, he decided, and it would mean moving the body. Even though Gendi was past feeling anything, Teldin couldn't bring himself to shift the broken-backed corpse.
Dana was watching him dumbly, her eyes still glazed with shock and pain. He raised the sword and held it before him, forcing a fierce grin onto his face. As he'd hoped, the gnomish woman responded. Her eyes cleared, and she drew the long dagger she had at her own hip. She smiled back at him. Once more she looked like the tough little warrior that he'd always considered her to be.
The Probe was almost upon the deathspider. It looked as though Aelfred was going to drive the hammership's blunt ram full into the head of the spidership. "Prepare to ram!" Aelfred's roar echoed throughout the ship. Everywhere, crewmen grabbed whatever purchase came to hand: gunwale rails, rigging, or fixed pieces of equipment. Teldin shrank the cloak to its smallest dimension, wrapped his left arm around the turret rail, and held on for dear life..
Above and below the Probe, the deathspider's huge legs swung inward like huge levers, preparing to grapple the hammership. To Teldin there seemed no possible way of avoiding their embrace, or the impending collision.
With only instants to spare, Aelfred bellowed, "Down a-port, hard!"
The blunt bow of the hammership dropped, and the ship swung rapidly to the left.
Impact! Even with his grip on the rail, the shock almost flung Teldin across the turret, and his left shoulder felt like his arm was being torn from the socket. He fought to keep his feet. Belowdecks he heard crashing as inadequately secured equipment, and perhaps even people, smashed into bulkheads and decks.
With a rush of fierce excitement, Teldin understood Aelfred's plan. The last-moment maneuver had changed the Probe's course. Instead of driving full into the deathspider's bridge, the hammership's ram had instead smashed into the lower left-hand leg of the neogi vessel's grappling ram, near its root. It was the same leg that had been damaged by one of the Probe's early catapult shots. In its entirety, the impetus of both massive vessels had been concentrated on that single spot. No matter how strong the material that made up the grappling ram, a single leg could only be so thick, and its structure was already seriously damaged. The iron-ribbed crystal had fractured, and the entire leg had been torn away from the vessel.
The massive black bulk of the deathspider slipped by, directly above the deck of the hammership. With a splintering of wood, the top one-third of the mainmast-and the crow's nest, thankfully empty-was carried away. Teldin's eardrums popped with a change in air pressure, and his balance swam as giddily as it had when the pirate wasp passed near the gnomish longboat.
Teldin looked over the turret rail to the forecastle deck. Vallus Leafbower had somehow kept his feet and was weaving intricate patterns in the air before him with delicate fingers. Although the elf was speaking for himself alone, the fluid syllables of the spell he was constructing easily carried through the sounds of chaos. Teldin could feel the power the elf mage was wielding; the hair on the backs of his hands stirred, and the air on the forecastle had the biting odor of a thunderstorm.
The incantation reached its climax, and the elf thrust a rigid finger out toward the underside of the deathspider. A beam of harsh green light lashed out from his fingertip and struck the deathspider in the middle of the thin "neck" connecting the head with the abdomen. Where the beam struck, the crystal of the hull exploded into dust. The dull red light within the spidership shone out through a ragged-edged hole in the hull. The great black ship groaned, as though in torment.
"Down a-port!" Aelfred yelled again. There was no response; the Probe's course didn't change. "Down a-port!" the first mate repeated. "What the hell's going on… ?"
The mind flayer's mental voice cut him off. The helm is down. Vila, is unconscious.
Aelfred's answer was a warrior's curse.
Vallus faced the first mate calmly. "Shall I… ?"
"No!" Aelfred fought his anger under control again. "No," he repeated, more calmly. "We'll need you on deck before long." He thought for a moment, then smiled. "Get that gnome-Saliman, is that his name? Get him on the helm, then get back up here fast, got it?"
The elf nodded his understanding and ran for the ladder to the main deck. Aelfred looked up at the deathspider, still passing by above his head. His expression was grim.
Well it should be, Teldin realized. Liono had counseled against getting into the spidership's rear arc, and that's just where they were going to end up. There was nothing they could do about it, until the gnomish cleric took the helm and got the hammership under control.
The deathspider was almost past. "Take cover!" Aelfred roared.
Teldin looked around him. There was little enough cover here in the turret. He felt a tug on his arm. It was Dana. "Down here," she urged, pointing to the ruins of the ballista. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. They crouched beneath the smashed weapon, taking what little shelter they could. Teldin glanced up.
The deathspider had passed. Through a gap in the underside of the abdomen he saw what looked like a series of small catapults. Figures moved around the weapons, silhouettes against the dim red light within the vessel. Most looked vaguely human, but some were misshapen figures out of nightmares. As one, the multiple catapults fired. Teldin forced his body backward, pressing himself as close to the ballista's swivel mount as possible.
Not a moment too soon. There was a hiss, like sudden, heavy rain or hail, but this hail wasn't frozen water. A momentary deluge of small projectiles lashed against the deck: pebbles, scraps of metal, iron spikes, even some things that looked like fragments of shattered bone.
The rain of missiles lasted for only an instant, then there was silence, then the screaming began, cries of agony from all over the vessel. Teldin looked over at Dana. She appeared unharmed, but the other ballista crewman had tried to hide against the forward wall of the turret and hadn't been so lucky. His gray jerkin was already turning the color of burgundy, as he clutched uncomprehendingly at two jagged rips in his chest. His mouth worked silently as he turned pleading eyes on Teldin. A trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth.
There's nothing I can do. The words echoed inside Teldin's mind. I know nothing of medicine. There's nothing I can do for you. He wanted to shout it out loud, but his throat was tight with horror.
Dana squeezed his arm, almost painfully. "I'll see what I can do," she told him. "Others may need help elsewhere."
He took a deep breath, forcing himself back under control, and nodded. He climbed from the turret to the forecastle deck.
The group of officers hadn't fared badly, and injuries seemed minor. Aelfred had a deep cut on his brow and was forced to keep wiping blood from his eyes. Estriss oozed silvery-white plasma from half a dozen minor nicks, while Bubbo paid absolutely no attention to a gash in his right arm that would have incapacitated any other man.
Things were considerably worse elsewhere. Of the crew on the main deck, perhaps one quarter were down-either disabled or dead-and most of the rest were injured in one way or another.
Aelfred cursed viciously. "If they keep pounding us with that jettison, we're dead."
Liono shook his head. "I don't think that's their plan," he said quietly.
All heads turned to observe the deathspider. The huge vessel had slowed down and was maneuvering. Ponderously but unmistakably, it was coming about. The stern, with its deadly jetsam-and, presumably, other heavy weapons-was swinging away. The three remaining legs of the grappling ram opened slowly.
"They're coming back to grapple," Aelfred muttered. "Why? Until the helm's up again, we're helpless. They can pound us to space dust."
Liono shrugged. "Slave hunt?" he proposed. "Or maybe they think we'll get away if they don't take us now."
Vallus reappeared up the ladder from the main deck. As always, the elf looked totally unruffled.
"Is the gnome on the helm?" Aelfred asked him.
"He's on it, but it will take time for him to gain control of it." The elf smiled gently. "He claims it's different from-and inferior to-the gnomish helms he's used to."
"Damn. How long?"
Vallus shrugged. "Minutes."
"Too long," the warrior pronounced. The deathspider had completed its turn and was moving slowly back toward the Probe. The hammership was now broadside-on, presenting its starboard side to the neogi vessel. "Can we maneuver at all?" Nobody answered, and that was answer enough. "Stand by to repel boarders."
The first mate's quiet order was relayed throughout the ship. Crewmen who'd been on damage control duty below flooded out onto the decks. Everywhere around him Teldin saw men and women-those who could still move-readying their weapons, preparing to fight and perhaps die. For his own part, Teldin was surprised to feel very little fear. Oh, certainly his stomach churned sickly, and he felt pricks of cold sweat on his brow, but now that the doubt and the waiting was coming to an end, now that battle was certain, he felt none of the incapacitating terror he'd expected at facing neogi again. He'd do what he could; what more could be expected of any man?
Can we take them? Teldin felt the words in his mind, but he knew Estriss had directed the question at Aelfred.
The burly warrior shrugged. "It'll be close," he said. "Neogi ships are manned by slaves, and slaves never fight as well as a free crew. If it looks like the monsters are on the losing end, some of the slaves will probably turn on them. Even without that…" His practiced eyes flicked about, coolly evaluating the tactical situation. "When they grapple, they've got to come over the bow. That's narrow, less than thirty feet, which means they can't send too many at once. We can pack everyone along the starboard rail and kill 'em as they try to come aboard. If we're lucky…" He paused, then turned to Vallus. "Have you got anything left that can get us out of the ram?"
The mage nodded. "I have another disintegrate spell."
"When the gnome's got the helm up, use it," Aelfred told him. "Until then, do whatever you can do to make trouble for them. And keep an eye on their forward ballistae. If they've got someone with brains commanding the crews, they'll be trying to take out anyone throwing spells."
Vallus nodded again. "Leave it to me," he said calmly.
The deathspider loomed closer, the three remaining legs of the grappling ram beginning to close. Teldin could see the weapons deck in the upper arc of the ship's abdomen. There was a milling crowd there, packed around the twin ballistae, at least fifty strong. The vast majority were human, but here and there massive, misshapen figures loomed above the pack. Teldin recognized them as umber hulks and knew just how dangerous they were. Some bowmen among the Probe's crew were already firing arrows into the massed enemy, trying to thin out their numbers before the fighting began in earnest. Surprisingly, no missiles had yet struck the hammership.
Twenty yards. The deathspider's three remaining grappling legs already extended past the Probe-two above, one below. Crewmen were casting fearful glances at the thin but strong shafts that hung over their heads. To Teldin it looked as though the hammership were already in their grasp. There seemed no way that the vessel could escape, no matter what Vallus thought to the contrary.
Fifty yards. Teldin could see through the central port of the deathspider's head, into the red-lit interior of the great ship's bridge. Silhouettes moved against the light, repulsive shapes that brought back horrible memories from the past weeks. The vessel's neogi masters were watching the final moments of the hammership's capture. Fifteen yards.
With a grinding crash, the Probe's hull struck against the lower of the three grappling legs. Even with the slow rate of approach, the impact was severe, and Teldin kept his feet only with difficulty. The upper two legs started to move, to lower. They moved slowly but inexorably. With a rending of wood, one crushed the starboard rail just aft of the cargo hatch. The second struck the Probe five feet aft of the stern turret. The aftmost fin on the starboard side crumpled as though it were made of paper and balsa wood. The movement of the legs stopped. They seemed unable to exert enough pressure to crush, or even seriously damage, the hammership's reinforced hull, but they served their purpose nonetheless. The Probe was immobilized.
Sylvie hurried up the ladder from the main deck to join the other officers on the forecastle. Aelfred shot her an angry look. "Your station's below," he snapped.
The slender woman shrugged. "I don't think navigation's much of an issue at the moment," she said dryly. "I can be more use up here."
Aelfred hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Go to it," he told them.
Sylvie flashed him one of her momentary smiles. "I intend to." She drew a tiny object from the pouch on her belt. To Teldin it looked like a flat crystal of glasslike material. She then pulled out what looked like a small piece of animal fur. Mumbling fluid syllables under her breath, she rubbed the two gently together. Again Teldin felt the power she wielded grow in the air around her. She hissed the final words of the incantation through clenched teeth. Unlike Vallus's spell, there was no pyrotechnic display. Instead, the spidership's central bow port burst asunder, sending shards of crystal flying in all directions. Teldin heard inhuman shrieks of pain and alarm from within the enemy ship's bridge, and he felt his lips draw back from his teeth in a feral grin. "Hurt them!" he heard his own voice scream.
As if the bursting port had been the signal, the attack began in earnest. Arrows and crossbow bolts rained down on the hammership's deck as the slave bowmen fired their first salvo. The majority of the Probe's crew was under some kind of cover, however-crouched below the starboard gunwale, or concealed behind the ship's small longboat-and casualties were light. The hammership's crew returned fire, with much greater effect, into the massed attackers.
With a hissing roar, something hurtled by over Teldin's head. Ballista bolt, probably, directed at the knot of officers on the forecastle. Aelfred and the others separated, spreading themselves out and eliminating the close grouping of people that must be an attractive target for the deathspider's gunners. A roar burst from the throats of the neogi vessel's crew members as they charged across the upper surface of the spidership's bridge. The umber hulks who had been among them were now behind them, urging them on, forcing them forward. The hammership's crew was still firing, and the arrows and bolts tore into the front ranks. Teldin saw a man stop, howling in pain, a longbow arrow protruding from his chest. The man threw his weapon down and tried to turn back, to escape the carnage. He tried to force his way through the pack of attackers, back toward the relative safety of the deathspider. For a moment the charge wavered, its momentum broken, then an umber hulk pressed forward and lashed out with an iron-hard claw. The wounded man shrieked again, louder, and his torn and twitching body plunged off the ship and into the darkness, spewing blood. Teldin turned away.
This object lesson wasn't lost on the other attackers. They rushed forward once more, with even more vigor.
Aelfred had been right in his analysis. The bridge section of the deathspider was narrow, which meant that not all the attackers could advance at once. They came forward in waves, full into the devastating fire of the hammership's crew. Men rushed forward, under the urging of the umber hulks… and they died. "We're holding them," Aelfred muttered.
But the situation couldn't last for long. Some of the umber hulks forced their way to the front of the attacking group, knocking humans aside like dolls, tumbling unfortunates over the side of the vessel into space. The Probe's defenders kept firing, but their murderous barrage couldn't stop the armored monsters' advance. Arrows glanced harmlessly off the creatures' shells; bolts lodged in plates of natural armor, but didn't penetrate. The monstrosities continued their approach across the deathspider's bridge.
"Vallus!" Aelfred shouted.
The elf was already weaving the power of another spell. He extended one hand, fingers outspread, toward the attacking monsters. An arrow seemed to spring from the tips of his fingers, driving deep into the chest of the leading hulk. It bellowed its agony, tearing at its own flesh as if to pluck out the arrow, then collapsed to the deck.
Sylvie had joined the fray as well. In response to her incantation, a dozen or more rubbery, black tentacles burst from the spidership's hull and wrapped themselves around the legs and torsos of the advancing hulks. Some of the creatures quickly tore the tentacles away; others weren't so lucky. Teldin watched in mixed awe and horror as several of the tentacles tightened around their victims, immobilizing them, and started to crush their hard carapaces. One umber hulk lurched back, one arm virtually torn away, and fell into the darkness. Another collapsed where it stood, its head a shattered ruin.
Mighty though it was, the magical assault wasn't enough to stop the attack. Haifa dozen hulks still survived, though most of those were wounded to one degree or another. As the mages paused to prepare new spells, the attackers lumbered forward. With rattling barks of triumph, the creatures reached the hammership's rail and swung their massive bodies over. Still being forced along by the remaining hulks, the human slaves followed the gruesome shock troops. The second phase of the defense of the Probe had begun.
The main deck was a pandemonium of brawling figures. Packs of Probe crewmen harried individual umber hulks, striking at the monsters' backs and flanks, desperately struggling to stay out of reach of the creatures' rending claws. Others fought in knots, or one on one, against the human and demihuman attackers from the deathspider. The air was filled with screams of rage and agony and grunts of exertion, punctuated by the umber hulks' barking cries. Above all was the clash and skirl of steel on steel.
Sweor Tobregdan, Aelfred's second mate, bellowed orders from the sterncastle, trying to direct the defense. If there was any plan to the fight, however, Teldin couldn't see it. People fought where they had to, or where an opportunity presented itself. This wasn't organized warfare, with its lines of offense and defense, coordinated sorties, and countercharges. This was more like a barroom brawl: no order, no central command, and no quarter asked or given.
The second mate must have seen the futility of yelling orders that nobody could hear, because he leaped down the ladder to the main deck and threw himself into the fray. Almost instantly, four of the deathspider's human crewmen sprang at him, and he went down under them.
"Sweor!" Aelfred yelled. He made to leap into the midst of the fray and somehow cut his way to where his friend needed him, but Bubbo's hand landed heavily on his shoulder. For a moment, the big warrior fought-vainly-to escape the grip of the even bigger weapons master. Then reason quieted Aelfred's anger. He nodded his thanks to Bubbo.
Sweor needed no help, as it turned out. An instant later, he reappeared, his clothing and blade drenched with blood-not his. own-leaving his erstwhile adversaries motionless on the deck.
Another spell split the air. A fan of seven shimmering multicolored rays lashed from Vallus's outstretched hands and struck two umber hulks on the deck below. One fell instantly lifeless, a huge, smoking rent torn in the armor of its chest. He other screamed its agony, flailing about wildly with an arm now blackened and twisted and missing perhaps half of its length. The Probe crewmen who faced the beast seized the opportunity. Two lunged in on its other flank and buried their swords hilt-deep in the creature's abdomen. The hulk lashed out with its good arm, striking one of its attackers with back-breaking force, but a crewman on the other side crouched low and swung his axe at the monster's ankle. It connected and, with another ear-splitting shriek, the creature crashed to the deck. Its assailants were on it at once.
Teldin didn't see the creature's death. A clash of steel on steel from close by drew his attention. Some of the attackers were trying to reach the forecastle, he saw at once. Two were trying to climb the starboard ladder from the main deck. Liono was holding them off, and they hadn't yet reached the forecastle deck itself, but their swordwork was good enough-even on the ladder-that the aged tactician was unable to kill them. Other attackers were swarming up the port ladder, and Bubbo was lumbering over to deal with them. Teldin hefted Gendi's short sword and felt the tension of feat in the tendons of his forearm.
With no warning, a spear hissed past Teldin's ear and drove, quivering, into the side of the forward turret. Another slammed into Liono's ribs, transfixing his thin body. The tactician fell silently. Teldin looked around wildly for the new attackers.
The assault was coming from a totally new direction. Some of the deathspider's crew had managed to clamber over onto the lobe that extended from the starboard side of the Probe's hull-in fact, onto the metalwork that formed the roof of the officer's saloon. Teldin estimated maybe a dozen men, being herded forward by another umber hulk.
"Starboard side forward!" Teldin bellowed at the top of his lungs. He pointed toward the new danger.
It was Sylvie who reacted first. She spun and again hissed syllables of power. A chunk of metal-braced wood from the shattered ballista lifted from the deck and was hurled with inhuman force into the new group of attackers. Several fell, screaming, but the others had reached the forecastle and were now in the partial shelter of the forward turret. Aelfred and Sylvie hurried forward to engage them. Teldin moved to follow his friends.
At the last instant, his peripheral vision spotted motion. Instinctively he ducked… and another spear whistled over his head, to glance off the turret side and disappear over the rail. With Liono gone, his two opponents, followed by a handful of others, had reached the forecastle deck unopposed. Teldin saw one leap toward Estriss, sword swinging to cleave the mind flayer's head in two. He tried to yell a warning to his friend- friend? yes!-but sickeningly knew it was too late.
Estriss made no move to defend himself. The creature just turned featureless, white eyes on its murderer.
And suddenly the attacker arched backward, as though he'd been struck full in the face by a tremendous blow. The attacker screamed, clutching his head with both hands. His sword clattered to the deck.
With a sinuous speed that Teldin had never seen from the illithid before, Estriss lunged forward and flung himself atop the writhing man. Red-tinged hands pried the man's own hands away from his head. Estriss bent low, and his facial tentacles lashed out to cup the human's skull. The neogi slave screamed again….
Nausea and horror washed over Teldin, and he turned away. He was just in time. Two attackers were moving his way, weapons at the ready. Teldin tightened his grip on his sword and dropped into the defensive stance that Aelfred had shown him. He backed away cautiously. His two opponents advanced, no less tentatively, and separated as though to flank him. Both were scrawny men, he noticed, actually emaciated. Their eyes looked wild, almost insane. One was about his own size, while the other was considerably taller, but neither could have weighed nearly as much as he did. The larger man was naked to the waist, and Teldin could easily see his ribs showing under his skin. On the man's upper left chest was some kind of discoloration. It took him a moment to understand that it was a tattoo of some kind, a marking totally alien in its symbology.
Disgust and pity warred with his fear. This had to be the mark identifying the slave's owner.
With a grunt of exertion, the larger man lunged forward, thrusting the point of his sword directly at Teldin's throat.
The almost familiar sense of focus closed over Teldin's mind like a reassuring blanket. Once again his time sense changed. His attacker's fast thrust became something that was so slow as to be almost lethargic. Teldin had plenty of time to gauge the man's attack and judge that the thrust could be deflected if he positioned his own weapon… there.
His sword came up fast. Steel rang on steel, and the attacker's blade deflected past Teldin's shoulder. The man's weight shift carried him on, and Teldin found himself staring into the man's surprised face. As a continuation of his own parry, Teldin drove his fist out. His knuckles, backed by the mass and momentum of his sword hilt, slammed into the man's jaw with stunning force. The big man's head snapped back on his neck, and his eyes glazed with pain.
The other attacker was moving, too, aiming a whistling cut at Teldin's side. Teldin had plenty of time to bring his own blade around to parry that attack, too. When their blades struck, Teldin was braced and ready, but still the impact jarred painfully up his arm. The small man was already dropping back to avoid Teldin's thrust.
The point is mightier than the edge. Aelfred's words rang in Teldin's head. But the short sword does have on edge. Quickly, before his small assailant could jump completely out of the way, Teldin snapped his wrist straight, the way Aelfred had done. His blade licked out like silver death, scribing a thick line of red across his attacker's belly. The smaller man staggered back, howling, arms clutching his abdomen as if to keep his entrails where they belonged.
The larger attacker had shaken off the effects of Teldin's blow and was moving in again. Teldin feinted once for the man's face, then tried to thrust into his belly when his opponent raised his guard. Although everything around him still seemed to be moving in slow motion, Teldin's own motions were starting to slow, too. His opponent had fallen for the feint but still managed to bring his blade back down in time to parry Teldin's lunge. The big man countered with a cut that would have torn Teldin's chest open if he hadn't danced back out of range.
Sweat stung Teldin's eyes, and the tendons in his forearm burned with fatigue. The cloak-if that was what was responsible for this-could focus his mind, he realized, but it could do little for his body. And he was no hardened and conditioned swordsman.
His eyes met those of his attacker. They were empty, devoid of any human feeling. Still, Teldin thought, inexplicably, they were capable of reading Teldin's doubts in his own eyes. As if to confirm that, the big man smiled.
Teldin knew no tactics, no skillful techniques with the short sword. With the knife he'd been taught various moves-the flick thrust, the wrist cut, even the throw-but to drop his sword and draw his knife would be suicide. The only thing that Aelfred had taught him was the lunge, and he used it.
His blade licked out like a striking serpent, straight for his opponent's heart. The big man was still slightly open after his wild cut, and his parry was late. There was no way he could get his blade back in time to deflect the thrust. Satisfaction, even exultation, dimly penetrated Teldin's almost unemotional concentration.
Then something slammed with crushing force into Teldin's wrist. His arm was batted aside, and his sword flew from suddenly numbed fingers. He staggered backward.
The man hadn't had enough time to parry the thrust properly, Teldin knew, but he had found just enough time to smash the pommel of his sword into Teldin's wrist.
The pain of the impact was incredible. His wrist must be broken, Teldin thought. He took another couple of steps away from the big swordsman, clutching his injured arm to his belly. His back pressed against the port rail of the forecastle. There was nowhere to run. Even now, with death imminent, he saw the ironic parallel between this moment and his first meeting with Estriss.
Maybe it was the pain that broke the effect, but Teldin's intense sense of focus evaporated. His time sense returned to normal, and the fear that had been somehow held in abeyance crashed through his body like a mighty wave. Teldin's killer stepped forward, a smile splitting his face. Teldin looked into the man's eyes. They were empty, almost soulless. There would be no mercy here. The man drew back his blade, readying for the cut that would tear Teldin in two.