The Reaping Sea

 

Jaya drove her rowers hard through the morning.  The sun rose blazing behind them and she steered through waves that deepened and rolled more heavily as wind sprang up from the north.  At the prow she had a lookout watching the horizon, looking for her ships, and she could look to the north herself and see the sails of the oncoming enemies growing nearer, the wind driving them like whips.  She counted six sails, then ten, then sixteen, and she saw signals flashed from one to the other, a flickering of light.

The longboats rowed hard around the headland and she saw her own ships at anchor offshore, pitching as the sea grew rougher.  She had not brought her entire fleet here, only a flotilla large enough to deter attack.  She had six smaller ships, including her own Unjarah, and at the center one of the great warships she had captured and renamed the Reaper.

Seeing them at anchor like this sank her heart heavy in her chest, down into her belly.  They could never get underway fast enough to escape the enemy ships, and they were not enough to fight them.  The Mordani had brought a greater power to bear than she had foreseen, and now she knew this was the price of her strike against them.  They must have sent away for aid when she took Jinan, and now she was gathering the harvest of her success.

The rowers bent now, pulling fanatically until their skins were slick with sweat and their arms knotted and their backs groaned.  Jaya gave orders to her man at the prow and he shouted her commands ahead as far as his voice could bear them.  By the time they were close the ships were all dragging up their anchors and rushing to put on sail.  The heavy anchors of the Reaper would never come up in time, so men with chisels and hammers cut the chains away and set her loose.

Dhatun looked at her when they came near the immense warship.  The Reaper was his command, and it was his place to captain her.  Their gazes met for a long moment, and then he turned his boat for his ship as it began to move.  Jaya swallowed a heaviness in her throat.  She knew she would likely not see him alive again, if indeed any of them escaped this trap.

Her longboat drew up beside the Unjarah, and ropes dropped and were made fast so she could be winched upward as the rowers collapsed and gasped for breath.  Jaya did not wait, but clambered over the exhausted men and climbed the rungs up to the deck.  She was bloodied and smelled of fire, and her men jumped to obey her.  Bastar sprang down from the quarterdeck, and she saw the grim knowledge on his face.

“We can’t escape them,” he said.  “Too many to fight.  Not to win anyway.”

“I know,” she said.  “The Reaper has to fight, as she’s the slowest, and we will stay behind with her and fight to delay them.  The rest are to scatter and try to evade pursuit so they can return to Jinan.”  She looked at him.  “Send the signals.  Do it.”

He looked at the sails growing larger on the horizon.  “If we all scatter, some might escape.”

“Yes, but the Reaper cannot get underway quick enough, and so she will have to fight.  And I will not leave Dhatun alone behind.”  She met his look, glaring.  “Do as I say.”

His mouth twisted for a moment, then he nodded.  “Did you kill the viceroy, at least?”

“Not today,” she said, turning back toward her cabin.  “Not yet.”

o0o

Jaya saw her fleet break up and begin to sail away in a scatter toward the south, all of them taking advantage of the rising wind to gain speed.  The Unjarah was a long, lean, swift ship, and Jaya turned her to the east, moving out to sea to get room before she turned to bring her back in.  The Reaper was underway in her wake, the heavy hull heaving up and down in the increasing chop.  As they got away from land, the swells would become longer and smoother, but for now they were still rough, battering against the hull as the Unjarah turned broadside to them.  Jaya could feel the impact of them through the deck under her feet.

The enemy ships were coming in closer, so that they seemed ready to rise up on wavecrests and come sweeping down on them like falcons.  Jaya saw eight immense warships and ten other, smaller vessels that came on more swiftly, spreading out to the east to try and net them all before they could escape.  They were not close enough yet for ranging shots to begin, but nearly.

Jaya was decked in her splendor of war.  She wore her steel breastplate and the guards on her shoulders and thighs.  The hard leather vambraces protected her forearms, and she wore her tall sea boots with pieces of steel pushed down inside them to stop cuts at her legs.  She wore her sword and dagger on her belt, and had four loaded pistols slung over her neck on lengths of cloth.

Her fighters were massed behind the rails of the ship, muskets and spears ready to hand, cutters and knives in their belts.  Some of them wore armor, many did not and covered themselves in war paint like their ancestors.  Jaya had painted her face black with slashes of red across her cheeks.  She shouted for the gunners to lay in their fire and be ready.  She smelled hot iron as shot was heated red as blood in the braziers below.  This was a battle they could not win, and so their aim must be to draw blood and then slip away if they could.  They had to give Dhatun time to put on enough speed to get out to sea.

The ship pounded through the waves as they turned back from open sea and cut across the paths of the oncoming ships.  Now Jaya heard the reports of ranging fire, saw the puffs of smoke and the splashes as the questing shots came down in the sea.  She judged distance and tried to gauge the wind.  They would come across the front, could fire at the enemy as they crossed the line, and then the other ships, behind them, would come across their own stern and the counterfire would be murderous.  She squinted at the massive hulks of the warships and knew her only chance was to get in so close they could not fire on her.

“Hold until you are sure,” she said, others passing the word to her gunners.  “Every shot must count today.”

The sails were angled hard to give them speed as they cut across the wind.  The lighter enemy ships were ahead, leaping over the wavecrests like dogs eager for the kill on a hunt.  Jaya watched the ranging shots pick closer and closer, knew her own would have less reach with the wind against them.  She judged and waited and ground her knuckles together as she waited for the moment.  A shot splashed across the port rail on the far side, and she knew they were close enough.

She screamed for the gunners to fire, and even as the lead enemy began to heel over to port so as to cut across her wake, her own cannons opened up.  Her men knew their business by now, and they waited until the waves put them at the proper angle so their fire would tell.  Two went off, then six more, and then the rest like a single roar.  Smoke boiled up into the clear morning, and then the shots began to smash into the enemy prow.

Jaya watched them chop into the hull, splinter the bowsprit, and shatter the golden fish that reared as figurehead.  The prow was not the best place to hit, as there was little chance to damage any of the rudder chains or hit the command crew.  But there was one target to hope for, and it was why her men aimed so high, disdaining the lower hull shots that might start flooding.  Ships of war stored their powder in the forward hold, and her guns loosed a hail of shot heated crimson in the fires.

She saw the flash, and then the prow of the ship disintegrated in a black cloud of smoke that erupted outward, glowing at the center, the force of it lashing the surface of the water and echoing against the back of her skull.  The ship careened on, fire splashing the sails, outlining the ropes as the torn-open hull dug into the waves and began to fill with water.  Men raced back and forth on her deck, and Jaya heard screams.  That ship would not trouble her now, and she could use the blazing wreck to cover her from return fire.

The wallowing craft became a barrier, smoke pouring out of it, and the oncoming ships began to steer away, fearing to be too close if more of her powder stores went up.  Jaya howled for her men to turn hard to starboard, and Bastar shouted as he spun the wheel.  The men raced to close-haul the sails, and she knew they would lose speed as they turned into the lively wind.

The Unjarah swung to the north, putting the wreck on her starboard side and blocking fire from that direction.  The nearest other ship was close enough to shoot, but even as smoke began to burst from her gunports, the Reaper fired her broadside and chain shot ripped through the upper rigging, shearing off sails and dismasting her, leaving her windless in the waves, her mainmast crashing into the sea to drag in her wake.

Jaya faced down the bulks of two immense warships drawing close, and she could either give them her tail and flee or drive right between them, and she felt a fire in her belly as she aimed for the narrow path between their black hulls.  They fired their bow guns and she flinched as a shot ripped a gash in the deck and bounced past her, tearing a piece from the rail a sword’s-length to her right.  She howled her defiance and bellowed for the gunners to be ready as they cut the heaving sea and plunged between the dreadful warships.

They were close, the enemy ships looming up on either side of them, casting shadows over the entire ship in the slanting sun.  This close, there was no reason for her to hold anything back, and all she could hope was that the enemy ships would hold back their full power for fear of hitting each other at this range.  She tasted blood on the wind and gave the command to fire everything.

The ship sounded as though it were rupturing as every gun loosed at once.  This close, even the thick hulls of the warships were not proof against them, and she saw holes punched in the plated wood, splinters fountaining into the air.  Her crew rushed to the gunwales and set loose a blast of fire, shooting the swivel guns into the open gunports, sniping at men on the decks above, hoping to hit something vital.  Smoke came roiling up and filled the air.

The warships answered.  Lower cannons fired and Jaya felt the impacts below as shots punched through her hull.  From above came a rattle of gunfire and some of her men fell, splashing blood on the dark boards.  Swivel guns barked and lashed the sails with pellets.  Another blast filled the air with smoke and a whistling chain shot cut two men in half and whirled away to strike the other ship.  Jaya heard more cannonfire and more screams.  She saw one of her gun-sisters explode as a cannonball tore through her and vanished into the smoke.  She heard shots whistle past her and heard some of them strike the other ships.  Something rang on her breastplate and almost knocked her down, leaving her with a dent and the smell of burning steel.

The smoke was thick and heavy, stinking of burnt powder and burning men.  She felt the Unjarah start to list to port as she began to flood below the waterline.  The ship would not last long at this range.  Their only protection was the cloud of smoke that hid them as they forged between the warships and then burst forth into the sun behind them.  Jaya saw the tattered holes in the sails, the blood painting the deck, the rails chewed and splintered.

They emerged into the light and found another warship bearing straight down on them.  Jaya screamed for the gunners to load as she gave the order for a turn to starboard.  There was no more room to maneuver, and if she turned to port she would be sailing into the shallows and rocks close in to shore.  There was thunderous gunfire behind her, and she hoped the Reaper was fighting out of the trap.  She had to hope she had done enough to buy them the time to escape, because there was nothing else she could do now.

The Unjarah heeled over slowly, creaking and straining.  Jaya could feel the heaviness in the way the ship moved, could almost feel the water pouring in belowdecks.  She looked back as the two warships passed astern of them, and she saw one of them loose its stern chasers, missing by a wide gap.  Both the ships were wreathed in smoke, and one of them was down at the bow, and she thought she saw smoke pouring from the gunports, as if she were afire below.

They turned broadside to the next ship and caught the wind hard, lifting the dragging port side clear of the water.  Jaya gave the command to fire and her gunners let loose, sending another mass of smoke roiling out into the morning light.  She saw shots miss, saw others bounce off the heavy, armored hull of the enemy craft.  Two shots punched through, but she knew that would not be enough to stop her.  She bellowed orders and sent men scrambling into the rigging to put on every scrap of sail.  Now the only hope they had was as much speed as they could summon.

The oncoming warship turned just enough, and the forward guns on her broadside opened fire.  Ten, then a dozen cannons fired, and the sea was lashed by whistling chain shot.  Three men aloft were ripped apart as they were hit, limbs and severed ropes spilling to the deck, and then another shot cut the mast in half and sent the upper part crashing downward.

It hit the deck like a ram, punching through the boards, and then more ropes snapped, whipping blocks and knots like flails that smashed bones and splintered wood.  Men went down screaming with shards of wood impaling eyes and throats.  The mast sagged overboard, falling into the sea and immediately dragging them into a turn as the waterlogged sails caught the water.

Jaya leaped down from the quarterdeck and ran for the mass of lines and broken wood.  She stepped over the screaming wounded as she drew her sword and helped to hack at the ropes that held the broken piece of mast lashed to the ship.  Others joined her, and she heard the cannons below fire again as she and others chopped feverishly at the heavy ropes.  They cut frantically, even as more cannonfire whistled in, scourging the deck and the hull below.

Jaya glared furiously at the ship as it came in closer, looming over them as it cut the choppy waves.  She saw men with grapples running on her deck, and she knew they would be boarded.  The overlords of the Mordani would have blood for the fear she had given them, for the gold she had stolen.  They would want her alive, if they could have her.  They would hang her from one of their stakes and torture her until she died.  They would burn and blind and flay her until there was nothing left, and the line of the Kings of the Tau’ta would fail at last.

Not like that.  She would not die that way, she would not give them that.  The mast was cut free, but it didn’t matter, for even as it slid over into the sea, iron grapples began to swing down and bite into the rail.  Her men fired upward, seeking targets, while a withering fire came down in answer, scouring the deck and knocking men down left and right.  The deck was painted with blood, and when the sea pitched them to one side it ran over the boards in trails and poured through the hatches into the spaces below.

The other ship’s hull ground against theirs, wood shearing away under the tremendous weight of the warship, and Jaya screamed in her final rage, unwilling to lose.  She ran for the closest grapple and began to climb the rope, using her legs for power as she swarmed upward.  A man slid down toward her and she grabbed one of the pistols slung over her shoulders and fired upward, punching a hole through his thigh that blood poured from like water from a jug.  He howled and dropped free, fell past her to be caught between the ship’s hulls and ground into paste.

Jaya swung out from the rope and caught the edge of a gun port, pulled herself through as quick as she could, feeling the iron heat of the freshly-fired gun barrel as she slid past it.  She was in darkness, sensing others close to her.  She grabbed another pistol and fired at the gleam of a blade in the shadows.  The flash showed her more men clustered around the gun, yelling as they grabbed for weapons.

She had two more loaded pistols, and she used them in the brutally close quarters, blasting holes through men’s faces, sending them down with burning skin and gushing blood.  Then she threw down her empty guns and drew her sword and her envenomed dagger.  They had both tasted blood today, and now they would taste it again.

o0o

With no hope for retreat or escape, Jaya hurled herself into battle with only the lust to kill and die.  In the cramped spaces of the gun deck, her small size gave her an advantage as she cut and slashed, dropped wounded and dying men to the deck to block the way for their compatriots.  She fought through the dark in a whirlwind of steel, reaping men down like sugar canes, driving them away from the guns.  They could not stop her in here, not when their very size made them slow and awkward in the low-roofed darkness.

She kicked over powder casks, and when she came to a brazier loaded with red-hot shot she dashed it over and sent the glowing cannonballs rolling along the deck, leaving black and smoking trails that hissed where they touched scattered powder or seared against spilled blood.  There were so many of the enemy in this dim-lit place, and they became a mass of men, rushing to escape her, or rushing to try and corner her.  Her sword hacked down rolled-up hammocks and let them down like fishing nets.  Men who rushed her became tangled and easy targets for her left-handed dagger, and she left them screaming with the steel sting of it and the venom of the giant wasps in the highlands of Tarakan.

She heard firing outside, and knew her crew were being slaughtered, yet there was nothing she could do now to prevent it.  All that was left for her was to kill as many as she could before she died, and she promised the gods she would die, if that was their will.  She would not be taken alive.

Through the dark she left a trail of dead – a dozen men, twenty, more.  She could not count them, only hear their screams as they lay gutted or dismembered, howling for mercy she would not give.  Smoke filled the gun deck, making it even harder to see, and she saw the glimmer of fire in her wake.  Men fired at her, the sudden flash of powder and the blast of smoke, but they were firing almost blind, hoping to strike her when they aimed into the darkness.

They dropped down through hatches to the lower decks to escape her, or climbed the ladders up toward the light.  Someone dropped an explosive down the companionway and it burst with a terrible rending sound, blasting a hole in the floor and killing two of her enemies.  Jaya reeled back from it, half-deafened, feeling fire traced along her arm and side where shards of iron had scored her.  She had a half-dozen wounds she had not felt when they were made, but they stung her and painted her clothes and armor with blood.

Avoiding the light, she slipped around the ladder and made her way to the forward compartment.  Two big men faced her there, lashing at the dark with their heavy swords.  She rolled in low and strung one of them, bringing him down with a yell and the cords of his legs cut.  She planted the dagger in his chest and then had to roll away as his companion chopped at her with sword and boarding axe, splintering the deck.

She came up and cut at him, steel sparking on steel, and then he hit her with the axe-blade, the edge ringing on her breastplate.  Jaya grunted and hooked her leg around his knee, brought him down and shoved her sword through his teeth until it burst from the back of his head and bit into the deck under him.

There were running feet above her, the sounds of steel on steel and gunfire from outside.  Something exploded in the distance and she wondered if Dhatun had escaped.  She would never know.  Soon they would come below in force, and without surprise she would be cornered and slain.  She saw the forward compartment standing with the doors open, and when she stepped in closer she smelled the bitter rank of powder.

Smiling, she felt the stacks of powder kegs, and she knew she could yet destroy this ship.  She hunted on the floor and caught up the boarding axe, and then with it she began to chop the casks open, kicking them over so that heaps of black powder spilled out onto the floor.  The smell of it was thick as it ran over her boots.

Hands caught her from behind and dragged her back, and she snarled and fought like a mad thing, twisting as someone pulled her away from the powder store.  She groped and found his face, put her thumb in his eye and he cursed, loosened his grip enough that she tore free and drew his own knife from his belt.  She slashed his throat and then fought free of him just as men began to pour down the ladders with cutters and axes in hand.  They carried lanterns so they could see in the darkness, and Jaya gave a cry of joy.

She flipped the bloody dagger in her hand and threw it, tumbling end over end, until it struck one of the lanterns and shattered it, splashing burning oil like a glowing veil.  She heard the hissing sound as the powder scattered on the floor caught and went like a thousand angry serpents.  There was a gunport to her right and Jaya shoved herself through it even as the flames rushed into the powder store and ignited.

She felt the rush of air, and for a moment she was caught in the gunport, looking down at the bloodied sea beneath her, the smoke the filled her sight, the obscured distant horizons, and then she felt the shudder through the ship’s hull and looked back.  For an instant everything seemed very slow, and she felt the hot wind rush through her hair and saw the glow inside, saw fire explode from the other gunports, one after another, and then the hull itself bulging out, fire boiling from between the planks.

Jaya was hurled from the ship into the sea among the dead and the floating wreckage, and she dove down as the warship behind her erupted like a burning mountain, the bow disintegrating in a blaze of fire so bright it half-blinded her even facing away from it.  The shock of the explosion rippled the sea and drove her down, down, into darkness that had no end.