Beyond

Day 2

"Ship to starboard!" The lookout called excitedly.

Haiv's heart thumped with anticipation. He jogged to the starboard wale and was rewarded with the striking image of a dozen white sails in the distance. A grin spread across his face. It was a naval vessel, bearing the white and green flags of Rayshar. It would be a challenge, but Haiv could practically taste the eagerness in the souls of the rest of the crew.

Aaru knows we could use a challenge.

All around him, men rushed to and fro, fetching weapons and hauling out cannons. Haiv drew his own short sword. It was only about as long as his forearm, but Haiv had refused any other blade. He'd won this one himself. He would use it until he won himself a better one.

The air was still, and the men silent as they drew closer. Haiv glanced nervously at the captain, standing under the shade of the poop deck staring fixedly on the horizon. He hadn't given any orders to turn the ship. He didn't even seem to notice. Haiv scowled. What sort of pirate was that man? With a whole crew aching for a good round he would just let a perfectly good opportunity pass?

The Raysharian ship was almost level with them now. Captain Rodigan wasn't going to engage. If they didn't turn right now....

"Cap'n!" said the first mate. Eamer's voice cut through the crew's silence loud enough for them all to hear. "Orders, cap'n!"

Haiv watched, already beating his disappointment into submission, as Rodigan slowly turned to face his first mate. The captain's dreary red eyes roved over the waiting crew. For the briefest of moments—Haiv might have imagined it—the captain's gaze paused on him. Haiv swallowed nervously, but then Rodigan looked at Eamer again.

There was a long pause, in which the very air seemed to be holding its breath. Then Rodigan barked, "Hard to starboard!"

With his neighbors, Haiv raised his sword and cheered. The Adamantes glided across the waves, prow veering toward the navy vessel.

"Hoist colors!" Eamer shouted.

Haiv checked to make certain someone had climbed into the rigging to carry out the order, then returned his attention to the approaching target. It might not be as rich as a merchant ship, but the navy would have plenty of rations and weapons. And, if they could manage it, a few good officers to hold for ransom.

His nerves thrummed with excitement, his fingers twitching on the wale. The other ship was almost in range. As he watched, the navy ship reared up on its stern and spun toward Haiv. Water and seafoam dripped from its hull. The babi figurehead bared its huge fangs and shrieked in defiance. Haiv's eyes widened.

"Roll out the guns!"

Haiv started. He looked back at the other ship and was relieved to see that it was very much in the water; the figurehead remained on the farside of the ship.

He shook away the hallucination and hurried to the nearest cannon. Drig was putting his whole weight into the rope, hauling the gun toward the porthole. Haiv sheathed his blade and shoved his shoulder against the butt of the cannon to help. With the barrel situated in the hole, Haiv grabbed the nearby barrel of gunpowder and poured some down the muzzle. Drig was ready with the rammer and shoved the powder all the way to the back of the barrel.

"Ready!"

In minutes, Haiv and Drig had their cannon loaded and the fuse set. Haiv held the linstock ready, while Drig lit it with a candle.

"FIRE!"

Haiv turned his face away, and brought the linstock down on the fuse. The cacophony of half a dozen cannons going off at once shook the deck, but Haiv's legs were used to that. He barely even stumbled, but his ears rang something awful.