The Ring of Winter - James Lowder [29]
A small circle of sailors had gathered around Artus and Skuld. Since the captain had never kept a personal guard, assured as she was of her own powers of self-defense, no one took up the challenge of avenging her death. If Artus had the might to do away with the unpredictable captain, perhaps he should have command of the Narwhal.
"Well," one of the sailors said, "that monster won't wait all day. If we don't give it what it wants, it'll sink us for sure."
Pontifax arrived then, the blood of the dead and wounded spattering his tunic. "Do you have any spells that could help us?" Artus asked.
"Against that thing?" the mage replied. "Only if you want to make it really angry."
Casually Skuld held out a hand. In his palm rested a silver globe the size of a large apple, perfectly round. Mulhorandi picture-glyphs girded the ball-men with the wings and heads of hawks, women with the features of cats, and many other strange creatures. As Artus looked at them, they began to move in stately procession. "This will not kill the dragon turtle," Skuld noted, "but it will breach its shell."
"And the ballistae will do the rest," one of the crewmen shouted. "Shall I pass the word to prepare for firing?"
Artus snatched the globe from Skuld's hand. "Tell the men to hold their fire until this thing, er-"
"It will explode, master," Skuld whispered. "All you need do is throw it at the beast."
"-until this thing explodes," the explorer said. He glanced up and saw the guardian spirit was actually smiling, an odd sort of pride in his eyes. "The men will know what to aim for after that."
The dragon-turtle swam closer to the ship. The waves caused by its slow, relentless movement caused the Narwhal to bob like a child's toy boat on bath night. "Once the fighting starts, we'll want to put some distance between us and the turtle. One of you men take over as boatswain." Artus pointed at a brawny half-orc with a broken nose. "You'll do for now."
The crewmembers scattered to their tasks, leaving Artus alone on the poop deck with Pontifax, Skuld, and the three young sailors manning the ship's massive wheel. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" the mage asked as Artus stepped up to the rail.
"Not in the least," he replied, then threw the silver globe with all his might.
Aremag must have suspected a doublecross, for he tried to dive away from the small missile. He was too large for such a demanding maneuver, however, and the globe flew with magical speed. Skuld's weapon struck the turtle's shell directly over a leg. The explosion sent a flare of light into the night sky and a rumble of thunder over the ceaselessly churning sea. Fragments of shell, sharper than any sword, sliced through the air, tearing through sails and cutting the rigging. Those men and women unlucky enough to be hit by the shrapnel would never know how the battle turned out.
"Fire!" Artus shouted.
Captain Bawr had kept a strict chain of command to handle such battles, but it had disintegrated with her death. Most of the officers were hiding, afraid of both mutineers and the dragon turtle. Yet the crews manning the engines had bested pirate ships and vessels from the royal navies of five countries. When they saw the bloody breech in Aremag's shell, they knew what to do even before Artus's shouted order.
The heavy thud of twenty-five ballista arms shooting forward and the hiss of as many huge bolts slicing through the air came to Artus's ears. He saw the dragon turtle roll in pain. Seven heavy lances had found their mark. The iron tipped missiles dug deep into Aremag's flesh, turning the water crimson. Most of the other bolts struck the shell and bounced harmlessly away. One well-placed shot blinded the turtle's left eye.
A shout went up on the Narwhal as the dragon turtle screamed. The ballistae fired again, though all but one of the bolts struck harmlessly against the thrashing giant's shell. The dragon turtle had taken enough of a beating to retreat, but not without a parting shot. Just before it sank, Aremag inhaled sharply,