Lodestone Book One: The Sea of Storms

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter 31

“Can we outrun them?” Lyall projected his voice at Patris, as the swirling wind tried to snatch it away.

Patris shouted back at him. “Can a single masted cog with a bilge keel outrun a three masted carrack in full sail? Not likely.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do?” Lyall tried not to sound desperate.

“Perhaps we might–”

A distant thud. A whooshing sound. The water just off the stern exploded, drenching the three of them.

“Lodestone cannon,” Patris yelled.

Shann’s mouth was open. Seawater ran down her face. “What?”

“Lodestone cannon,” Lyall said. “It uses a shaped charge, a bit similar to a grenade–Patris.”

“Yes, yes. I’ll try and run her as close to the Barrier as possible and track the storm front. It’s risky and she’ll be like a gudrun beast to handle, but the Prophet’s ship will encounter the same problems. We’ll see if her master has the guts to brave the storms. At the very least, it may buy us some time.”

Another dull concussion sounded from the oncoming vessel. Seawater burst over the Reach’s larboard rail.

“They have our range,” Patris bellowed. “Quickly.”

The three of them slid down the ladder and sprinted over the deck to where Alondo and Boxx were waiting.

“What’s going on?” Alondo cried in alarm.

Lyall joined Patris and Shann as they fought to bring every scrap of canvass to bear to the wind. “A Prophet’s ship is attacking us.” He saw with dismay the frightened look on his friend’s face. There was no way to lower the launch under these conditions.

A third boom sounded from the chasing ship. Lyall ducked down instinctively. Hot metal impacted the deck in a staccato rattle. When the sound died, Lyall looked up to see that their sail was peppered with several holes.

“Chain shot,” Patris hollered. “They’re not trying to sink us–they’re trying to cripple us.”

Before them, the Great Barrier roiled like nest of giant vipers. As the Reach heeled over in the gale, Patris sprinted to the rudder. Their ship turned to starboard and began to run before the storm’s leading edge. Lyall and Shann trimmed the sail and fought to keep her course straight. Rain, now mixed in with the wind, lashed their faces as they worked. Lyall kept glancing aft. There was no doubt about it–in spite of their best efforts, the carrack was gaining on them, the symbol of the Prophet now clearly visible through the smoke rising from its forward mounted cannon.

Another round of chain shot tore into the rigging. One linked pair of half balls narrowly missed Shann. If we carry on like this, we’ll be shot to pieces. The next volley reduced the canvass to tatters. The remnants of their once proud sail hung uselessly from the crosstrees. The deck was littered with splintered wood, tangled cordage and spent shot. The launch had a gaping hole in its side. Miraculously, no-one appeared to be injured. Patris was advancing toward him. Lyall made his decision. “Patris, strike what’s left of the sail.”

“Do you want me to signal our surrender?”

“Absolutely not,” Lyall replied. “We’re going through.”

~

“What do you mean, ‘going through’?” Patris demanded.

“I mean,” Lyall met his eyes levelly, “we are going to cross the Barrier.”