Chapter 6
“Enemy commanders are creatures of emotion, pride, and anger. Enemy ships, however, are creatures of logic, prevailing winds and physical laws.”
--Sento of Yang
Wentai was sailing the waters, watching, enduring the long hours of boredom as his ship coursed over the waves. The bow rose and fell, tossing up spray the way a camel’s hooves might kick up sand. In his heart he was a mariner, but he had wanted to spend his remaining years building his house, perhaps writing a few books. With a well written book he might make Char famous as the home of a great writer. Instead, he found himself in a war where he could barely strike back at the enemy.
The sun dipped low on the horizon. This was the time the attack had come the night before. Specks appeared in the sky, growing larger as the reptiles came closer. A hot wind picked up, raising the sea spray a little higher, cooling him before battle. The reptiles were scattered over the sky with little regard to formation. There were still many ships at sea – most of the five cities fielded about two hundred vessels each – and there were easily a hundred reptiles in the sky. They descended, choosing individual targets, and the first of the metal spheres began falling. Moments later the scaled one’s arrows began lancing through the sky, not visible until they burst into flame half way down. Wentai could not help but feel that the five cities would not be safe until their attackers were somehow utterly destroyed.
Placidus pointed to the north. “A pack coming toward us.”
“I see it,” said Wentai. “Rowers! Three-quarters speed!” Wentai knew that there was little they could do against the flying reptiles, but if there was a seaborne invasion of any sort, their ships needed to be out at sea to meet it, not bottled up in the harbor. The evening before, the ships that had been at rest in the harbor had been hit hard, with most of them being sunk in the shallow waters. Ships at sea could move quickly and turn while under attack, making the task more difficult for the scaled ones. A glance at the sails on the horizon showed what looked like every single ship of the five cities out upon the sea.
“I wonder,” said Placidus, squeezing one eye shut as he did whenever he contemplated something, “why they are not perpetually in our skies.”
“A valid question. Certainly they need to return to replenish their metal orbs and sword clusters.”
In a matter of moments, the flying reptiles were descending like birds of prey upon the ships, diving in and releasing the spheres they had held clenched in their claws. The reptiles leveled out, skimming the sea and moving fast. A pack of them struck a large fishing ship of Char, ignoring the swarm of arrows that rose up from the soldiers on deck. Metal spheres tore into the hull and scattered bodies. Another pack of reptiles struck shortly after, adding yet more holes to the hull.
Each Aquatic, who rode the reptiles, held one end of a chain in his hand. The other end extended forward to loop around the neck of the reptile. The Aquatics held the chains in much the same way that Wentai held the reins of his chariot.
Two silver beasts – their bodies scaled and fish-like, with elegant, transparent wings – rushed in toward Wentai’s ship. They flew just above the surface of the sea, their heads down and their tails flicking from side to side. All carried a small group of swords clenched in each claw.
“Beneath shields!” called Wentai, ducking down himself behind a wood bench. Placidus – steadfast and unfailing – set his wide copper shield down and both men huddled behind it, Wentai on one knee. A horrid whistling sound could be heard as the hurtling blades cut through the air. There was a loud impact as the swords crashed against copper shields or impaled themselves into the wood hull of the ship. A blade hit the shield that the two men were hiding behind, deflecting away to slide along the deck.
For a moment, Wentai did not want to rise. Something in his head hurt, and it took him a moment to realize that it was the accumulated emotional toxins of fear and anxiety. He felt a strange reluctance to rise to his feet and face again the awful responsibility of keeping his men alive, of fighting against the reptile riders, of protecting Char from an enemy that would not land and fight. Appalled at his sudden lack of courage, Wentai forced himself to his feet. A couple of arrows flew in on angles, fired by low flying beasts that rushed over the water. The wood shafts immolated themselves as they flew inwards, an elegant trick that had set many ships on fire.
Wentai looked back. One man had a blade through his chest, his mouth hanging open and his hands still on the oars. Another woman had a narrow sword through her leg. She was biting her lip and contorting her face while a comrade removed it and bandaged the wound.
“Rowers!” called Wentai, relieved that his voice betrayed none of his hesitation. “Full speed!” The rowers pushed hard, and Wentai spun the wheel to take them toward the large fishing vessel that had been struck earlier. The ship was listing to the front as it took on water. Wentai’s plan was to add the arrow fire of his men to that of the sailing vessel, protecting it while he circled. If it sank, the sailors of the other vessel could tread water until the battle was over and Wentai could pick them up.
A pack of beasts were flying extremely high, little more than specks under the cloud layer. They seemed to move slowly at that height. They slid into a dive, flying almost perfectly straight down. Wentai ordered his archers to be ready but he knew, against those fast moving reptiles, that there would be time only for a single shot from each bow.
The reptiles held their bodies rigid as they dove – wings swept back, tails extended, metal spheres held close to their scaled chests. Some rotated slightly. Wentai felt awe and fear at the sight of those massive beasts hurtling silently down through the sky. With his keen eyesight, Wentai saw the riders snap the chains and the metal spheres were released. While most of the projectiles splashed into the water several struck the fishing ship, sending up a shower of wood splinters.
The reptiles extended their wings and arched their bodies, much like a diver flexing his back underwater to change direction. Most pulled up and soared away over the surface, but one lumbering beast struck the mast of the fishing ship, snapping it off in an instant. The beast clawed at the air with all four limbs, as if scrabbling for purchase, and could not pull up fast enough. When it struck the surface of the water, it continued to claw with its limbs even while its lower body streamed through the water. After struggling and beating its wings frantically, it managed to rise up, fighting its way into the air as archers from other nearby ships send arrows into its green body.
Another of the diving beasts had failed to begin its pull up and struck the water almost vertically, disappearing in a spume of white spray.
Wentai kept his ship moving, keeping it safe, knowing that the men who were already abandoning the sinking fishing ship would be relatively safe in the water. There were few undersea barnacles in the area, and carnivorous fish had not been sighted here for several weeks. He circled the fishing ship and scanned the sky.
There seemed to be three main tactics in use by the enemy. Some dove straight down from above, a dangerous technique but one which was devastatingly accurate. While such a vertical dive exposed them to arrow strikes from the crew, they rarely missed with their metal spheres. Wentai had seen several ships sunk in that manner.
Other reptiles sailed in on an angle and released, usually with less accuracy. These beasts were only in arrow range for a few moments, and any archer shooting at them had to aim ahead, placing their wood shafts in the part of the sky they expected the reptile to fly through a second later.
Yet other reptiles flew along in level flight, well above bow range, dropping their metal spheres with impunity but with even less accuracy. Exempt from punishment or harm, these beasts then sailed through the sky, their riders raining flaming arrows down upon the ships.
Placidus’s deep voice broke his concentration. “They strike the harbor, Wentai.”
A pack of reptiles had over flown the city and dropped their weapons, caving in the wood docks but not killing anyone. After releasing their load they climbed away, their wings beating heavily against the air. A single silver one rushed over Wentai’s ship at mast height and headed for the Seagate.
Hundreds of years ago, when war raged among the five cities like siblings locked in a bloody duel, the artisans of Char had designed a method for ships to enter the city when danger threatened. Much of Char’s strength lay in her army of chariots, resulting in a navy that was weaker than that of their enemies. The great wooden, multi-leveled Kontors of Hecai, or even the copper ships of Anshi could defeat the Char navy in a fair fight. Thus the artisans had approached the council of Char with an idea. With a mere thirty thousand stone blocks, a part of the shallow sea around Char could be embraced by stone walls. To stop enemy ships from entering, the front of the enclosure was protected by great copper gate that, when dropped, slammed down into the water to rest in the sandy sea bottom. Ships could neither enter nor exit until the men of Char turned the various wheels that retracted the gate. Since the Seagate had been designed purely to foil seaborne attacks, it had no top.
A long, five sailed warship of Char was just emerging, only halfway out of the enclosure. The silver flying beast soared in but received the attentions of hundreds of archers who stood on the decks of ships and the shoreline. The reptile headed straight toward the Seagate, but the volume of arrows cascading towards it increased. The silver beast began spiraling through the air, twisting and rotating as it bored in, and the arrows missed. When it neared the gate it straightened out, flying only on a shallow dive. The Aquatic rider raised his bow, aimed, and let loose a single arrow. The wood shaft struck and severed the rope holding the copper construction in place and the Seagate crashed down, splitting in half the ship that was beneath it.
The victorious reptile surged into the sky, quickly dwindling in size as it raced away. In minutes the rest of the enemy beasts retreated.
Placidus appeared at his side. “Sky sharks,” he muttered. “I wonder what Sento will say of them in the years to come.”
Wentai laughed, but it sounded like a nervous laughter to him, so he stifled it. “Aye. Have you noticed that they retreat north or west? They must be landing somewhere. They cannot stay in the sky forever.”
“Indeed,” said Placidus. “All animals need to eat and drink.”
Wentai sped his ship around and took survivors from the water. A corpse of a sky shark, as the crew began calling them, lay in the shallow waters outside of Char. It was the one that had struck the water after it had been unable to pull out of its dive.
“Corpses cannot speak,” said Placidus as he gathered ropes. Divers entered the water, looping rope around the neck and claws, and other ships of Char came to help extract the reptile from the sea.
“True,” said Wentai. “I’ve noticed arrows penetrate but do not kill them. I want to examine them, to see if their skins have a weakness that we can exploit. Are the scales equally thick all around their bodies?”
“Very well,” said Placidus, “but soon our ships will be destroyed, and our cities vulnerable to attack.”
“Yes, and it will come from that new river that gushes into our sea from the north. Never before in my life have I heard of a river appear over night, pouring in dirt and foam along with the raging waters. If the enemy intended on invading with chariots or armies on foot, it is unlikely they would strike so hard at our ships.”
Placidus nodded, silent, and helped haul the reptilian corpse back to Char.