tactic ready-a maneuver he put to instant use. Climbing toward the flock, Regillix belched a great cloud of fire into the midst of the beasts, searing a hundred or more in the killing blast. Natac, meanwhile, fired shots from a specially modified crossbow. Each missile launched a spray of marble-sized canisters into the air, and when these flew out to several hundred feet, each of them exploded with a violent burst, knocking many more winged attackers right out of the sky.
The dragon immediately tucked his wings and dove away, as the warrior launched one more shot at the flock, which was not so much a cloud as a tattered sheet by now. They plummeted downward, wind stinging past as they plunged through the murk toward the black ships. This time Natac and Regillix Avatar wasted no time, displayed no caution. The dragon roared above the black decks, striking with his claws to knock down tall mainmasts, belching clouds of fire that quickly engulfed one death ship after another in roiling conflagration.
Natac was armed with two bags full of another of Karkald’s inventions: metal canisters with fins on one end and a metal trigger on the other. He pulled one out as the dragon swerved over a death ship. Seeing that Regillix was still drawing a breath after his exhalation of fire, the warrior took this target as his own. He timed his throw carefully, tossing the bomb toward the middle of the deck. The fins stabilized the flight, angling the trigger downward, and the canister struck the vessel near the port railing.
As they swept past, flying fast, Natac saw the device break through the planks of the deck with a bright flash. He looked back as the serpent drove his wings downward and was rewarded by the sight of a fiery plume, oily flames mixed with timbers, rigging, and the shredded forms of numerous ghost warriors. The main and foremasts of the ship toppled into the water, carrying rigging and sails with them, and before his scaly mount swerved into another attack, the Tlaxcalan saw flames cracking along the length of the vessel’s port side.
Impressed, he reached for another of the bombs, holding his throw as Regillix leaned down to belch a cloud of fire across another death ship. Once more they swept past their doomed victim, and Natac made another toss, cursing angrily as the speed of their flight carried the bomb too far; he saw it explode harmlessly in the sea.
But he had more of the bombs-ten slung from each side of the dragon’s powerful neck-and so he readied for another throw as Regillix banked sharply and came around, winging toward the fringe of the armada where the death ships were heavily engaged with the advancing line of druid-steered sailboats. In places the invading vessels were packed so tightly that it seemed as though the ocean itself was afire. A dozen of the black ships had collided and were locked in a tangle, masts toppled across each other, flames leaping hungrily from one ship to the next.
Nimble boats sailed past the confused mass as more flames skyrocketed upward, turning the group of doomed ships into a waterborne pyre. Still more of the Deathlord’s fleet closed in, however, and Natac grimaced in almost physical pain as he saw one of the black hulls bear down on a sailboat, crushing the smaller craft into kindling before the druid could steer out of the way.
“I want that one!” he snarled, and Regillix heard. The dragon dove past, and the man lobbed another of his bombs, grimly satisfied as this one shattered the stern of the black sailing ship and quickly brought the vessel to a curving halt. Flames erupted from the deck as the dragon dove low, reaching his talons down to strike the masts and rend the sails from another pair of boats. They heard the cheering of druids and warriors as they swept past, and more and more of Roland’s ships soared into the great breach they were tearing in the armada’s flank.
The individual plumes of smoke from burning death ships merged into a pall of darkness, a cloud that stung Natac’s nose and brought tears to his eyes. The dragon swerved wildly, banking right and carving a tight turn; as he looked to that side, the warrior had the impression of a world turned on end, a great cliff of dark ocean marking the periphery of space. With another lurch the serpent leveled his flight, then curved the other way, and Natac closed his eyes as they sailed right through a thick spume of churning smoke. He felt the heat against his skin, then a rush of coolness as they emerged.
“Can we get above this murk?” he called. “See what’s really happening down there?”
Obligingly, the mighty dragon sliced his great pinions through the air, pressing downward, lifting himself and his passenger as he flew a great circle above the entangled fleets. Regillix snorted, releasing a thin cloud of smoke, and Natac knew the wyrm was letting the magical blaze smolder in his belly, building pressure for a renewed series of fiery exhalations. A thousand feet above the sea they found cleaner air, and by the time Regillix had completed another full circle and gained hundreds more feet of altitude, Natac could get a good view of the entire battle.
Again the harpies rose toward them. This time Natac launched several blasts while they were still far below, and when the dragon turned his head as if to breathe, the cowardly creatures dove back down to harass the druid boats. Ignoring the flying pests, Regillix and his rider turned their attention back to the vanguard of the armada.
“There, to the left-all of Roland’s boats are engaged,” Natac observed. “Can you get us over there for a better look?”
“As you wish,” the dragon replied. “Though I do not like to let these others advance unmolested.”
“I share that reluctance, old friend,” Natac said. “Get us a look up high, and then we will dive back to our work.”
Willingly, the serpent flexed his wings and bore them along, above the first rank of the death ships. Natac was appalled at the vast ranks of dark hulls, line after line of them, extending out to sea as far as his eye could discern. Brown wakes trailed behind the ships, and the smoky sails billowed with unnatural, fetid wind. They were already inside the reefs, and within the next hour or less the first of the invaders’ vessels would reach the shore.
Only where the druid boats attacked was the armada in disarray. The flyers passed above a hundred ships that burned from stem to stern, sails ragged and masts toppling. Others had capsized, the dark hulls looking like long, slick whales as they bobbed and twisted in the swells. Everywhere the sea was a mass of smoke and debris, and there was no order to the enemy ranks; indeed, dozens of the death ships had become tangled together, masts and rigging fouled as frantic maneuvers forced them into collisions.
And still the little boats pressed on. Here and there they saw white sails draped across the water, and several of the narrow decks teemed with black specks, ghost warriors who had boarded and slaughtered the crews, but that had no effect on the tide as a whole. The silver batteries flashed, launching their arrowlike harpoons from a distance or firing barrages of the metal spheres that burst into flame as soon as they contacted the target. Each propelled by its private wind, the little vessels ducked and weaved and dodged among the leviathans of the death ships, and more and more of the latter burst into flame.
Natac could see that Crazy Horse was extending his flank along the front of the armada, trying to interpose his boats and crews between the invaders and the shore. But he was cautious enough to keep his line intact, preventing a massive envelopment such as had annihilated Fritzi’s wing on the previous day. As a counterpart, however, the defenders were not numerous enough to block the front of the enemy fleet, and hundreds of black- hulled warships surged forward, their route to the beach unimpeded by Nayvian action.
“Let’s break up that line,” Natac suggested, and Regillix readily agreed.
The serpent tucked his wings, and the pair swept into a blistering dive, pulling up just as they passed the farthest extent of Crazy Horse’s boats. The dragon roared and spat a boiling inferno of oily fire, a blast that encompassed three or four ships at once. As his great steed inhaled for another attack, Natac lobbed more of his bombs, dropping the incendiary missiles with lethal accuracy onto the decks of one after another of the leading death ships.
He paused only when Regillix spewed another fireball, rendering a pair of side-by-side vessels into an instant inferno. Immediately after, Natac started throwing again, not even taking the time to wonder at the spectacular eruptions following each of his tosses. They continued along the line, flying, roaring, bombing, making a wreckage of the entire first line of the armada, leaving sixty, eighty, even a hundred ships flaming and sinking and dying.
But still they hadn’t reached the end of that massive fleet, and by then the warrior was out of bombs, and the dragon was laboring, wearily, just to stay aloft. When Natac cast a glance over his shoulder, he was not surprised but he was filled with despair for, as he had expected, the next rank of the armada had merely passed through the first, and a new set of hulls, keen and undamaged, made its way unimpeded toward the green shore. Already they crested the breakers, sliding into the shallows. A hundred yards beyond, the beach of Nayve lay white and smooth and inviting, for the first time in all existence awaiting the touch of an invader’s boot.
