new shipyards on Thordentor. The youth's gaze swept across the deck of the frigate and past the water of the bay to the sad little shanty town that was being built a little back from the beach. So far, they had little to show for their efforts.
Too much time spent building the ships to give much thought to decent homes, thought Merrick with a disdainful sniff. At least it was better than what the soldiers had been living in before. He glanced beyond the buildings to the old and crumbling watch tower, a fading remnant of some ancient civilization. He hated even imagining what it must have been like for the company of Tethyrian guardsmen before the shipyards sprang up. Nothing at all to do but wait for the next supply ship to arrive from the mainland, nothing to look at but white sand and low, scrubby bushes, as far as the eye could see.
And now, thought Merrick, there's still nothing much to see at all.
'Merrick! Get over here and get ready to handle reload.' It was Retny, the chief gunner for the unit. The man was standing at the rear of a starboard ballista, already making adjustments for aiming at targets low in the water.
'Aye, sir,' Merrick replied, taking his place near the stockpile of the huge, barbed missiles designed to be fired from the giant weapon. 'What will we be shooting at today, sir?' he asked, a grin on his face. He grabbed up the crossbow that was sitting there, holding it easily in the crook of his arm. It was also his job to watch the unit's back between reloads.
'Nothing, if we're half lucky,' Retny replied. 'If we have to start shooting at dragon turtles, then we've already let them get too-'
His words cut off suddenly in a strange, strangled squawk and he lurched backward, a long, slender shaft protruding from his chest. The artillerist stumbled into the youth and knocked him off-balance, then fell to the deck and was still, lying across Merrick's legs. Merrick stared up in horror as a sahuagin hanging from the side of the ship tossed the crossbow it had just fired back into the water and began to clamber up over the gunwale. In one webbed hand, it held a jagged-bladed dagger. Merrick could see two more of the creatures pulling themselves into view from the side of the ship even as the first beast took a threatening step toward him.
'Look out!' Merrick croaked, his throat constricted in terror, even as one of the other artillerists, holding a huge bolt, swung it hi a wide arc like a great sword.
The blow caught the scaly attacker full in the chest and knocked it backward against the gunwale. Merrick fired his own weapon, the bolt catching the beast squarely under the jaw. It lost its balance and dropped from view. Other men were there now, blades in hand, trying to drive the remaining two back over the side.
Merrick scrambled out from under Retny-still lying across the youth's legs, soaking the deck with his blood- and leaped back, staring in horror. The man's face was twisted in a sick scream that wouldn't make a sound, his hand feebly opening and closing around the shaft of the quarrel in his chest. He turned and looked at Merrick, trying to speak, but nothing emerged, and with a final spasm, Retny's eyes went blank and his head rolled to the side, staring at nothing.
Merrick wanted to retch. If he'd been paying more attention, if he'd been a moment quicker, he might have seen the creature before it fired, but he had been too late to save Retny.
The two other sea devils that had come aboard had been driven back over the side again, but others had mounted attacks elsewhere on the frigate. Once more, sailors grimly dueled with the hated beasts, driving them all off again at the last, but not before several more men had gone down.
Merrick groaned. Without Retny, the ballista was all but useless. Cocking and loading it shorthanded would be difficult enough, but Retny was the only one among them who had any experience firing the weapon.
'Come about, you dogs!' Captain Hoke roared. 'Centaur and Ram have broken free and are running for open water!' A small cheer erupted from the crew. 'We'll run with them, and send these devilfish back to hell! Now, move, you bloody fools!'
The angle of the sun changed as the ship turned in the water. Merrick glanced over his shoulder, looking back toward the harbor, and saw that two other frigates had separated from the destruction at the docks and were under full sail. Behind them, the rest of the ships burned or sat half beneath the surface. The attack had been successful, the small fleet at Thorden-tor was all but annihilated. Merrick swallowed hard and looked to see what Star ofTethyr's fate had been. When he did, he gasped in surprise.
The ship had somehow managed to escape the docks, but in the fury of the battle it had strayed off course, near to the dangerous shoals along one side of the bay. Her sails were only half up, and she didn't seem to be tacking properly. From this distance it was hard to tell, but there seemed to Merrick's eyes to be a great deal of fighting going on.
'Cap'n!' Merrick called out, noting that his voice rang clearly. Most of the crew worked in grim silence now, ready to go where their captain demanded, even if it meant taking the battle back to the hated sea devils. 'Cap'n, it's the Star.' He pointed.
Hoke swore softly to himself and drew out his spyglass, gazing toward the struggling ship for a long moment.
'Bloody hells,' he growled. 'Gullah has her underway, but without near enough crew to sail and fight, too.'
'Cap'n!' came a cry from the crow's nest high overhead. Merrick looked up to see a lone sailor aloft, studying the Star with another spyglass. 'Three dragon turtles, closing with the Star/'
Hoke swore again, louder this time. 'Blast! They'll never make it. She's weaponless, too. No ballistae aboard her, yet.'
A rumble of anger and sorrow arose from the crew. Without ballistae, Merrick knew, the ship didn't have a prayer of warding off the dragon turtles. Hoke watched the Star for a moment longer as the crew seemed to hold its collective breath, wondering what orders the captain would give.
Finally, Hoke slammed his glass into the pouch at his belt. 'Blast!' he roared again. 'I'll not let them take her without a fight!' A cheer rose up from the crew, Merrick's voice as loud as the rest. 'Signal Centaur and Ram to follow!' Hoke ordered, 'We're coming about! Helmsman, set your heading for Star ofTethyrl'
A thrill ran through Merrick as Lancer began to come about, her sails billowing and flapping as her crew madly trimmed them for the new heading. She caught the stiff breeze more directly now, and seemed to leap ahead, eager to engage the enemy. Aft, both Centaur and Ram pushed through Lancer's wash in an effort to keep up.
'Listen up!' bellowed Captain Hoke. 'When we reach the Star, we rake the thrice-bedamned dragon turtles with artillery, Centaur and Ram following our lead. The rest of you make bloody sure nothing gets aboard this ship. Don't make me sorry we came back. I want those bloody beasts to look like sea urchins!'
Merrick groaned softly to himself. Without Retny, his unit was crippled. He looked around desperately at the other three ballistae mounted on the sterncastle. Each of them still had a full complement of men, primed and ready to fire when needed. He moved to the artillerist of the other starboard weapon and said, 'We lost our gunner, sir. We're shorthanded and have no one to fire the weapon.'
The man eyed him critically for a moment, then nodded toward the crossbow in Merrick's hands. 'You know how to fire that thing?'
Merrick nodded. 'Aye, sir. I practiced with my pa's growing up. He was in the militia back home.'
The man nodded. 'Then you're the new gunner.' He turned to one of his own crew. Thurin-we can manage shorthanded here. You cover for the boy.'
Thurin eyed Merrick uncertainly, but nodded curtly and moved across to the other ballista, reaching for the crossbow in Merrick's hand to assume his responsibilities.
Merrick himself stood there, staring in bewilderment at the artillerist who had just promoted him. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again without saying a word. He turned back to the ballista, shaking.
Me? he thought. I've never fired one of these in my life!
Suddenly, Merrick was remembering with clarity the day he had enlisted in the navy. Gullah was there, at the dockside tavern in Zazesspur, sitting at one of the crude wooden tables, coarse parchment spread out, glaring sourly as Merrick came looking to join the queen's navy.
'You're nothing but a farm boy,' Gullah spat. 'And a runt at that. Go back home to your cows, boy, and leave the sea to the men.'
But Merrick wouldn't be cowed so easily. He argued with the frowning man, insisting he could be of use, until another sailor, overhearing the argument, came over and stood in front of Merrick. The sailor towered over the boy,
