“Lower yer arc to position three!” Ragnar bellowed, his deep voice rumbling across the ship. He was greeted by a mechanical chorus of clicking gears, followed by the slamming of locking bolts in sync with a near-unanimous shout of affirmation from the line of gunners manning two dozen ship-borne cannons.
The cannons appeared much thicker than they actually were, as each one had numerous flayed ridges behind each perforated hole into the main barrel, which itself was no wider than a grapefruit.
The mount was many times larger than the weapon itself, comprised of two sizable pedestals, each with a bracket and cradle for the large gear adorning each side of the cannon. A large handle ran through a notable groove cut through the bracket, which would adjust the arc of the cannon to match a series of numbered positions. On the opposite side of the gear was a thick pinhole of at least two fingers width, where the locking pin was shoved to hold the gear in place.
The last item of note was at the rear of the cannon, where a large, concave groove was filled with small mana stones that seemed as if pulled towards the center. Blue mana channels circled the depression, and popped out from the edges before cutting in through the first series of perforations and disappeared inside the barrel.
“Charge the cannons!” Ragnar’s voice rumbled again, as each of the gunners lined up behind their artillery piece. They placed both their hands within an inch of the mana stones, and closed their eyes in concentration. The mana stones quickly flashed, and started dropping like irregularly sized marbles into a bucket underneath each gun. Blue hues danced down each line, and a bright light began to emanate from the base of each barrel.
The air near the first set of perforations began to distort from the heat, and the iron quickly adopted redder hues.
“FIRE!”
The command came as the last mana stones dropped, and a blast of bright, concentrated mana erupted out from the artillery cannons. Waves of superheated air whooshed out from the cannons, although even with the ridges redirecting the air, the heat still managed to curl any exposed hair on the gunners’ hands.
“Reload!”
The gunners picked up one of two remaining filled bowls next to their cannons, and quickly yet carefully moved them back towards the depression at the rear of the guns. As soon as they were close, the gunners took a single mana stone and carefully placed it into the depression. As soon as it touched the metal, it practically snapped itself into place with a jolt. All the remaining mana stones flew out of the bowl and piled together again.
Many of the sailors and gunners shivered in the cold night air, as the rapid blasts of hot air drenched them in sweat, only for the frozen winds to strip them of their warmth.
All eyes turned back towards Ragnar, as he scoured the sky for another signal. However, instead of a signal, he saw a burst of light from one of the signal towers, which moments later burst into flame and collapsed.
His eyes opened wide, before he promptly turned his fierce gaze towards the sea gate, and took a few more moments to think. “Sergeant, signal the lead ships! We’re pulling out of the harbor!”
“But sir, we didn’t receive a breach signal, and we still have two barrages left!” The sergeant replied apprehensively. He was a lean man, and thin… especially when compared to Ragnar’s solid frame.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“If that signal comes, it’ll be too damn late!” Ragnar countered, although the sergeant stood his ground.
“When they call for the next barrage, and we’re not in position to support them anymore, how many people do you think will die?” The sergeant replied angrily, waving his hand in exasperation back towards the city. Almost to mock him, from somewhere within the walls, something akin to stars rose above the rooftops before descending in a fiery roar.
Ragnar scowled, and his jaw clenched in fury tight enough that it seemed his thick brown beard clenched with it. Rather than wait another moment, he decked the sergeant with a right hook straight into his temple. His body dropped limp onto the deck, and the harbormaster barreled to their signal mortar.
He picked up a mana stone from the container next to it, with the stone seeming almost comically small in his large hands. With a careful drop, the stone plopped down the tube, before launching into the sky with a red flash.
Ragnar glanced back up towards the wall that led around the city, and up to the towers that controlled the sea gate, and frowned.
He then turned back towards the crew, who stood at the ready at their posts, albeit more concerned. A couple men had run to attend to the sergeant, who was starting to come back to. He held his hand to his head and groaned.
“Helmsman, turn the ship ninety degrees starboard and raise the anchor! Rowers, ready the oars, and gunners, position 5!” Ragnar bellowed out his next series of commands, setting forth a flurry of activity on the ship. An air of nervousness began to course through the crew, and hushed whispers flurried about.
Ragnar scowled, and after a moment’s thought, he spoke. “Look, our last call from the north wall was for a close bombardment. After that, we got no more signals, and one of our signal towers was blown to Hel. Now, the damn city is blowing up at the third line, and we didn’t get a damn signal. Whatever’s happening out there, its happening faster than Thor’s hammer can fly. And if they rush around that blasted wall, then we lose all our ships and all our guns.”
The sergeant groaned, and after looking back towards his men, he was the only one who mustered up the courage to speak. “By the All-father, then why didn’t you just say that first? Then I wouldn’t ‘a been—“
“CHARGE THE CANNONS AND FIRE! FIRE AT WILL!” Ragnar screamed, twisting back towards the wall, and reached behind his shoulder to retrieve the massive double-headed axe strapped to his back.
His eyes narrowed, as he watched the rapid flashes of spells firing off around the bend.
“What?! But that’ll hit our own soldiers! We—” The sergeant crumpled backwards with a single, venomous glance from the hulking man striding towards the bow of the ship.
The first two ships had already begun pushing through to the gate, with the bow of the second mere feet from the stern of the lead ship.
“They’re bound to die anyways, so send them to Valhalla in a blaze of glory otherwise we’ll be joining them!” Ragnar howled, and then smiled like a beast on the hunt.
“To Valhalla!” The crew shouted, and a steady whoosh began to erupt chaotically from the cannons as some had readied earlier than others. Chunks of wall burst in flame, with shrapnel flying high into the sky.
Clouds of smoke billowed out from the impact sites, but even then, the spell fire was rapidly closing in on the tower.
“Damn! They’re out of line of our guns! Now row!” Ragnar shouted.
The coxswain, another lanky young lad, began to shout a count in a shrill voice.
Theirs was the last ship in the line. The first two ships has cleared the gate, and three more were ahead of them.
Shadows of the fast moving demons had gotten close enough that even in this darkness, the regular crew could see their ferocious advance up the walls. Whatever the hell was leading the charge, it seemed to have no problems breaking through any shield walls or barriers cast in its path.
Without their defenses, the soldiers behind them quickly fell prey to the demons that followed quickly after.
Third and fourth ship out…
Ragnar gripped his axe tighter.
“DRAW ARMS, PREPARE FOR BOARDING! Gunners… reload. And set the arc for position nine, horizontal fires.” Ragnar’s voice turned grim, and his eyes darkened.
Yet underneath their ship, in the darkness of the water, something stirred at the sea floor, moving steadily and silently towards the wharves of the city.
A steady march of a great many somethings, which disturbed the sand of the sea floor and clouded the water so thickly that, on any other night, it could not have been missed.
