Novel 3. The Last Autumn

— I dare remind you, father, that we are traders at the moment, — said the navigator, dryly, taking her usual place beside the helmsman. — Fighting is a potential loss, not a cause for rejoicing.

— Ha-ha! Did you ever think that I might get hit by a cannonball in battle and you'd finally be in charge? — The elf clapped his daughter on the shoulder, but she didn't even move. — What's not to be happy about? You'll get your own way.

— Father... — Elena gave the skipper a look that silenced him. She added in a surprisingly soft tone: — I love you, after all.

— I know. — The skipper sighed, rubbing his neck. — I know. Well, please take your seats, the show's about to start.

At Innoto, the company had a pair of spyglasses — the crew of the "Elena" had saved on them, as all the officers of the caravel were elves. As soon as a faint black dot appeared on the horizon, Armando took out his spyglass and held it up to his eyes.

Even at an angle to the wind, the "Elena" was going very fast. The tiny island was fast approaching. As might be expected, it was just the top of an underwater mountain, grey and lifeless. On the south side the cliff became more gentle, and here the waves washed up a narrow strip of pebbly beach. A beautiful battle galley with scarlet sides and a republican flag on a thick, low mast was now facing the beach. A boat was lowered from its stern.

— They're crooks, — grumbled Boyarin Yuriev, who had taken the second trumpet. — Only Senate ships can fly the flag of the Republic without flying the Clan flag. They pretend to be military.

— But it's definitely not the military? — Armando asked.

— And even if they are military, I don't care! — And the bearded man confirmed his words by spitting overboard. Elena, who saw it, turned her ear, but kept silent. — If they are here without taiko's knowledge, we can consider them deserters. But there's a lot of gilding on the stern and bow for a government ship.

The crew of the galley noticed a caravel sailing at full sail. There was a commotion — guests were definitely not expected here. And they didn't plan to leave any witnesses. Having cut the hoists of the boat, the crew rushed to remove the mast and raise the anchor. Something was also moving on the shore.

— Captain, you should go back to your quarters, — Eelena suggested, not looking at Velria. All her attention was on the enemy vessel directly ahead. — You haven't fully recovered from your wounds.

— No, — The golden-haired elf stubbornly raised her chin. — I have to see for myself what's so great about these sea battles of yours. I still don't understand what makes elves and humans devote their lives to a vast salt puddle. The sailing itself is a bore. Maybe it's the battles.

— We should also get into the storm. — said Sergeant Dallan in a completely serious tone. — It could be exciting.

— Yes, — Valria nodded. — I know I'll regret it later, but I want to get into the storm.

The oars of the galley struck the water unkindly. It took the rowers a few strokes to get into the rhythm, but eventually the graceful warship moved away from the shore and began to turn towards "Elena" with her bow.

— Manoeuvre on you, I'll go to the guns, — Skipper Dorlt said to his daughter and rolled down the stairs to the main deck. The beautiful navigator exchanged nods with the helmsman and put her palm on the helm. Now the girl pushed or pulled the heavy lever lightly, and the stout sailor repeated her movements in full force.

Armando expected that the caravel would try to approach the galley from the stern, avoiding its course guns, but the manoeuvre of the "Elena" was more daring. The ship very steeply to the right, turning to the enemy side. The "Elena's" bombards were aimed at the galley just seconds before the latter's guns caught the caravel in their sights. A volley rang out. A cloud of powder smoke shrouded the deck, but from the quarterdeck Don could see two cannonballs fall into the water near the target. A third pierced the galley's foredeck through and through. The cannon, knocked off its carriage by a direct hit, tumbled in a cloud of splinters.

— Boo-um! — belatedly answered the surviving guns of the galley. Her stunned gunners were unable to take accurate aim and laid shells with a short range. "Elena" made a semicircle and fired from the other side. Now two heavy cannonballs struck the bow of the galley. There was an explosion, the cannon yard was engulfed in flames.

— The gunpowder charge has struck, — the boyarin suggested aloud.

The enemy sailors did not lose their presence of mind. Having lost their guns, the rowing vessel went straight at the "Elena", threatening it with a powerful battering ram. The fire was spreading rapidly across the bow, and it seemed that a blazing meteor was flying towards the caravel.

— They can't see anything up there now, ha-ha! — shouted Skipper Dorlt from below.

— Understood, — the navigator replied nonchalantly, shifting the helm. It seemed that the "Elena" had accepted the enemy's challenge — now the two ships were approaching head-on. — Please sit on the deck and hold on to something.

— If I've listen some... — Valria started to say, but Sergeant Dallan grabbed her by the shoulders and sat her down, ignoring her friend's painful shriek. Maria sank down beside her, holding the trophy rifle in her lap. Armando and Yuriev remained standing — the boyar out of bravado, the don out of curiosity and some strange detached indifference. He was not afraid at all.

Armando realised what Dorlt and Elena were up to only at the last moment, when the caravel suddenly swerved sideways, leaving the collision course. The sailing ship passed the galley, scraping its side against the side. The bow of the "Elena" with a deafening crack crushed the oars that were on the way — they broke like dry beams. The crack of wood was joined by the thunder of indiscriminate gunshots and the whistle of arrows, the explosions of hand bombs — the crews were hurrying to exchange "gifts". Only now de Gorazzo ducked, seeking shelter behind the oak bulwark.

— Boom! — The side of the caravel towered above the galleys, and the mouths of the bombards could not aim at the deck, but at the last moment they slashed the cartridges across the aft superstructure, sweeping away everything alive. Including the officers and the helmsman. Half a minute more, and the mangled galley was left behind. Executing the navigator's commands, "Elena" removed the sails and dropped the course, wedged between the island and the enemy ship. The port side bombards now threatened the enemy, the starboard guns were pointed at the beach.

— That's it, — the black-haired elfess said, wiping a smudge of smoke from her cheek with the back of her gloved hand. — You can take care of the people on the shore.

Armando straightened uncertainly and took a breath. The caravel had not suffered much in the skirmish — one sailor lay motionless on the deck, wounded by a bullet or an arrow, and several others were having their wounds dressed by their comrades. The bulwark had been broken in one place by a cannonball from a swivel gun. Torn rigging dangled somewhere, and there were a few holes in the sails. That was all. The galley, having lost the oars on one side and lost her rudder, was trotting helplessly by the bow in a cloud of black smoke. The fire on the bow was no longer being fought, and some of the sailors were already throwing overboard planks and empty barrels.

— What are Alex's friends doing? — Valria asked, the first to go to starboard. Armando joined her, pointing the spyglass at the beach. There, by the water's edge, he saw three men in simple travelling clothes. One of them was kneeling beside a square box, another was holding a thin object above his head, the third was watching the sea with a rifle.

— The radio. — The ex-bailiff shifted his eyebrows. — It's a radio, just like ours. They're trying to tell someone what happened.

— That's what we don't want. — Captain Valria pressed her ears to her temples. — Dallan, get my rifle. And warn Carlon and Alex to listen to the airwaves.

— The sergeant might not make it, — Lady Maria remarked. The pale girl dropped the sniper rifle from her shoulder. — I'll try...

It didn't take long for the Lady Guardsman to take aim.

— Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! — after the fourth shot, the stranger, who was kneeling, recoiled from the radio, and Armando realised that Maria had hit. But the girl fired again, just to make sure.

— I would have hit the target the first time., — the golden-haired elf grumbled enviously.

The trio on the shore picked up their rifles and bags from the ground and sprinted inland. Two winged shadows came crashing down from above. The dragons, who had stayed under the clouds the whole time of the battle, chose a good moment to intervene. They levelled their flight at the very ground and swept in front of the strangers, cutting off their escape route. This did not frighten Alex's former colleagues, who raised their rifles and opened fire. Under the hail of lead, the lizards lay on the wing and disappeared behind the rocks. Maybe the dragons themselves weren't in much danger from the bullets, but they kept their young riders safe.

— We won't take them that way. — Armando gritted his teeth.

— And we don't need to. — Boyarin Yuriev lowered his spyglass. — I've seen enough. Besides, if these three climb higher up the cliff, they can defend themselves against the imperial legion. And I have ten men here.

— Shall I order the cannoneers...? — asked the navigator, who had finished tidying up. Valria answered her:

— No, no, darling, we need trophies. And guns will smear everything. Whitey, do you want to do a duet with the master?

Taking the gun from Dallan, the captain blew out the fuse. Maria stood beside her, nodding. The Elf and the Guardswoman raised their weapons at the same time.

— You first, — the captain suggested. — It would be less smoky.

— Bang! — said the trophy rifle.

— Boom! — echoed the elfess weapon.

Two human figures on the beach collapsed. The third continued to run away from the sea.

— I got the hang of it, — the pale lady said quietly. And she fired again. The last alien fell too. But it stirred at once, giving undeniable signs of life.

— I was aiming lower, at the legs, — Maria explained, looking away from the scope. — If it didn't hit the femoral artery...

A white flash flashed on the shore. The body of the wounded alien lifted into the air and fell to the pebbles in a dark heap.

— We shall have no prisoner, — Don de Gorazzo said gloomily.

— And the demons with them. — Boyarin Yuriev waved his hand. — We've got a whole bunch of prisoners over there.

He pointed his thumb in the direction of the drifting galley. The fire had already advanced from the bow to the centre of the main deck. Some of the sailors had huddled in the stern to escape it. The rest swam round the ship on makeshift rafts.

— We just need to let them know that they are prisoners. They don't know yet, — Valria said, pleased with her shot. — They have a vague idea.

Armando took a deep breath, checked the way his grandfather's sword went in its scabbard, and said:

— I'll take care of it. Elena, order the boats to be lowered. Sir Yuriev, will you lend me your soldiers?

Chapter 12

After the battle at the unnamed islet, the caravel was crowded. The hold was full of captured sailors from the galley, and two tired dragons lay in the middle of the deck. The sailors were afraid of them and huddled against the sides as they crossed the main deck. In Armando's opinion, this fear was in no way justified. Compared to the late Charcoal, and even to Don Mariuse's Toad, the island lizards looked... rather cute. None of them was larger than a large horse. Intelligent round eyes glittered on their sharp muzzles, their slender tails ended in a leaf-shaped "paddle," and their skins seemed brighter than those of their continental counterparts. In addition, the scales of Daert's dragons were always monochrome, while the black bodies of the islanders were covered with a beautiful scarlet pattern that spiderwebbed across their wings.

The aerial scouts had taken some bullets from the aliens, fortunately not too seriously. At least their young riders didn't look too worried. They dismounted and inspected the dragons, found a hole in the wing of one of them, and then began to patch it up, pulling tool kits from their belt pouches. Armando decided not to disturb the young men, but soon Captain Valria returned to the deck to change her bandages. The golden-haired elven woman went straight to the Erdosians and with a wide smile asked if she could pet the dragon. Five minutes later, the captain was hugging a lizard named Yukikaze by the neck, squinting with pleasure. The other dragon, Fubuki, was sniffing her hair with interest. The other passengers, meanwhile, were getting acquainted with the riders. The boy who reported the aliens disembarking was called Ishitawa Mamoru, he was actually fourteen and came from the minor vassals of the House of Irutawa. His adult partner, the thin and pale girl Akira, was a commoner. At the first glance of her, master Carlon recognised her:

— Magician. Seems very weak, however....

— Fifth level, — the girl confirmed, smoothing a strand of hair that had fallen out on the top of her head with her palm. If the aristocrat Mamoru, according to the Erdos tradition, gathered his long hair into a high bun, then Akira had her hair cut short. — I can't cast spells or use active amulets, but I can sense the flow of magic.

— You... speak Daertian well, — the mage muttered embarrassedly, clearly not expecting the Erdosian girl to understand him.

— When the Irutawa clan sent me to study at the school, I was... studying t. — After saying that, the rider cast a stern look at Mamoru. The young man only smiled in response. Apparently, he wasn't interested in learning languages. Scratching his ear, the boy said something quickly. Akira nodded, turning to Valria:

— Captain, is it true you have a snake man in your squadron? That's what navigator Elena said, and she never lies.

— Yeah. — She let go of the dragon's neck, and he rubbed his cheek against her shoulder in farewell. — Green, come here!

The Corporal, who had kept to himself, approached and pulled back the hood of his cloak. He hissed softly, staring at the commander.

— Here, — Valria said proudly, as if the Green's appearance was her own personal achievement. — Have you ever seen one before?

— Yes. — The young rider bowed politely to the corporal. The scaly mercenary tilted his head to his shoulder in confusion and hissed again.

— Yes? — The elfess seemed as surprised as Green. — Where?