The Havoc had a strange quality to it, a sort of stilted chugging that Cobiah'd never felt aboard any other s.h.i.+p. As they walked down a curled stairwell, he could feel the air growing heavier, thicker with the stench of acrid smoke. On the Indomitable, the rear quarterdeck had housed the captain and his officers. Here, the Havoc's quarterdeck had been entirely opened up from the keel to the roof of the highest deck, so that the room itself was twice as high. Instead of stained-gla.s.s windows and polished candelabra, the room was dark and muggy, as hot as h.e.l.l and twice as cavernous.

A strange contraption made of steel and bronze had been built at the rear of the Havoc. It looked like a squatting toad with a flickering tongue of orange flame that darted out between its iron teeth. Piles of coal lay in a ma.s.sive metal bin to one side, with two large shovels sticking out of the top like headstones in a graveyard. To each side of the engine was a great circular crank, ticking in unison with some inner working of the engine. Chains clanked and s.h.i.+vered, leas.h.i.+ng the contraption to a ma.s.sive cog at the rear. As it clicked in circles, the motion turned a rotary paddle wheel beneath the s.h.i.+p's hull and propelled the Havoc forward.

"You built this?" Cobiah stared in amazement.

"I built it, and I run it." Sykox grabbed one of the shovels and yanked it out of the coal bin. Shoving the handle against Cobiah's chest, Sykox added, "Now you run it, too."

"How does this thing work?" Cobiah rolled up his sleeves, struggling to hold the shovel in one hand and wipe the smoke from his face with the other.

"The 'how' isn't your concern, mouse." Sykox smiled. "Just keep shoveling coal 'til we make port."

"And when we make port, what then?" a new voice cut in. It had a nasal tone, and condescension hung on every syllable. "We get blown out of the water by the Lionguard? You're an optimistic fur bucket, Sykox. Making for Lion's Arch is a stupid plan."

"I thought you said there weren't any other charr down here, Sykox," Cobiah said. A shadow stepped out of the smoke near the engine's main cog. It was small, topping out barely higher than Cobiah's waist, and it definitely didn't move like a charr.

"How did you know we were making for Lion's Arch?" Sykox blurted challengingly, shaking a clawed paw. "I talked Centurion Harrow into that plan only yesterday!"

"I hear everything that happens aboard this blasted s.h.i.+p, you loudmouthed blunderbuss. So, tell me, when we reach this aforementioned port, what do we do then?" The figure walked into the light of the engine fire, and Cobiah could finally see it clearly. It was a woman-well, at least it was female, as far as he could tell. She marched forward and stuck her hands on her hips with a ferocious att.i.tude and a toss of her head, making her long ears flap against her shoulders. A thickly braided loop of leather on the top of her head held back dyed braids that cascaded down her back and over one shoulder in a cacophony of rampant color-none of which looked the least bit natural. Orange, green, blue, and pink vied for dominance against the little creature's pale skin. Wide eyes glinted like obsidian chips, and her bowed mouth was set in a frown of disapproval.

She wore an embroidered blue smock with a magical-looking bird's-eye pattern st.i.tched on the chest, and blue-black feathers hung from gold cuffs above her elbows. As she talked, her hands flapped, and the motion reminded Cobiah of a bird struggling to fly. Although Cobiah was already sweating, and poor Sykox looked to be broiling under his thick coat of fur, the interloper seemed perfectly comfortable despite the engine's intense heat.

Sykox jerked a thumb toward Cobiah with a rough chuckle. "Cobiah, meet Macha, our asuran stowaway. Macha, this is Cobiah, the mouse I netted out of the sea."

"Stowaway?" The creature's eyes flashed. "Slanderous, libelous, extraplunderous accusations, Steamshroud! How dare you show such tooth to me!" Macha stomped forward and shook an accusatory finger at Sykox's belly, pointing up toward the big charr's nose. "I was invited to be part of this crew, fuzz wad! Invited, I say!"

"'Invited.'" Sykox snorted, amused. "'Blackmailed your way aboard' is more like it, Macha."

"You say 'firefly,' I say 'bioelectric pharmaceutical neonyte.'" The asura brushed imaginary dust motes from her ornamented robe. "A few of my harsher critics may have discovered certain anatomical difficulties upon rising one morning, yes, and perhaps those issues caused me to seek a vacation outside the camp, I suppose, yes, but to be quite honest, your s.h.i.+p has more than benefited from my presence. I consider the utilization of my genius to be more than repayment for a meager berth."

"What's she talking about?" Cobiah asked in a whisper.

"Some of the other asura said Macha's latest experiment was too dangerous," Sykox murmured. "They woke up dead."

"If they'd altered their tangents to the proper coefficient and redone the math like I told them to, they'd never have experienced that particular side effect." Macha lifted her nose imperiously. "I left their successors to deal with the ramifications of their unfortunate lack of forethought."

"Meaning," Sykox said, rolling his eyes, "she stowed aboard the Havoc to escape a lynch mob."

"Oversimplified. Distinctly distorted. A multifarious misstatement." Macha sniffed and crossed her feather-ornamented arms. "The truth is that I negotiated a profitable exchange: my security aboard this s.h.i.+p in return for an investment of my brilliance during the voyage."

"Negotiated after we put to sea, but she'll say that's 'equally irrelevant.' In any case, Macha's been tinkering with the engines since we left sh.o.r.e."

"What . . . is she?" Cobiah managed to ask, trying not to move or get the little creature's attention.

"'What is she?'" Macha turned her waggling finger on him. "She is an asura! What are you, you ignoramus, that you don't know an asura when you see one?"

"Asura?" Cobiah knew the word, but he'd never seen one. All he knew about asura was that they were odd, underground creatures that lived in the deep Maguuma Jungle.

"Yes, asura. Not very good with words, is he?" Macha raised an eyebrow.

"Doesn't have to be, so long as he can shovel coal." Sykox thumped Cobiah on the back of his shoulder, shoving him forward. "Say h.e.l.lo, Cobiah."

Cobiah grinned sheepishly. "I've never met an asura. It's a pleasure." He held out his hand, unsure if asura greeted one another like humans did. To his relief, Macha took it.

"I'd say 'it's a pleasure' back, but I have met humans." The diminutive woman tossed her head, ears flapping to either side, and fixed him with an appraising stare. "So, Cobiah. Can you do anything useful?"

With a smile, Cobiah answered, "I can read an astrolabe." He pulled the bra.s.s device out of his vest and saw the asura's eyes light up like furnace flames.

"Well, well, well!" Macha grinned, rubbing her hands together. "An educated human. How abnormal. How unexpected. Between that device and this engine, we might just make it to Lion's Arch after all."

Sykox smiled. "I told you, Macha. Everything will work out just fine." With a bark of laughter, the charr shoved them both toward the coal pile. "With the three of us working together, nothing could possibly go wrong. You'll see!"

Cobiah had sailed for nearly a year with the Indomitable, and he knew every rock formation and major island in the northern bay of the Sea of Sorrows-yet not one of them broke the horizon, even after six days of sail. No seagulls hovered beneath the low-hanging, dark clouds, and the sea was littered with wreckage. Severed masts and shattered keels tossed on the waves, and fouled white sails clung to rolling waves like funeral cloths. Thick kelp floated in ma.s.sive drifts, and even the roll and swell of the waves seemed labored. The sea itself was filthy with sand and churned grit, and-horribly-here and there Cobiah could see something floating that may have once been part of a house.

"We should have seen something by now," he muttered to Sykox as they leaned out over the Havoc's rail. "You can spy the lighthouse at Lion's Gate a day before you see the port." But there'd been no lighthouse. No Lion's Gate. Most sickeningly, there'd been no sign that any other s.h.i.+p had survived the wave. As they followed in the wake of the catastrophe, even the bullying charr were quiet and subdued. The Havoc felt like a funeral.

From the crow's nest came the sound of a signal whistle. Sykox perked up, his four ears s.h.i.+fting forward with interest. "The scout's spotted land!"

"Claw Island, maybe," Cobiah guessed. "Or the harbor cliffs?"

"We'll see for ourselves soon enough." Macha looked up from scribbling sketches of the astrolabe onto a dirty sc.r.a.p of torn canvas. She handed the bra.s.s disc back to Cobiah, stuffing her designs into a hidden pocket of her blue robe. "I just hope the modifications we made to the rudder won't flummox the whole thing and run the s.h.i.+p aground."

The three of them stood at the port railing with the others, watching as land slowly came into sight. Cobiah recognized it first-the harbor cliffs. His smile faded as soon as he saw the cliffs. Something was wrong. There was no sign of the city's lighthouse. No indication of the skyline of roofs, nor of the watchtowers, nor of the islands that should have ringed the city's harbor. The wave had washed them full away, covering everything in a blanket of deep water.

The feeling on deck wasn't one of celebration or even tense battle readiness. Silently, the Havoc sailed between the high cliffs that once stood guard over the city's harbor. They were half as tall now, mere circles of stone peering over the high line of the sea. Around them, the remains of waterlogged masts jutted up through the waves. Cobiah peered over the side of the Havoc, staring down into the water. Silt and earth swirled around the wreckage of houses, s.h.i.+pyards, and even cobbledstoned roads. There was nothing left of the white towers that had ringed the central keep or of the lion statue that stood guard over the city walls. There was nothing left of the home he'd known, the city where he'd been raised. Everything was drowned, buried in the ma.s.sive surge of water.

No one had survived.

So many dead. And why? Where had the wave come from? What magic had overturned the sea? Had the nature G.o.ddess Melandru struck out in wrath, or had some darker force cast a horrible spell? Stories claimed that the entire kingdom of Orr had been destroyed by such a spell, cast by an ancient vizier. Cobiah remembered the land he'd seen beyond the great wave. Among those strange mountains and the wide black plain, he'd seen buildings. Tall ones, with spires like Malchor's Fingers-but far more elaborate and delicate than those jutting stones. Could it have been Orr itself, risen from below the ocean's depths? The fabled city of Arah? Was such a thing even possible?

Was King Baede alive? Had the royal family escaped the devastation? Who ruled Kryta, and where had they gone now that Lion's Arch was destroyed? Cobiah sank to his knees, clinging to the Havoc's railing. "The s.h.i.+ps. The city. Thousands of people . . . Gone." His thoughts briefly flickered to his mother. Even though he'd hated the woman, he wouldn't have wished this kind of death on her. On anyone. The vastness of the realization sank in with a rush.

The city was gone. The Indomitable was lost. Everyone he knew was dead.

Macha put her arm around Cobiah's shoulders and tugged at him. "Stand up, you idiot," she hissed with uncharacteristic gentleness. "The charr are watching." She helped him to his feet, letting Cobiah lean his elbow on her shoulder.

Centurion Harrow stood at the forecastle rail, scowling out at the water-filled basin that had once been a city. "May your filthy G.o.ds take you all," he snarled under his breath. "Even the sh.o.r.e's wasted. Silt-packed, slippery, and s.h.i.+fting. There's no docks, not even a rock to rest our bow on. Nowhere solid enough to disembark for repairs. We can't land." Harrow raised his voice to a growl. It echoed over the still water, the sound bouncing from sheer cliff walls. The rest of the crew tensed, clenching their fists and snarling in disappointment.

Although the charr's casual blasphemy sent a shudder down Cobiah's spine, he understood the captain's anger. Getting to Lion's Arch had been a treacherous journey. They had plenty of fish but very little fresh water, and the Havoc wouldn't survive if the waters turned rough. Moreover, now the charr had no reason to keep Cobiah alive. He could feel them all around, feral with anger and disappointment, looking for someone on whom to visit their wrath. "We have to sail for Port Stalwart," Cobiah said quickly. "Your plan still works, Centurion. If Lion's Arch is flooded, then Stalwart's overflowing as well. That means the storm's deepened their bay enough for us to make harbor. The Havoc can sail into their bay." Cobiah tried to keep his voice steady. By now, he knew the charr well enough to realize what they'd do if they heard weakness.

The centurion's eyebrow lifted. He turned and fixed an unblinking stare on the human. "A fair point, mouse," Harrow conceded at last. "But what if the wave's destroyed Stalwart as well?" A skeptical rumble thundered through the crew.

"Stalwart's on high ground. That's why their harbor's shallow. The town'll be there." The centurion still looked dubious, and Cobiah repeated firmly, "It'll be there."

With a bored noise, Macha yawned. "What the human's not telling you, Centurion, is that the nations of Orr and Kryta were at war when Lion's Arch was built. That's why they put it behind the natural fortifications of those stone escarpments.

"Stalwart's newer, designed generations after the Orrian peninsula was destroyed. Despite its doughty name, Port Stalwart is a vacation town, not a fortress. It's built to have an oh-so-pretty view." Macha tugged on her multicolored braids, tightening the leather strap that held the thick coil atop her skull. "Unless the tide rose higher than one would surmise by looking at this soggy rubble, Stalwart's fine. The human's right." When Cobiah and Sykox stared at her, the asura tossed her head and had the gall to look annoyed.

"How did you know all that?" Cobiah whispered. "I never heard that story."

"Yes, well," Macha sniffed. "Some of us can read."

The charr crew muttered, arguing back and forth as they chewed on the information, while their centurion considered. Cobiah looked him in the eye and tried not to let his nerves show. One of the charr in the throng laughed darkly. The captain shot him a snarl.

Sykox cleared his throat, and the centurion's glare focused on him. "As I see it, sir, the only other choice is to scuttle the Havoc and swim ash.o.r.e. If we do that, we're committed to marching through Kryta, over the s.h.i.+verpeaks, and all the way across Ascalon to get back to the Black Citadel. That's eight weeks' march, sir. Six, if we're lucky. Ten, if we have to fight our way through a host of Krytan soldiers coming to see what happened to their capital city." The centurion didn't seem convinced, and Sykox added, "Most importantly, we'd lose the prototype engine, and it'll take years to build again. The tribune said-"

"I know what the tribune said!" Displeased, the centurion clenched his clawed hands around the deck rail. "The engine's our priority. I am aware of my orders, Engineer. I don't need you to remind me." At the rebuke, Sykox stiffened to attention and stepped back.

Centurion Harrow considered his options in silence. His eyes flicked over the broken masts sticking out of the water, the rough edges of the muddy sea, and the ruins of the city both above and below the tide. There were plenty of reasons to make sh.o.r.e. The strain of the voyage was beginning to tell on the soldiers, and the tides around Lion's Arch were difficult to navigate-especially so in the ma.s.sive overflow of water from the giant wave.

Cobiah tried to stay calm and let no indication of fear show on his face.

"We sail for Stalwart," Centurion Harrow announced. "Sykox, the engineers will need to shovel low to save on coal. We'll use wind power as best we can until the mastheads give way, and then we'll limp the last portion-"

"Centurion!" The bosun in the high crow's nest blew his signal whistle imperiously, drawing attention to his cries. "Sail ahoy! Sail, sir!" yelled the watch. "A s.h.i.+p to south, sir!"

All eyes turned toward the mouth of the ruined harbor. Indeed, there among the waterlogged tops of ravaged houses, between the trunks of shattered masts, sailed a narrow brigantine. She was smaller than the Havoc but quick in her turns, with two tall, square-sailed masts festooned with mismatched canvas sails. To her fore, two long jib sails stretched to the end of a long bowsprit, and along her side, one word had been crudely painted: Disenmaedel.

Cobiah could see that the six cannon ports along the Disenmaedel's starboard side were already open, the black noses of cannons nudging out from within. Along her upper deck, five small carronades perched over the deck railing. At the brigantine's quarterdeck, a ma.s.sive garrison gun had been fixed; turned at any angle, it could destroy an enemy with a single shot. Cobiah stared at it in disbelief, recognizing the weapon. It was a bombard, one of the guns stationed on the wall surrounding Lion's Arch . . . or it had been, before the city was destroyed. The brigantine's crew must have prized it from its place on the stone and bolted it to their s.h.i.+p. That gun had the firepower to open a four-foot hole straight through the Havoc and out the other side.

"What are their colors, Bosun?" said Centurion Harrow.

"They're not flying colors, sir. No flag a'tall."

Cobiah frowned. "If that s.h.i.+p was Krytan, they'd be flying the king's flag. I don't think they're a chartered s.h.i.+p, not with their sails in that condition."

"Pirates." Harrow reached the same conclusion. "Vultures taking advantage of the damage caused by the storm. Plenty of refuse here for them to pick through." Cobiah nodded, and the centurion continued. "Doesn't matter if they're chartered or not, mouse. They're human. We're charr. Our s.h.i.+p is obviously wounded.

"They'll attack." The centurion shook his head knowingly, furry mane settling about his shoulders. "It's what I would do in their place." Indeed, the little s.h.i.+p tacked toward them, and Cobiah could hear echoes of the sailors on board. Turning away from them, the centurion started barking out orders to his men.

"Is the Havoc armed?" Cobiah grabbed Sykox's shoulder.

Sykox sighed. "Nah. We were just out to test the engines; we weren't on a combat mission. She's set sail with barely anything to speak of." The engineer rubbed his cheek thoughtfully, his rusty whiskers sticking out at all angles between his claws. "Fifteen carronades, six cannons, and four firemauls."

Cobiah blinked. "You call that unarmed?"

Sykox crossed his arms stubbornly. "You do if you're a charr." Seeing Cobiah's eyes light up, the engineer sighed. "I said we sailed with that. I didn't say we still had it. The wave messed up the Havoc right bad, and we had to dump the heavy load, or her keel'd have given out long before now. Those cannons are at the bottom of the sea. All we have left are the firemauls." Seeing Cobiah's blank stare, Sykox explained, "Firemauls shoot b.a.l.l.s of fire, not iron, so while they might set that brig alight, they won't do much to sink her. They're slow falling, too-the shot's made of goose dung and powder instead of weighted metal. The brig'll dance right out from under 'em."

"How many shots do we have?"

"That's the other problem." Sykox fell silent. The wind swept through the charr's fur in ripples, and Cobiah could hear the human sailors on the other s.h.i.+p yelling as they loaded their guns.

"Can the firemauls win this battle?"

"No," Sykox sighed. "Almost certainly not."

"Then we have to find something else." Cobiah found himself desperately wis.h.i.+ng he had a pistol. A sword. Something! He s.n.a.t.c.hed up a belaying pin, willing to chuck it at the brigantine if there was any chance it would help. "We're done for, aren't we?"

"Don't be so overdramatic, mouse. This s.h.i.+p has all the weapons it needs." Macha narrowed her eyes. "It has me."

"That's right! You're a mesmer! I forgot. Hey, does that mean you can blast them?" the charr asked eagerly, his four ears flicking forward with delight.

Macha snorted. "Don't be stupid."

"Can you make a big wind to push them away from us?" Cobiah asked hopefully.

"Of course not. That's not how my spells work."

"Then what help are you?" Sykox tugged at his horns in frustration.

Macha tossed her head smugly. "I'm smarter than they are."

The first volley from the brigantine fell just short of the Havoc's bow, splas.h.i.+ng huge gouts of water across the deck. The echo of guns roared like thunder over the ruined harbor, an earsplitting bang coupled with the acrid smell of powder smoke. The charr were already in their battle positions, but Cobiah was aware how pitifully few they were, and how poorly armed. If they'd been aboard the proud Indomitable, they would have had a chance-a many-gunned s.h.i.+p of the line against the quick brigantine might have been a good fight, but there was no way the Disenmaedel could bring down a well-prepared galleon.

Against the Havoc, in her battered shape? Cobiah had little hope they would survive.

The crew pulled out the firemauls: short-barreled guns that looked like crouching lions, their mouths opened wide and their claws clenched around stiff bra.s.s wheels. The charr crew quickly loaded the guns with strange, sticky ammunition that looked for all the world like gooey b.a.l.l.s of twine. Cobiah caught the scent of lamp oil and a strange, sickly-sweet tang. The black-furred helmsman roared a command, and Havoc's fire-mauls boomed in response.

Four b.a.l.l.s of flame exploded into the air. Long fiery tails stretched out behind them like comets as they arched toward the Disenmaedel in long languid curves, drifting almost in slow motion. Cobiah could see what Sykox meant about the brigantine dancing out from under the firemauls' attack-the b.a.l.l.s of flame fell far more slowly than cannonb.a.l.l.s and were easier to see, even during the day. As soon as their flight began to curve and the pirates saw where the b.a.l.l.s of flame would land, they let their sails swell and darted out from beneath the attack. Each of the four comets splashed into the water, unraveling in great, greasy splotches across the bay. Fire spread across each floating oily ma.s.s but no farther, making the patches easy to avoid.

The wind swept smoke from the firemauls across the s.h.i.+p, clouds of it billowing in dark waves around Cobiah. He leaned out across the railing to keep clear of it. He could see the tide tugging on the oily patches, carrying some of the flame to ignite the thin masts of wreckage that thrust up from below like the skeletal bones of Malchor's Fingers. The Disenmaedel darted between them and turned her port side toward the Havoc to launch another volley of heavy shot at the Havoc's hull.

The s.h.i.+p rolled in the heavy surf as the centurion howled for a turn. "Hard to lee, Fa.s.sur!" Harrow's long tail cracked like a whip as he strode over the deck. The helmsman called his a.s.sent and spun the wheel at the rear of the quarterdeck. In a breath, the s.h.i.+p tilted dangerously away from the gale. The rudder beneath the Havoc's stern s.h.i.+fted to the side, and wind leached out of the high sails.

Sykox spun on his heel and raced toward the stairs that led below. "The engine!" he declared. "I've got to keep her fired, or we'll stall. We need to head against the wind, or they'll catch . . ." The last words were lost beneath the increasing whistle of more incoming shot. The sheets and braces of the Havoc's sails creaked against the mast as they tried to catch the wind once more. Macha and Cobiah grabbed the railing as the Havoc tilted, and were rewarded by huge guffs of water exploding from the sea below as the Disenmaedel's cannonb.a.l.l.s landed only a few feet short of the charr s.h.i.+p's wooden side.

"One more like that, and they'll cave us in!" the helmsman roared, his sharp teeth glinting.

"Ram them!" Cobiah screamed, stumbling to his feet. He lurched toward the centurion and grabbed the charr's arm, not caring for his own safety. "Sir! Head toward them! Not away!"

"What in the mists are you rambling about, mouse?" bellowed the centurion. "Are you mad? Their guns-"

"I know how those carronades work, sir! We have just a few minutes while they water down the guns and reload. If we charge them now, we can board them!"

"Board them?" the helmsman choked. "Their crew's three times the size of ours."

"Yeah." Cobiah gave him a thin smile. "But if I remember the stories right-and if your engineer's bragging has any substance-a charr's worth four humans in hand-to-hand combat. You don't have guns," Cobiah gasped. "But you do have claws."

The centurion paused, whiskers twitching. "It's a trick. You're trying to get us closer to that s.h.i.+p so you can bolt and join your kind."

"Grenth take me if I do!" Cobiah pointed at the other s.h.i.+p with his belaying pin. "One more man on their side wouldn't make any difference either way. There's no time, Captain. Point us at the Disenmaedel and argue with me after!"

The old charr rubbed his white-furred chin. "We could catch them," he finally agreed reluctantly. "They're with the wind, and we have the use of our engine-something they won't expect. We can catch them." Convinced, the centurion nodded sharply and turned to roar at his crew. "Turn the s.h.i.+p 'cross the wind, full-bore the engine, and run them down!"

A cheer went up from the sailors. "Aye, sir!" Grist, the gray-furred old charr, saluted. "I'll set 'er bow for the rus.h.!.+" With a groan of wood and creak of sail, the Havoc turned back toward its enemy. Cobiah watched the humans labor desperately aboard the Disenmaedel. Wadding, shot, and gunpowder were being tossed back and forth as the crew hurried to ready their guns once more.

"Prepare to board the enemy!" Centurion Harrow snarled. He turned on Cobiah with a fierce red glint in his eyes. "You'll be at the fore, mouse. And if you waver, you'll die by my claws before you can draw breath."

He strode away, ordering the other charr into boarding positions. Cobiah leapt to the deck railing, trying to gauge whether they would draw alongside the Disenmaedel before her guns were ready to fire again. Every second was an agony.