Love, Sugar, and Sails

by DSNesmith

33. The Tower

As the Adder’s Bite drifted into dock with a creeping, frustrating slowness, Tyria stared at the tower over the bay entrance, lost in thought. It had been a very, very long time since her combat training back at the academy. She’d had plenty of practice lately in escaping danger, but not much in marching to confront it. The camels weren’t disorganized brigands or bestial monsters, either; they were cold, efficient, experienced soldiers. The old aphorism about sixteen spears in a square being worth forty in single file weighed heavy in her mind.

Another aphorism lingered beside it, however—you go to war with the army you have. Tyria cast a dubious eye at the members of Zevan’s crew. They were certainly dangerous enough in their own way, but she wasn’t entirely sure they wouldn’t break and run at the first sight of the camels’ shock troops.

At last, the pier came up beside them. The ship shuddered to a halt as Lem dropped the anchor, and Tyria took a calming breath. A brief glance to her side told her that Zanaya and Rye were both still quietly discussing their strategy for locating the Marquis. Tyria looked up at the green smoke and frowned.

As the zebras set to mooring the ship and putting down the boarding ramp, Zanaya tapped an impatient hoof. “How long before the camels hit us?”

“I doubt they’ll stop to fight the Zyrans outside…” Rye gave a worried glance toward the exit of the bay. “Not much work left to do out there, anyway.”

“Top speed of the average Dromedarian cruiser is nine knots,” said Tyria absently. “Make that eleven for light frigates. Unless they’ve had some major fleet redesigns in the six years since I took that foreign military analysis course.”

Zanaya’s hoof moved imperceptibly as she calculated. “twenty minutes, give or take?”

“Probably less,” said Tyria. “They’ll have a fast vanguard headed for the harbor to get inside and get that tower locked down under their control.”

The sound of something heavy dragging across wood appeared behind them. The three turned around to be met with the sight of Zab dropping the end of a large chest on the deck with a thud. “Here you go, ladies and gents,” he said, dusting his hooves. “Viridian was kind enough to stock his ship up for us. Take your pick.”

He swiftly flicked up the latches with his hoof and swung open the top of the chest. Tyria’s eyes widened at the motley array of glittering weaponry within. There were hoof-maces, axes, knives, machetes, even a few metal-studded clubs.

Zanaya was the first to step forward, calmly picking through the assortment to find a simple hoof-mace in her size. Yanking it out, she wasted no time fastening it on with a rustle of leather straps and clinking of metal.

Tyria eyed Rye uneasily. His face was grayer than usual. Zab lifted an eyebrow and gestured. “Anything for you, Ambassador?”

Rye shook his head and lifted a forestalling hoof. Zab shrugged and began rooting through the chest.

Tyria sighed with soft regret, pulling Rye aside. “I’m sorry, love,” she said. “I know you hoped it wouldn’t come to violence.”

“It always seems to, when Breyr’s involved,” he said quietly. He shook his head, lifting it to look her in the eyes. “I’m not going to hurt anyone if I can help it. But I’m a pragmatist, not a pacifist. You’re going to have to fight to keep that tower from the camels.” He lifted her hoof with his own, his eyes filled with melancholy. “Don’t hold back because of me.”

Tyria looked up at the tower, butterflies in her stomach. “Honestly, Rye,” she said, keeping her voice low so no one but him could hear, “I’m not sure that I can do this. I’ve never actually… killed anyone before.”

“I have,” said Rye, almost inaudibly.

“Rye,” she said, frowning, “I know you feel guilty about those Nordpony thanes, but it was Viridian who killed them, not you.”

“I don’t mean them.” Rye stared at the deck. “Do you remember the courier I met? The one who started the whole thing?”

“Yes…”

“I told you she killed all the griffons that attacked us in those woods. I lied.” Rye’s eyes were focused on something distant that Tyria couldn’t see. “There was one that I… we tangled up, fighting, and I…” he inhaled deeply. “I beat him to death with my hooves.”

Her eyes opened in shock. “What?”

“I’ve never told anyone that before.” Rye’s hoof fumbled with the clasp of his robe. “At the time, I didn’t think much about it. I was so high on adrenaline and then so busy with the Princess, it just sort of fell out of my mind. But later…” he kept staring at the wood, unblinking. “Well. That was the reason I decided never to become a soldier.”

“Rye…” Tyria reached out a hoof, unsure what to say.

He lifted his head, fierce determination in his face. “But I don’t regret it. If I hadn’t done what I did, he would have killed me, and I’d never have gone north. The Nordponies would never have come to our aid, and the few survivors of Canterlot would be speaking Gryphan right now.”

Rye gave her an affirming nod. “You can do this, Tyria. You have to. Zyre’s counting on you.” He stepped closer and hugged her. “And so am I. Stay alive, whatever you need to do.”

She returned the hug. “I will. You be careful too, okay?”

“I’ll have Detective Zanaya with me,” he said, a bit of his former cheer returning. “Who better to keep me safe in the city than an officer of the Watch? Now go on, arm yourself. We haven’t got much time left.”

With a hesitant nod, Tyria left him and walked across the deck to the chest. Lem was digging through it, and emerged with a club. He stuck it into his green cloth belt and stepped back respectfully as she approached.

Tyria brushed through the weapons. The tower would be cramped, but at least some of the camels would have spears; she wanted something with more reach than a hoof-mace. A blade would be useful as well, in case they needed to cut a rope or slice their clothes up for bandages. Settling at last on a machete, she lifted it out and buckled the sheath around her left foreleg.

The pirates joined them as the docking procedures concluded. Zevan kept only his personal hoof-mace, while the rest of his crew took a hodgepodge assortment of axes, clubs, and knives. When all besides Rye were armed, Zab let the chest fall shut.

“That’s it, then,” said Tyria without preamble. “You know the assignments.” She nodded to Zanaya and Rye. Turning to the pirates, her eyes narrowed as she braced herself for the coming trials. “Let’s get to work, Gentlecolts.”

They left the ship at a fast clip, cantering down the pier. Rye and Zanaya split from the group as they reached the street, heading into the city. Tyria knew he was going to be in less danger than she herself was, but a kernel of worry blossomed in her heart regardless. She quelled it forcibly, concentrating on the task ahead.

The shortest path to the tower led around the lip of the bay, briefly through the edges of the theater district, before rising at last to the cliff. A series of stairs zigzagged their way up the rock wall to the tower, standing its lonely vigil above the bay entrance.

Tyria’s hooves thudded on the cobblestones in time with the crew’s. Her crew, she thought with some dry satisfaction. She was their leader for the next few hours, at least. How much leeway would Zevan’s apparent fondness for her buy? It would depend on how many camels came to claim the tower, she suspected.

The steady rhythm of their hoofbeats was punctuated by the staccato bangs of detonating blackpowder and the occasional screams of terrified sailors from the bay. Their path was open to the harbor, providing them with a grisly, uncensored picture of the navy’s predicament. Splintered hulls and flaming sails littered the water, so thick that some zebras were walking across them like stepping stones, either toward shore or deeper in to help their floundering comrades in the water.

Despite the chaos, Tyria noticed with a faint hope that there weren’t many bodies floating motionless in the water. The goal of the sabotage had been to disable the ships, not kill the zebras aboard them; especially if Rye’s megalomaniacal reading of Viridian’s plot had been correct. Assuming Zahira could be brought down here to organize them, they stood a fighting chance of regrouping.

But the camels had to know that as well, and would be moving with swiftness to enter the bay. If they got inside while the zebras were still uselessly scattered, then the situation would become bloody and brutal in short order.

Their only hope was the chain. It was a simple defense strategy, used by harbors round the world: a series of great iron rings that could be pulled taut across the passage into the bay, barring passage to anything above the water. A determined enemy could swim under it, of course, but doing so in full armament was a quick recipe for drowning, and they would be easy targets for any guards on the cliffs above.

Hold the camels off long enough and the enemies would be caught outside by the incoming Equestrian fleet. How long that would take… was something Tyria couldn’t spend time thinking about right now.

The sun was growing dimmer as smoke from the burning navy and the green cloud on the mountain mingled together in the air. Ahead, the tower loomed. Tyria squinted at the stairs leading up to it, spotting the unmistakable movement of striped figures racing down them.

“Abandoning their post, eh?” said Zevan, breathing hard but steadily. “Must be ours, methinks.”

Tyria frowned at the ours, but let it pass. “Faster!” she called to her group. “We can catch them if we gallop.”

Spurred on, the crew of the Bite raced after her. Ponies were, on average, better runners than zebras, but the sailors were staying right on her tail in the rising adrenaline rush of oncoming combat. They reached the bottom of the stairs before the descending zebras.

The zebras noticed them and slowed their pace. As they stepped down the last flight of stairs, they cautiously eyed up the crew, staring at the green strips of clothing worn by Zevan and his fellow pirates. All of the newcomers had on Zyran navy uniforms, but Tyria spotted a few olive bandanas and pocket squares. There were only six of them to Tyria’s eight, but that was hardly enough of a difference to let her relax.

Stopping before them at last, the apparent leader of the zebras traded a wary look with one of his fellows. “Out of the way, citizens,” he said.

Zevan’s eyes shot open briefly, before his face cracked into a broad smile. “Zalloway. Don’t ye recognize an old friend?”

“Zevan!” The zebra’s head jerked back. “I haven’t seen you in months. What’s going on? Are you here with Viridian? We thought the Vipers were supposed to attack before the Dromedarians.”

“Aye, they were,” muttered Zevan. “Plans change.”

“So, the camels have betrayed us.” Zalloway growled. “Or maybe they’re just impatient. Either way, once we saw them arrive without the Vipers, we made sure that they wouldn’t be able to lock us out of the bay. Where’s Viridian? We only saw the Bite in the harbor. Did he steal in ahead of the rest of the fleet?”

“Nay,” said Zevan, his smile cold. “He be a bit delayed, in fact.”

“Delayed?” Zalloway looked over Zevan’s shoulder at Tyria, his eyes narrowing. He took a half-step back. “Who’s this? Zevan, what’s going on?”

Zevan turned his head ever-so-slightly back and gave Tyria the barest of nods. Her lips tight, she returned it.

“Go!” she barked. The rest happened in seconds. Weapons jumped from their sheaths, and the crew collided with the disguised pirates.

Tyria, machete gripped tightly between her teeth, was second into the melee after Zevan. The captain felled a pirate with a single smack of his hoof-mace before the zebras’ weapons came out. Tyria fell on the nearest one, swinging her machete at his vulnerable neck.

The pirate smacked it aside with his hoof-mace, the surprise in his face quickly wiped clean by anger. His head reached down to grab the axe at his side, but Tyria slammed into him with her shoulder.

He retaliated by rearing back and kicking for her head. Tyria ducked it, whipping sideways to bury the machete in his chest. The pirate’s jaw flung open in wordless pain, the air leaving his mouth with a hoarse gasp. The fight had taken mere moments.

Tyria jerked the weapon free with a sickening squelch, trying not to think about what she’d just done. The zebra collapsed to the ground, limp. Around her, the rest of the pirates had fallen along with him, taken completely off-guard by the sudden assault.

Zevan spat on the cobblestones, his expression coolly disinterested. He prodded the Viper leader’s motionless head. “Zalloway. Bastard always cheated me at cards.” He reached down and pulled out the zebra’s green pocket square, offering it to Tyria. “Ought to clean that blade, else it'll rust.”

She took it with a hoof, wiping down her crimson-smeared machete. Her stomach churned. Shake it off, girl. You’ve seen dead bodies before.

The corpse at her hooves drew her eyes with inexorable force. Yes, but you made this one.

The stallion stared up at her, his open eyes accusingly blank. Tyria closed her eyes and exhaled. And I’ll make a few more before the day is over, I expect. Deal with it later.

Slamming the machete back home in its sheath, she stepped over the body onto the stairs. “Let’s get up there.”

As they trotted up the steps, Zab grunted. “What d’you think he meant about stopping the camels from locking us out of the bay?”

Tyria felt a chill. “They might have sabotaged the mechanism. If we get into the tower fast enough, maybe we can fix it before the camels arrive.”

The group ran on, thundering up the stairs with now-panicked haste. As they reached the top of the ridge, Tyria slowed for a moment to take stock of the situation beyond.

Below, the first of the camel ships had finally reached the edge of the ruined Zyran fleet. The main body of the assaulting force was still minutes behind, but Tyria’s time margin was already razor-thin. The light frigate in front didn’t even slow down as it passed the dead, floating hulks of the Zyran ships. It was cutting straight toward the entrance to the bay, its intent obvious.

The zebras in the harbor were still adrift and unable to reach the shore. The camels would have little resistance on their way up to the tower. But if Tyria’s group was swift, they could get the chain raised before the rest of the camels got inside. That could stave them off for hours, plenty of time for help to arrive.

The tower was a cylinder six stories high and fifteen meters across its diameter, with narrow slits for windows on every level. Defenders could throw down stones or fire spells at anyone below, though none greeted their arrival. A pair of tall double doors guarded the entrance, but they opened at Tyria’s touch without resistance. Clearly, the pirates had abandoned it in a hurry.

“Zennan, bar the door,” she said as they walked inside. The bosun nodded, closing the doors behind them and pulling down the wooden slat mounted on the wall beside it. “Zab, Zevan, let’s go upstairs and check on the mechanism. The rest of you, get ready for our guests.”

The first floor of the tower was sparse, containing only a circular stair that curled up around the wall until it vanished into the next floor above. There were no guard rails, Tyria noted with trepidation.

However, the most arresting feature was the column of stone that rose up through the center of the room. It was a little over a meter wide, completely sealed, aside from a small wooden service hatch used for maintenance. Within lay the massive chain, running all the way down from the top of the tower through the tunnel dug into the cliff below, out into the bay. Tyria couldn’t imagine the size and weight of the iron links within that column.

She hurried up the stairs with Zevan and Zab close behind. The next level was sealed by a door, but it too was unlocked. They pushed through to find themselves in the middle of a massacre.

Blood was splashed over every surface. Dead zebras in navy uniforms lay around the room, slumped against walls and over the stairs. There were eight of them, at Tyria’s first count. Apparently not all of the tower guards had been Viridian’s cronies. She swore quietly, pulling the body on the stairs aside. The three continued up through the tower.

Minutes later, upon reaching the fifth floor, they found the final door closed tight. Tyria rapped on it with a hoof, but it didn’t budge. “Well, our luck had to run out sometime…” She rammed her shoulder into it a few times without result.

“Better hurry,” said Zab from his position on the floor beside a window slit. “That camel ship landed in the harbor while we were on the stairs. I’d say we only have five minutes or so.”

Rubbing her shoulder, Tyria put her ear to the door. “What did they do in there? They couldn’t have had much time to sabotage it…” She heard a faint hissing sound. “Zevan, do you know what that is?”

The captain gestured her aside, and placed his own ear on the wood. His eyes widened. “That be a blackpowder fuse.”

Tyria’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh, Sisters,” she said. Even aside from the devastated navy below, she still remembered that explosion in the bay all those weeks ago, the one that had started all this—the heat on her face, the force of the blast shaking up through her bones. If that powder went off while they were this close…

She pushed Zevan aside and scrabbled at the door. “How’d they lock it from inside?”

Ashen, Zevan took a wary step backwards down the stairs. “Tyria, girl, we’d best be leaving afore that blows.”

“We can’t,” she said frostily. “The camel fleet will be at the harbor entrance any minute now.” She cast around, looking for an answer, and her eyes fell on the maintenance hatch set into the column.

She leaped down from the stairs, landing on the floor with a thud. She ran up to the hatch and wedged the tips of her front hooves into the door seam.

“Ye’re as crazy as Strudel,” said Zevan, but his voice was filled with admiration. He walked down to join her, his burly muscles bulging as he wrenched the hatch open.

Inside, the column was dark. Tyria could make out a single massive iron link, flaked with rust and worn with the friction of sliding over the rocks deep in the caverns below. She stuck her head inside, looking up. The hatch above was opened as well, revealing the mystery behind that locked door.

“Wish me luck,” she muttered, before climbing onto the chain inside.

It was tight, but there were about thirty centimeters between the edge of the chain and the stone wall of the column. The chain itself didn’t even sway under her added weight, held down by the thousands of kilograms of iron hanging below. The hatches were intended to give a window into the chain to check on its condition, not to be climbed through, so there were no ladder rungs inside. Still, the sturdy chain was easy enough to clamber up.

Tyria began her ascent toward the open portal. She wrapped her forelegs around the top of the chain link and pulled as hard as she could, lifting her body up to it. Oof. I haven’t had to do pullups in ages.

Suddenly, a shout echoed up from the depths of the column. She only caught the last half of it. “—early at the doors already!”

“Damn,” growled Zevan’s voice. “Metrel, hurry it up.”

Tyria nodded, wiping sweat from her forehead. She climbed as quickly as she could, her muscles burning.

Another noise came rumbling up from below. It was a rhythmic pounding, a steady beat that she grimly realized was the sound of something battering against the tower’s doors. The camels must have brought an equine-portable ram with them from their ship. Though less damaging than a full-sized battering ram, it would still get through the door eventually.

The seconds wore on with sickening slowness. Tyria’s muscles ached as she heaved herself upward. She was close, but the edge of the portal was still out of reach.

The faint hissing sound entered the edges of her hearing. Feeling a second wind, she pulled herself atop the next link, and steadied herself, preparing to jump to the final chain above.

With a grunt, she leaped, flinging her hooves over the last loop of metal. Instead of climbing up, she swung her hind legs forward, bracing them against the chain, and kicking off. She went flying out through the hatch, rolling onto the tower’s stone floor.

She slid to a stop, but there was no time to catch her breath. The room had not one, but twelve barrels stacked inside it, all bearing innocuous labels like DRIED FRUIT 20 KG and ROPE 30 M. Burning cords lay out from each of them, all fizzling with blinding white sparks.

One had a terrifying mere four-centimeter length of fuse sticking out of it. Tyria fumbled with her machete, sliding it out of the sheath and racing toward the barrel.

The burning smell hit her nose as she swept the blade into the fuse. The cord arced through the air, still sparkling, now uselessly. It landed on the ground with far less weight than an object so dangerous deserved. Tyria stamped it out mercilessly with her hoof.

She stood there panting for a brief moment. Another twelve seconds, and… Shaking her head, she began stamping out the other, lengthier fuses.

With the cords extinguished, the only sounds were the distant reverberations from the bottom of the tower. Tyria allowed herself to breathe, before heading for the door. It was barred, but not locked; she slid the wooden spar up easily and swung the door inward.

Zevan and Zab hurried inside. “Best be quick about this,” muttered Zevan. “That door down there won’t hold fer long.”

In the rush of danger with the bombs, Tyria hadn’t had time to take in the rest of the room. Massive gears covered the walls, all stretching up the conical ceiling to meet an enormous brass spool. The central column ended three meters above the floor, and the chain stretched out to wrap around the cylinder. The spool was nearly bare, most of the chain still resting under the water’s surface down below. The main winch stood on the far side of the room, jutting up from the floor; on top of the short supporting pillar was a great disk with long spokes emerging from all cardinal directions.

As the three moved toward the winch, Tyria paused by the narrow window to gaze down at the bay. The main camel fleet was nearly upon them, already halfway through the ruins of the Zyran navy. They had bare moments left.

Tyria was briefly worried that the three of them would not be enough to operate the winch, but was relieved to see that the engraved instructions on the central disk featured a single equine. The first listed step was unhitching a locking hook on the base of the winch. At a nod from Tyria, all three of them took up positions on the winch, and she kicked the hook off of its peg.

Immediately, the spoke slammed into her chest. The air shot out of her lungs with a whuff, but the force wasn’t enough to push her back. Tyria gritted her teeth and pressed her hooves against the wheel. Slowly, with Zevan and Zab’s help, the winch began to turn.

The chain spool cranked loudly, shuddering to life. It spun slowly, but the chain links began to rise from the column to encircle it. The wheel was getting easier to push now that it was in motion, but the whole contraption was still moving with maddening lethargy.

How much slack was built into the chain, she wondered? How long would they have to push? She’d thought the system was designed to quickly raise the barrier in case of a surprise attack like this one, but it seemed that the chain was endless.

Soon the cylinder was completely covered by the metal links, threading it through a series of cleverly designed metal loops to prevent tangles and jams. The chain began winding around it in a second layer.

Just as Tyria was beginning to fear that they were too late, the whole mechanism ground to a stop. Her biceps bulged as she heaved against it, but the wheel wouldn’t budge. Behind, she heard Zevan wheeze. “I cannae push it any farther, girl.”

Tyria reached back down and yanked the locking hook back over the peg. Releasing the spoke, she cautiously stepped back, but the hook held. Tyria rushed to the window to see the results of their labor.

It had worked, and just in time. The chain, dripping with seawater, glistened in the afternoon light. Outstretched between the two cliffs on either side of the harbor entrance, it bowed slightly in the center, too heavy to ever be fully pulled taut. The entire mass of iron hung a mere meter out of the water, completely barring entry to anything larger than a lifeboat.

The camel ships had nearly reached the boom, and most were re-furling their sails and turning aside as rapidly as they could manage. The closest one, a heavy cruiser, was too large and moving too fast to stop in time. Tyria watched, wide-eyed, as the inevitable collision happened in slow-motion.

The ship was only a quarter of the way through a desperate seaward turn when it ran into the chain. The boom buckled under the pressure, and suddenly the entire tower shook under Tyria’s hooves. Above her, the metal squealed and trembled, but the chain held. Below, she stared in awe as the ship carried forward, the chain shearing right through the bottom deck. The cruiser’s momentum carried it on until the chain was wedged over halfway through the body of the vessel, whereupon the wounded ship finally ground to a halt.

“That’ll give them something to think about,” she muttered, gazing at the sinking cruiser.

Distant, echoing cries from farther down in the tower drew her attention. Zevan snarled. “They be breaching the doors!”

“Run!” she said, drawing her machete and galloping for the door. The chain would do them little good if it was lowered again in minutes.

We’ve stolen you some time, Rye, she thought, heart racing as she pounded down the stairs. Find the Marquis and make it count. She gripped her machete tighter, blinking a drop of sweat from her eye.

They reached the bottom floor after a frantic, heart-pounding minute, but the doors were still standing when they did. The rest of the crew was spaced out in a semicircle around the entrance, weapons held ready. The bar across the double doors was cracked down the center, still held together by a few bent wood fibers. It wouldn’t be long, now.

Tyria watched the doors shake as the camels brought the ram home again. Zevan shifted uneasily at her side. “Any more strategies in that brain ‘o yours, Metrel?”

“The camels will be mostly armed with spears. We’ll have the advantage in close quarters.” Tyria swallowed. “But they’ve got four times as many out there as we do in here. Block them at the door, don’t let them abuse their numbers. And be ready to retreat when I signal; we’ve got another five floors to fall back to.”

Zevan growled in anticipation. “Alright, lads. We’ve been through worse. Whoever kills the most camels gets an extra five percent ‘o the haul, eh?”

The pirates grinned, but their eyes belied their nervousness. Tyria just stared ahead at the door, counting down the impacts of the ram until the door broke.

Three… The door quivered. The bar was bent nearly to breaking. Had Zanaya and Rye already found Zahira? Was the Marquis even still alive?

Two… Splinters flew across the floor. Would Wheatie get back in time? Would he return at all? She’d met some seriously stubborn naval officers in her time; the fleet’s commander might not be willing to come without the Princess’s express, mouth-written orders.

One… The bar snapped, falling to the ground between the doors. Well, after all these years of playing embassy bodyguard, I’m finally doing my duty as a soldier of Equestria. Never thought I’d die for someone else’s country, though. Tyria couldn’t help but smile. That last was pure Rye talking. She’d have to tell him that joke when they met again. If they met again.

The doors burst inward with a cloud of dust and wood splinters, and sunlight poured in. Two camels, both holding a short, metal-capped wooden shaft as thick as a barrel, were the first thing to emerge from the cloud. They wore chest armor and helmets of linothorax, their legs left unarmored and free to manipulate their weapons. Meter-and-a-half-long spears sat locked in shoulder-mounted rings, with small wooden spurs jutting out from the shaft to allow a quadruped to thrust them with one hoof. The camels dropped the ram at their feet, cocking their weapons forward with murder in their eyes.

With a roar, the camels came barging in through the dust. Half a dozen of them streamed into the tower first, with more yelling from outside. Tyria and the zebras charged forward to meet them, blades glinting in the dusty light, and the battle was joined.

Comments

[BurningBright]

Can't wait ta read more of this, so far the story is FANTASTIC.

[mustangdrew4]

I want to take the time to comment on each chapter and my thoughts but I just can't stop reading! Well done!