did, then it too would be done properly.
The roar pounded the sea and the ships, a weight like a storm-wind that made men flinch from its force. Not all the oars were manned but most were, and rowers were hauling back on their looms. Chalcus' orders were driving them, but reflex drove them also. Men try to do the thing they know in the midst of a chaos they don't understand.
Ilna slung the strap of the loom bag and rose to her feet. The blaze in the sky threw her shadow as a black pool at her feet. She didn't know why Chalcus had ordered the rowers to their posts; perhaps it was merely to give them a task and prevent panic. Another man might've been trying to get away, but the thunder raced too fast for the Heron or any other human device to escape.
Besides, Chalcus wasn't the sort to think first of running.
The object struck the sea with a cataclysmic flash, as far to the south of the royal fleet as the island was to the north. Steam and water spouted skyward. There was a moment of silence, broken only by ringing in Ilna's ears from the punishment they'd taken during the thing's passage.
"Port oars stroke!" Chalcus shouted. "Starboard back water! Bring us bow on, you dogs, or the fish'll kiss our bones!"
The Heron jumped as the sea slapped its keel, knocking Ilna and every standing man save Chalcus to the deck. The blast of sound through the air followed, noticeably later and less violent.
Water lifted in a mountain-high ring about the column of steam, racing outward at a pace beyond that of a galloping horse. The wave's height lessened as its circle expanded, but it'd still be of immense size and power when it reached them.
"It's the Shepherd's sling stone!" cried a sailor, weeping over his oar loom. "Ah, mercy on a poor sinner!"
"It's a meteor!" piped Merota, hugging the sternpost with both arms. "It's a stone from the sky and we've seen it! We've seen it!"
"All oars stop!" shouted Chalcus. "Now together boys, forward and put your backs in it. Stroke! Stroke! Stro-"
The squadrons to starboard, south of the Heron and the flagship, were in confusion, dancing like straws in a millrace. Ships lifted on the rising wave, then slid or tumbled off the back. Some capsized and one trireme, older or harder used than most, broke in the middle like a snake under a spade.
"Ship oars!" Chalcus cried. "Wait for it my buckos, my heroes, for-"
A wave washed the cutter's deck bow to stern. Ilna, caught unaware, grabbed a jib stay. She hadn't been consciously aware of it, but in the crisis her instinct went to a rope and saved her. The sea rushed past, bubbling and powerful, but a lifetime of working looms had given Ilna a grip and muscles equal to this test and worse ones.
The Heron lifted from the back of the wave and bucked onto an even keel. Here the cutter's short hull glided over what meant danger to a longer vessel.
Chalcus stood silent, surveying the whole situation while the officers under him sorted out their divisions. The crisis was over for the Heron. The wave-crest moved on, shaking ships like rats in a dog's jaws and leaving flotsam in its wake.
"Ahead slow!" Chalcus called. "Holpa, Rennon, Kirweke and Lonn-fetch yourselves lines and stand in the bow. There's men in the water as'll drown if we don't get them out!"
Ilna joined him. Merota, cautiously holding the rail, got up also and took the sailor's hand when he reached back for her.
"There's many that'll drown despite us, too," Chalcus said in a voice pitched for the pair of them. "We're one small ship and there's a dozen foundered or I miss my bet. But we'll do what we can."
"Chalcus?" said Merota. "That was a meteor, a really big one. Can we go see where it landed?"
"Where it landed, child...," Chalcus said, looking toward the pillar of steam now piercing the roiling overcast. "Is a trench deeper than any man's plumbed. There'd be nothing to see, whether it's your scholar's meteor or the Shepherd's sling stone as simple folk like me were raised to
The roar pounded the sea and the ships, a weight like a storm-wind that made men flinch from its force. Not all the oars were manned but most were, and rowers were hauling back on their looms. Chalcus' orders were driving them, but reflex drove them also. Men try to do the thing they know in the midst of a chaos they don't understand.
Ilna slung the strap of the loom bag and rose to her feet. The blaze in the sky threw her shadow as a black pool at her feet. She didn't know why Chalcus had ordered the rowers to their posts; perhaps it was merely to give them a task and prevent panic. Another man might've been trying to get away, but the thunder raced too fast for the Heron or any other human device to escape.
Besides, Chalcus wasn't the sort to think first of running.
The object struck the sea with a cataclysmic flash, as far to the south of the royal fleet as the island was to the north. Steam and water spouted skyward. There was a moment of silence, broken only by ringing in Ilna's ears from the punishment they'd taken during the thing's passage.
"Port oars stroke!" Chalcus shouted. "Starboard back water! Bring us bow on, you dogs, or the fish'll kiss our bones!"
The Heron jumped as the sea slapped its keel, knocking Ilna and every standing man save Chalcus to the deck. The blast of sound through the air followed, noticeably later and less violent.
Water lifted in a mountain-high ring about the column of steam, racing outward at a pace beyond that of a galloping horse. The wave's height lessened as its circle expanded, but it'd still be of immense size and power when it reached them.
"It's the Shepherd's sling stone!" cried a sailor, weeping over his oar loom. "Ah, mercy on a poor sinner!"
"It's a meteor!" piped Merota, hugging the sternpost with both arms. "It's a stone from the sky and we've seen it! We've seen it!"
"All oars stop!" shouted Chalcus. "Now together boys, forward and put your backs in it. Stroke! Stroke! Stro-"
The squadrons to starboard, south of the Heron and the flagship, were in confusion, dancing like straws in a millrace. Ships lifted on the rising wave, then slid or tumbled off the back. Some capsized and one trireme, older or harder used than most, broke in the middle like a snake under a spade.
"Ship oars!" Chalcus cried. "Wait for it my buckos, my heroes, for-"
A wave washed the cutter's deck bow to stern. Ilna, caught unaware, grabbed a jib stay. She hadn't been consciously aware of it, but in the crisis her instinct went to a rope and saved her. The sea rushed past, bubbling and powerful, but a lifetime of working looms had given Ilna a grip and muscles equal to this test and worse ones.
The Heron lifted from the back of the wave and bucked onto an even keel. Here the cutter's short hull glided over what meant danger to a longer vessel.
Chalcus stood silent, surveying the whole situation while the officers under him sorted out their divisions. The crisis was over for the Heron. The wave-crest moved on, shaking ships like rats in a dog's jaws and leaving flotsam in its wake.
"Ahead slow!" Chalcus called. "Holpa, Rennon, Kirweke and Lonn-fetch yourselves lines and stand in the bow. There's men in the water as'll drown if we don't get them out!"
Ilna joined him. Merota, cautiously holding the rail, got up also and took the sailor's hand when he reached back for her.
"There's many that'll drown despite us, too," Chalcus said in a voice pitched for the pair of them. "We're one small ship and there's a dozen foundered or I miss my bet. But we'll do what we can."
"Chalcus?" said Merota. "That was a meteor, a really big one. Can we go see where it landed?"
"Where it landed, child...," Chalcus said, looking toward the pillar of steam now piercing the roiling overcast. "Is a trench deeper than any man's plumbed. There'd be nothing to see, whether it's your scholar's meteor or the Shepherd's sling stone as simple folk like me were raised to
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