Down to the Sea by William R. Forstchen Read Free Book Online

astern.
    No one was on the bridge other than he and Hazin. A forward hatch popped open, and sailors poured out, some of them horribly scalded, fur and flesh peeling off.
    He looked back again at Hazin. “I was betrayed.”
    “We have been betrayed, sire,” Hazin replied sharply. “Now, in the name of Tenga, come with me while there is still time. I can save you!”
    As he spoke, he pointed at the frigate alongside, barely a dozen feet separating the two ships. A line snaked out from the frigate, and Hazin grabbed it, securing it to the railing.
    “Sire!”
    A couple of crew members of the frigate had hold of the other end of the rope and were shouting for them to come down.
    “There will always be a tomorrow, Hanaga,” the priest said calmly. “Your legend must be rebuilt. The struggle must go on. Sar and your brother will have their reckoning, and you must position yourself to pick up the pieces afterward. Today is but a moment.”
    Even as he spoke, the priest grabbed hold of the rope and swung himself over the side. Hand over hand he went down the rope, alighting on the deck, then motioned for Hanaga to follow.
    Hanaga hesitated, but then went over the side, slipping down, burning his hands. Even as he reached the deck, the frigate turned off sharply and started to race away.
    Hanaga, stunned, looked back at his once proud flagship, victor of a dozen actions, listing heavily, explosions tearing it apart.
    Hazin put a comforting hand on Hanaga’s shoulder. “Sire, let’s retire to the captain’s cabin. You need a drink.”
    Hanaga nodded, humiliated that he had abandoned his ship, leaving loyal sailors and comrades there to die. He tried to justify it as an action any emperor would take, and yet still it cut into his soul.
    Hazin pointed at the hatchway leading into the captain’s cabin.
    “You go after me. It would seem unfitting for me to go first.”
    Hanaga nodded and stepped through.
    And there, on the other side, he saw half a dozen of the Order.
    There was a momentary flash of recognition, a realization of how all the pieces of this moment, laid out across years, had finally come to this.
    The blow from behind staggered him, propelled him forward into the cabin. He gasped, clumsily reaching toward his back, feeling Hazin’s dagger in it.
    Then those of the Order closed in to finish the ritual.
    “I trusted you once,” he gasped, looking at Hazin, friend of his youth, Second Master of the Order.
    “And that, sire, was always your mistake,” Hazin sighed, an almost wistful note in his voice.
    The blows came, one after another, daggers cutting deep, driving in.
    He no longer resisted. Weariness with life, with all its treachery, forced him to yield.
    Hazin pulled the dagger from Hanaga’s back, held it as if testing the balance, and looked down at the dying emperor.
    “The Empire,” Hanaga gasped.
    Hazin smiled. It was the last thing Emperor Hanaga of the Kazan saw—someone he had once called friend knelt down to finish the job.

TWO
    “Sir, what the hell is it?”
    Lieutenant Richard Cromwell scrambled up through the lubber hole and out onto the fighting foretop. Squatting next to the lookout, he raised his glasses.
    The fog, which had rolled in at nightfall, was breaking up. Occasional stars and one of the two moons winked through the overcast. But that was not what interested him. It was the glow on the horizon, a dull red light that flared, waned, and flared again. Occasional flashes, like heat lightning on a summer’s night, snapped around the edge of the burning glow.
    Just before sunset the lookouts had reported a smudge of smoke on the horizon. They had taken a bearing and sailed toward it throughout the night. Now at last they had something.
    “When did you first notice this?” Richard asked.
    “Just a couple of minutes ago, sir. I called you as soon as I was certain it was not my eyes playing tricks,” the lookout, a young Rus sailor, replied slowing, stumbling over his