Fic: With Fire and Sword (4/8)

[melyanna]

Previously:

Part I
Part II
Part III


When the Ori had attacked Atalan, no man had been spared from fighting.  Daniel had taken up arms against them along with his uncle and every other able-bodied man in Atlantis.  He had fought the Goa'uld as well, at Jack's side.  But all of those things happened a long time ago.  As he dressed himself, with Peter's help with the chain mail, Daniel felt nervousness fluttering through his stomach.

He was almost more nervous about his skill in battle than the idea of facing down the Wraith.

If Daniel was anxious, Peter was unnaturally pale and silent.  The young man was no warrior, but he had volunteered to fight without hesitation.  It was Daniel's intention to keep Peter close to Jack in the fighting.  Someone would need to supervise the defenses and communicate with the commanders, and Peter would be more than capable of that.  However, there were no guarantees.  If the Wraith broke through the lines, nobody would be safe.

Feigning a confidence he did not feel, Daniel clapped Peter on the shoulder and sent him to the base of the walls, where the men were being gathered as the shadows lengthened across the island.

Daniel went to Elizabeth's chambers, where he found Jack and Sarah as well.  She was going to remain with the queen and the other women, under Captain Lorne's protection.  Sarah's face was solemn but composed.  Jack looked grim.

Elizabeth stood with her hands clasped before her, looking worried. Daniel sighed.  "I wish I had something encouraging to say, cousin, but now that I think of it, that's never been my strong suit."

That did get a small smile out of Elizabeth.  "That usually was Jack's job," she agreed.

Jack's smile was similarly diminished, but he nodded.  "I would only remind you yet again that we have the advantage in both position and tools.  We will lose some, but I believe we will prevail."

Elizabeth nodded, though her worry did not seem alleviated.  "I would ask you both to try to stay safe, but I fear it would be a useless request."

"We shall do our best, Majesty."

Elizabeth reached up and hugged him, and then Jack.  The armor made it awkward, more so that his cousin was not given to demonstrations such as this.  Neither of them remarked on it, though.  They departed the room, Jack shooting one last look at Sarah on their way out.

They descended the stairs to the base of the tower and then moved to the central staging area where Jack's lieutenants were directing the infantry where to go.  Jack checked that all was being arranged to his satisfaction.  Then there was little else to do but wait.

Jack turned to him.  "Did you get that thing sharpened?"

Daniel blinked for a moment before realizing Jack meant his sword. "No, Jack, it never occurred to me that after all these years of it lying unused I should check the state of my sword," he retorted.

"Just asking."

Daniel rolled his eyes.  "What about yours?  It has been a long while since you were in this position either."

"My sword is always sharp," Jack said smugly, while his eyes watched everything going on around them closely.

Daniel resisted making a remark that would have been both crude and out of character.  He was more nervous than he'd realized, if such thoughts were going through his mind.

Jack didn't turn to look at him, but he spoke lowly.  "It will come back to you, don't worry.  There are certain things that are hard to forget."

More than once, Daniel had been baffled by his old friend's ability to guess his thoughts in this manner.  It just hadn't happened in a while.  He futilely scratched at his neck, which was sweating underneath the chain mail.  "No offense, Jack, but I had hoped I could forget all of this with impunity."

Jack shrugged.  He was a soldier, first and foremost, and no matter what other titles he held, Jack would always be a soldier.  Fighting was in his blood, and he saw everything in terms of tactics.  Daniel reflected that even his confrontation with Elizabeth last fall had been due to this - Jack saw an advantage and knew it was needed, and other considerations never entered into the equation for him.  It made him an excellent commander, but not always a good politician.

Even now, with the first whispers of the Wraith ships being sighted, while everyone around him began to grow even more agitated, Jack somehow became calmer.  He moved forward, confident and contained, and his resolve helped steady the men around them.  And though he would never admit it, Daniel knew it helped him as well.

He took his place beside Jack, hand resting on the hilt of his sword, as they looked over the waters for the approaching enemy.

From his place on the ramparts, John could see the ships approaching, though it had taken time to sort them from the chunks of ice remaining on the water. The island was very dark, for there were no torches lit outside of the palace, not tonight. That had been Jack's idea. For as long as they could, they would keep the Wraith unaware of their preparations.

As he paced the parapet, the trap door to the corridor below opened. "Lord John," a voice called, and John looked to see Captain Lorne down below. "The queen wishes a word with you."

He hurried down the narrow stairs as quickly as he could, not an easy prospect given the amount of leather armor and mail he was wearing. He expected to see Elizabeth with an entourage, but she had come only with the captain of her guard. Once John had reached the bottom of the stairs, Lorne retreated around the nearest corner, leaving them alone for a moment.

"What news?" Elizabeth asked, her voice almost too low to be heard.

"It will not be long," John admitted, reaching for her hand and wishing he did not have his gloves on already. He wanted to feel the warmth of her skin, just to reassure himself that he was not dreaming and that she was safe.

She reached up and touched his face; his eyes fluttered closed for a moment, wishing this could be more than just a moment. "As much as I wish you were far from here," she murmured, "in a way I am glad that you returned."

"This is my home now too," he reminded her. "And I fight for my queen."

"I know," she said. "Just... Be careful, for my sake."

She said nothing else, but nothing else needed to be said. In her eyes he could see all the fears she normally buried under a calm facade, all the worry for him, and most of all her love. When she bit her lip, John could not hold himself back any longer. Despite his armor being in the way, he pulled her into his arms, holding her as fiercely as he dared.

Her hand cupped the back of his neck, pressing the metal links of his hood into his skin. They had had so many obstacles. For six months he had been kept away from her by war and duty, and then she had come so close to death while he was gone. As the Wraith neared, John reflected that he should have known that fate would throw itself between them one more time.

Elizabeth drew back and kissed him, her lips trembling slightly. Then, without a word, she tugged at the ribbon binding her braided hair. After a moment of frustrated fussing with his leather glove, she knotted it around his wrist. When she had finished, John cupped her face with his hands and met her gaze once more. With a deep breath, he said in a rush, "I love you. I think I fell in love with you the moment I first saw you. And I will come back to you, always."

She wrapped her fingers around his wrists and nodded. "Protect my people, John."

"I will."

With obvious effort she turned away from him, heading toward the corner where Lorne had disappeared. John headed back up the stairs, but before he was entirely up, he looked back. Elizabeth was watching him, and she nodded solemnly when he raised his hand in salute.

In the last moments of twilight, after she had left John to do his duty, Elizabeth stood at the window of her dining room. The view of her shipyards was not the familiar, comforting one. The keel McKay had laid weeks ago had been dismantled, the lumber needed for fortifications. Besides, the shell of a ship would simply be a target in a little while.

Willing herself not to tremble, Elizabeth leaned against the window frame. From here she could see the wall of earth layered with large branches. She could not see much detail from this window, but she knew the branches had been sharpened. Closer to the palace walls were the pits, with stakes at the bottom. Elizabeth did not like to think of what those were intended to do. Then, below this room was the rampart where the archers were gathered. She was too far away to see any distinguishing marks, but she could tell which one was John by his gait. From here, his confidence seemed unwavering.

She only wished she felt the same.

There was nothing more to be done now; this she knew. If she were able to be more objective, she would have acknowledged that they had accomplished an extraordinary amount in a few short days. But accomplishing much was not the same as accomplishing enough. She knew her men would fight bravely and without hesitation to defend the island, but she might have been more at ease had they had just one more day to get ready.

Her one consolation in all of this was that John was among the archers and not the infantry below. It was selfish of her, but she was relieved by that. When he had gone off to war almost a year ago, they had made no promises to each other. She thought it was bad enough then, not knowing exactly what he felt or if he intended to return if he could. Now that they were to be married, the thought of losing him was almost unendurable.

As she fidgeted with her necklace, she thought of their encounter in her chambers. Elizabeth might not have believed her own audacity had it not been for the mark John had left on her breast. It was not the first time she had felt such desire, even in such strength, but need met an opportunity and she wanted nothing more than him.

She knew John would not take such a risk with her again, but she wished he had. She had as good as given into the temptation when Kate interrupted. If he had come to her and found her alone once more, she would not have needed much in the way of persuasion. The thought of letting him bed her did not even bring a blush to her cheeks. They had already promised to marry each other. With the Wraith fleet bearing down on them, it seemed silly to care that they were not yet wed.

Soon enough, though, Elizabeth's thoughts were drawn away from such concerns. The ships were growing ever nearer. She could not see whether or not they had sent forth landing boats, but she knew they were coming soon enough.

But first, they would have to get past the Queen Margaret, the Aurora, the Tria, and the Destiny.

Of her father's once mighty fleet, only three ships stood in the harbor to guard Atlantis against the oncoming Wraith. The Margaret was with them because of how strange it would look to the Wraith if the only resistance they met on the water was from ships all at least a decade old. The four newest ships waited on the other side of the island, hoping to pin the Wraith down and prevent an escape. The night was a little overcast and it was difficult to see the ships in the harbor amid the ice, but soon Elizabeth could see tiny points of light. The fire pots were being prepared.

Then the pricks of light were flying across the black of the sea and in between the floating icebergs. Elizabeth held her breath as the first few missed their target, turning into streaks of flames upon the water, which could not extinguish the liquid fire. But then one of the clay pots hit the mainsail of the nearest Wraith ship, and soon fire was spreading across the sails and on the deck. Glancing away, she saw that another ship nearby had been hit as well, and a third was being engaged.

"Elizabeth."

She jumped and gasped even as she turned and saw Kate in the doorway. "You scared me."

"Are you intending to watch the whole battle from here?" Kate asked, coming closer. She looked like she had been crying. Elizabeth chose not to address that.

"I was not intending to watch any of it," she said. "I could not help myself."

"He will be all right, Elizabeth," Kate said gently, even as she watched the action in the harbor for herself. "And so will we all."

Elizabeth nodded and looked back to the harbor. It was too easy to stand transfixed by the fire far below. Most of the Wraith armada had slowed just inside the mouth of the harbor, obviously hoping to dispatch with the ships in their way before beginning their assault by land. They formed two lines, with the second blocking the harbor entrance effectively. Beyond, on the open sea, three other ships were still moving toward the island. Unconsciously, Elizabeth bit her lip, but she could not look away.

Then in the darkness she could make out the form of the Destiny squeezing past the Aurora, which was now taking heavy return fire from the Wraith. The Destiny was a small ship in comparison to her sisters. She was easier to sacrifice than them, although this was still incredibly dangerous for the men required to set the ship in her course and then set the fire, all while steering around the ice. Elizabeth reached for Kate's fingers and held on while the first hints of fire appeared.

Packed together just beyond the harbor's entrance, the first line of Wraith ships had no way of evading without crashing into each other or running afoul of icebergs. By the time the Destiny was fully engulfed, she was heading not for one ship but for the narrow gap between two of them. Elizabeth prayed that the crew had gotten off, but even more she prayed that this would do what they had hoped.

Then the Destiny made impact, and fire began to spread left and right.

"We should go back," Kate said, tugging at Elizabeth's hand. "Fire or not, the Wraith will make landfall soon."

Reluctantly, Elizabeth nodded. As much as she hated to be cut off from news of what was transpiring, helplessly watching it unfold might drive her mad too.

Rodney watched the top of the signal tower along with Captain Emerson and most of the men on the deck of the Odyssey. In order to keep themselves concealed, they had sailed the four ships to the other side of the island, hidden from sight of the Wraith approach by the bulk of Atlantis.  It was an effective strategy, but Rodney was certain he wasn't the only one about to go mad with impatience.  Other than some occasional sounds borne on the wind, they had no idea what was going on in the harbor.

Strapped to the deck was the largest of the Asgard weapons.  The Odyssey had been selected to carry it because she was slightly larger than any of her sister ships, due to a quirk of her timber. Rodney had prepared the weapon with the help of the Asgard, and rechecked it until he feared he would break something by accident.  Master Thor had cautioned both him and Emerson that the weapon would likely only fire once.  There was a real risk of an explosion in the process as well, one that could be big enough to sink the ship.

Captain Emerson's response had been to observe that as long as the explosion took down a Wraith ship at the same time, he didn't care. Rodney had not found that idea especially comforting.

Emerson tensed and Rodney saw a light appear on the top of the tower. Then a second light appeared.  He had been too busy seeing to fortifications and the weapons to bother to learn what the signals meant, so he looked at the captain.

"We're going to have to fight.  The second light means not all of the Wraith ships have entered the harbor."

Emerson turned to give orders to get underway.  The winds were on their side, and the open sea was nearly free of ice. The Odyssey, Apollo, Pegasus, and Prometheus would round the island swiftly and meet whatever was waiting for them in a matter of minutes.

Rodney swallowed hard and tried to prepare himself, knowing there probably was no preparation he could make that would do any good.

John had resumed his pacing once he returned to the parapet. His quiver, full of arrows made mostly in the last three days, was slung across his back, and he focused on holding his bow with loose fingers. The wind was picking up slightly as he spoke to the officers now looking to him for guidance.

Then came the first sounds of war in the harbor. A number of people had pointed out to him that he had been in battle more recently than most, but as John watched the fire pots being launched from the deck of one ship to another and the ships maneuvering sharply around each other and the ice, it abruptly occurred to him that he had never in his life seen a battle at sea. It did not alter his role here, but it was one more thing that he did not have in common with the people of Atalan.

The fire ship had just struck its target when John heard the splash of landing boats setting down into the water. They were too small and in the darkness and confusion of the battle, he could not see them right off, but they were coming. He gave the orders quickly and quietly before taking his place near the center of the line of archers. The boats seemed to take an eternity to reach the shipyards, and John drew an arrow from his quiver and nocked it with one fluid motion. Up and down the line of archers he could hear his men do the same.

It was hard to wait when the boats reached the yard and Wraith began to disembark. Instinct would have compelled him to fire as soon as he could. But John kept his breathing steady and merely raised his bow, the other archers following suit. The invaders took off at a run, and he counted to twelve before they came to a sudden stop. John drew the string full as they battled their first obstacle, the wall of makeshift spears.

After a deep breath, he let loose his arrow, and a hundred followed.

Teyla had not been able to see much of the fight out on the water. Her height made it difficult to see over the men ahead of her and the obstacles between where she stood and the edge of the harbor. Though she would not say so aloud for the world. Prince Ronon was still shooting strange looks her way as he stood alongside her and the Athosian men who had volunteered to join the infantry.

The prince had already gotten one lesson on not underestimating her. She would not give him reason to express any doubts about her abilities again.

She did not need to see specifics to know the Wraith were drawing closer. The chilled feeling she often got when the pirates approached Athos had not left her all day. She resisted the urge to draw her sword already. It was better to wait and not risk tiring her arms any further.

John had suggested that Ronon Dex stand with the Athosians, the better to conceal his identity. If he had been in the middle of the soldiers, dressed in borrowed garments rather than a uniform, he would have been too visible. Teyla suspected that John also wanted her to keep an eye on the tall man, to ensure he did indeed mean to fight for them rather than aid the enemy.

Teyla did not doubt Ronon's intentions. How he had remained unbroken by the Wraith for all those years, she did not know. But his hatred of them was very real, and in that hatred she placed her faith.

The mood of the waiting men shifted, and Teyla could hear the slapping noises of boats in the water. Ronon leaned down to her. "This is good. They were forced to launch much further out." She nodded. Every bit of energy that could be wrung from the attackers was in their favor.

It would not be long now.

She drew her sword, and her men took their cue and did likewise. The sword was narrow and the grip curved to fit snugly in her hand. The weapon had been forged specifically for her, a gift from her father for her eighteenth birthday. She closed her eyes for a moment, saying a prayer to her father and mother and the other ancestors to watch over them all. The moment ended, and with her other hand she drew a knife from her boot.

Ronon's arm brushed against her shoulder. She shifted her stance and heard the tiny creak of leather as her boots dug into the earth. Teyla drew in a breath, and then another, waiting. The Wraith would be slowed by the obstacles McKay and his crew had built so hastily. Her fingers tightened around the sword and she strained for them to appear, for it to begin. She could feel similar tension in the others, including Ronon, who was shifting his weight from foot to foot.

A noise came from overhead, and after another interminable minute, the hollow rushing sound of arrows filled the air. There were cries and shouts from the other side of the embankment, then more arrows flew.

Teyla saw the first Wraith to fall into one of the pits. Having cleared the spears and the embankment and escaped the initial barrage of arrows, he foolishly began to run across the sand. His footing gave way and he fell. The two men behind him also plunged into the earth, unable to check themselves in time. Though the archers were picking off as many as they could, more Wraith were climbing past the wall.

Looking at the hulking figures in the dim moonlight, Teyla felt a calm steal over her. This was no different than a dozen fights she had faced to protect her home. She and her people had been victorious many times before, and they would be again.

Some of the younger men took a restless step forward. "Hold," she ordered in a low voice. To her right she heard Jack give the same order. They had to wait for the attackers to come to them.

The Wraith faced a dire choice once past the embankment. Charging ahead left them at risk of falling into the pits. But going cautiously made them easy targets for the archers above. It was only as more of them piled over the hill that they had enough men to burst across the deceptive open space, the ones in back swerving to avoid those who fell and the holes that swallowed them.

As planned, their approach was concentrated into a narrow opening, and Teyla hefted her sword. She watched as several Wraith sprinted up the incline toward the defenders and heard the first clash of swords, nearly drowned out by the yells the opponents let out. She was hardly aware of it, but when a space opened up before her and a Wraith stumbled into view, she too opened her mouth and bellowed as she ran forward to attack.

The land battle was joined.

The Wraith broke through first on the north end of the line, where the Athosians stood ready. Jack had no way of planning it so, but it was probably for the best. The Athosians had more experience with these invaders than the rest of them did.

Still, in a few short moments the enemy had passed between the pits near his position, and Jack led the charge. His sword connected with an axe swinging through the air. The blade fell toward his shoulder and he crouched, thrusting his sword at the Wraith's gut before wrenching away. The axe glanced off of Jack's armor as his attacker fell to his knees. Jack was on his way to killing another before the first collapsed entirely.

The line of defenders in his position was starting to bow, those farthest from the gap between pits inching closer and closer to the great holes. With a few bare moments to glance about, he spotted Peter, who had just ducked the thrust of a dagger and stabbed a Wraith in the side. "Grodin!" he called. "Get Thomason! Pull his men back!"

The young man nodded and took off, weaving among skirmishes to find the lieutenant. A few minutes later, Jack saw him running to the other end of the section without being told to give the same direction to the other lieutenant.

As minutes ticked by, the Wraith passed between the pits in greater and greater numbers. Jack could still hear the arrows flying overhead, but the Wraith were too many for the archers to hold them back entirely. John knew what he was doing, though, and Jack had no doubt that the archers were doing everything they could.

With a grunt he yanked his sword from another body. Sweat was stinging in his eyes and he briefly recalled that this had been easier when he was younger. Still, when the next Wraith charged at him, he lifted his sword in answer and swung at the enemy, glad that so few of them had much in the way of armor.

This time, when he lifted his head to see what was coming next, he instead saw his old friend. Daniel had turned his back briefly to the onslaught, and one of the Wraith was running straight toward him. Jack charged, screaming at Daniel, hoping he would get there first.

Daniel remembered that battle was exhausting.

There was little that distinguished this battle from any he had seen before, save his age. Daniel had learned the first time he fought that he had to focus on the enemy at hand, because that was the one trying to kill him. He could not let his mind think through all the possibilities because he would be paralyzed with too many options if he did. So instead, he thought of his fencing master's mantras while he hacked away at the Wraith come to oppose him.

But Jack was right. Certain things were hard to forget.

When one Wraith who was a head taller came at him, he did not even flinch. Daniel parried, the blades coming together in a ringing crash. The Wraith tried to throw his weight into it, but Daniel was quicker, dodging to one side and coming around to swing at the man's arm. As sword met flesh, the Wraith howled. Daniel raised his blade with both hands and brought it crashing down in the killing blow.

He took a moment to breathe, and then suddenly he was knocked to the ground.

Quickly he rolled to his back and saw Jack hacking at a Wraith who must have been coming at him while his back was turned. Jack made quick work of the attacker and then held out his hand, his eyes still on the battle. Daniel accepted his help in standing gratefully. "Thank you," he said briefly, adjusting his helmet and willing the ringing in his skull to go away.

"Don't make me do that again," Jack warned as he moved back to his own position.

Daniel laughed a little despite their surroundings, and when he brought his sword down on another Wraith, he was still smiling.

The freshly sharpened sword drew blood over and over. Ronon's heart was pounding and his throat raw from screaming. Seven years of rage thundered in his veins as he struck out savagely at the scum who had thought to break him. He used the sword, his feet, his fists, whatever was available to beat down each opponent, whirling from one to the other wildly.

The pieces of leather armor that had been cobbled together for him helped deflect the few blows that landed. Mostly he left no time for the Wraith to strike.

One of the bigger attackers closed with him, their swords meeting and catching. The vermin sneered in Ronon's face. He had no idea whether it was from recognition or general contempt, but it didn't matter. He slammed his head into the skull of the Wraith, who stumbled backwards and then fell, sliced open by the Satedan sword in Ronon's hand.

He heard a yell behind him and whipped around, but the Wraith's sword was poised to strike and there was no time to bring up his own weapon. But the attacker stumbled and fell on his face, a blade sticking out of his back.

Ronon looked up. Teyla was a few feet away, bent low with her hand outstretched from throwing the knife with deadly accuracy. It had been her cry he had heard in the cacophony of noise surrounding them. She drew herself up, shaking the loose hair from her face. She nodded to him before turning back to the fighting at her right. Ronon allowed himself a single breath before raising his sword and charging the next villain he could find.

Emerson had been in the navy since he was quite young, and had seen battle with the Wraith on more than one occasion. He had never witnessed an attack such as this before, though, and as the Odyssey rounded the island, his stomach sank. In the dim moonlight he could see the dark shapes of at least three ships moving alarmingly close to the land.

He drew a breath and steadied himself. The wall of the palace that extended around that part of the island towered into the skies. It contained barred windows several stories up above the end of the jagged rocks, but not even the best archer could fire an arrow high enough to go over the walls.

McKay was still at his side. "What is that?" he asked, pointing.

Emerson looked closer and saw lights flying from the ships, arching into the night and falling down to the water, where the fire began to burn.

Fire pots. They were hurling them at the walls of the castle, or trying to. Their ships weren't close enough to reach, at least not yet.

Emerson looked at McKay. "If they are able to launch the flames at the castle walls, what damage will it cause?"

"I don't know," he said. "I'm not familiar enough with the structure of the palace to be certain. But..."

He trailed off and Emerson grabbed his arm. "What, McKay?"

The shipwright swallowed. "If the fire burns hot enough, the wall could end up buckling."

Emerson had been around McKay enough to know that this was a worst case possibility, but that didn't mean it couldn't happen. They had to stop those ships from attacking the wall.

McKay must have read the look on his face. "We have to save the Asgard weapon for the ships at the harbor. We're only going to get one shot out of this contraption."

"I know," he snapped back. "But if we arrange this right, we can still have the advantage." He thought rapidly and then turned to the signalman and gave orders. The other three ships were behind them, and the instructions were passed swiftly from ship to ship.

The Odyssey tacked further out to sea, with the other ships following. It would delay their arrival at the harbor mouth, but if this worked, it would eliminate the danger to the outer wall of Atlantis.

Pegasus and Prometheus had been almost side by side but now the former ship lagged and formed a line behind the first two ships, with the Apollo bringing up the rear. Emerson gave orders for the grenades containing the gunpowder to be brought to the bow of the ship. The metal containers were smaller and lighter than the fire pots, and thus would fly farther - if the men throwing them aimed true. There had been no time to practice. There was no telling where they would go precisely, not with the unpredictable wind currents in the lee of the island, but they also could not afford to waste such a valuable tactical advantage.

The line of Atalanian ships drew closer to the Wraith ships. Two of the enemy ships were further out from the land, which would leave the third probably out of range of the Odyssey. Through the spyglass Emerson could see their men gathering, moving away from their attempts to fire at the palace and preparing to strike the approaching Atalanian ships instead, which was what he had counted on.

The ship changed course again, heading toward the enemy almost directly. It gave them the advantage of presenting a narrower target, at least for now. Emerson moved to the bow and signaled the archer. The arrow tip was lit and the archer fired a shot into the night. Everyone watched in silence as the spark flew into the winds and was buffeted. It curved and sank into the dark waters.

"Again," he ordered tersely.

Another arrow flew, curving further through the winds, but it too fell short.

They were close enough now to hear the Wraith hollering from their ship, challenging and mocking their foes for being unable to reach them. Apparently it did not occur to the scum that there was a method to this approach.

The ship was dangerously close to being in range of the fire pots when the arrow skimmed the lower hull of the Wraith ship before dying in the ocean. "Now."

The men hefting the grenades followed the path marked by the arrow and let loose. A couple of the precious weapons fell into the water but four more struck their targets and exploded with a shocking noise that echoed over the waters. Fire instantly spread across the deck of the Wraith ship.

"Hard to starboard," Emerson yelled back at the helmsman, and the ship veered back out to sea, moving swiftly out of range of any counterattack. The rest of the infantry on board were already lined up at the port side of the ship, and as they swung close enough to fire they launched a wave of fire pots at the Wraith, ensuring the vessel would be engulfed in flames.

Behind them, Prometheus followed a similar path and unloaded a volley of fire at the second Wraith ship.

Emerson could see Wraith leaping from the deck of the burning vessels. The water was near to freezing. Any man who went in would be dead from the cold long before he could reach land.

One of the Wraith ships remained intact, but fortunately not close enough to fire at the Atalanian ships. With the wind against it, it also could not turn quickly to follow them. Emerson watched as the Odyssey shifted course again, heading closer to the island and the harbor mouth, with Prometheus behind her. The Pegasus stayed farther out to sea and caught the wind to gain more speed. She would now lead the attack, because she retained her supply of the grenades. Pegasus would fire upon the Wraith ships in the harbor first, and then the Odyssey would unleash the Asgard weapon where it would be most effective, with Prometheus bringing up the rear.

Unfortunately there was no way to communicate this change in strategy to the forces on the mainland.

There was little else to do now and everyone on the deck who had no other task turned aft, where the Apollo had dropped from their group and was heading directly at the remaining Wraith ship, as Emerson had ordered. His fist clenched tightly on the railing as he watched the two ships approach each other.

Ellis gave orders to his men and the sailors shifted the Apollo's sails to gain as much speed as possible. Lieutenant Campbell had the men ready on deck as they aimed for the remaining Wraith ship. The two other ships were burning brightly in the night, illuminating the water's surface and the other ship. It would also illuminate the deck of the Apollo, making the men and the vessel easy targets. Unfortunately the Wraith had moved too close to the island. There was no passage through the darker, safer area between the enemy and the jagged rocks at the base of the wall.

Their only hope was to pass with all speed and limit the damages.

The tension on the deck mounted higher and higher, but Ellis waited to give the order to launch the grenades. He wanted each shot to count. If fate was kind, they could damage the Wraith ship badly enough in one pass and continue on toward the harbor, but to do it, maximum damage would have to be inflicted.

As the Wraith began haphazardly launching their own fire pots toward the Apollo, Ellis snapped out the order. The grenades were fired through the air, but the wind currents this close to the towering walls of stone above them were unpredictable, and most of the weapons missed their target, buffeted by the swirling breeze. The fire pots which followed stayed more on course, but even as the Apollo's crew ducked the fire of the Wraith, Ellis knew it hadn't been enough to take the other ship out.

Campbell yelled behind him and the captain turned to see that the wind had done more than throw off their aim. Flames from the sinking Wraith ships had jumped the narrow space and the Apollo was burning both from the fire pots and the enemy ships. Ellis watched in despair as the oil slick from the fire pot made contact with another flame and ignited.

Something struck his back and he fell to his knees, screaming. One of the Wraith weapons had hit him in the back, and his clothes were burning. The pain was intense - he was barely aware of several men covering him with their own clothes to stifle the flames. "Captain?"

Campbell grabbed his hand and helped him rise. He had to lean on the young man's shoulder as he swayed, the pain nearly making him pass out. The Apollo was burning at an unstoppable pace, he knew. They had only one option.

"Turn us around," he ordered the helmsman, his throat raw from the smoke and the smell of charred flesh. He leaned over the rail, vomited into the black water and then squinted into the wind. The Wraith ship was burning but not badly, and she too was executing a turn, though much more slowly and ponderously than the lighter, faster Apollo.

He looked at Campbell. "Prepare the boats. We'll have to launch in the turn."

"Sir?" The lieutenant was clearly confused.

"We need to take out that ship, Campbell. Take the uninjured men and get them onto the boats."

"But Captain-"

He cut off the protest harshly. "That's an order, Lieutenant. We're already coming about, so be quick about it."

Ellis made for the helm, not bothering to watch Campbell as he turned away and began rounding up the men who were able to get to the ladders. The Apollo was already mostly through her about-face when the boats splashed into the water. He couldn't concentrate on that now. Instead he gripped the wheel tightly.

A few men, also badly injured, had remained, and they manipulated the sails as best they could, though the ship lurched in an ungainly fashion more than once. But they found their course in enough time.

The Wraith were probably gearing up for another exchange of blows. Ellis allowed himself a grim smile. They would not get it. The Apollo was bleeding to death, the fire eating away at her hull. But she would not die in vain.

The sails caught the winds and the ship gained what speed she was capable of in her condition. Ellis held the wheel and aimed straight for the center of the Wraith ship.

"What is he doing?" Rodney wondered aloud. The Odyssey was rounding the island along with the other two ships, but they could still see the Apollo on the water, thanks to the fire burning nearly all over the ship. She was swinging about and heading back the way she had come.

Emerson was beside him, his face grave. "They must not have taken care of the other vessel. From the speed he's gaining, I think Ellis intends to ram the ship before Apollo sinks."

Rodney swallowed. Ramming another ship was usually the last resort in a sea battle, after fires and blades had been used up. It was better, certainly, if the Apollo was dying, that it make that last effort, but the thought of the damages that must have been inflicted on the ship to push Ellis to that point made Rodney ill. He had, after all, built all four of these ships.

He glanced at the metal tube fastened to the deck, wondering if a moment would come when the Odyssey would have to make such a decision.

Emerson turned forward, focusing on the battle in the harbor. After a few minutes he offered Rodney the spyglass. "I cannot make out the Margaret."

Rodney looked through the glass. A number of ships were burning across the center of the harbor and it was difficult to make out to whom they belonged. He spotted the Aurora because her bulk was larger than most of the Wraith ships that were inside the harbor. She was apparently engaged with one of the enemy vessels.

He thought the burning hull some distance across the harbor was the Tria. Beyond her lay the hulks of two other ships, neither of which matched the Margaret's outlines, so they were probably Wraith.

"I cannot either," Rodney told Emerson, his stomach churning even more. "She could not have foundered so quickly. Even with the fire pots it would take longer than that to burn."

"She might be keeping to the shadows, or be hidden by ice. Pendergast knows what he is doing. Our business is with the harbor mouth."

Rodney hefted the spyglass again, but he had already done the count. Four Wraith ships, what looked like the largest ones in the enemy armada, blocked the mouth of the harbor. Four large warships against three smaller, lighter vessels; the odds were not in their favor.

Rodney looked again at the cannon. It looked more and more likely that the Asgard invention was their only hope.