The burning gunpowder reached the warhead. The rocket exploded thirty yards from the ship and half as many above the waves. The largest piece of Wahsi which struck the water was his right leg. The rest of the Dakuen commander was simply a cloud of blood and shreds of flesh and bone.
“God in Heaven,” she whispered. She turned a shocked face to Ousanas.
The aqabe tsentsen clenched his teeth. Then, without a word, he took his spear and raced toward the grappling ropes amidships. Within seconds, Antonina saw him swarming onto the ship.
At first, she assumed that Ousanas was just venting his own fury and battle lust. But then, hearing his bellowing roars, she realized that he was doing the opposite. The aqabe tsentsen was taking command, and dragging the sarwen away from their pointless revenge.
Literally dragging, in some cases. She saw Ousanas personally pitch three Ethiopian marines onto the rail. He had to rap one of them on the skull with the haft of his spear before the man started climbing down the ropes.
Blood was beginning to drip over the sides of the Malwa ship above her. Antonina didn’t want to think about the carnage up there. At the best of times, Axumite sarwen were murderous in battle. Now, with their regimental commander slain, they were fury incarnate.
“What a waste,” she whispered. “What a pointless, stupid waste.”
She stared out at the patch of ocean where Wahsi had disappeared—what was left of him. There would be no point, she knew, in searching for the pieces of his body. The fish would get them long before they could be retrieved.
She wiped her face, smearing sweat and smoke and more than a few tears.
“What a waste,” she whispered again. “What a stupid, stupid, stupid waste.”
* * *
It took Ousanas fifteen minutes to get the Ethiopian soldiers off the Malwa vessel. By then, any Malwa was long dead except for the few who might have found a hiding place in the hold below. Ousanas had to bully a dozen sarwen from wasting time searching the cargo.
At his order, the Ethiopian ships cast off and began rowing toward the other ships being boarded. Soon enough, the aqabe tsentsen was repeating his actions, bringing the battle to a halt.
That did not prove difficult. All five Malwa vessels had been stormed. As Ousanas had predicted, Malwa cargo ships were simply no match for Axumite marines.
Wisely, Ousanas said nothing of Wahsi’s death until the Ethiopian fleet had resumed its course up the Persian Gulf. The five Malwa vessels were left behind, wallowing in the waves. Already, the Arab dhows were closing in.
When the news was passed, from one ship to another, Ousanas had to reestablish his authority anew. He was forced to personally visit one of the ships crewed by men of the Dakuen sarwe, to beat down what almost amounted to a mutiny.
“Stupid fools,” he snarled to Antonina, after clambering back aboard the flagship. “They were bound and determined to go back and see that not a single Malwa was left alive.”
She looked at the cluster of Malwa ships, now several miles astern. The Arab dhows were tied alongside, like lampreys.
She shook her head. “That’s—”
“Stupid!” roared Ousanas. The aqabe tsentsen gestured angrily at the ships being plundered. “What do they think the Arabs won’t do, that they would?” He glared astern. “Any Malwa cowering in a hold is having his throat slit, even as we speak.”
Antonina grimaced. “Maybe not. They might capture them, in order—”
“Better yet!” bellowed Ousanas. “Better yet! We can lullaby ourselves to sleep, thinking of Malwa slaves hauling water for bedouin women.”
He shook his head. “But they won’t be so lucky, believe me. The ships were India-bound, Antonina. Loaded with booty from Persia. The sarwen grabbed some, but most of it was left behind. Those Arabs are now the richest men in the Hadrawmat. What do they want with some mangy Malwa slaves? They can buy better ones back home.” He made a savage, slitting gesture across his throat. “Fish food, that’s all.”
Ousanas leaned on the rail, gripping the wood in his powerful hands. The anger faded from his eyes, replaced by sorrow.