He called to Harth, "Pass the ship over their machines. I must destroy them."
Flane went to the rail and leaned on it, watching the ground slide under him. Now they were over the assembled tribes, skimming low. The war-engines were just beyond them. Flane lifted his gun, held it in readiness.
He fired once.
A massive catapult went violet, and disappeared.
He fired again, and again.
Mangonels flared, fading.
But now the Darksiders were using their rocks against the magniship. Great jagged stones came crashing and bouncing on the deck. Men screamed, caught under them. Flesh was mashed, and ran red blood. One rock pierced the sides of the ship and clattered inside it, rolling and tumbling. Men moaned in the depths of the vessel, where the stone had gone.
Flane thinned his lips and fired faster, and faster.
One by one he encompassed the engines with the violet fire, and one by one they flared and disappeared.