Gears of Troy 3

by Daniel Pierce

  She raised an eyebrow and turned to me. “Oh, hello, Troy . . . It was well—I mean to say, it would have been well, but my thoughts kept me awake, as is often the case.”

  “You mind is a busy place, and there’s been a lot to think about in the last few days.” I laughed and added, “Master Erion may have to wait longer still for help from you.”

  “I am sure Helen can manage on her own.”

  “True. You’re both very capable women,” I said. She had turned back to the sphere at this point, clearly still consumed by whatever was on her mind. I asked, “Did that thing not give you all the answers you were looking for last night?”

  She frowned. “Well, it was helpful. Sometimes it can provide more, but it can only work with what is provided to it. I still feel as though there are many unknowns and do not know how to proceed aside from cautiously.” Her shrug was girlish and frustrated.

  “Well, you’ve got the rest of us here, too. And I feel like we know a lot more now than we did: we know those prints came from the north; we can assume those guys last night had something to do with this mess; one of them told us that they were hired by ‘the Trio’, whoever they hell they are; and that guy”—I pointed over my shoulder to my new Thirian friend who was finishing off the last bit of one of his deceased brothers—“is named Ogma.”

  “Hm . . .” She had stopped listening halfway and resumed her internal pondering, once again taken in by the allure of the brass ball.

  The door opened behind her and out stepped Teucer. “Troy! I was just coming to you. We are about ready to go.” He looked over to the barn, and two of his sons were herding the eight sheep over. “Ah, there we go. We are now ready to depart.” He was smiling despite the abrupt disruption to his way of life. “So, tell me, will your boat be able to carry all of us in one trip?”

  “I was thinking about that,” I said. “We should be fine now.” I looked over at the ashes from the night’s fire. “We’re even down two men, I’m sad to say. We’ll make it work.”

  The farmer looked over at the burnt remains. “Yes, I am sad that tragedy happened last night. I do not understand what these people want from me. They could have had my sheep and just gotten their dirty arses out of here before we even noticed.” He looked to his feet. “These . . . foreign men of yours seem very dedicated to your cause, Troy. I would be interested to hear all about them on the way to Port Superior.”

  “There will surely be time for that, friend. I appreciate the sympathy.”

  “Of course, of course.” He looked back up to me. “My wife told me some things she saw from the window last night—what your men did with the bodies of the others. Very . . . interesting.”

  I nodded my head and half-smiled. “It is a form of communion for them. It helps them feel closer to their dead. You are not the first to raise an eyebrow at it. I hope it wasn’t too . . .”

  He waved my concern away, shaking his head. “No, no, no—their ways are their ways. It shows real, ah, devotion.” His lips pursed, but he held his tongue.

  Everyone was on the Moonshadow in the next hour. None of my people had gotten a good look at the sheep the previous night. They still couldn’t get a decent view of the animals even in the middle of my deck in broad daylight. Such was the flock’s power.

  Stealth sheep, I thought, grinning. Of all the oddities in my new life, if was the small things that took me by surprise. Like sheep with their own cloaking devices built in to their plump, wooly bodies. Teucer proudly took a few minutes to explain how the sheep came to be, and went over several common uses for their wool. Linos was eager to know when we would be able to make use of their fabric; he was practically salivating as he asked, fantasizing about all the battle applications the fleece would have. The Thirians were already the best sneak-and-stab warriors I had ever met. This material would take their guerilla tactics to a mythic level, to a tier literally unseen in all of history—to the best of my limited knowledge. They’ll be like ghosts. But ghosts with knives.

  After a while, I tried to guide Linos’s enthusiasm away from the sheep long enough to have him explain a little about his people to the curious shepherd. It was an unlikely union, it seemed. Each man was very interested in the lifestyle of the other. I left them be as my eyes fell upon Karsi standing at the starboard rail near the front of the ship, looking out to sea.

  “G’morning,” I said.

  She jumped and let out a quick sigh when she realized who was greeting her.

  “Sleep well, or. . .?” I asked.

  “Well,” she said and turned back to the water smiling. “As I usually do. You seemed to be as well when I left you.” Her smile curled further into a more self-indulgent, satisfied kind of grin.

  “Indeed, I was.” I laughed.

  Her eyes closed partially in that alluring way they had the previous night and she spied me from the corner of one. “What would your wife think?”

  “Wives,” I corrected her.

  I had a pang of nervousness at her question. I knew my wives wouldn’t care, especially not Caria. Helen might be slightly miffed, at first, but we had talked about me having relations with other women several times, and there was an understanding between us. What made me wary was the thought that Karsi might be trying to blackmail me, which, needless to say, would really taint the whole thing. I wasn’t assuming that was what she was doing, but I was a little suspicious.

  She raised an eyebrow at my correction and turned to face me completely. “You have many wives?”

  “Only two—well, and a concubine of sorts.” I spoke in a nonchalant tone in an attempt to mess with her head further. “Though, at this point I think we all consider her an honorary wife.”

  She was smiling again. “My, Troy. You are a man of many . . . surprises. I can see why women would flock to you, so I should have assumed as much. Maybe one day I could be your fourth.” She playfully poked me in my belly.

  “I like your chances.” I winked, and the two of us laughed, but it wasn’t funny because we were both looking at each other with a newfound hunger. I wasn’t really joking, and I didn’t think she was either.

  Caria was drawn to us by the sounds of our amusement. She introduced herself before I got the chance to, and they seemed to hit it off well enough. No more mention of the last night’s fun was made. It was not long before Caria said something about the sheep and the two girls were in the throes of that conversation. Those animals were all anyone wanted to talk about, but there were other things weighing heavily on my mind, like who the hell those carnie-looking motherfuckers were.

  I went to find Zinni, knowing she shared my curiosity. My search led me below deck where I found her sleeping on the couch, catching up from a sleepless night. I thought it best not to disturb her. She may need her strength yet. There was no telling what the next few days—or even weeks—had in store for any of us.

  The rest of my time on the ship was spent in the captain’s seat, idly steering the wheel. It would have been a great day for sailing if I was in the frame of mind to appreciate it. Instead of letting the warm kiss of the sun and the gentle caressing of the breeze take me to my happy place, I stared off into space while everyone else milled about below me, discussing mostly sheep with light sprinkles of personal history mixed into the conversation here and there. I at least had some more time on a pleasant day to sit alone with my thoughts, and I was thankful for that.

  My main focus would be to gather up a team and head north. I did not want to waste any time. This “Trio” seemed to mean business, whatever their intentions were. My mind kept going back to the guy on the shore the previous day. I couldn’t erase the sight of him suddenly dropping dead—and after all the trouble I went through to keep him alive, no less. Something had pierced him so perfectly, making those tiny incisions. Right before he died, he mentioned something about the magic that the Trio wielded. It seemed reasonable to believe that what happened to the mercenary had been the result of some kind of failsafe the mysterious group h
ad cursed him with. I just hoped they could not do such a thing at the snap of a finger. If that was the case, all of us were already dead.

  There was no time to stretch my legs when we arrived at Port Superior. Before I even tied my ship off, I was approached by a tall lanky Thirian who I only knew by face.

  “Sir,” he said in that rough islander accent. He knelt to one knee, but I insisted he rise, never being one for theatrics.

  “What’s going on? Has something happened?” I could see he was panting fairly heavily, and Thirian endurance was unmatched. He must have either just gotten out of a fight or run a great distance.

  “Sir, I am with hunting party. We travel north often. Me and my brothers were returning from recent hunt and saw little town under attack.”

  “Attack?” My eyes went wide. “From who? How far north?”

  The other passengers, save for some of the shepherd’s children and his wife, had joined us on the dock. They had all witnessed my outburst and come close to hear the news.

  “Two ships we could see. None of us know who, but ship sails had a horse head with metal rope behind it.” I knew “metal rope” translated to “chains.” He gulped in air and continued. “We were on foot. Spotted them little after sunrise and ran here since. We only just return at same time as you, Sir.”

  “All right—how many men do you think there were?”

  “I do not know, Sir. Many.” He looked off to the side as if in thought but only returned with a shrug and repeated, “Many. More than fingers on my hands—in each ship.”

  That meant there were at least twenty, which in all honesty was not horrible, assuming it was close to twenty.

  “Would you say there were possibly thirty?”

  He thought for another moment. “I do not know, Sir. I am sorry.”

  “It’s all right.” I laid a hand on his shoulder. “Get some rest. I appreciate you rushing back here to tell me. Did everyone who left with you come back all right?”

  “Yes, Sir.” He got to his knee again, presumably as a gesture of good-bye.

  “That’s good. I may call on you again.”

  “Yes, Sir.” He rose and took off.

  I saw Zinni and Caria both at my side. “Are either of you familiar with the emblem he described? A horse head with chains behind it?”

  They both shook their heads, Zinni adding, “I have not the slightest idea, but I suspect it has something to do with our sheep thieves. The hoofprints and the horse symbol are a little too coincidental in my opinion.”

  “I definitely agree. Linos, Scander, Ogma—you guys up for round two?”

  “Sir!” they shouted in unison.

  “Good, we’re going to take three of our faster warships. I don’t want to risk mine getting damaged. Linos, you round up twenty-two more of your men to come with us, and make sure at least half of them are familiar with the reinforced ships. Zinni, you stay here. I plan to return soon, and maybe we’ll have some more info to aid your research. Send word to Helen and your parents to let them know what’s going on. Caria, you come with me. Maybe you’ll be able to recognize their breed of horses or something if they have any onboard. Do you think you could tell us what region a particular breed of horse is native to?”

  “Yes, Troy. Many breeds are intermixed with different cultures, but there are a handful that typically stay within the borders of certain nations.”

  “Good.”

  “Troy, what would you like me to do? And where can my family stay?” Teucer had spoken up just as Linos took his leave. I almost forgot about the shepherd in the heat of the moment. “I am sorry if our presence here is already becoming something of a burden.”

  “No, Teucer, we are happy to have you here.” I laid a firm hand on his shoulder to punctuate the sentiment. “Zinni can show you some available buildings we have for visitors. We may not have enough room for your entire family in a single building, but we’ll make do with what we have. There should be some fences available for your livestock as well. If we have to, they can stay with the horses. Does all this work for you?”

  He nodded. “Yes, Troy. Thank you, a hundred times, for all that you continue to do for me and my family.” He bowed humbly, his head almost lowering all the way to my waist.

  “No need to thank me. Again, I am very happy to have you here. Now, you and your family follow Zinni and try to take your mind off all of this for a while.”

  Zinni led them away and I turned my attention back to those who remained: Caria and the two Thirians. “All right, we’ll take one ship and get some other Thirians to man it with us when the Chief returns.”

  I took them over to the three ships I had in mind. They were similar to Viking boats, but smaller than the ones I had seen, or at least smaller than what Hollywood had led me to believe. They were equipped with sails as well as oars, like any unmotorized sailboat should be, and we would be using both means of propulsion. The hulls of these ships had been lined with steel, each ending in a blunt nub at the front. I often referred to the ships as stingers. This was one of the first projects I had the Brethren of Stars take on upon their relocation to my settlement. I instructed them to reinforce the hulls while at the same time weighing them down as little as possible. Admittedly, the task was a little below their level of expertise, but I had them do it more as a test of their willingness to cooperate than for any other reason. They proved to be enthusiasts.

  They accomplished it in record time, even improving on the ships’ aerodynamics. We tested them on several occasions against dummy ships, which they tore through almost like paper. This would be their first real taste of battle, and I was confident they would lay waste to any foreign ship we would encounter. The biggest concern of the crew would be to brace for impact. It was a very jarring process and not unheard of for a crewmate to be thrown overboard on collision. All of the Thirians had since been taught to swim, which was apparently a skill common everywhere in the surrounding area except for their island of Santorini.

  Linos soon joined us, with others. We totaled twenty-seven, which meant there would be nine of us in each ship. I would command one, Linos another, and a random Thirian who the Chief appointed would command the third. We set out a moment later, after I gave everyone a quick rundown of the situation and reminded them of the dangers of this particular kind of naval combat.

  We sailed north through the Dardanelles strait, with the land of my peninsula to our left and the mainland of Troy to our right. At times, we could see both on either side of us as the strait narrowed.

  The raiders had made considerable distance by the time we came across them, as we scarcely had to deal with two hours of rowing before their masts were on the horizon. Their sails were a blood-red, not unlike the Trojan colors, and their emblem was as described: a horse head with chains behind it, which were crossed in an x-shape.

  As the distance closed between us, I ordered the Thirians on the third ship to stay behind and ready their bows. Once they got a good view, they would unleash everything they had while our other two ships rammed those of the enemy. Our opponents would be too busy with the hail of arrows to even consider that the rest of us might be trying to ram them. If Linos and I were successful, we would then climb aboard and tear the crew to pieces.

  I heard their battle horns cry out as we picked up speed. Nine arrows sailed overhead, answering the call, and then nine more joined them. There was shouting and a lot of metal knocking against wood. I was sure among all the noise that I heard at least one man let loose a dying breath.

  “Shields!” I shouted as several foreign warriors peeked out from the edge of each ship and returned the fire.

  Half of my men formed a shell of shields above us while the rest of us rowed on. We would lose speed, but it was necessary to stay alive. In the next second—CRASH! I lurched into the man in front of me. He was already getting to his feet. Our layer of shielding was down, and I could see the damage we wrought: a massive hole in the starboard side of an enemy hull. Water was pouring
in and its crew was shouting vehemently.

  More friendly arrows flew by, felling several more carnies—yes, they were dressed like the men from the previous night—in the ensuing disorder. We climbed aboard, and I saw that a few of the enemies were still struggling to get to their feet from the impact. That was another bonus when taking on a ship whose crew was standing—there was a greater chance of them toppling over and even dropping into the water.

  My men and I shouted with the giddiness of battle, Scander being the first to climb over the edge onto the enemy boat and sinking his blade deep into a virgin chest. Blood flicked onto the Thirian’s sneering face as he ripped his weapon back out of the wound with a ragged twist. The victim fell back, limp as a puppet without a master. A man came from the side to avenge his fallen brother, but more Thirians had already come aboard, one of which sliced this man in the side in passing. He screamed in agony and joined his friend on the floor in his next pained gasp.

  A man approached me, and I met him head-on. I raised my sword in a block perpendicular to his. Our metal clanged in a shocked ringing, and I kicked him savagely away while charging into the vacuum he left behind. Before he regained his balance, my blade was in his stomach, punching up inside him until he was spitting blood from his mouth, a gob of it drenching his beard. His eyes went wide with shock, and he dropped like the rest.

  By the time I was able to focus on anything else that was not directly in front of me, I found that we had already killed their entire regiment. My friends in the other boat could not say the same. It was immediately clear that they had damaged the hull of the other ship, but they had not entered at an angle sharp enough to lodge their ship in place. The remaining enemy vessel had made its way to the shore during the fight, and Linos’s crew stayed put, not wanting to approach them from the sea once the enemy had made land, as that would provide them with a substantial advantage.

  Our third ship had come near, its crew now awaiting further instruction. My men and I got back into our boat and used the butts of our oars to dislodge ourselves from the sinking hunk of wood with its fresh cargo of corpses. By then, the second enemy ship had begun to give in to the beckoning of the water invading its hull. Its crew was swimming the rest of the way to shore, and our three boats were speeding ahead with renewed vigor, hoping to further capitalize on their misfortune.