by James Dale
“Killing got easier after that. Too easy. I became, really, really good at it. Over the years it eventually caught up with me. Started having nightmares. Drove me crazy basically. But I didn’t know it because, well, I was crazy,” Jack shrugged. “Army finally arrested me, locked me up and tried me for murder. But they gave me a promotion and a medal as well, so there’s that I guess.”
“Your own people tried you for murder?” asked Tarsus, incredulously. “For doing your job?”
“My country is a strange one,” Jack sighed. “They honor soldiers. Treat them pretty damn well. As long as you don’t become too good at killing your enemies. And you don’t go insane of course.”
“Amarians aren’t good at much else besides killing,” Tarsus admitted. “You become a warrior when you reach manhood, and sell your sword to whoever will pay. Or you try to scratch out a living from the barren hills around your village. I was about the same age as you. Maybe. We do not really keep track of when we were born like civilized folk. My first employer was an almost rich merchant from some backwater town in Brydium. I don’t even remember the town’s name. Probably not on most maps. We were on some matter of business in Cilidar, that’s a fair sized city north of Blue Lake. Well, this almost rich merchant was flaunting his gold in the wrong places and a group of cutthroats decided they needed his coin more than him. Three of them jumped him as we were leaving a tavern. I was tall, but not as broad as I am now. I guess I looked like easy meat. By the time I was finished with them, I was covered in their blood and he was screaming for the watch. Fired me right there on the spot.”
“What happened?” Braedan asked.
“I knocked the fool over the head and took his gold for myself,” Tarsus grinned. “It lasted me almost three months.”
“I have never killed a man,” Belizet said.
Tarsus and Jack both turned to look at the wiry pirate. He was grinning like a fool. They both burst out laughing.
“It has been many years since I’ve had friends like you,” Jack sighed. “If tomorrow is my last day, I just want you to know, it’s been an honor serving on the Seawolf.”
“Enough of this soul bearing,” Tarsus said, laying a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Go get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a long day.”
“You should get some rest as well captain,” Belizet told him.
“Time enough to sleep in the grave,” Tarsus replied, turning his attention back to the Norgarthans.
“Wake me if anything interesting happens,” Jack instructed him.
“Of course,” Tarsus nodded, waving him away.
Jack left Belizet and Tarsus to their watch and retired to his quarters beneath the forecastle. He unbuckled his sword, leaning it against the wall next to his bunk. He removed his boots but not his Ithlemere mail. Its light weight wasn’t uncomfortable and it would be too difficult and take too much time to re-don if trouble occurred suddenly. He lay down on his bunk and closed his eyes.
But sleep would not come.
There were too many thoughts swirling around in his head. Was this the end? After all he had been through, had his strange journey reached its conclusion? With so many questions still to be answered? Though things looked bleak, he couldn’t believe he would die tomorrow at the hands of the Norgarthans. Molly Reese had told him many times that all things happened for a reason. Fate or God or whoever was responsible for bringing him to this place would not be so cruel, could they? He just had to have faith.
As for Tarsus and Belizet and the rest of the Seawolf, he didn’t know. Unless there was some unseen help looming on the horizon, the fate of the pirates was perilously in doubt. In light of all the miraculous things that had happened over the last three months, he was not going to discount any possibility. He only hoped the fate of the crew was intertwined with his own.
As he lay on his bunk, finally on the verge of sleep, a commotion erupted on deck. He heard the sound of running feet and excited shouts. Jack quickly put his boots back on and grabbed his sword. He ran out of his room and back to the quarter-deck, dodging crew members on the way. He found Tarsus at the stern of the ship, sword drawn, pacing back and forth with a scowl on his lips.
“What’s happened?” he demanded.
“I knew it was coming,” Tarsus snarled. “I had hoped it wouldn’t be so soon. The lead ship had broken out its oars. They will try to close the distance on us.”
“So?” Jack said. “We can break out our own and match their speed.”
“For a time, yes,” Tarsus nodded. “But when they tire, another ship will take up the chase.”
“While we will be forced to man the oars all night,” Jack realized. “When morning comes, we will be exhausted.”
“Exactly,” nodded the Amarian.
“What do we do?” Braedan asked.
“Well, we do not get any flaming sleep,” Tarsus growled.
For the rest of the night, the crew of the Seawolf platooned at the oars. There were forty slots at the rowing benches, twenty on each side of the ship. For a full crew of sixty it meant that two-thirds of the night would be spent rowing. And that is the way it would remain until just before they were forced to engage the Norgarthans.
The crew was quickly divided into three, eighteen man sections, one each under the command of Tarsus, Jack, and Belizet. Two teams would row for two hours, switching sides at the top of the hour, with every third hour to rest. It would be a grueling race this way, but it was the most economical plan they could devise to conserve their strength for the coming fight.
The crew of the Seawolf cycled through two of these rotations while the lead Norgarthan ship pulled within five hundred yards before its crew tired and it gave up the chase. At the command of “Oars Up” the men at the rowing benches collapsed with a groan. The crewmen not rowing at the time rushed to bring them water and the pirates took a much needed rest.
“How much longer until sunrise?” Braedan asked, as the two of them went to quarter-deck to check on the Norgarthans. Another of the warships was in the process of breaking out oars and would soon take up where the first had left off. The Seawolf had about half an hour before they would be forced to resume rowing.
“Less than three hours,” Tarsus replied.
“We will not be able to match their pace for long,” Jack admitted. He had taken a turn at the oars during the last rotation and could well imagine how tired the rest of the crew must be.
“No,” Tarsus agreed. “They will draw even with us sometime around sunrise I think. But they will begin hurling javelins and fire balls at us when they reach within one hundred yards.”
“How far to Wheslake?” asked Jack. “Are we close enough to Dorihil to meet one of their patrols?”
“Another thirty or forty leagues,” Belizet answered. “We are perhaps close enough. They travel this far south frequently at this time of year. But it would be a miracle to meet one.”
“Isn’t that what we were hoping for when we started this?” asked Jack.
“If would could have gained another six or eight hours, I would have said yes,” Tarsus replied. “But now, it will take a miracle.”
“What are we hoping for now?” Jack said.
“A quick death,” Belizet said, answering for his captain.
“Don’t give up yet,” Jack encouraged them. “Things could still turn in our favor. As long as we are alive there is hope.”
"I'm not giving up!" Tarsus shouted. "We'll turn and ram one of the bastards and take at least some of them with us."
"I told you we are not going to die here!" Jack insisted. "But fate can't help us if we don't at least try to escape!"
"What do you suggest?"
"Put our oars in the water and beat hell straight for the Doridan!" Jack said.
Tarsus hesitated. He had been running for almost two weeks, and now that the time for battle had arrived, he was being told keep running. The Amarian didn't like it. It was not in his blood to avoid a fight for so long.
&nbs
p; "It is your decision," Jack said, laying a hand on the Amarian’s shoulder. "You are the captain."
"I do not relish the thought of being hung."
"Trust me. That won't happen."
"You ask much," the Amarian said, turning to look at the Norgarthans. They had just finished manning their oars and their drummer was beginning to pick up a rhythm.
"We should try," Belizet nodded. "I fear Gol’gar's priests have knives waiting for us if we fall into the Norgarthans hands. Even hanging from a gibbet in Dorshev is better than that."
"Damn!" Tarsus swore. "Damn! I hope you are right Braedan! To the oars!"
"That's the spirit," Jack nodded.
The three officers quickly picked the freshest forty men and placed them at the oars where Belizet set them to rowing. Tarsus took half of the remaining crewmen to man the Seawolf's borelstrades while Braedan had the others start filling buckets and barrels with water. With that done the three officers met on the quarterdeck where they could better observe the Norgarthans.
"What's next?" Jack asked.
"Now we start another rotation and we row for all we are worth," Tarsus shrugged. "When they get close enough we'll exchange shots from the borelstrades. If our gunners are better than theirs, we may slow them down a little. If not...it will get very hot, very fast and we'll spend a lot of time putting out fires before we die."
The crew of the Seawolf took to the oars once again and the grueling race resumed. The crew of the pursuing Norgarthan warship was fresh, and it gained ground quickly on the exhausted pirates. After only an hour they had closed to within a mere two hundred yards. A volley of fire javelins were launched from the forward borelstrades, arching through the dark night like rainstorms of death. The javelins landed in the water with a hiss about thirty yards short of the Seawolf and a tremendous cheer rose from the throats of their pursuers that was heard clearly on by the rowing pirates. Encouraged by the malice in the cheer, somehow they found hidden energy and put on a burst of speed, pulling ahead by another twenty yards.
The chase continued.
It was perhaps the most anxious hours of Jack’s life. Twice the Norgarthans gained on them. Twice they fired. Twice their javelins fell just short. The last volley fell with a hiss into the sea mere yards behind the Seawolf. Just before sunrise, the Norgarthan rowers finally tired, and their ships dropped back.
“Up oars!” Tarsus shouted triumphantly at his crew and a ragged cheers broke out among the spent pirates. “Well done men! We aren’t dead yet!”
“That was close,” Jack said, with obvious understatement, coming to stand beside the captain.
“They will have us soon. The next volley will reach us. We are finished, my friend.” He sighed.
“Captain Tarsus!” Raibertos cried from the crow’s nest. “Ships! At least five! Maybe more!”
“Could it be?” Belizet asked excitedly.
The three officers ran to the ship’s prow. Jack handed the captain his rifle scope and Tarsus brought it to his eye. “I don’t believe it.”
“A patrol from Dorihil?” asked Jack.
“They are warships, what else could it be?” Tarsus replied. “Are you a Seer my friend?”
“How long will it take to reach them?” Braedan asked, taking the scope from Tarsus as focusing on the distant vessels. They were still only specks on the horizon, barely visible in the rise sun.
“An hour if we row like the devil himself is after us,” Tarsus grinned. “Let’s see if the Norgarthans have spotted them.”
Amongst cheering from their crew, the three officers raced back to the stern. Belizet asked for the scope and Jack handed to him. “Have they spotted them?” he asked, as the wiry, pirate focused on their pursuers.
“It…appears so,” Belizet replied, handing the scope back to him.
Jack focused on the nearest ship and saw figures running back and forth, shouting orders. “They’ve spotted them alright.” He smiled.
Tarsus laughed, and slapped Belizet on the back.
“I’ve never seen you so pleased at the appearance of Doridanian warships, captain,” the Zsolandari remarked. “Aren’t they just as likely kill us as the Norgarthans?”
“At least we can plead for quarter from them,” Tarsus replied. “Hell, we may even be able to talk our way out of this mess. We did return Thessa after all. Perhaps she put in a good word for us when she passed through Dorshev.”
“I think the point is moot,” Jack replied, handing the scope back to Tarsus. Two of the Norgarthans were turning about, but the other two ships were putting oars into the water, preparing to finish the chase.
Tarsus brought the scope to his eye, watched for a moment, and then snarled a curse. “What are they doing? They should all be turning tail!”
“We have a saying where I come from,” Jack said. “Better to ask for forgiveness than permission.”
“There is only one course left,” Tarsus said grimly. “Turn and face them.”
“Not yet!” Jack implored him. “If we can keep ahead of them, they may still turn and run the closer we get to the Doridanians.”
Tarsus was torn between trying to extend the lives of his men for one more hour and perhaps a chance to be hanged or turn and die gloriously.
“As always, it is your decision, my friend,” Jack said, laying a hand on the Amarian’s broad shoulder. “You are still the captain. You are still my captain.”
“Are you sure they won’t just hang us, out here on the sea?” Tarsus asked. Being hung from the yard arm was every pirate’s fear.
“Trust me,” Jack said. “That won’t happen.”
“We should try it,” Belizet agreed. “Once again, if we fall into the hands of their black priests, it’ll be the Blood Altar for us. Better to swing from a gibbet with the sea around us and a blue sky over our heads than be sacrificed to the Sa’tan.”
“Damn!” Tarsus swore. “Damn! I hope you are right Jack. To the oars!”
“Let’s do this,” Braedan nodded.
The three officers quickly picked the freshest forty men from among the crew and Belizet set them to rowing for all they were worth. Tarsus took ten men and put them to readying javelins for the borelstrades while Jack took the remainder of the crew and began filling buckets and barrels with water. When that was completed, the three officers met again on the stern to observe the progress of the Norgarthans.
“Now what?” asked Jack.
“Their borelstrades have a greater reach than ours,” Tarsus replied. “Be ready with those buckets. We will take a few hits before ours can reach them. But I still have a trick or two that may work.”
“If they fail?” Belizet asked.
“Then the Seawolf will burn,” Tarsus shrugged. “And we’ll spend a lot of time trying to put out fires before we die.”
When the Norgarthans got in range, they fired first. As before their initial volley fell well short of the Seawolf. Tarsus held his counter fire, not wanting to waste a single shot. He would let the warships chasing him be his gauge. When they had ranged the Seawolf, then he would return fire. The next shots were fired simultaneously from the two warships. Tarsus stood defiantly on the quarter deck, unmoving as the javelins arched toward his vessel. Again they were short and he sighed audibly when they fell into the water with a hiss only yards from his ship.
Still Tarsus waited. The ships grew closer, the distance separating them shrinking to less than a hundred yards. The Norgarthans next shots were not well aimed, their gunners beginning to grow anxious as they neared their prey. One volley sailed far off their stern while the other, though much closer, had only one javelin find its mark. It landed about midship and Braedan's fire detail quickly extinguished the small blaze it started.
Finally Tarsus returned fire. “Hard to port!” He shouted at the helmsman. “Port side oars up!”
“Sir?” asked Logaen Woraek, who was manning the wheel.
“Hard to flaming port man! Now!” Tarsus bellowed.
L
ogaen spun the ships wheel for all he was worth and the Seawolf began to turn, its rudder churning up wake behind the ship.
“Fire!” Tarsus commanded the port side borelstrades. The crewmen took torches and lit their missiles. “Fire! Damn it!”
The two port side borelstrades released their volley of three javelins each. The missiles of the forward most gunner went wide of their mark but the other borelstrades' three landed on the deck of the Norgarthan warship and fires started instantly.
“Again!” Tarsus shouted, directing the next volley at the burning ship. The crewmen quickly reloaded their borelstrades and fired again. Both weapons scored direct hits and smoke began to billow from the Norgarthan warship. The pirates shouted in triumph but their joy was short lived. The return fire from the ship they had ignored landed on the Seawolf's forecastle and the ship's forward sail burst into flames.
“Hard astern Logaen!” Tarsus commanded. “All oars row! Row damn you!”
Braedan and his men rushed in to extinguish the blaze but the canvas sails burned like paper and the flames soon spread to the pitch seasoned wood of the ship. The pirates worked furiously, forming a chain and dousing the flames with bucket after bucket of water. Though they eventually brought the fire under control, it was the beginning of the end for the Seawolf. The ship had lost its forsail and they had used virtually all the water they had stored to put out the blaze.
While they had been battling the fire the two Norgarthan warships had once again gained on the pirates. The warship off their starboard side had pulled to within fifty yards of the Seawolf. The one on the port side, though still burning, was not much further behind.
"Ware!" Raibertos shouted from the crow's nest. The Seawolf was hit by a deadly shower of arrows from the closer warship and pirates began to die.
Again, Tarsus paid no heed to the closer ship, directing the borelstrade gunners to fire another volley at the wounded Norgarthan vessel. At such close range the results were murderous. Both weapons rained fiery death upon the warship and it began to drift out of control. The crew, some of them engulfed in flames, began a terror-stricken dash to escape the crippled dreadnought.
