“Looks like most of the enemy’s warships are entwined with our ships, Admiral,” his aide pointed out a short while later. “Shall I signal the biremes to attack the transports?”
“Attack!” Admirable Agros said. He felt his heavy mustache lift over a smile as he turned to the aide. “Now that most of the largest triremes have locked onto the enemy war ships in direct battles, we can proceed to the next phase.” Admiral Agros turned back to monitor the battle.
His lighter, more maneuverable ships sailed around those locked in direct combat. They raced under full sail with oars flying to catch the enemy cargo vessels left exposed in open water. As with most dwarves, rock-dwarves couldn’t tolerate sunlight and had to remain below decks in closed cargo holds, they could offer no assistance to the sailors. The few orc sailors on the transports couldn’t effectively defend their ships against faster, fully manned Southern war ships. Dreaddrac’s ships, being heavily laden, had no real maneuverability.
Both sides fought fiercely, but the Southern fleet took command of the battle early on and kept it. All day long the ships engaged, some were disabled and sunk by ramming, others were engulfed in flames. In some cases, the ships grappled and pulled beside each other to fight hand–to-hand, man against orc. By late afternoon, the Southern fleet was well in the lead.
“See there!” Agros exclaimed. He turned and motioned the Sengenwhan admiral to look. “He’s realized he’s losing the battle. Dreaddrac’s admiral is signaling his remaining triremes to disengage and sail to defend the transports.”
“The admiral’s mission has been to get the rock-dwarves and their arms to Dreaddrac. At this point, he’s failing both his fleet and his charges,” Agros said to an aide. “Now he sees that. See the signal flags change? He’s signaling his ships to sail east to catch up with the cargo ships and defend them, no doubt.”
“The flight only encourages our Southern commanders. It will demoralize the Dreaddrac forces, fighting a difficult retreat,” the Sengenwhan admiral said.
As Agros turned back to monitor the battle, his eye caught a large trireme bearing down, steering directly for his flagship’s portside, midsection. “What’s this?”
The attacking trireme’s oars flew through the air and splashed hard into the water. The admiral recognized the cadence. Ramming speed! “Have Captain Kelkin order ramming speed!” Agros rushed to the portside as did the ship’s officers, who now saw the approaching warship. It changed direction to keep alignment with the Neuyokkasinian flagship’s midsection.
“Belay that order!” Agros yelled before the aide could dash off. “Order the portside oarsmen to reverse oar strokes.” The admiral turned to the steersman, “Hard to port!”
Captain Kelkin rushed to the admiral’s side from overseeing catapult arming on the main deck.
“Get back to the catapults, Captain,” Agros said. “Prepare them on the starboard side with oil bags. Have the fires ready, but don’t light them. Prepare to retract the oars on the port side on my command.”
Captain Kelkin raced down to the main deck as the admiral rechecked the position on the attacking ship. It’s only two ship lengths from us and bearing down fast, he thought. Looking down, he saw foamy water flush up and off the ship’s bow as its ram cut through the dark water. The sound of the approaching ship’s oars slamming into the water grew louder, thrusting the ship forward.
Agros glanced up, seeing the wood grain of the approaching ram, surging through the water. “He can’t maneuver at that speed this close,” the admiral said, to no one in particular. “He thinks he’s got me.”
The wide-eyed Sengenwhan admiral’s hands slapped the rail beside Agros. The sound of crashing oars slashing the water was everywhere. The sea churned. The Neuyokkasinian flagship groaned as the oars strained. The flagship heeled sharply to port. The sudden directional change shook the ship, throwing many sailors to the deck. One of the flame pots tore loose and fell over, spilling oil on the deck. It was quickly extinguished and mopped up. Agros had anticipated the ship’s reaction and held fast to the railing. The enemy’s bow seemed almost to loom up over the Neuyokkasinian ship and him.
“The portside oarsmen have seen the oncoming ship through the oar holes,” Captain Kelkin shouted. “The starboard oarsmen have thrown all their might into turning the ship.”
They know their only hope is in the course change, the admiral thought. He held his breath. “Retract portside oars!” Agros yelled.
His ship heaved to port and sailed across just in front of the murderous trireme bearing down on them. Spray from the approaching ship’s oars flew in his face. Agros wiped his beard. The enemy trireme barely slid past. Its bowsprit sliced off the last Neuyokkasinian oar narrowly missing the rudder.
So close, the enemy has over anticipated his coup, Agros thought. His head pounded. Nearly knocking down the Sengenwhan admiral beside him, Agros raced to the ship’s stern.
The enemy vessel now surged ahead unable to change course or reduce speed quickly.
The Neuyokkasinian ship continued its hard turn.
“All hands flank speed ahead!” the admiral yelled over the aft castle, down to the main deck, and through the hold’s grating to the oarsmen below. He grabbed the steersman’s shoulder. The man whose body strained to hold the rudder, seemed stunned. “Hold hard to port, man!”
Captain Kelkin rushed to repeat the order to the officers and oarsmen below deck. “Ramming speed!”
The portside oars banged against one another extending out again. The men frantically pulled on their oars. Seconds passed.
The admiral turned to his left, “Hard a port, helmsman! Hard to port!”
“He don’t mean to ram that ship, does he?” the admiral heard a sailor say. “We ain’t got enough speed.”
Just then the oars synchronized and the ship moved forward turning hard to the left. Again, sailors were thrown to the deck.
“Row harder for your lives!” the captain yelled.
“Back to your station, Captain Kelkin!” Agros yelled.
The Neuyokkasinian ship’s sail caught the wind as it moved sharply to port and groaning, it lunged forward suddenly.
Agros looked down at Captain Kelkin, who held an oil bag bearing tripod steady with one hand, while holding onto a catapult with the other. He looked up at the admiral on the aft castle.
The enemy ship sailed ahead unable to stop. It was straining hard to change course. Its bow just crossed in front of the Neuyokkasinian ship’s stern. The Neuyokkasinian ship surged forward, still turning hard to port. Her ram was aimed at the Dreaddrac trireme’s stern.
“Captain Kelkin,” Agros yelled, “retract starboard oars!”
The captain repeated the order to the oarsmen below deck. Without hesitation, the oarsmen began pulling in their oars as fast as they could as the ship banked to the port side in its tight turn.
“You mean to ram her?” Kelkin asked.
“Light your oil fires, captain!” Agros yelled. He turned, “Straighten your course, Helmsman!”
As Kelkin repeated the order to the catapult crews, they heard the sound of splintering timber. The Neuyokkasinian ship sailed up the Dreaddrac trireme’s side, shearing off its oars. The two ships scraped sides and large splinters from the Dreaddrac oars flew aloft, showering down on both ships’ decks. Chaos rained on the enemy ship unprepared for the sudden attack.
“Flame the oil bags and fire at will!” Agros shouted down to Captain Kelkin.
“Flame the oil bags and fire at will!” Kelkin yelled to the catapult crews. The catapult teams threw oil bags into their catapult cups, set fire to them, and shot the flaming bags onto the Dreaddrac trireme’s decks and mainsail. Panic ensued.
“Hold to port, helmsman!” Agros ordered. He turned to the deck below. “Full speed ahead!” He heard the pacer increase his pounding hammer’s frequency.
The ship turned again as it passed by the enemy trireme’s bow. The wounded ship’s upper level was in flames. The main sail, also engu
lfed in flames, crashed to the deck when flaming ropes securing it snapped. Screams rose from burning sailors leaping over the side. The ship slowed and coasted aimlessly. The oarsmen below deck must’ve panicked trying to free themselves, thought Agros.
“Shall we go about and ram her?” Captain Kelkin asked the admiral as he climbed the steps to the aft castle.
The Sengenwhan admiral was silent, still staring at the burning trireme. Admiral Agros watched the flaming ship. The last of its crew was jumping into the open sea, hoping to avoid the spreading flames.
“No, captain, we’ll sail on to catch up with the battle that’s getting closer to the coast of Dreaddrac.” He looked back at the burning trireme whose stern rose, dripping water as the bow sank in the turbulent water amid a skirt of flames.
*
Admiral Agros’ flagship sailed flank speed to catch up with the moving sea battle. Over the rhythmic sound of oars slicing into the water, the admiral saw the Sengenwhan fleet engaged with the lead Dreaddrac triremes. The raging battle blocked the transport barges’ progress.
“Look admiral!” shouted the Sengenwhan admiral, rushing up from behind. Dreaddrac’s ships are coming up behind my Sengenwhan triremes trapping them in between the two task forces.”
Agros looked at the Sengenwhan admiral. “I hope the admiral you placed in charge of that task force can come about and engage this new enemy front.”
The fighting intensified. The attacking Sengenwhan navy suddenly went on the defensive. The Sengenwhan admiral’s flagship was unexpectedly rammed just after ramming a ship itself. The three ships were locked in a life or death struggle.
Seeing this, Admiral Agros signaled the admiral to transfer his flag to a nearby Neuyokkasinian ship. The Sengenwhan admiral refused to leave his warship. The sailors from the three ships fought hand to hand with swords and spears in the desperate struggle.
“Look there, on the last ship of the three rammed together!” yelled the Sengenwhan fleet admiral. He rushed to the bow. “A sailor knocked over a fire brassier. It’s lit oil and is spreading across the ship’s deck at the end of those three locked ships.”
The sea wind spread the flames quickly through the rigging, sails, and oars, and the three ships burned to the waterline in no time. Sadly, the conflagration took the Sengenwhan task force admiral as well. By nightfall both sides were exhausted.
“Our combined fleet has captured, sunk, or burned a third of Dreaddrac’s ships,” Agros said. He read from a report handed him by an aide. He looked up at the horizon as darkness fell. A silver white fog was rolling in from the west.
*
“Many enemy warships, with fully half the transport and cargo ships, escaped last night,” an aide reported to Agros when dawn burned off the fog.
Sitting on the side of his bed, Agros wrung his hands. “Too many got away.” Agros realigned the combined fleet and pursued the enemy, but they were not sighted again on the open sea.
*
The remaining enemy fleet docked the next morning. While he was successful in sinking much of the enemy rock-dwarf army and their arms cache, enough disembarked on Dreaddrac to create a serious threat in the Southern war.
* * *
I may as well die now, Earwig thought, jostling along on the manure cart over rough country roads. I’ll never see Dreaddrac traveling with this idiot. She looked at Dreg. Her head slumped, shaking side to side. The fool’s even unluckier than I am. Together, we have no hope. I’ve tried and tried to kill him, but he won’t die. Earwig settled into a sullen state resigned to the next disaster.
Eventually, Zendor dragged the cart along farm roads around the Favriana Fortress to the shores of Lake Pundar.
“Why did we have to go so far around Favriana?” Dreg asked as Zendor plodded along.
“Who knows what the garrison’s reaction would be us looking like this.” She looked down at her tacky tattered robe stretched over her corpulent folds. “I want to avoid being noticed.” I’m not showing weakness in front of this half-wit, she thought. She jerked her head up and pulled the tattered, strained cloak closer around her. “What would they think of you?”
As days then weeks passed without a catastrophe, she regained some confident. I can still cause the king some serious damage before I leave old Neuyokkasin.
One morning Earwig was stooped over washing her permanently bruised, scared face at the lake’s edge. A wild goat charged her apparently challenging posterior. The blow sent her flying head first into the lake bottom mud. When she pulled her head out of the muck, she heard clearly the deep suction sound. A mushroom of muddy water splashed up in her sludge covered face. She stood up in the lake, mud and rotting foliage sliding from her scraggly hair and face. The goat and she stood staring at each other in a standoff. The goat spread his legs slightly, hunkered down, and lowered his head with horns forward apparently daring Earwig to come out of the water. No matter how foolish, Earwig was never one to back down from a challenge.
A medrax, Earwig thought summoning her power to cast a spell on the goat. Though lacking ingredients and the second animal, I’m going to make that goat wish it had never been born.
Earwig raised her flabby, dripping arms and shot her knobby fingers at the goat. Her enraged eyes narrowed to slits when she chanted the spell as she remembered it. The goat quivered and stumbled backward. Earwig put her hands on her hips and chuckled at the changing creature.
The animal turned into roughly a goat-headed man, but retained the goat’s brain and temperament. When Earwig had conjured medrax in the past, they had obeyed her, but then she’d combined an animal and a man. This creature was a transmutation of a single animal rather than a combination of two, and the goat’s will triumphed. The goat-man staggered into the lake, heading for the witch with eyes staring straight at her.
“Get back!” she screamed, backing further out into the lake. “Back, I say.”
She kept backing up but the goat-man, standing erect, came on faster. Earwig soon backed out in water over her head. Bloated and misshapen, the blob bobbed around with her arms and legs franticly flailing in an attempt to swim away.
“Help!” Earwig yelled.
“I’ll save you, Miss Earwig,” Dreg said. He rushed to the lake’s edge and threw a rock at the goat-man, drawing it away.
As the animal came out of the lake, stamped his feet, and chased after Dreg, they passed by Zendor, who promptly kicked the goat-man in the head ending the threat. The creature fell to the ground as an unconscious goat. Dreg rushed back to the lake’s edge to save his mistress, still bobbing like a cork in the water watching the proceedings.
“Are you all right, Miss Irkin?” Dreg asked. Unable to swim, Dreg tossed Earwig a rope and she thrashed around in circles until she got the line and was humiliatingly hauled to shore.
When Earwig, Dreg, and Zendor continued their journey, Earwig sat beside Dreg again in a sullen mood, staring off the side of the cart into nothingness.
“Looks like it’s going to be a sunny day,” Dreg said.
“Shut up,” Earwig said. “Don’t say anything today, nothing at all, all day.” Her old enthusiasm was gone again and had lasted only a few hours.
5: King Saxthor and Princess Dagmar
“Excellent news!” King Saxthor said. He read the correspondence from King Calamidese. Saxthor turned to Princess Dagmar, who was now frequently at his side. “Your brother has retaken Sengenwhapolis.”
“That is indeed splendid news,” the princess said. Her green eyes flashed above her smile that soon faded. Dagmar looked off in the distance.
“What’s the matter?” Saxthor asked.
“Nothing.” Looking back at Saxthor, she perked up again, but again, the cheery look drifted away.
“There’s something wrong?” Saxthor said. He put down the dispatch and looked at her. “What has upset you? I thought you’d be thrilled at the news.”
Dagmar glanced up at him; a beaming smile sprouted. “It’s nothing, it’s just conflic
ting feelings.”
“And what would they be?”
“Well, I’m excited for the liberation of my home and capital, of course, but I might soon be returning to Sengenwhapolis, leaving my new found sense of place here.” Dagmar glanced at Saxthor for an instant, then turned away. “You see, at home I was never really involved with the government or the people. Here, well, I’ve been accepted and allowed to work on the war effort, you see.” She flicked the paper, spinning it on the table and looked at Saxthor. “I’ll be returning to Sekcmet Palace soon. Perhaps my brother will need me to supervise the capital’s restoration, which I’m sure is now in ruins.”
Saxthor turned back, leaning on the desk. He picked up the correspondence then dropped it again. “I really hadn’t thought of your returning to Sengenwhapolis.” I hadn’t considered her leaving me, he thought. He tenderly put his hand on hers. “We’ll see about that when the time comes, Dagmar.”
*
A week later King Saxthor was meeting with his councilors, analyzing the new Sengenwhan situation in the private audience chamber. Suddenly there was a knock on the door. When told to enter, the guard came in bowing and struck his lance firmly on the floor.
“What is it?” Saxthor asked.
“A messenger from Admiral Agros to be delivered only into your hand, Your Majesty.”
Saxthor rose and his councilors rose immediately. “Enter man, what news do you have?”
The messenger, his boots still muddy, bowed then rushed to the king with a scroll. “Great news, Your Majesty.” The messenger knelt and handed the scroll to Saxthor then awaited the king’s reply, if there was to be one.
The Dreaddrac Onslaught (Book 4) Page 9
