The entire first day and night Mansel stood resolute at his spot near the rail in the middle of the ship. The second day he took a little grog and ate some of the hard biscuits that were the staple of a sailor’s diet. When he managed to keep that down, he slept. On the third day he felt better and after washing his face in cold sea water, he joined the crew on the main deck.
“What can I do?” he asked the ship’s carpenter.
“Not much use for us unless something breaks,” the man said. He was a gruff-looking sailor, with a long tangle of hair that was held out of his face by a tight-fitting hat with a wide brim. “Pay attention and learn.”
They tied off lines, watched the other sailors in the rigging, and spent some time near the helmsman. Eventually they even let Mansel steer the ship, which was a constant battle with the large wheel that controlled the rudder. The wind blew the sails propelling the ship through the waves that were constantly shifting under the ship, making the job of holding the ship on a steady course difficult, especially since the wind rarely blew in the direction the ship was sailing. But Mansel liked the physical nature of the task. He enjoyed feeling the strong forces moving the vessel and he liked keeping his eye on the shoreline a few miles to the east to help him stay on course. The rocking compass was more complicated to steer by, but when night fell and the only lights were the stars above and a small lamp that illuminated the compass, he learned.
The ship was well maintained, so there was very little for the carpenters to do. Chiss insisted that they all take up sword drills, which Mansel led. Most of the sailors carried cutlasses, which were crude swords, but they got the job done. Occasionally the ship’s carpenter asked Mansel for help, but the young warrior knew that he wasn’t really needed. The ship didn’t need repairs that required more than one person, he was only asked to help when there was an opportunity for the young warrior to learn a little more about sailing or shipcraft.
A week passed, and Mansel felt like they were making good time. The sea was gentle, or at least there was an absence of storms, which Mansel was thankful for. Danella strolled the decks in the sunshine, which wasn’t very warm, but welcome just the same. Mansel heard from Chiss that she and Vyctor were doing well and joined him for dinner most nights. She had been seasick, but not nearly as badly as Mansel, and had settled into the voyage rather easily, according to the captain.
It took five days to reach Angel’s Shelter, and two more to navigate through the islands that stretched out from the southwest point of Yelsia. From there they turned due east, following the coast. On the ninth day they passed Winsome and just before nightfall they saw two ships sailing toward them from the east.
“It could be merchants,” said Chiss’ first mate, a tall, painfully thin sailor. His back was bowed forward, so that he hunched, but he could climb through the rigging like a spider and had the respect of the entire crew.
“Doubtful,” Chiss said. “Merchants don’t sail together.”
“It would be a smart way to avoid pirates,” Mansel said. He had been called up to the command deck, which was only a few feet taller than the main deck and positioned at the stern of the ship. “That’s exactly what merchants do on land.”
“But we aren’t on land,” Chiss said. “The reason that ships don’t do it is because there is usually very little they can do to help each other. If pirates attack one ship, it would take a long time for the other to turn and come to their aid, even if they were so inclined. And in most cases, the other ship or ships would simply sail on and leave their unfortunate comrade behind.”
“So it’s pirates?”
“I’ve heard of pirates using two ships before. They can box their prey in, plus it gives them more cargo space.”
“It would take twice as many men to sail two ships,” the first mate said.
“There are sailors out of work in every port,” Chiss said. “It’s no surprise that many would turn to piracy.”
“So what do we do?” Mansel asked.
“We’ll turn out to sea once darkness falls. If we’re lucky, we might be able to avoid them completely.”
Mansel was nervous about their plan, but he didn’t argue the point. Chiss knew his business and the young warrior only needed to worry about fighting off an impending assault. If Chiss could out maneuver the pirates at night, Mansel would support his plan.
The ship and her crew made no sign of doing anything other than continuing on their course until darkness fell. Unfortunately, the moon was full and while the darkness cut visibility significantly, there was no way to hide in the darkness. Behind the ship a long trail of frothy water marked their passage and left a trail that was visible in the darkness.
The next morning the two ships had shifted and were behind the Sea Arrow but significantly closer. Mansel was surprised that the ships were closing on the smaller, faster ship, but as the sun rose it became clear that both ships, neither of which should have been able to keep up with the Arrow, would in fact over take them. Mansel, along with every other sailor on board who wasn’t busy in the rigging, stood by the railing, looking back at the approaching ships. Neither flew a flag, or had any markings to identify the vessels, but they were close enough that Mansel could see the pirate crews manning the ships.
“They’ll have us in an hour,” Chiss said, coming up to Mansel from the command deck. “There is nothing more we can do but prepare to be boarded.”
“I’m not sure we stand much of a chance against two ships,” Mansel said.
“Do we stand a chance against one?”
“A better chance,” Mansel said. “Do we have time to maneuver?”
“Just,” the captain said.
“Then send us to that side,” Mansel said, pointing at the fat merchant ship. “Once we’re far enough that they won’t ram us, drop the sails.”
“Why on earth would I do that?”
“So we can board their ship,” Mansel said.
“You would leave the Arrow undefended.”
“You said yourself that it takes time to maneuver a second ship to help the first. We’ll board that fat ship, defeat her crew and sink her. Then we’ll turn our attention to the other ship.”
“You’re mad,” said Chiss.
“Do you have a better idea?”
The captain hesitated for only a second, then he turned and began barking orders to his crew. The ship swung over, closer to shore, which was still several miles out, but also directly in front of the fat merchant vessel pursuing them. Mansel watched the ships, waiting to see what they would do. If the sleeker vessel dropped her sails and cut toward the rear of her sister ship, Mansel’s plan would fail. But luckily the pirates thought that the Sea Arrow was racing for shore. There was nowhere for a full sized ship to take refuge. The next port of any size was Lorye, but it was still several hours away. So the lead pirate ship raised even more canvas and pulled forward, planning to press in on the fleeing Arrow.
Mansel checked his sword and talked to the men who were waiting with him. The crew of the pirate ship would outnumber them even if the entire crew could leave the Sea Arrow to fight. But half would need to stay behind to man the ship. Mansel had two dozen men at his disposal and he couldn’t waste their lives, since every man would be needed to fight off the attack from the second ship that was surely coming.
“I’ll go over first,” he told them. “When Chiss brings us close enough, you follow me. Carry your torches in one hand, your cutlasses in the other. Your job is to find something that will burn, then get back to the Arrow. Don’t fight unless you have to. Leave that to me.”
The sailors who had signed on with the Sea Arrow were experienced sailors and fighters. If they surrendered the best they could hope for was to join the pirate crew, but death was a very likely outcome for most. On the other hand, Chiss was paying twice the normal rate for a voyage if they could make it to Selphon City, which was motivation enough for the sailors. Mansel had trained them in basic swordcraft, which might not account for m
uch on a rocking ship, but at least the sailors knew how to stand and wield their weapons. He hoped the pirates were untrained savages.
His plan hinged on getting to the other ship before the two vessels closed together. He took a rope from one of the many piles near the mast.
“Can you run up and tie this to the end of that spar?” Mansel asked one of the sailors.
It only took a minute for the rope to be carried up and lashed to the end of the yard arm which was slightly wider than the hull of the Sea Arrow. Mansel took the rope in his left hand and drew Death’s Eye. He saw the bow of the fat pirate vessel approaching just as Chiss called for his crew to drop their sails. Mansel shouted his battle cry as he ran, holding the rope out beside him to ensure he didn’t get tripped up. Then he jumped, first onto the rail of the Sea Arrow and then out over the dark blue and white water that was churning beside the ship. The rope jerked taut, yanking Mansel’s shoulder joint as his body weight tugged down and the rope swung out from the ship. Despite the danger he was heading for, he couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement as he swung toward the pirate vessel. He was screaming his battle cry as he swung up and over the bow of the other ship and then let go of the rope, dropping down into enemy territory like a crazed warrior from a minstrel’s song.
Then the pirates rushed to attack him and Mansel flew into battle, with nothing but the thought of killing left in his mind.
Chapter 12
The march north was a grueling affair. Lorik ran and the outcasts struggled to keep up. Although the mutated soldiers could run for long distances, they struggled to keep the pace that Lorik set. Kierian had not been at the fortress when Lorik returned, nor did she reveal herself before he left. He would have kept his word and allowed her to travel with the group of soldiers, but she had decided against it and he couldn’t worry about her.
A group of armed outcasts one hundred and fifty strong was enough to frighten away anyone who came within sight of the troop. Lorik forced himself to stop and rest each night, more for the soldiers than for himself. Spector was the only party that didn’t seem to mind the punishing march. The wraith was unaffected by the falling temperatures as they moved north. He needed neither warmth nor light from a fire, not even food or water to keep moving across the rolling hills—the dark magic sustained him.
As they made their way toward Ortis they saw several abandoned homesteads and small villages. A few revealed signs of repair which Lorik took to mean that someone was making a home in the ruins, but none seemed to be organized. The witch’s monsters had crashed through most buildings from the air, breaking down roofs, smashing timber and shattering clay tiles. Some buildings survived the attacks with only minor damage to their roofs, but others were completely destroyed. The repairs in most cases were crude patch work to keep out the elements with no thought to the appearance of the buildings.
All that changed when they came to Quelton Bay. Gunthur traveled with the soldiers, keeping pace without complaint. When they reached the soldier’s city, which was nestled on the coast at the border of Ortis and Falxis, Lorik was surprised to find sentries on duty around a settlement that looked pristine. As they approached Lorik could see outcasts moving about the village. There were pens of sheep and pigs, smoke rising from workshops, and the sounds of industry throughout the city.
“Welcome to Quelton Bay,” Gunthur announced.
There were several hours of daylight left, but Lorik called a halt and gave orders for the soldiers to make camp.
“You may drink, but do not make a nuisance of yourselves or you’ll have me to deal with,” Lorik warned his troops. “And be ready to set out at daybreak. I’ll not wait for stragglers who are too hungover to keep up.”
The soldiers saluted and called out their willingness to comply, but they made their way toward the taverns near the bay with surprising speed. Gunthur showed Lorik the town. The outcasts were mostly shy people, but they met their new king with genuine excitement. A feast was held in the small hall that occupied a space on the town square that had once been home to a thriving market.
The night passed quickly, and early the next morning the troops set out again, this time with a reserve of twenty soldiers from Quelton Bay. Lorik gave Gunthur official command of the entire army, promoting him to commander and entrusting him to carry out the tactics that Lorik would devise once they met with the enemy.
Snow was falling in Ortis and the troop was forced to slow their march and forage more as they traveled, not just for food, but for wood to burn through the night. The soldiers didn’t worry about the cold while they marched, but at night the chill was more than uncomfortable and finding a space large enough to give nearly two hundred men shelter was almost impossible.
Lorik’s first goal was to reach Yorick Shire. It was a town he knew well, having delivered taxes of food through the Marshlands to the duke at Yorick Shire for most of his life. The city had a sizable fortress, and more than enough homes to shelter his army, even if there were people already living there. His plan was to move north more slowly from Yorick Shire, perhaps even sending out scouts so that he could find suitable ground to fight on.
They stopped several hundred yards away from the city. Yorick Shire had low walls but they were in disrepair. Smoke rose from a few of the structures but the city didn't seem to be occupied by a large group.
“Stay here,” Lorik told Gunthur and Spector. “I'll see what condition the city is in and make arrangements for our troops.”
“You shouldn't go alone,” Spector hissed.
“I'll be fine,” Lorik said. “The point of a slow entrance is to ease the fear of the people living there. It wouldn't do me much good to leave the army and bring you along.”
“Who cares about the people living there,” Spector hissed. “I thought we were marching to war.”
“Our war is with the soldiers from Baskla, not the people of Ortis.”
“Should we make camp, my Lord?” Gunthur asked.
“No, we should be able to shelter in the city, perhaps even find enough food to use Yorick Shire as our base of operations until we find the army from Baskla.”
“Your concern for the safety of these people is a weakness,” Spector warned.
“Perhaps, but I won't kill innocent people out of convenience. The people of Yorick Shire have done nothing to harm us.”
“Yet,” Spector hissed. “And don’t forget that none of them came to your aid when Yettlebor tortured you and threw you in his dungeon.”
“I won't forget,” Lorik said, trying not to lose his temper with his old friend.
Lorik knew that Spector had an innate distrust of everyone, outcast and human alike. That, combined with his hunger for revenge, made the wraith a deadly adversary but an unreliable counselor.
“I have to say I agree,” Gunthur said, eyeing Spector cautiously. “It would be better if at least a squad of soldiers accompanied you.”
“I can handle myself. You see to the troops. Spector, stay out of trouble. I know this city well and no one can keep me from claiming it for our new kingdom.”
The wraith and the outcast both looked as if they were prepared to argue more, but Lorik didn't give them the chance. Instead he jogged away. He had been forced to maintain a slower pace than he preferred as he led the army, but on his own he soon lengthened his gait and sped up his pace until he was running easily at the speed of a galloping horse. It took only moments to cover the ground from where the army had stopped to where the city began.
Unlike most major cities throughout the Five Kingdoms, Yorick Shire did not have a sprawling outer city. The short walls were made of timber and encircled the entire city. There were several gates, all of which appeared to be open. The road was thick mud from the melting snow, and some of the thick logs had been pulled from the wall to rebuild structures inside the city. Lorik was an imposing figure, especially with his armor on. The black metal of his chest plate and scalloped shoulder armor made him look menacing, but it was the batt
le helmet that really struck fear in the people that saw him. He had his weapons slung across his back and he removed the helmet as he slowed down to enter the city.
There were very few signs of the occupants who still called Yorick Shire their home. A stray dog hid behind a pile of debris, and a withered-looking face peeked out of a dark window. The face was human, which led Lorik to believe that the city wasn't held by outcasts. He was surprised not to find a warlord waiting for him in the fortress, but there was no sign of warriors or even armed villagers. As Lorik made his way toward the fortress he felt an odd tingle at the back of his neck. He knew he was being watched, but that had been expected. The inhabitants of the city were sure to be watching, but what he felt was more sinister. There was no hint of magic, just an instinct that warned him he was in danger.
He did his best to seem unconcerned. The fortress was a large, stone building, with plenty of places for marauders to hide. Lorik glanced around and saw a smaller building with a heavy wooden door built into a stone frame. The building used to belong to a wealthy merchant, Lorik remembered, but now it seemed empty. He stepped quickly to the door and flung it open. Inside, the room was filled with debris. It had been invaded by the witch's monsters and looted after the fact, but the strong walls were still intact, the windows shuttered, and there was plenty of room for Lorik to wield his deadly swords
He waited several minutes, hoping that his sense of danger was either wrong or that those who intended him harm weren't hiding in the house where he had taken refuge. There had been several rooms on a second floor, but the witch's scorpion-tailed monsters had broken through the roof and destroyed the upper level of the home. Lorik could see the gray sky high overhead. The only thing left for Lorik to do was wait. Fortunately he didn't have to wait long before he heard men in armor outside the sturdy wooden door. They were soldiers, Lorik heard the creak of their leather and the rustle of their chain mail. They were trying to be quiet, but there was no way to cover the sounds of metal on stiff leather.
Chaos Raging (The Five Kingdoms Book 11) Page 9
