By Blood Betrayed (The Kingsblood Chronicles)

by Houpt, David

  The comment evoked a round of laughs from the three members of the mayor’s family. “I remember my first days on the water, though I was a mite younger than you are, I’d wager. My older brothers had fed me up on salt pork before we went out, curse their eyes!” Gil said, then immediately looked chagrined that he’d cursed, even mildly, in front of his wife and daughter.

  Kalra ignored the curse, saying, “Aye, I remember that day. You had your measure of revenge, splattered down the fronts of all three of ‘em, if I recall correctly.”

  Gil started laughing in earnest now, nodding as he remembered. “Aye, that much control I kept, to make sure they all three got a good sousing. As soon as we hit rough waves, I knew what they’d done!”

  Lian shook his head, pushing his plate away. “Maybe I’d better stop while I’m ahead, then.”

  Lissa cast a disparaging look at her parents, who were still laughing at the memory. “Nay, milord,” she said. “The trick is not to eat too much, nor the wrong thing. An empty stomach’s as bad as a burstin’ one, truth to tell.” Lissa, like her parents, spoke without the heavy accent shown by the tavernkeeper.

  Kalra regained enough composure to nod. “My daughter’s given you the truth of it, Alan.”

  Gil added, through his chuckles, “Just eat what you’d eat before going into battle, boy. You’ll be fine, probably!” The last word sent him back into paroxysms of laughter, and Lian feared that the mayor would choke on the ham he’d been chewing.

  Snog didn’t join in the laughter, instead thinking his own thoughts as he efficiently shoveled his food into his mouth with his eating knife. When the humans were finished, he hopped down, placed the plate and pitcher carefully on top of his stool, and bowed to Kalra. “Thankee, lady,” was all he said before wandering out into the yard to smoke some of his remaining tobacco.

  “Well-mannered boggle, if I do say so,” Gil remarked, patting his belly. He’d consumed the lion’s share of the food, and now was feeling the pains of overindulgence.

  “He has his uses,” Lian replied flatly. Closer to Dunshor, the goblin would have been forced to sleep in the stables, if he was lucky enough to be allowed a roof over his head at all. By comparison, Gil’s mild racism wasn’t offensive to Lian.

  “Didn’t seem too excited about signing onto a ship, though,” Gil observed, letting the sentence hang.

  “I don’t catch your meaning, sir,” Lian said.

  “It’s well known that boggles can’t swim,” Gil began, a complete mistruth. “And he’s obviously beholden to you. I was thinking that I could use a hand here in the town, if you can transfer his debt, that is.”

  “He’s seen battle with me, sir,” Lian replied, surprised by the mayor’s offer, “and I’d trust him at my back against any opponent. I’m afraid that I’ll have to decline your offer, even before I’ve heard the terms.”

  Gil nodded sagely, as if he’d expected the answer. “Had to ask, young mercenary. As you said, he’d have his uses.” He clapped Lian on the shoulder and headed toward the front of the house, which Lian hadn’t seen.

  “Now, I’ve got some papers to look over, and you’ve got business of your own, most like,” he said, dismissing the younger man politely.

  “I do, sir. An honor to meet you,” he said, nodding toward Kalra. “And thanks to you and your daughter both for a fine meal. Do I owe you anything extra?” moving his hand to his purse.

  “No, no,” Kalra said, waving off the offer. “You paid for the meal in the price of the room, though Gil would have it differently if he had any say in the matter. Good luck to you, young man, and to your goblin as well.”

  “My thanks, lady. Blessings on your house, from all your patron gods,” he said, invoking a common western saying. Like Snog, he’d brought all of his belongings with him to the kitchen, though he’d divested himself of his sword before he’d sat down at the table. Having nothing else to delay him, he stepped outside to join the goblin.

  The walk to the dock was a short one, but Lian used it to get a better look at the warship. Searcher was lashed securely to the stone dock, and was kept from battering against the granite structure by huge cork rings suspended by ropes from the top of the dock. She was about fifty yards long and about twelve yards wide. The stern deck was only ten feet higher than the main deck, and the forward deck was only five feet higher than the main deck. The carracks and cogs of his father’s small navy had very pronounced fore- and stern-castles, and Lian suspected that the Searcher would be better equipped to handle rough weather than the top-heavy warships to which he was accustomed.

  Searcher had two masts as well as two fore-mounted spars. Her sails were triangular, as were those of most of the Island Kingdom ships he’d seen, though he couldn’t really see much of the forward-most sails. The forward vertical mast, called the foremast, was the victim of whatever calamity had befallen the ship, and had snapped off close to the deck. Sailors were threading rope through booms and attaching the arms to the new mast, which lay upon the dock lengthwise to the ship. The two masts supported not only the large triangular sails, but additional smaller ones above them.

  The sheer number of cables and ropes, and even the number of sails, impressed Lian greatly, for it was a far more complicated affair than he’d ever seen before. To his eye, inexperienced in seacraft as it was, the complexity meant one thing: speed. Whatever else Searcher was built for, she was fast.

  The figurehead was carved from the same light red wood as the rest of the ship, but was painted in fine detail. She was a mermaid, one hand shielding her eyes from the sun, gazing toward the horizon. The figure provided a good companion to the ship’s name, and her face seemed welcoming to Lian.

  From atop the dock, Lian was elevated above the level of the deck, and he could see the hatch covers that led to the ship’s hold. Like the Golden Gull, the warship had a deckhouse where the ship’s cook did his work, but aboard the Searcher it was only half-height. Lian supposed that it gave the ship less profile to fire upon in seagoing battle, but with the massive sail assembly above, there would still be ample target. The masts themselves were even taller than the ones in the Dunshor fleet, and he didn’t envy the job of the sailor manning the crow’s nest, which was strangely located below the level of the topsails.

  Knowing he’d likely be drilled about the siege engines soon after boarding, Lian stopped to give the forward ones a critical eye. Equipped with strong cable, the two forward ballistae were well maintained and were positioned to track, by his judgment, almost one hundred and twenty degrees. They were mounted on a platform that could be cranked to give substantial inclination, but he knew from experience that a ballista was most effective when fired straight-on.

  Snog looked upon the ship with apprehension, so Lian said, “Ready, scout?”

  The goblin pulled himself up a little straighter and replied, “Much as I’ll e’er be, milord. Hope it don’ leak too much.”

  They approached the gangplank and Lian called out, “Hey!” gaining the “official” attention of one of the two goblins, who were patrolling the deck with an unhurried ease and had been watching the two warriors’ approach. Lian approved of the dock watch, even though the ship wasn’t likely to be attacked in Mola.

  “Captain!” bellowed the goblin, “yer gunner’s here, sir!” Lian wished that he’d been a little more diplomatic, but thought to himself that this might rate as diplomacy to the goblinish warrior.

  The stairs to the afterdeck flanked the door leading aft, and this portal swung open. Captain Cedrick limped his way out into the morning sunlight. He was dressed in a light tunic and wore an open-faced cloak over his shoulders. At his side was a cutlass, its hilt as well used as the one on Arden’s rapier. He grimaced slightly, and motioned Lian to come aboard as he limped to meet them at the end of the plank.

  “Alan of Staikal, Captain,” the prince said, bowing in the custom of the kingdom he’d named. It was the Staikal version of a salute.

  “Reidar says you’ve got a
good head for geometry,” Cedrick said, “and from him that’s a high compliment. Come with me to the sternchaser and we’ll see if you’ve fooled him. The goblin can join us.” He led them astern, pulling himself up the stairs with a wince but without further trouble.

  The stern deck was dominated by the stern ballista, which was positioned to fire upon nearly anything in the aft half of the ship. It, too, was mounted for inclination, though Lian still didn’t see the point.

  “What’s unusual about that thing, Alan of Staikal?” Cedrick asked.

  Lian said, “I can’t see the point of the ability to incline the weapons that much, sir. A few degrees for flexibility, sure, but indirect fire with a ballista’s pretty useless in my experience.”

  Cedrick grinned and nodded. “Reidar said you were sharp, but who knows how long you had to study ‘em before I came up.” He paused thoughtfully. “At zero inclination, this thing will reach the sandbar that the Gull so narrowly avoided yesterday. See if you can do that right, and we’ll go from there.

  “Kess!” the captain yelled, a summons that was answered with an “aye!” in moments. To Lian, Cedrick said, “When I call, you answer up unless you’ve had your throat cut, mind.”

  “Aye, sir,” answered Lian. “And with that in mind, he answers to Snog.” He pointed at the goblin.

  A young sailor with hair so blonde that it was almost white ran up the stairway and snapped to attention, “Reporting as ordered, Captain!” Lian guessed that Kess was nearly his true age, but he concealed his immediate liking of the boy. Being, in appearance, over twenty, his persona would probably see Kess as nothing more than another young recruit off to get himself killed.

  “Kess here served for a few weeks under our previous engineer,” the captain explained. “Galen and his mates were killed in the battle that sheared off the foremast, which means that you, your goblin friend, and Kess here are it for gunners. I’ve got a few sailors who can help the boggle crank his bow, but Kess is the only man I can spare you until we reach Seagate and I can hire some more crew.”

  Lian nodded, thoughtful. “Snog is a good shot with a crossbow, and he’s shown a clear and level head in battle, Captain. But he’ll need someone to load bolts, like as not.” A ballista this size demanded a two- or even three-man crew to keep it firing at a respectable rate, and Lian had serious doubts that Snog would be big enough to handle the loading.

  Kess and Cedrick were both grinning widely, so Lian suspected that there was something the two weren’t telling him.

  “Crank the beast up, seaman Kess,” the captain said, chuckling.

  “Aye, aye, sir,” snapped the young man, who bent to his task happily. Lian imagined that the posting was a promotion for Kess, and he’d be eager to prove himself in his captain’s eyes.

  Kess turned out to be stronger than Lian thought, for he had little trouble pulling the heavy cable back to the lock position. Maybe it’s enchanted? he asked Gem, who answered in the affirmative. She explained in the same thought that she hadn’t mentioned it because there were many enchantments on the ship and she didn’t want to distract him.

  Much to the surprise of both prince and scout, when the cable snapped into position, a bolt suddenly appeared, properly nocked and aligned. “Gods!” Lian exclaimed, and Snog grinned ferally. The possibilities presented by such a weapon were not lost on the little goblin.

  Kess held out his hands to turn the suddenly loaded weapon over to Lian. The prince shook his head and took the end of the weapon that held the firing mechanism and aiming reticule.

  “I don’t have any marksmen left among my regular crew, although Arden has a few among his folks,” Cedrick explained. “The goblin will have a strong-armed man to crank for him, but he’ll have to shoot. We’ll rig a platform for him to be able to aim properly, and I don’t doubt he’ll have a good eye. I know the reputation of the clan he hails from, and they don’t let lazy-eyed idiots become scouts.

  “Now, aim for that bit of driftwood, and we’ll see how you measure up.”

  Lian nodded confidently, all the while wishing that he’d had time to work with the weapon before being introduced to the ship’s master. Taking careful aim, he smoothly drew back the handle that released the bolt. As Elowyn had taught him, he concentrated on keeping his breath in and moving his hand evenly, and he was taken by surprise when the weapon actually let go of the cable. The bolt flew with incredible speed and power, but he’d expected that when the captain had told him the range. The sandbar in question was over three hundred yards away.

  The bolt skipped off of the sand five feet short of the driftwood log, then plowed into it, shattering the dessicated wood before plunging into the waves beyond the sandbar.

  “Lucky shot,” Lian muttered, amazed at both the accuracy of the weapon and the skill of the Searcher’s captain at estimating the range.

  “Agreed,” Cedrick said, “and I’m glad you didn’t claim that you meant to do that. I like honesty in my men, and a steady hand, and you seem to have both. Arden said you might leave us if you find a land posting, but until then you’re welcome aboard.” The big man offered his hand, which Lian accepted with relief. He had worried about Arden hiring crew without consulting Cedrick first.

  “The bolts do come out of our stores, so limit your practice fire to four more rounds for you, and five for Kess and the boggle,” Cedrick said. “All three weapons fire about the same, but I’m sure the Molans will appreciate your not using the forward bows. If one of their fishing ships comes back in, make sure you don’t sink her, right?”

  “I’ll do my best, sir,” Lian said, bowing to the captain as he left them to oversee the repair work.

  Snog, meanwhile, had begun rolling a barrel over to the siege engine in anticipation of his turn.

  I’m in charge of two inexperienced engineers, he thought. But at least they’re eager, and at least it’s a start.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  “Elven ‘steel,’ so named only because of its strength and resilience, actually contains no iron. In Aesidhe, it is called penalirin, which means ‘True Bronze,’ analogous to Truesilver. Although it does look like bronze, it is much harder to work. In ages past, the formulation of elven steel was a closely guarded secret, but in modern days the knowledge is widespread. Rare is the master metalsmith who has failed to conquer its secrets.”

  -- From “Metallurgical Facts and History,” by the Sage Alionur

  A small group of village children had gathered to watch the artillery practice, but they left disappointed after it became apparent that nothing particularly exciting was going to happen. Lian dedicated the fourteen remaining rounds he’d been allotted to lay the foundation of knowledge his two apprentices would need to perform their duties. He knew that he could depend on Snog to hold his ground, but the boy Kess was excitable and inexperienced.

  He assigned Snog to the afterdeck weapon, and decided that he and Kess would man the two forward mounts. That way, Kess would have a leader present who would set an example. It was more difficult to break and run if someone whose approval you sought was nearby, watching your actions.

  The last practice shot was fired just as the fishing fleet began to arrive, running low to the water. The watchman manning the dock’s single remaining tower rang his bell in a slow, unhurried cadence that informed the villagers that it wasn’t an emergency. The early return of the fishing boats meant that they had run into a mighty school of fish.

  Every able-bodied villager that had remained onshore hurried to the beach to help with the catch, for the fish would soon decompose, though they’d been out of the water for only a short time. The villagers brought barrels of salt and boxes of sharp knives with them, and Lian could see the mayor helping three other men roll empty wooden barrels down to the sand, where they were taken by others.

  “Humanss,” hissed a voice from the water below the ballista. Snog drew his crossbow and silently began to crank the string back.

  Lian cautiously poked his head over
the edge of the railing, gazing down at the water twenty feet below him. A lizard man, with green mottled skin that was hard to see in the kelp-filled bay, even at point blank range, was treading water easily. In one hand, it held one of the balllista bolts. “Yes?” Lian asked, taking the opportunity to study the reptile. He’d never seen one of the lizard folk firsthand, and the creature’s beauty impressed him.

  “Thessse arre imporrrtant?” hissed the reptile. “You pay forr them?”

  Lian nodded. “Yes. How much?” It was a mildly lucky break, and might put him in good stead with the captain.

  The lizard’s eyes glinted in the midday light. “Big catch coming. Need lotss of sshiny coinss.”

  Lian considered. “A copper for two bolts. A brass for a broken bolt.”

  “Yess,” it said in a pleased tone. Lian figured that the bolts probably cost quite a bit more than that, and even if he had to pay the lizard from his own reserves, he considered it to be a bargain. He didn’t bemoan the fact that the lizard would likely have taken less for the ammunition, for he would have gladly paid even more.

  The water churned under the lizard as it kicked with powerful legs and tail, bracing itself for the throw that sent the bolt clattering against the railing. Lian caught it and brought it aboard.

  The action at the stern captured Cedrick’s attention, and the captain had climbed back up to the afterdeck in time to see the catch. “What the hell?” he asked, amazement on his face.

  “The local lizards, or one of them anyhow, has agreed to retrieve the bolts in exchange for a few coppers, sir. I felt it was a reasonable expense,” Lian explained, hoping the captain wouldn’t be offended. Many unit commanders demanded that all logistical decisions be made by themselves or an appointed man, and didn’t appreciate a break in the chain of command.