The Warrior's Tale

by Allan Cole, Chris Bunch

  'Lead me to something like that. Metal, by preference.'

  Not three feet away was a decorative shield of some sort, made of bronze and hung from a bulkhead. I obeyed. 'Take out your dagger,' he said, 'and prick your finger.' 'Gamelan—' 'Rali, do as I say!'

  I heard the crackle of command, and remembered this man, blind though he was, had ruled all of the Evocators of Orissa, and obeyed.

  He said, 'Smear a bit of blood on the edge of this thing, whatever it is. Just at the edge, where it'll not be found. And don't let yourself be seen.'

  Again I obeyed. The Konyans on the deck were intent on their duties, as is anyone who wishes to survive aboard a ship flying an admiral's flag, or else gazing in wonderment at Cholla Yi. I touched my finger to the side of the shield.

  'Now, collect Cholla Yi and let's away.'

  'Will you explain?'

  'Perhaps. Later.'

  Cholla Yi sat in the sternsheets of my longboat, still enraged. We went directly to his galley, and I followed him to his cabin. He started to pour himself a glass of wine, then stopped. He turned, looming over me.

  'Well?' was all he said.

  I explained my realization. Trahern's plan of attack was stupid. There was no way I could believe The Sarzana wasn't expecting us. It seemed he was more than pleased to let the Konyans sail right up to him. He must have some sort of an advantage, besides the slight numerical one.

  'Of course he has,' Cholla Yi put in. 'Which is why I wanted to tell that vomit-brained ... never mind. Continue.'

  I did. What was our battle? What was our concern?

  'The Archon,' Cholla Yi grudged. 'Assuming you weren't mind-clouded by a spell, and he, or his ghost or whatever the hell it is, is one with The Sarzana.'

  'Right. Once he's dead, or possibly even captured, the war's over. Right?'

  'Again.'

  I went on. I had no interest in sacrificing my women for the Konyans, nor in spending the lives of Cholla Yi's pirates if it didn't accomplish the goal we'd been assigned by our Orissan leaders. This battle, even if there weren't any nasty surprises prepared by The Sarzana, would be a blood-bath. I assumed Cholla Yi planned to return to Orissan seas with some of his ships and men or, if he planned to stay in Konya, he'd be wanting something resembling a navy that was floating instead of sitting at the bottom of the Bay of Ticino. 'Again, granted.'

  So Admiral Trahern could call us what he wished, a mobile reserve or pink lions if he wished. We were after The Sarzana. If we could take him, anything we did after that would be forgiven.

  'True. Plus we've got your little birdie, the princess, along, and she'll be listened to once we get back to Konya.'

  'Exactly.'

  What I proposed was that we let the three wings engage the enemy. I'd prepare a spell to find the bastard. When we did, we'd strike directly for his ship, paying no heed to anyone or anything else.’

  'In the confusion of battle,' Cholla Yi said, his rage fading by the word, 'such a plan, boldly carried through, stands a good chance of succeeding. If we strike as one, dagger-formation perhaps, straight through the melee ... hmm. And if we're the ones who come back with the head of The Sarzana, and whatever the hell it takes to make sure that damned Archon's down in the depths for good and all... damn, damn, damn. We'll be able to rename Isolde Yi... or Antero, if we wish.'

  Now he poured wine - two glasses, and he ceremoniously handed the first one to me.

  'Captain Antero,' he said, 'I think you may not only have come up with a plan that'll cover us with glory, which means gold, but also may keep most of us alive to spend it. You're a real warrior, Captain.'

  He started to say more, stopped himself, and drank. As I sipped, I found it hard to hold back a grin, wondering what words might've slipped out:'... for a woman','... a pity you were born cloven','... almost a man's man'?

  It didn't matter. I finished my wine, and returned to my galley.

  No one slept that night

  And the next morning, we sailed into battle.

  Twenty

  The Mailed Crescent

  THE SARZANA'S SHIPS were waiting. Their battle-formation was a huge semi-circle blocking the bay, which curved from the eastern shallows of the gut to the steep cliffs on the west. It was a bright morning and I saw the gleam of armour on the enemy ships.

  Our galleys sat rolling in the gentle swell, oars at the lift, as the three wings of the Konyan Navy went forward to meet the mailed crescent. We hadn't sent our masts down, since we might need full manoeuvring speed later in the day. Cholla Yi's galley sat not thirty feet from my. own and I had the morbid thought we were but idle spectators at some great match - with life as the prize. Xia was beside me on the quarterdeck, wearing her new armour and a sword belted about her waist. I'd wanted to assign her a bodyguard, but she'd refused. Corais, Pollilo and Gamelan were also on the quarterdeck -as were Stryker and Duban. Gamelan was accompanied by his two guards. One of his companions, Pamphylia, had become expert at being the 'eyes' for the wizard, and her low drone of narration had become a familiar backdrop to the Evocator's presence.

  Oars flashed and feathered on The Sarzana's warfleet as they got under way. The wind blowing up the gut towards Ticino suddenly died. Then another arose, answering the call of our enemy's magic. It blasted south into our faces and the sails on The Sarzana's ships bellied and filled. The Konyan wizards struck back, and the sails flapped emptily as their counterspell broke The Sarzana's wind-magic. Winds gusted and swirled from all points of the compass. Cholla Yi bellowed orders, and we, too, began moving, making sure we kept the proper distance behind the Konyan battle-line - close enough to give support if summoned, far enough away to avoid entanglement when the fighting began. I had the sudden impulse to cast my tern-spell and observe the struggle from the skies. Fortunately, I asked Gamelan, and he grimaced. 'Rali,' he said, 'I thought I had taught you better and I certainly thought you brighter. What do you think would happen if you send yourself spiralling up there, as innocent as any noble booby who takes a picnic to a battlefield to watch the gore splatter, and either of our great enemies happens to sight you, hanging there with no safeguards, no sense, and no cover? Woman, do you have to look for the executioner's axe with your neck?' I was properly chastened.

  But it didn't matter. I don't know exactly what to call it, more than a vision, less than actual sight, but it was as if I were hanging in the sky overhead or atop one of the cliffs to the west, and could see everything that happened on that dismal day. Just as the Konyans, The Sarzana's forces appeared to be divided into three battle groups as well. It may have been chance, or perhaps that was a standard tactic in these islands, but to me it boded no good, and suggested there might well have been some spying, magical or otherwise, and The Sarzana had cleverly planned to have his forces capable of responding independently to any equal threat from us.

  I tried to look beyond the crescent as it moved forward, back up the bay towards Ticino. Once again I saw that bewildering 'mist' - lying low between me and the city, just where The Sarzana's reserve ships should've been. I still couldn't see what lay inside that fogbank, but now knew what it must be - The Sarzana had developed some sort of new magical weapon to be deployed at the proper moment. This was the second ill omen of the day. Then I noted that the clifftops to the west were barren of life. Somehow that made the day even more strange. If a sea-battle was being fought close to most cities, the entire populace would turn out to cheer their own warriors, worry about their own fate, or simply to gape over the spectacle. I wondered what had happened to the people of Ticino. I had a moment to wonder if we would enter a city emptied save of blood-smeared streets if The Sarzana fell on this day.

  'They're firin',' Stryker grunted, and I, too, saw the ranging splashes rise up ahead of the onrushing Konyan galleys.

  'Very good,' Polillo said, trying to sound optimistic. ‘We can hope they waste all their weapons killing those waves between us.'

  I could see war engines on the bows of the enemy ships, and
saw trebuchets buck as they lofted boulders through the air. I thought I could hear the thumps as their wooden arms struck the padded crossbars, and I could see them being wound back down for another launching. In Isolde, I'd suggested to Admiral Trahem the Konyan ships appeared under-equipped with such gear, but he said there was no place for machinery in their wars - Konyan battles were decided by steel and blood, riot wood, rope and iron. The few devices the Konyan ships had were all that would be necessary for victory, and he had little interest in duplicating any of the special weapons I'd designed. Obviously he'd never learned the truism there's no such thing as too much in battle.

  I felt fear crawl up my spine - fear and the certainty of doom; with the added knowledge that I was worse than useless as a captain, more of a danger to my women than the enemy. But this I'd felt before. This was the same spell the Archon had levelled against us, so long ago when we killed him at the volcanoes. It still was unsettling, but at least being familiar the feeling was endurable. I heard shouts of alarm coming from the Konyan ships and cursed. I'd warned the Konyan Evocators of all the tricks the Archon might try, and they'd assured me counterspells would be simple. If they'd bothered to prepare any, they obviously weren't working. I remembered one of the frescoes on a wall of our armoury in Orissa. It depicted the corpse of a Guardswoman, sprawled on a battlefield, and over it the grim inscription: Despise Not Your Enemy. The Konyans were beginning to learn this lesson themselves, although where they'd got such arrogance, forgetting how swiftly The Sarzana had once defeated their best, was beyond me. I suppose victors have even shorter memories than the vanquished.

  Now The Sarzana's ships were in range. Another group of machines opened fire - catapults sending long arrows ripping forward, that tore through sails, bulwarks and, often as not, Konyan soldiers. What I'd called 'firefingers' rippled out from The Sarzana's forward ships, striking Konyan galleys and sending them roaring into flame. I tried to see if there was a single source for those firestrikes that might give me a clue as to which ship The Sarzana might be aboard, but they seemed to come from everywhere. Evidently the Archon had perfected his spell.

  A Konyan ship not far away lost headway, its oars flailing like a water-beede who panics seeing the carp striking up from the depths. Our galleys drew closer and I could see soldiers and sailors fighting desperately on its main-deck, as if they'd been boarded by a yet invisible enemy. Then I saw what they were fighting. The decks were littered with great serpents, who thrashed and struck with unnatural energy at the men. I'd seen no trebuchet deliver such a wickedly clever load and knew the snakes had to have been transported aboard magically.

  'The Sarzana has some interesting tricks,' Gamelan said when Pamphylia told him what had happened. 'That's one I'd never thought of. Worth noting, too.'

  The Sarzana, or maybe the Archon,' Corais said quietly. Polillo shivered, and I surreptitiously gripped her hand to reassure her, then let it go before anyone could notice. Polillo recovered in a bare second, and was her usual battle-cold self.

  'We are forgetting,' I agreed, 'the Archons ruled Lycanth not just by magic, but by their skills with armies as well.'

  Xia was looking very worried, and not a little frightened, which was natural in her first battle. 'What does that mean?' she wanted to know.

  I tried to find soothing words, but Stryker spoke first. 'Cap'n Antero means we'd best hope th' bull can take th' lancer b'fore his horse dances him out of the way.'

  The Konyan ships were still going forward, slowly, steadily, bulllike, against the rain of fire that came down. I remembered once being forward of such an attack, I don't even remember in which border skirmish it was, and seeing long lines of infantry advancing against archers. As the shafts struck down from the skies the soldiers hunched their shoulders and bent forward as they pushed doggedly onward, exactly like men forcing themselves through a rainstorm. So it was with the Konyan ships.

  'Look,' Xia said gleefully. 'They're breaking!'

  So it appeared. The enemy centre wing had swung out of line. Signal flags went up from Trahern's warship, but Admiral Bhzana had already seen, and bunting flapped from his own masthead. His ships swung out of the main Konyan formation, away from the shallows and the lagging enemy they'd been expecting to meet, hoping to attack The Sarzana's centre on its flank. Such a bold stroke could break the enemy fleet now and end the battle before midday.

  'Too soon, too soon,' I heard Polillo moan under her breath. 'Always wait to make sure the throw is real, not a bluff!' And so it was. As Bhzana's ships formed their new line, a strong, spell-created wind gusted down the gut towards us, and The Sarzana's waiting ships shot like bolts against Bhzana's own flank.

  'Shit!' Stryker swore. 'Caught in th' same net they'd hoped t' cast!'

  The threat was more than to just our east wing. Trahern's centre was also out of position. Perhaps he'd hoped to help exploit the enemy's mistake, which now was clearly a ruse that we'd fallen for.

  The two lines of ships closed and the battle proper began. But it did not open as Trahern and the Konyans had wished. Trahern might've wanted to close and board with the other ships, but The Sarzana's galleys veered, trying to evade contact. Clumsy as they were, there were many instances where they weren't able to turn away and grapnels went across and Konyan soldiers leapt for the bulwarks. But even when an enemy ship was trapped, the battle still was not joined on Trahern's terms. Another galley would strike the Konyan ship from the rear, keeping just a few yards away and archers would pelt the ship, trying to divert it. It was just as a well-trained pack of hounds behave, savaging a bear's legs and flanks when he traps one of their brothers.

  I heard screams and shouts across the water and saw flames mount and masts tumble as The Sarzana's ships kept hammering the Konyans. Even boarding wasn't as simple as Trahern had imagined. I saw glints of steel from just above the bulwarks of an enemy ship and stakes protruding out and up at an angle from the rails of the galley -stakes that were so much fence-posting from the sharp strands of steel strung along them. That would be even better than the traditional sagging nets to keep boarders away. Of course, it'd keep The Sarzana's own troops from attacking, but it looked as if he had no intent of fighting a traditional battle this day. Again I knew the Archon's orders had been taken, not only in magic but in war as well.

  We were too close to the fray and I shouted a warning to Cholla Yi for us to pull back, but to stand by to reinforce Bhzana's wing if it broke. We withdrew to a better position, but still there came no signal for us to join the attack. All we could do was wait. Now it was truly as if I were above the fleets as the battle continued. From the water it appeared as confusing as any land battlefield, with men shouting, bleeding and dying, staggering back and forth, and dust and smoke everywhere, and banners waving and going down, only to rise up once more; except the soldiers were monstrous ships.

  Ships were already sinking and there were sailors drowning, clinging to flotsam and shouting for rescue. Some saw our galleys and desperately began swimming towards us. But it was far, too far, and one by one their heads vanished. Other ships drifted back out of battle, some with fighting still raging on their decks, others showing no sign of life at all, still others with their huge deckhouses shattered by boulders. I thought there were more Konyan vessels than enemy ships. Then I saw Konyan ships start to sail back - away from the battle. Some of them were crippled, dragging the ruins of masts overboard, others were smoking and crippled. But all too many of them showed no damage.

  Polillo had her axe unsheathed, and was holding it in her hand, without noticing, slapping its flat hard against her reddening palm, her face mottied in anger and helplessness.

  'Weak-gutted sonsabitches,' Stryker swore. 'Rope-spined bastards are breakin' and th' day's not half-gone.'

  I realized with a jolt the sun was now high overhead and wondered where the hours had gone; then my eyes were torn away, as The Sarzana's sorcerous cloud lifted and his secret weapon broke into the battle. It was a small fleet of ships such
as I'd never imagined. They were not much longer than our Orissan ships, if somewhat broader beamed, and single-rowed galleys like ours. But what made them striking and fearsome weren't just the lurid colours they'd been painted with - the colours of blood and death - but that they were solidly roofed and mastless. They looked like many-legged turtles as they swept forward. There'd be no boarding these craft; small as they were, the hulking Konyan ships would hardly be able even to close with them. I was very glad I wasn't a Konyan captain in the vanguard, because for the moment I had no idea how these invulnerable-looking craft could be destroyed. There were at least thirty of them and they were attacking in a spearhead formation - striking straight for the ignored and open west side of Trahern's centre wing where a gap lay between it and Admiral Bornu's ships.

  Stryker swore, and I heard Duban whine something.

  Corais was unbothered. 'I don't see how they fight,' she observed. 'Maybe they're intending to scare us to death.'

  But in bare seconds we realized the turtleboats were as deadly in fact as appearance. They were rams, but I realized once more that The Sarzana's tactics were new, as I saw the first turtleship strike a Konyan vessel and then pull away as if nothing had happened instead of remaining in a death-embrace with its foe. The Konyan ship rolled at the impact, then wallowed to the side as water rushed into the hole the turtleship's beak had torn. In seconds it vanished under the waves. I realized the rams must either be demountable or, more likely, grooved to snap when a certain amount of force was exerted against them. Such a device would be foolhardy on a ship intended to endure hard weather, since it was likely to snap unpredictably and rip the galley's own bows open; but here in the calm waters of the bay, it was an ideal weapon. But that wasn't the only armament the turtleships had. Hatches flipped open on the covering deck and I saw the warheads of huge arrows emerge from one turtleship as it sailed close under a Konyan's stern. Smoke lifted from each arrowhead and then the catapults fired, sending the firearrows deep into the wooden counter. The hatches banged shut and the gunners began reloading safely out of sight, as flames roared up from the stricken Konyan vessel. The arrows were either pitch-soaked or, more likely, 'dressed' with an incantation.