“And among the leadership of the academy, at the same time, there arose a group who saw the common folk of Dun as being ill-suited to determine their own path, who saw the need for a well-educated noble class who would guide them. It did not help that the commoners by this time held the Krysan mages in almost religious awe because of the wonders they wrought in the benefit of the people, and allowed the wizards to take complete control of the region without complaint.
“Either of those two changes alone might have occurred without bringing excess and exploitation, but together they were a recipe for the abuses that were to come.”
-- Excerpt from “The Rise of the Wizard-Kings,” banned text by Sage Kommath, written shortly before his murder in 1767 PE
Holding a course of north-by-northeast, Searcher glided toward Gaelin Island at nearly ten knots, making way against a due easterly wind under cloudy skies. The eastern side of the island was a small mount nearly four hundred yards higher than sea level, and the lower rises of the island were home to a pair of watchtowers. As Searcher approached to within thirteen nautical miles, signal fires burst alight.
“They’ve seen us, Captain,” shouted Genn, the sailor—one of the riggers—who pulled crow’s nest duty.
“Aye, Genn,” shouted Cedrick back. “Keep a sharp eye for sails makin’ round the west side!” Although a mage-driven ship could sail east into the wind, it was far more likely that the Varshan response would come around the west side of Gaelin.
“Hold your course for the eastern watchtower, Trev,” Cedrick said to the helmsman.
“Aye, sir,” he replied, muscles straining against the wheel’s tendency to slip port and away from the wind. “Makin’ for the starboard watchtower.” An experienced helmsman, Trevally braced for the wheel kick every time the rudder came shallow. Alan had seen less skilled men take a beating from the wheel when they failed to take crossing waves into account once the rudder came mostly out of the water.
Snog and Kess stood by the forward ballistae; Alan stood at the stern with the two captains and Olaf. He’d have preferred to stand by the forward engines with Kess, but Cedrick had ordered them arranged this way as they approached so he could give any needed orders without having to shout across the length of the warship.
“I’d have preferred to get closer before they tripped the watchfires,” Arden said, sighing. “Can’t be helped, and there was always the possibility that they’d catch us just as we cleared the horizon.”
Turning to Cedrick, he asked, “How long until we’re close enough to make landing?” Alan had come to understand that Reidar’s spell could take the mercenaries ashore within about four hundred yards, and he automatically estimated the time, arriving at an answer ten seconds before the captain replied.
“Hour and thirty,” Cedrick said confidently, glancing at Alan briefly, who nodded in agreement. “Bit more as we make the turn a’ port, but I’ll hold you in range for a full minute.”
“That’s more than enough,” Arden said, having used Reidar’s spell before. “Eighty- or ninety-odd minutes won’t put them out to sea if they’re docked, barring spells to get under way, but be careful anyhow,” he finished, while clasping Cedrick’s arm. He went forward to look after his men.
“Unless they’re at anchorage,” Olaf said, “or already patrolling and heading ‘round to respond to our presence.” Ever the pessimist, Olaf was usually a font of dire tidings.
Cedrick nodded. “Aye, that’s true enough. Alan, have Snog come aft with his loader and take the forward engines. Remember, the enemy will close nearly as fast as we’re moving ourselves, so the range will fall off a lot sooner than you’d expect.”
“Aye, Captain,” Alan said, heading forward and signaling the goblin to make his way aft. In anticipation of this rearrangement, he’d left Snog’s firing platform set up on the sternchaser. As they passed, he said, “Gods watch over you, Snog.”
“And ye, milord,” the goblin replied as he ambled agilely aft against the ship’s pitch and roll. Originally without hope he’d ever get his sea legs, the goblin had eventually taken to the sea and overcome his bouts of seasickness.
“Set up the firestone,” Alan ordered at the goblin’s back, catching his nod as they parted. Once forward, he issued the same order to Kess on the starboard engine and carefully removed the big orange gemstone and its mounting pin from the spell-warded compartment on the side of the port engine. Fitting the stone in place, he held off signaling to crank the weapons to ready, as the gem was drained by holding the flaming bolt in a firing state. It was normally a negligible amount, but it might cost a final shot from the stored energies that they could ill afford to lose.
The western side of the island was a long, low ridgeline, and once a ship began making way around the lee side of the island her sails would become visible. Genn remained silent, however, until they had approached to within a mile.
Alan found the waiting to be more than a little unnerving, and his obligation to show a brave face to his two mates—although he didn’t worry so much about Snog’s morale—made him even more nervous. He’d experienced this before, though always with an elder brother or his father present to inspire confidence, and with difficulty he pushed away the tension and nerves and showed outward calm.
He’s so young, Gem thought as she watched him fight his fear of the upcoming battle. Gods, watch over my boy, she prayed, as she often did.
“Sail ho!” Genn exclaimed suddenly. “One point off the port bow!”
“Range and heading?” demanded Cedrick, his powerful voice carrying up to the watchman.
“She’s near aground ‘gainst the north face, Cap’n!” Genn shouted back. “She’s making northwest.” The enemy warship was hugging the coast tightly and coming around the northwest corner of the island. “I make her at six knots or less an’ her gallants are flyin’!”
Less than six knots and they’ve got the gallants out? thought Alan. On both classes of Varshan warship, only the skysail was higher than the gallants, and Alan understood from the veteran sailors that they’d have rigged from the bottom sails upward after using the triangular staysails to make their initial way. They must have been tied up after all, but if so they put out in a hurry.
If the Varshan ship had been tied at anchorage away from the island, they’d have seen her long before, unless she was away from the island on a patrol sweep. And had they set that much sail from a distance, they’d have been making headway at more than ten knots as they rounded the island.
“Load, Mr. Alan?” Kess asked, his voice raspy.
Alan calmly walked over to his mate, picking up a flagon of water as he did so. Handing the water to Kess, he said, “Not yet, son. We’ve got time.” Truth was, he felt nervous, too, but his outward calm was enough to steady Kess’ nerves. Once Kess took a long pull, Alan took the flagon and drank deeply. He knew not to allow himself to become watersick, but his throat felt nearly as dry as Kess’ had sounded.
Aft, the captain and bosun were shouting sail trimming orders in preparation for the upcoming maneuvers. Riggers strained against the hawsers as they complied, and two additional helmsmen went to stand by the wheel, one on the lee side beside Trevally and the other on the weather side forward of him. They would throw their weight into the wheel if needed to haul the rudder over quickly, taking their lead from the senior helmsman.
Arden was making his way through his men, clasping arms with some, clasping others on the back, and giving them an encouraging word. It wasn’t how Alan would have handled it, preferring his brother Prince Alec’s style of addressing the troops en masse to get them motivated before the fight began, but it seemed effective. Kar and Sar, the goblin brothers, Yarek, and Nan didn’t seem to need the encouragement, staring stoically at the island and the fighting to come. They wasted no motion or energy, saving it all for battle, though Alan thought that the goblins and Nan had a rather anticipatory look on their faces in contrast to Yarek’s calm and empty expression.
�
�Alan!” yelled Cedrick from the main deck, where he’d crossed some of the distance to be heard clearly. He was standing on the galley roof.
“Aye, Captain!” he shouted back, turning his attention to the captain.
“They’ve got to swing wide around the western lee to avoid the rocks! We’ll turn astern of them and you’ll have the range right after we’re done offloading!” Cedrick yelled, certain of his estimation of their courses. “Make them count!”
“That we will, Captain!” Alan shouted as the captain returned to the helm. He clapped his mate Kess on the shoulder and said, “Crank ‘er up just before we start offloading Arden’s men, Mr. Kess. Take the starboard engine.”
“Aye, sir!” Kess said, repeating Alan’s order as if he were standing a helm watch. “Load just before we start offloading, aye.”
By this time, Searcher had moved over a thousand yards closer to the island, and the big Varshan warship—one of the three-masted variety—was fully visible more than twenty-five hundred yards away. Forced to take a curving course away from Gaelin’s shoreline, they were running on a broad reach, and despite having deployed nearly all of their sail, they weren’t able to make more than the initial six knots Genn had estimated. If they had a mage on board, he either wasn’t capable of whistling the wind into a more favorable heading or else he was saving his strength.
Alan signaled to Snog to watch for them loading, and the scout signaled back that he understood. They’d worked out a battle language between them (and Lord Grey and Gem) as well as a number of hand signals that worked across the length of the mercenary vessel.
Alan stood by his engine, looking it over one last time to ensure everything was ready. He was more than tempted to crank up the weapon so he could start ranging his shots, but he knew that was useless, as the Varshans were almost eighteen hundred yards out of his absolute maximum range, assuming he’d estimated it correctly. The firestone—which was an accurate targeting device, showing the target in the dancing orange flames at its heart—would show nothing but waves.
As the warship neared, Alan could make out her name, Belladonna, and he wondered what their captain thought Searcher was doing, because it seemed they were going to hurtle themselves against the rocky shore of the island’s southern face. In order to avoid action, they should have started their turn away from the island as soon as they spotted the Varshan sails.
Can you make out the mage? Alan asked Gem, knowing she could use his eyes far more capably than he could.
Not yet, Gem replied. He’s beyond the range where I could sense passive defenses, and he’s not doing anything obvious. I’ll let you know the moment I spot him unless you’re about to take a shot. Neither of them wanted to waste any of the firestone’s limited number of shots because of a telepathic distraction.
Thanks, Gem, he said, giving her an affectionate pat before turning to look at Kess. The blonde sailor was standing by his engine, peering at the oncoming ship as if to memorize every point he might fire upon. Kess was quivering a little, as Alan found himself doing, but Kess looked confident beside the power of the heavily enchanted ballista. The prince hoped he looked at least as confident.
“Make your course nor’ by northwest!” Cedrick ordered loudly, and though Alan couldn’t hear Trevally’s response from the helm, he could see the three helmsmen hauling the wheel hard over port, turning the king spoke almost around to the deck. The bosun quickly had the riggers tightening up the main and mizzen sails against the loss of wind, and the ship came around to the new heading.
Alan and Reidar both took the turn as their cue. Alan signaled Snog and began cranking up his weapon, followed quickly by Kess once he heard the ratcheting sound. Alan glanced aft quickly to ascertain that Snog’s loader was at work, but he trusted the goblin to know his business.
Reidar began singing the spellsong, rapid and harsh, the notes evoking a feeling of electricity and creating the pungent smells of wet herbs and earth. The magic-tied notes carried clearly over the wind, waves, and commands issued by the bosun and his mate, and a shimmering rainbow of light began to extend from the starboard deckwale, from fo’c’sle to afterdeck, all the way to the island. His hair, tightly braided in long red cornrows, stood out from his head like a cloud of spines, and his face contorted with the effort of singing the notes correctly.
Before the rainbow could reach Gaelin itself, Arden had already run out onto it, no fear of falling into the rough seas evident on his face.
“Move out!” he commanded, and by lines of twelve the mercenaries quickly climbed out onto the multicolored sheet connecting Searcher to the shoreline. Although Alan wanted to watch the colorful show, he forced himself to keep his eye on Belladonna.
“Mind your engine, Mr. Kess,” Alan ordered, knowing his mate would probably be unable to resist gawking at the spell. Behind him, he could hear Olaf bellowing something similar to the crew in general.
Gem, who could watch behind Alan with her own senses in addition to making use of his eyes, noted that Arden had carefully placed his recruits between men who’d done this before, and although some of them clearly feared the lightbridge, they all went, and far more quickly than she had expected. Observing the working of the spell, she noted several weaknesses immediately, both in the song itself and in the formation of the bridge.
And if she could see ways to disrupt the magical bridge, she knew an enemy could, too.
Of course, the easiest way to send Arden’s Company plunging into the cold seas was to disrupt Reidar himself, for if the mage were to stop singing for more than a breath, the spell would abruptly end. That was one of the reasons that Mari Suris was heading to shore with the company, so that she could provide some spell defense to the battle mage, although Gem and Alan both thought Arden would be better served hiring a better sorcerer to work with Reidar.
Any spellsinger could weave protective magic—that was typically the first magic that any caster learned, after all, if only to protect themselves from their own magic—but the blonde healer’s capacity to stop a hostile spell was as limited by her native power as the rest of her magic. She was a competent singer, which helped to prevent the loss of magical energy through poorly sung music, so she could use her Mageborn talent efficiently. The fact remained that the wellspring of mystical power within her was scantier by far than either Gem or Lord Grey liked.
“On the double!” ordered Arden, repeated loudly by Nan’s sharp voice, who had placed herself in the final rank leaving the ship. The company began trotting toward the shore, and as they moved away from Searcher the bridge dissolved behind them. This initial phase of the spell, grounded on the island and stretched out to the warship, was the most demanding, and Alan could hear the strain in Reidar’s phrasing as he trotted alongside the soldiers.
As the company advanced, the length of the bridge decreased and would continue to do so until it vanished. That meant that the amount of power and effort required to maintain it lessened the closer they came to shore. A damned good thing, too, Alan thought to Gem, knowing she would catch his meaning. He’s handling it, but he’s going to be utterly winded when they make the coast.
That’s part of Mari’s job, Alan, the sword replied. She’s going to make sure he doesn’t falter just from trying to run while singing at full force.
I suppose, Alan said, estimating the range as it dropped. I’d best pay more attention to my job, not Reidar’s, he admonished himself “aloud” so Gem could hear it.
I didn’t say anything, Gem teased, but yes, you’d better.
The speed of their communication was far faster than words, and the ships hadn’t closed much during the distraction. He cranked the elevation on the ballista to its highest setting, for he’d be firing at extreme range, then moved back to firing position behind it.
But Belladonna was still moving three and half yards per second, and Searcher, turned now to take full advantage of the way the captain had previously ordered the sails trimmed, was up to twice that speed and increas
ing, both ships consuming the distance between them as quickly as the winds allowed.
Belladonna, square-rigged, was designed to run directly before the wind, and the southwestern course she was confined to by the rocky shoals bound her to a relative crawl. Cedrick curved Searcher’s course along the shoals’ edge, dangerously close to the jagged underwater peaks, but he knew his business and the ship sped on.
The Varshan captain crossed their course and turned into the wind, expecting the mercenaries to continue their turn away from the visible, deadly shoals and into range, but Alan understood that Cedrick knew precisely where to sail between the spars of rock. How he knew, he hadn’t said, but Alan suspected he’d sailed around Gaelin Island before.
Cedrick continued a broad curve through the northwestern bearing he’d ordered, and it became clear that the mercenary ship would cross astern of the Varshan warship as he’d predicted. About the time Alan anticipated they were in extreme range of the scorpions, the port forward bolt-thrower let fly, the steel-tipped projectile arcing through the air and landing, to Alan’s surprise, dead center on the center of the fo’c’sle, the lucky shot tearing a small hole in the flying jib as it fell. In Alan’s estimation, the engineer had let fly far too early, out of nervousness or perhaps overconfidence. After all, Belladonna was seemingly much heavier armed than Searcher.
He didn’t have time to worry about the shot, for Belladonna was now visible at the edge of the firestone’s magical sight. Aiming at the scorpion that had just spoken, he steadied his breath, his nerves calming as his years of training took hold. Holding the weapon’s focal point just below the scorpion mount wasn’t easy against the two ships’ heave, so he instead allowed it to pass through that point as he tensioned the firing lever.
His conscious mind didn’t know exactly why or when he’d actually fired, so complete was his concentration on the timing and aim, but his eye, hand, and body worked as they had been mercilessly trained by Elowyn and some of his father the king’s best archers. The flaming bolt leapt skyward, flashing out toward Belladonna in a blazing arc of fire, and when it fell, it shattered the deck around the scorpion mount, spilling the weapon and its unfortunate crew into the sea and setting aflame the whole port foredeck of the galleon’s fo’c’sle.
By Blood Hunted: Kingsblood Chronicles Part Two (The Kingsblood Chronicles Book 2) Page 7
