Chapter 43
A Duel of Ships
Soren watched the Bayda’s Tear appear out of the entrance to the cove a few minutes after the sun rose. The Typhon and her crew had spent the night at anchor beyond the distance over which a ballista bolt could be fired from the shore. Despite Rui’s declarations of murderous intent, Soren and Varrisher were under no illusion: he would try to set the Typhon alight if the opportunity presented itself.
No one had slept well that night, least of all Soren. He was already awake when the call to station was made shortly before dawn. Varrisher wanted them all wide-awake and alert well in advance, so the anchor was raised and the sail set as soon as everyone was ready. They had been tacking up and down one of the channels between the submerged reefs in wait, but now that Rui was showing his nose Varrisher gave the command to go straight for him.
Soren stood next to him at the bulwark on the quarterdeck of the Typhon, feeling his excitement rise as they watched the distance between the two ships diminish. He had been a passenger on board for too long; now he would get to show his worth.
‘How does this work?’ Soren said. He had never seen a naval battle before, much less been involved in one. The capture of the Honest Christophe was as close as he had ever come.
‘We’ll manoeuvre to come alongside one another and we’ll fire a volley with the ballistae to try and clear their deck a little. They’ll probably try to do the same, so be ready to duck. Once that’s done, all the sails will be taken in and we’ll grapple the ships together. When we’re close enough, it’s over the side and at them. I’ll leave some men up in the rigging to fire crossbows down at the deck, but we’ll win or lose on what we do with our swords. That’s where you come in,’ Varrisher said. ‘Until then, you should stay out of harm’s way. It would be unfortunate to have come all this way only to be taken out of the fight by a well-aimed shot. That brings me on to the other thing that I need to discuss. If I should be killed, Rodin will take command of the Typhon. He’s a good man; you can trust him. Whatever way the fight turns out, if Typhon is still floating at the end, I’ve instructed him to take you wherever you wish to go, as we agreed.’
‘I’m sure that it won’t come to that,’ Soren said.
Varrisher nodded. ‘I hope that I’m being overly dramatic, but it’s often best to prepare for these eventualities before things get started.’
The Bayda’s Tear was close enough for Soren to make out the individual features of the sailors on board when Varrisher ordered the ballistae fired. The ship shuddered as they launched their heavy, steel tipped bolts toward the Tear where they shot across the deck. Each bolt cut a swathe through the sailors massed there.
Rui responded in kind, but the Typhon carried fewer crew so her deck was less crowded. Soren counted a half dozen casualties at most, far fewer than Rui had suffered, but the speed and ferocity with which they had been killed still shocked him.
Varrisher moved to the wheel. He manoeuvred the Typhon aggressively, steering left and right on Blasco’s instructions to keep her away from the reefs as the two ships continued sailing parallel to one another. The deck pitched with each turn but Soren found that his sea legs had finally become more reliable, on the larger ship’s deck at least. The sudden and unpredictable movement made him feel sorry for the sailors who were up in the rigging trying to aim their heavy naval crossbows.
Blasco stood next to Varrisher at the wheel, frequently pointing to some unseen hazard lurking beneath the surface of the water. He was wearing a foul weather hat that obscured his features. His knowledge was an advantage to them, all the greater while Rui was unaware of it.
Rui had brought the Tear close to the Typhon, but maintained too great a distance to attempt grappling. It seemed that his plan was to run the Typhon onto a reef. Soren smiled at the knowledge that it wouldn’t work. He wondered how long it would take Rui to figure that out.
Blasco directed Varrisher to steer the Typhon into another clear channel, forcing Rui to follow and hope that his opponent would blunder onto the next reef. He had clearly expected the Typhon to founder as he had already begun to turn the Tear to pounce on her once she had struck the reef. When it didn’t happen, it left him out of position and even to a landsman like Soren it was obvious that he was uncertain what to do next.
Varrisher was not one to allow an opportunity to pass by. Soren had to admit that, although he might not have been much more than a competent swordsman, he was a superb sailor. After confirming with Blasco that there was room to manoeuvre, he called out a nautical term to his crew that was beyond comprehension to Soren, and turned the wheel hard over. The Typhon responded instantly and Soren was forced to grab onto the bulwark to stop himself from falling overboard.
The Typhon spun about in a circle tighter than Soren would have thought possible, and Varrisher aimed her directly at the Tear, her bow pointing toward the stern of Rui’s ship. Soren’s heart leapt into his mouth. Could Varrisher be intending to ram? The space between them was dropping away rapidly and it seemed to Soren that even if a ramming was unintended, it was now unavoidable. Just as he began to tighten his grip in preparation for impact, Varrisher called to the crew once more and threw the wheel over in the opposite direction. The Typhon turned sharply once again. Soren stared down the length of the Typhon toward the bow, his heart still in his throat as the side of the Tear raced past the Typhon’s bowsprit, no more than inches away. He felt a wave of relief as clear air appeared, leaving the Typhon alongside the Tear, and well within grappling range.
The Typhon’s momentum and the close proximity meant that a collision was inevitable, but it seemed to Soren that this was Varrisher’s intention all along. Side to side, the Typhon and the Bayda’s Tear slammed into one another with a thunderous boom and a jolt that would have thrown Soren off his feet had he not been still gripping the bulwark with fervour.
‘Grapples away. Go at them, Typhons,’ Varrisher shouted.
Soren could hear the sound of crossbow bolts fizzing through the air and thudding into wood and flesh. Screams of pain intermingled with shouts and battle cries as the crew of the Typhon hurled grappling hooks onto the Bayda’s Tear. As soon as the two ships were secured, they followed their grapples. Soren had been so caught up in the novelty of the naval combat that he almost forgot this was the moment when his own skills came to the fore.
He vaulted the bulwark, drawing his sword. The Fount appeared as soon as he desired it and he smiled as the mass of men on the deck of the Bayda’s Tear were shrouded in a flickering blue glow. Movement began to slow, and for the briefest time Soren considered allowing his connection to remain open a little longer, to see if he could temper the flow to sustain his need and no more.
The memory of the fight outside The Drunken Rover was too fresh in his mind though, and he resisted the temptation. If things were going against them, he could always draw on it again.
He forced the connection to the Fount to close and waded into the fight. The Typhons who had crossed over to the Tear had formed a pocket, pressing into the mass of Rui’s crew. Varrisher had all of his men tie a strip of grey cloth around their heads or upper arms before the Bayda’s Tear emerged from the cove, grey being the state colour of Ruripathia. It made life far easier for Soren in the heat of battle.
Soren pushed his way through the Typhons to get to the enemy. He had the image of Sancho Rui’s face burned into his mind and he was eager that Rui should fall to his blade rather than someone else’s. Rui was the priority irrespective of his personal motivations. The Typhons were outnumbered, but Soren reckoned that if they could kill Rui his crew would surrender.
Finally faced with the enemy, Soren was able to set himself to turning the tide in their favour. He had chosen to use a rapier rather than his shorter sword. He knew that the longer blade would be difficult to wield in a tight press of men, but with his elbows he cleared the room to move his arms and used the tip of his sword to clear the space in front of him.
The cl
ash of metal and the shouts of fighting men filled the air, drowning out all other sounds. A pirate slashed his short sword at Soren’s head. Soren parried it high and drew his dagger with his left hand. He pushed forward putting the pirate off balance and stabbed him in the guts. The pirate grimaced and Soren finished him off before shoving the body to the deck. Another man took his place before Soren had the chance to step over the body. His rapier was still held high so, as the pirate began a thrust to Soren’s midsection, he cut down hard and split the pirate’s head open.
He pushed forward into the space, slashing out with both sword and dagger to either side as he went, adding to his tally. It put him in the midst of Rui’s crew. A man bumped into Soren as he tried to get through the mass of his own crew and at the Typhons, not realising that he was faced with an enemy. Soren barely paid him a thought, lashing out with his sword. The pirate parried it away, which came as a shock to Soren, and grabbed his complete attention. The pirate countered and his blade came at Soren far more quickly than any of the previous pirates had managed. He countered it, but it was clear that the effect of the Gift was already ebbing, and was doing so quickly.
It seemed that the small draw he had made in the Fount was not enough to keep the Gift going for very long. Even without the extra benefit of the Fount, he was still more than a match for any of the pirates on the ship, but whether he would be able to have the impact on the battle that he wanted was another question. As soon as his desire to draw from the Fount returned, it appeared once more. He felt the rush of energy flood through his body. He scooped the pirate’s sword out of his way with his dagger, then ran him through with his rapier.
He allowed the connection to remain open a little longer this time, revelling in the way his body grew exponentially stronger, while all around him slowed at a similar rate. At the first hint of light-headedness he focussed on blocking off the Fount.
Rui’s crew were so focussed on getting at the group of Typhons on the Tear’s deck, few even noticed Soren in their midst. Another pirate eventually did and attacked him with a wild sweep of his blade. Soren parried just in time to bring his sword back down to stop another attack from a second pirate. Now he was identified as an enemy in their midst, more pirates converged on him. The first pirate attacked. Soren knocked his blade aside and stabbed the pirate’s neck with his dagger.
He kicked the body free and turned his attention to the others. He spotted Rui standing behind his men, trying to urge them to drive the Typhons from their deck. Soren cut down another pirate and rather than fight his way through to Rui, he dropped his shoulder and charged.
Soren had a big frame, which had once been well developed and muscular. The deprivations of his captivity had robbed him of some of this weight and natural strength, but he was still big and strong enough to barrel his way through a group of unsuspecting men. He drove forward with his legs until he stumbled out of the press of bodies and faced Rui.
Rui looked surprised, obviously not expecting to have to deal with an attacker himself. He reached for the hilt of his sword, which was still sheathed. It was Soren’s Telastrian steel sword, which both delighted and infuriated him. He had hoped that Rui would keep it, it being most likely the finest sword that would ever cross his path, rather than sell it on, but seeing it at his waist fuelled Soren’s anger.
‘You’ve something that belongs to me,’ Soren said.
‘Sancho Rui takes what he likes,’ he said as he finished drawing Soren’s sword. He squinted slightly. ‘I know you. You’ve been on this ship before.’ He dropped into a low fencer’s stance that looked very practiced as his eyes widened in recognition. ‘Ah, of course. The slave who helped Ramiro Qai in the jungle. I knew I should have killed you when you were my prisoner.’
Soren had no interest in bantering with Rui, so he said nothing.
‘I will put that mistake to rights now!’ Rui said. He lunged forward and Soren parried the attack with a grinding clash of steel. He cringed at the thought of damaging his beautiful sword, but knew it was the sword he was holding that was going to take any damage.
Rui mistook Soren’s hesitation for uncertainty and slashed left and right in a flamboyant but sloppy attack. Soren pushed the sword aside with his own vastly inferior blade and stepped forward quickly, punching his dagger into Rui’s throat.
Rui gasped, his eyes wide in disbelief. His mouth twitched as though he was about to say something, but the only sound was a bubbling hiss, and that came from his ruined throat rather than his mouth.
There was a sickening squelch followed by a crunch as Soren cut through Rui’s neck and spine.
‘Rui is dead!’ Soren shouted so loudly his words scratched at his throat. ‘Sancho Rui is dead.’
He could barely hear his own voice over the din of the fighting, so to emphasise his point, he held the head aloft, trying not to cover himself in gore in the process. As he pulled Rui’s head free from the body, something fell from around the stub of his neck and dropped at Soren’s feet. He trapped it with his foot to inspect when he was done advertising Rui’s death. He continued to display the head, its lifeless eyes staring out at the crew. Gradually they started to notice it, and the fighting waned.
When the noise had dropped to a manageable level, Soren shouted out again. ‘Sancho Rui is dead! Throw down your weapons and you’ll not be harmed.’
Varrisher had been fighting a group of Rui’s crew on the quarterdeck of the Typhon. In the heat of the battle, Soren hadn’t realised any had crossed over. Varrisher disarmed the men he was fighting and then hopped up on the bulwark where everyone could see him.
‘We came here to kill Sancho Rui and we’ve done that. I’ve no interest in your ship or anyone else. Throw down your arms and we can all go our separate ways with no more killing,’ he shouted.
The sound of grumbling started to grow from a low murmur to a confused discussion and was eventually joined by the sound of a sword hitting the deck. It was followed by many others, and then the sound of cheering coming from the Typhons. With a nod and a smile to Varrisher, Soren lowered the head. Only then did he bend down to pick up whatever it was that had fallen from Rui’s neck. He moved his foot which had been covering it and gasped.
He recognised it straight away, but could barely believe his eyes.
It was a small silver amulet with a clear stone at its centre: a Ruripathian huntsman’s amulet, a good luck charm of which there had certainly been more than one made, but few enough even still. It was also the only gift of value that Soren had ever given Alessandra. He reached down to pick it up, his hand shaking, his heart racing. The sight of it filled him with desperate, dizzying need for it to be hers, but part of him could not accept that this could possibly be the one he had given her.
His heart sped to a frenzy as his fingers came in contact with the cool metal. He savoured the touch, wanting the feeling of hope that it brought to last as long as possible. He gathered it and the chain that was attached to it into his hand and brought it close to his face, his knuckles white as he clutched it. With a deep breath he opened his hand. Etched on one side in the long dead northern language was the prayer that Jarod, the royal huntsman who had given him the amulet, told him was meant to be for good luck and to bestow protection on the wearer. It hadn’t worked for Rui.
With another deep breath he flipped it over and there, in the neatly engraved letters placed on it by a silversmith in Ostenheim at Soren’s request, was Alessandra’s name.
The rush of joy he felt made him so lightheaded he had a moment of panic that the Fount was flooding into him. If the amulet was on board the Tear, Alessandra could not have been lost at sea. He swayed on his feet as a variety of emotions — hope, love, fear, desperation and others he couldn’t even identify — rushed in on him in a confused jumble.
It was joined by a wave of panic as he looked down at Sancho Rui’s headless corpse. Had he killed the only man who could tell him where she was, or if she was still alive?
Chapter 44
The Amulet
Varrisher jumped down from the bulwark and made his way over to Soren as the crew of the Bayda’s Tear were checked for weapons and herded to the front of the ship to be supervised.
‘Well done,’ he said. ‘That went as smoothly as we could have hoped.’ He noticed the expression on Soren’s face. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost.’
‘I feel as if I have,’ Soren said, holding the chain and amulet out in front of him and staring intently at it.
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s a Ruripathian huntsman’s amulet,’ Soren said.
‘Huh,’ Varrisher said. ‘That’s odd. Not something you expect to see in these parts. I wonder how it got all the way down here? I suppose Rui must have taken a Ruripathian vessel with a huntsman at some point. Plenty of refugees coming down to Valkdorf now. Must have made easy pickings for him.’
‘Not this one,’ Soren said. ‘It was mine.’
Varrisher was still bemused by the strength of Soren’s reaction to the small silver amulet. ‘Of course, I’d forgotten about your hunting adventures. He took it from you when you were his captive?’
‘No. I gave this to someone,’ Soren said. ‘She fled Ostenheim a few weeks before I did. I was looking for her in Auracia, but there was no trace of her ever having been there.’
‘You think this might explain what happened to her?’ Varrisher said.
‘I do. I hope I haven’t just killed the only person that can tell me how he came by this amulet,’ Soren said, his voice strained. He handed the head he still held to Varrisher who took it delicately and with an appropriate degree of disgust.
In an effort to put his mind to something else, he knelt down at the side of Rui’s corpse and began to prise the dead fingers from the hilt of his sword. Any joy he might have had in being reunited with it was tempered by the presence of the amulet. The matching dagger was still in its sheath on the belt around Rui’s waist, which also belonged to Soren. He pulled them free roughly, angry at Rui and himself.
The Huntsman's Amulet (Society of the Sword Volume 2) Page 22
