A tall pointed ridge comes into sight, followed by a rocky shoreline. Then we see the fort on the left of the ridge.
“Wake the men,” I command. “It is time.”
The Battle for Fort Rocksabre
The fort is small.
It’s a simple box built into the side of the ridge. As we near, I notice two towers protruding from large rocks in the water with bridges connecting their tops to the crenellated roof of the fort. Atop the towers, I note small catapults. Another tower rises next to the ridge with a dark pavilion at the top. A lighthouse.
A branch of the fort sticks out further to the left along the shore. Torches light the infrequent windows, and guards walk with little points of light along the top of the fort.
This will be interesting.
The shoreline is treacherous. Boulders stick out at odd angles and line the sandy bottom. We will not be able to get in very close with the ships that way, but it appears to be the only landing for at least a mile. To the left of the beach is another rocky cliff, topped with a forest that curves northward.
Following orders I receive from Jarl Hralfar’s ship, I command our ship be stopped. This, of course, is not instantaneous.
Thus far, we have not been spotted. The mist still clings to the water, partially hiding our ships. The stars offer little light. So far so good.
We lower a rowboat from the starboard side, filled with soldiers. Each of the ships does likewise. Within moments they disappear into the mist.
I glance anxiously at Jarl Hralfar’s ship. Then I gain the attention of the men standing behind the ballistae on my own vessel.
Shortly I gesture to the catapults on top of the towers.
They take aim, and I stop them. Wait.
I hear the water. The wind.
Then there’s a loud splash.
One of the soldiers curses and we look to the left, where one of our own is floundering in the water, having hopelessly missed the rowboat.
“Did they hear?” one of the soldiers whispers.
I hear something coming from the fort. “Yes,” I reply. “But they do not know it was us.”
I catch a glimpse of a man running with a torch along the top of the fort, towards the lighthouse. Then the mist obscures him from view.
“Continue on,” I command quietly. “Into the next rowboat.”
The second rowboat fills with soldiers and lowers into the water soundlessly. Aela, James, Percival, and Ullrog stand beside me, waiting to follow me into our respective rowboat.
A sudden flare of light.
In the darkness it seems as if the sun itself had decided to pay us a visit. I am temporarily blinded and my eyes take a moment to adjust. My face falls at what I see.
A fire roars at the top of the lighthouse, illuminating the ridge and tower in a large radius. Then an enormous beam of light, shone through a lens like one on the end of a telescope, shines right onto my ship.
“FIRE!” I command, abandoning all secrecy. “FIRE NOW!” The startled men at the ballistae hurriedly let loose their payload towards the catapults.
The first bolts are aimed too high. They shoot over the top of the weapon now taking aim at us. My heart drops into my stomach when I watch something take fire in the bowl of the catapults. They turn and point straight at us.
I’m close enough to hear the shouts of men atop the fort.
“INTO THE BOATS!” I shout. “EVERYONE IN! NOW!” I don’t need to tell the soldiers again. Hurriedly they pile into the next rowboat.
“You too,” I command, looking at my friends.
“Not without you,” says Percival, holding up his sword and shield.
“TAKE COVER!” a soldier shouts.
Percival’s eyes widen and he raises his shield. I barely have time to turn and see why.
A volley of arrows, tipped with tar, flames dancing in the air, arcs directly towards us. I grab Aela and jump behind the mast as Ullrog crouches behind a barrel and James darts under the stairs that lead onto the bridge of the ship.
Aela is shocked to find herself pressed against me behind the mast, but there is not time to say anything. The arrows thud into the wood all around, ripping through the sails and setting them aflame with a great whoom.
Each arrow is a point of flame, charring the wood. The tar leaks onto the wood and it catches fire, and I know the ship is lost.
“Come on then,” I urge, trying to find time before the next volley of arrows comes. Without bothering to see if she is okay with it, I throw Aela into the boat and gesture for Percival to enter next, and he reluctantly does as I say.
James jumps on next without persuasion, and a glance at Ullrog tells him I will follow. He nods and enters the boat. I hear a monstrous clang.
“COME ON, KADMUS!” Percival bellows, leaning out of the hanging boat to yank me in.
“I’ll be on the next one,” I comfort. “I have to see to the other soldiers. Go.” Aela tries to object, but I interrupt, “That’s an order.”
Then I release the boat and it drops into the water.
Orange light captures my attention. A fireball the size of a boulder rockets through the air and straight towards the ship. The other catapult releases its identical load.
Every soldier still aboard the ship, myself included, sprints for the last boat.
The fireball hits.
There’s a monstrous crash as fire explodes outward and the boulder smashes through all layers of the ship. It pounds on my eardrums relentlessly, even after the boulder has hit the water below with a tremendous hiss.
The second fireball makes contact and a wave of flame throws itself across the deck. Men fall into the flame and catch fire, screaming. I smell burning flesh.
The wave of fire burns towards me.
Then I turn and jump. I am not able to brace myself for the cold of the water.
I gasp for breath as I break the surface, fighting hard; my armor and weapons weigh me down. I taste salt on my lips.
The ship roars like an inferno and with the noise of a tumbling tree, the center mast tips and falls into the water. Beams and boards crack. Frantically I swim away from the sinking ship.
The mist still clings to the water, so I am unable to see where the rowboats have gone. Tracing my mental picture, I begin to swim for shore.
Slowly I begin to feel a current on my legs.
No.
The sinking ship, as it dives into the deep, creates a vortex that sucks in everything within reach. Unfortunately, I happen to be just within its grasp.
Is this how I am to die? I think. Drowned by a sinking ship?
I continue to fight forward. The vortex is still weak, but it won’t be for much longer. I continue to make headway but my pace is slowing, though I fight ever harder.
I’m not going to make it.
Despair begins to overtake me. The feeling seeps into my bones and begins to penetrate my heart.
No. I will not die here. My job is not yet finished.
Another push lurches me only a few more inches forward in the water, and as it happens, I see my salvation.
A rock.
I grope forward, reaching as far as my hands can stretch. My fingers almost brush it, when a wave suddenly pushes me forward.
I make contact with the rock roughly, but just manage to grip the edges of the rock with my aching fingers. I hang on tightly, trying to pull myself up, though I am dazed by the impact.
The ship dives beneath the surface and there is a blast of water that surges skyward as the sea swallows its prey. The glowing orange lights of the fire hiss loudly as the waters of the ocean beat back and finally subdue them.
An impending wave enters my vision, but I lack the strength to protect myself.
In a feeble attempt to stay alive, I throw myself towards the rear of the rock. I am saved from hitting the spire again, but the wave throws me forward.
I cannot control my path. More rocks appear from the mist. I hit one and go under, but only for a few sec
onds and come up gasping. Just in time to run headlong into yet another.
I hardly have the brainpower to cling to the rock. Another wave crashes against my back, but I have stabilized myself to lie with my stomach against a relatively flat part of the rock and the wave breaks over me less-than-harmlessly.
My gaze travels upward, searching frantically for the shore. I must be close.
The left tower, protruding from an enormous boulder sticking out of the seawater, stands directly above me. I look just in time to see a well-aimed ballista bolt hit the right-hand catapult.
A beam gives and I hear a crack, and the fireball that had been loaded and ready to fire flings from the damaged catapult, but in the wrong direction.
You’ve got to be kidding.
I dive into the water to my left, and as I surface yet again I watch the flaming ammunition bounce from the rock where I had lain, and into the water with a crash and a puff of steam.
The water throws me forward again, and I find myself under the waves. My strength has all but left me and I have no power to bring myself to the top.
I hit the bottom. The salt stings my eyes and refuses to allow me the privilege of sight. I cannot die like this.
Holding my breath, with the last of my strength, I tense my legs and jump as hard as I can towards the surface.
I come up with my hands and knees on the sand.
My hair streams with saltwater and I cough up a good bit of the stuff, steadily crawling my way out of the water and onto the dry sand. For the first time I find myself drained of all strength, and I cannot raise myself to my feet.
Where am I?
The fort sits to my right, above a rocky cliff from which the sandy beach curves. The rock-strewn water lies just in front of it.
The cries of men come from the fort, but also from the beach.
Then the arrows.
Must find cover.
With a groan I force myself to my feet, and then stumble along the beach. I catch sight of several soldiers; many rowboats lie on the sand, most of them turned onto their side to provide cover.
An arrow whizzes past me and hits the sand harmlessly. Then my legs give out and I fall to the sand.
“There! It’s the captain!”
“Get him! Bring him in!”
Suddenly I feel hands on my arms and shoulders, and I am dragged through the sand and behind an overturned boat. Arrows thud on the wood.
They lay me on my back. “Thank you,” I manage, viewing my rescuers.
“Quite the swim,” one of them replies.
“We can’t lose you yet,” replies the other. Her voice seems familiar. My wearied and beaten brain processes the voice, but cannot remember whose it is until she comes into view. “In fact, we may need you to fight,” Genevieve continues. “The fort is not yet ours.”
“What’s the status?” I reply.
She gives me a look asking me to rephrase.
“Where’s the entrance into the fort? How many soldiers do we have, how many archers, and how far from the fort?” I make no effort to move.
“Just up the hill,” she replies. “It’s not too far, maybe over a hundred yards. So far we don’t have many soldiers. They’re still coming in the rowboats, only some archers. Not enough.”
“Very well then. The catapults are down?”
“One of them is. The other is still firing.”
“You have the archers focusing on the catapult?”
“It’s a little high, but with a good shot and some luck we may be able to get the operators off of the tower.”
“Good,” I grunt as I get up onto my elbows. “You hear from Jarl Hralfar yet?”
“Haven’t seen him,” she says as she offers me her hand.
I stare at it for only a moment, and then take it replying, “Hope he’s alive.” She pulls and with some effort, I stand.
“What made you want to take a swim?” she asks as my form straightens, towering over her.
“It seemed the better option than to die aboard a flaming ship.”
“Just curious,” she responds. “You ready for a fight?”
“No,” I reply cynically. “I’m beaten, sore, and tired.”
“Pity,” she says. “The fight hasn’t even started yet.”
“You have a plan to get us up to the gate?” I ask. “Without getting skewered with arrows?” Another of the projectiles hits the underside of the rowboat loudly, the tip trying its hardest to break all the way through.
“So far, no,” she says. “You’ve got any ideas?”
A soldier falls dead, an arrow piercing his chest as he runs from the arriving rowboat.
“Only that we use these as shields. If we can get enough men, we can carry them up while hiding underneath.”
“Then how do we break in the door?”
“Don’t know.” I scan the beach for any sign of my friends. I do not see them, but there are other rowboats further down that I cannot see behind. “How thick is the door?”
“How would I know?”
“Doesn’t matter. If it’s thin enough I can break it in.”
“I’ll hold you to it.”
“Want to give it a go?”
“Only if you do.”
I respond by ordering a couple of soldiers to pick up a boat and hold it sideways, so the side of the boat drags along the ground. We will march upward, with the bottom of the boats facing the archers.
Before advancing, I study the entrance of the fort. The gate is a medium-sized set of double doors, most likely with a single beam serving as a lock from behind. A small overhang juts out just over it. Perfect.
“Onward,” I command, unsheathing my hammer. Water still drips from my clothes and armor, but I ignore it the best I can.
Then our line of boats starts forward.
The arrows cannot penetrate the wood, no matter how many are shot. A couple of the archers aim low, to hit the feet or ankles of the soldiers carrying the makeshift shields, but their arrows prove ineffective.
I hear a cry and a body falls from the fort. A whoop from one of our soldiers follows.
The arrow snaps from the body as it hits the ground and lies still.
I look up to the gate and an idea sparks within my head. “We’ll use these as rams,” I say to Commander Magnus.
She ponders the strategy. “Not a bad idea. Don’t see why not. Their archers can’t hit us while we’re under them.”
“Lift it up,” I command the soldiers. They follow my lead, and within seconds we hold an upside-down boat over our heads. It’s lighter than I thought it would be; there are enough of us underneath that the weight is distributed. “The gate is straight ahead,” I explain. “On my mark we all run. Understood?” The soldiers nod. “Everyone got a good grip?” They nod again, and some of them shift their hands on the wood of the overturned seats. “Now,” I grunt.
Our little band charges up the remaining distance and the bow of the rowboat slams into the gate with a satisfying bang. A couple of the soldiers yell as they lose their grip and stumble forward. For a few moments the weight of the boat pushes down on me with an increased force, and then they take their place again.
“Again!” I command. We back up a few steps, and then charge.
Arrows continue to thud into the boat and around our feet. There is not yet a melee, but the shouting of the men would provoke an inference otherwise.
Again the boat cracks into the gate. I command a third attempt.
After the sixth impact, we encounter a more dangerous dilemma.
An arrow blasts straight through the wood of the boat and into the lower neck of the soldier standing directly in front of me. He dies instantly and falls to the ground.
Magnus voices what I have already concluded. “Crossbows.”
“Steady!” I command. “Now!”
The boat hits the gate for the seventh time and the sound of splitting wood makes me hopeful. As we back up another comrade falls underneath a crossbow bolt.
/> I don’t need to voice the command to charge. The men know the time and the boat hits the gate for the last time.
We tumble into the fort and I roll myself out from under the falling boat. It plows over at least three of our enemies, at least pinning or stunning them, but they will be back up in moments.
My hammer whips around and smashes a soldier in the side, throwing him through the air and into the nearest stone pillar.
Genevieve’s sword lashes into sight as she parries an incoming blow, twirls his sword to the side, and jabs forward into his stomach. She withdraws it just in time to catch an incoming strike on the flat of the blade and throw back her attacker.
An enormous sword swings widely from my left side, but I catch the blade with the spike of my hammer and twirl it up, then to the left. He lacks the agility with such a cumbersome weapon to recover quickly enough, and he finds himself on the floor with blood seeping from his midriff. The sight gives me chills, and I force myself to look away.
Magnus ends a short spar with a swipe, and then turns and gets her body within inches of the next enemy. He is shocked and, with no room to maneuver, stumbles back and raises his sword, but not before her dagger has found a place in his throat. She leaves it and knocks aside an incoming strike, but their blades once again collide. With a powerful push, she shoves her opponent’s blade away and slices him across the stomach. He keels over and lies still.
She brings her sword up to block a raised strike, but as it comes down, she knows she will not get there in time.
My throwing knife protrudes from his chest and he falls to the side with his axe clanging to the ground next to his head.
“Thanks,” she breathes, looking about for more of them.
I only give her a nod and walk to the body to retrieve my knife. “Did the Jarl give you a plan once we got in?” I ask, yanking the blade from the steel of his armor.
“No,” she replies, similarly taking her dagger from the neck of a fallen enemy. “I’m assuming he didn’t give any to you?”
“None,” I say, wiping the blade of my knife on the tunic sticking out from the armor of a dead man. “Kill anything that fights back.”
She nods. “That’s what I was going to say.”
“Perfect,” I reply, sticking the knife in my belt. Our soldiers are beginning to flood the hall of the fort, and I hear the clash of steel down a couple of the hallways.
Dragonhammer: Volume II Page 27
