Avengers of Gor

by John Norman

  “Possibly,” I said.

  “I do not think the corsair fleet will be so accommodating,” said Tab.

  “Nor do I,” I said.

  “Should we not leave soon?” asked Tab.

  “We have something to do first,” I said.

  “What is that?” asked Tab.

  “Paint the ships white and yellow,” I said.

  “Why?” asked Tab.

  “Is it not suitable?” I said. “Are we not simple, innocent Merchants?”

  “I do not understand,” said Tab.

  “I have my reason,” I said.

  “Tonight we will put to sea,” I said.

  “Tonight?” asked Tab.

  “I do not think the enemy will expect that,” I said.

  “Night is filled with hazards,” said Sakim. “Who but the bold and desperate will risk Thassa in the darkness?”

  “It is light now,” said Aktis.

  “The horizon is clear,” said Thurnock. “There is no sign of the enemy, not for days.”

  “It seems he has withdrawn,” said Clitus.

  “Yes,” I said, “so it seems.”

  Chapter Fifty

  Impact at Sea; Fog; A Situation is Desperate; Sakim’s Proposal

  “Rudders right!” I cried.

  The impact had been totally unexpected. There had been no sound of alien oars, no warning, no cries.

  “Reef!” called Thurnock.

  But these waters were free of reefs. And if a contact of this size had been made with a reef, there would have been a hideous tearing and splintering of wood, like thunder at one’s ear drum, a swift inrush of cold water rising to the gunwales.

  “We are aground!” cried Sakim.

  But ground seldom rises and shakes, recoiling. The contact had been made neither with rock or wood, not with stone, nor beach, nor grating sand. It was as though the Tesephone had inadvertently struck, or had been struck by, some enormous living mountain, a mountain which could live and breathe, could lift itself and then, trembling, subside, and draw away.

  The Tesephone, tilted, slid down the side of the living island, splashing into the water. At the same time, I heard cries from the island. “We have found them!” we heard. “Spears and shields! Arm your bows and slings! Release the vulos.”

  “The enemy!” shouted Thurnock.

  “Away!” I called to the helmsmen.

  Most Gorean vessels south of Torvaldsland are double-ruddered. This makes the vessel more responsive and agile than a single-ruddered vessel, a feature important in naval warfare, both in attack and flight. The two rudders, each with its own helmsman, are commonly engaged with one another, or coupled, in such a manner that they move in unison. Uncoupled, each is independent of the other, which feature, particularly should one rudder be damaged or destroyed, permits the vessel to proceed unimpaired.

  Almost at the same time as the impact the early morning fog parted and, briefly, I glimpsed several tents, many men, some seizing up weapons, some great heaps of stone blocks, of the sort which had been used in the great catapults of the mercenaries near Mytilene, and a flare of fire to the right. Too, water began to rumble beneath the surface suggesting an agitation or a disturbance of some sort. At the time I did not understand the likely explanation of this seeming subsurface tumult or thrashing. Too, I did not understand, then, the meaning of the flames to the right. I thought they might be igniting bundles of pitch for use as missiles, but I saw no visible catapults, or any means for delivering such missiles. Then the fog closed in again, and I could see little or nothing through the fog save for the dim incandescence of the fires being lit or stoked to the right.

  “Away!” I called again. “Stroke! Stroke!” I heard the mallets of the keleustes strike the cadence drum, first one blow, and then, after several Ihn, the next.

  The Tesephone, turned about, sped into the fog, leaving the Brigand Island behind.

  I went back to the low stern castle, accompanied by Thurnock, Sakim, and Clitus.

  “We are discovered,” I said, looking astern. I could still see the dim glow of the fire behind us, through the fog.

  “How could the enemy island be so far from Mytilene?” asked Clitus.

  “I think it was not close to begin with,” I said.

  “It was probably waiting for us,” said Sakim.

  “At least,” said Clitus, “the corsair fleet is still far behind.”

  “I doubt it,” I said.

  “But we left in darkness,” said Clitus.

  “So, too, I think,” I said, “did they.”

  “I heard shouts of having to do with releasing vulos,” said Clitus.

  “Seven ships will soon know our position,” said Thurnock.

  “To encounter the Brigand Island was a great misfortune,” said Clitus.

  “How could it have come about?” asked Thurnock.

  “A lamentable coincidence,” said Clitus.

  “Lamentable, yes,” said Sakim, “but I think it no coincidence. First, it was doubtless clear in Mytilene that we had come from Thera. Many, including Tarchon, would have known this. Accordingly, it would be conjectured that we, in leaving Chios, might be returning to Thera.”

  “Even so,” said Thurnock, “the sea is large.”

  “Do not forget,” said Sakim. “They would know our point of departure. Knowing our point of departure and our likely destination, and our likely haste to reach our destination, suggesting a straight course, would considerably reduce the likely area to be covered in a search.”

  “The sea is still large,” said Thurnock.

  “Living islands, as sluggish as they may seem,” said Sakim, “are alive and in some respects very aware and sensitive, that having to do with detecting fish, locating desirable feeding grounds, and such. Too, the behavior of living islands, like that of other forms of life, those of a sufficient degree of sensitivity, is susceptible of modification, even training of a sort. I would guess that the mercenaries associated ships with feedings, an easy enough thing to do. In this way, the island would tend to seek out ships, this behavior, when successful, being rewarded by the mercenaries.”

  “The sea is still large, very large,” said Thurnock.

  “The living island,” said Sakim, “can detect the sound of an oar striking the water at a distance of pasangs.”

  “In the moment the fog parted,” I said, “it was clear the island was heavily freighted.”

  “Stone blocks, many men,” said Thurnock.

  “How many men?” I asked.

  “I would guess four hundred,” said Thurnock.

  “At least,” I said.

  “Perhaps some there were evacuated from Mytilene,” said Thurnock.

  “Quite possibly,” I said.

  “Given the numbers evacuated from Mytilene,” said Clitus, “most of those evacuated would still be aboard the ships.”

  “Unfortunately,” I said.

  The corsair fleet constituted a formidable foe at sea not only in virtue of its size, its number of vessels, but in virtue of its number of men, this enhancing its capacity both to board and resist boarding, and to mount frequent shifts of oarsmen, this enabling the vessel to maintain a high rate of speed almost indefinitely.

  “It is not only ships we must fear,” said Sakim.

  “How so?” I asked.

  “It is the island, as well,” he said.

  “I do not understand,” I said.

  “Surely you saw the fire kindled on the island, noted the turbulence in the water,” said Sakim.

  “Speak,” I said.

  “The great beast was in excruciating pain,” said Sakim.

  “How is that?” I asked.

  “You saw the fire,” said Sakim.

  “Surely,” I said.

  “Thos
e who inhabit the living islands or have their camps on them,” said Sakim, “move and guide the islands, when they wish, by gentle pressures, from which the beast withdraws.”

  “True,” I said.

  I had learned that much from my brief time on the Island of Seleukos.

  “The mercenaries are heartless and cruel,” said Sakim. “You saw the fire. They do not respect the island or care for it. They goad it. They spur it to do their bidding; they exploit it, pitilessly, mercilessly, by sharp instruments and blazing irons.”

  Thurnock growled in fury.

  “See how low the beast was in the water,” said Sakim. “Consider the weight with which it is still burdened, the huge blocks of stone, inhumanly not discarded, even after the destruction of the catapults.”

  “Would we had a hundred ships,” said Thurnock, “to go back and free the beast, to scrape the parasitical scum from its hide.”

  “We can do nothing for the beast,” said Sakim.

  “We must think of escape,” I said.

  “We can easily outdistance a living island,” said Clitus.

  “Do not be too sure,” said Sakim.

  “The danger is the corsair fleet,” said Clitus, “should it detect us, given its armament and its presumed changes of oarsmen.”

  “Do not underestimate the effects of jabbing, pointed metal poles, serrated blades, and white-hot irons affecting the Brigand Island,” said Sakim, “nor the willingness of the mercenaries to kill it in their attempt to overtake us.”

  “The corsair fleet is faraway,” said Clitus.

  “Perhaps not so far,” I said. “We do not know.”

  “Even now,” said Clitus, “we are slipping away in the fog.”

  “The fog will lift,” said Thurnock.

  “By that time,” said Clitus, “we will have disappeared.”

  “You forget one thing, my friend,” said Sakim. “Should the mercenaries lose touch with us, they need only give the Brigand Island a temporary surcease of its pain, and, soon, it will seek us of its own accord.”

  “The behavior of seeking ships for food,” said Thurnock.

  “Abetted by the acuity of its senses,” said Sakim, “senses capable of detecting the entrance of an oar into water, the creaking of rudders, from pasangs away.”

  “Raise the mast and yard,” said Clitus.

  “There is little wind,” said Sakim.

  “Yet we will do so,” I said.

  “But, Captain,” said Sakim, “that, in itself, given the height of the stem decks of the corsair fleet, and the glass of the Builders, will make us visible from pasangs away.”

  “That is the point,” I said. “We have been detected. We must now signal Tab on the Dorna to separate from us and proceed alone. We cannot in wisdom, the two of us, engage the corsair fleet. If one ship must be lost, and we hope none will be lost, better the smaller Tesephone than the larger, more crewed, more formidable Dorna. If it escapes, it can still continue our work.”

  “You will lead the corsairs away from the Dorna?” said Sakim.

  “That is my hope,” I said.

  “And what of us?” asked Sakim.

  “We may have an opportunity to transfer you to the Dorna,” I said.

  “Do not insult me, Captain,” said Sakim.

  “Forgive me,” I said. “I spoke foolishly.”

  “You expect to entrust us to the hands of fortune?” said Sakim.

  “Yes,” I said, “in a way.”

  “I see no point in leaving all things to fortune,” said Sakim.

  “What do you have in mind?” I asked.

  “Marking a card, chipping a game stone, weighting a die,” he said.

  “I attend your words,” I said.

  “Turn back to Mytilene,” he said.

  “The Brigand Island and the corsair fleet are both between us and Mytilene,” I said.

  “I know these waters,” he said. “Turn back to Mytilene.”

  “We would not be able to reach Mytilene,” I said.

  “I know,” he said.

  “The fog is lifting,” said Thurnock.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Incident off the Coast of Chios

  “There is the coast of Chios,” said Thurnock, pointing forward, toward the thin brown line, half visible over the water.

  “They have cut us off,” said Clitus.

  We had been under sail, the sail now limp on the long, sloping yard.

  “That was my intention,” said Sakim.

  “There are only three ships there,” I said. “Where are the other four?”

  I had hoped to lead the corsair fleet, all seven fifty-oared ships, away from the Dorna. Clearly this stratagem had been unsuccessful. I had no doubt that the other four corsair ships, possibly in communication by means of message vulos, were in pursuit of the Dorna. If the Dorna had been detected, possibly in virtue of the activity of the Brigand Island, I did not think it could long elude its pursuers, given the numbers of rested oarsmen on which they could draw, heavily crewed as they were with large numbers of draftable, evacuated mercenaries. There was the possibility, of course, that the Dorna had somehow escaped and was now bound for the Cove of Harpalos.

  Thurnock eyed the three ships between us and the coast. “The oars are still,” he said.

  “They know they have us,” said Clitus. “We have failed to reach the coast.”

  “It was not my intention to reach the coast,” said Sakim.

  “You know the waters we are in?” I said to Sakim.

  “Of course,” he said.

  “We passed these waters, safely,” I said, “and under oars as well, when we first came to Chios, to warn Mytilene of the intentions of the corsairs.”

  “I think we were fortunate,” he said.

  “Many ships must pass this way,” I said, “and under oars.”

  “Fewer than you think,” he said.

  “There is nothing to fear here,” I said.

  “Do not taunt fortune,” he said, “do not presume on her patience, do not treat her with contempt.”

  We had come to this point under sail, oars inboard.

  “The Tesephone is swift,” I said. “I think we could give our friends a splendid chase.”

  “Until our oarsmen, exhausted and aching, could no longer draw an oar,” said Sakim, “and our friends, with ten shifts of oarsmen, their pursuit never abated, could draw abeam, cast out their hooks, and swarm aboard.”

  I looked at the three corsair ships, each a vessel of fifty oars, the coast of Chios behind them. “What will you have of us?” I asked.

  “Bring us about,” said Sakim, “as though we, dismayed at our position, would risk all in a run for the open sea.”

  I gave the orders.

  “Now,” said Thurnock, “their oars are outboard.”

  “Our men are strong, the Tesephone is swift,” said Clitus. “Out our oars and race east.”

  “No,” said Sakim. “Keep the oars inboard. We will rely on the sail.”

  “They will wonder about that,” I said to Sakim.

  “Let them wonder,” said Sakim. “I do not think the High Admiral of the fleet will be aboard one of those vessels, each surveying the Tesephone like a hungry sleen eyeing a cornered tabuk. The High Admiral would be after bigger game, the Dorna.”

  “There is very little wind,” I said.

  “Keep the oars inboard,” said Sakim.

  “We cannot allow them to come within grappling distance,” I said.

  “Keep the oars inboard,” said Sakim.

  “We are moving,” said Thurnock, looking on the half-filled sail.

  “Use the oars,” said Clitus.

  “In passing the den of a larl,” said Sakim, “it behooves one to tread softly.”


  “The corsairs stir,” I said. Even at the distance it was easy to see the oars were not only outboard but now in the water.

  “The birds of prey spread their wings,” said Thurnock.

  Then, from across the water came the dim sound of a cadence drum, and then another, and another.

  The sight of a galley’s oars, such graceful, mighty levers, drawing, and lifting, in unison, water running from the wood in sparkling rivulets, is a beautiful sight, one that those of my former world had not seen in centuries.

  “They will have us in an Ahn,” said Clitus.

  “By that time we will be well from shore,” said Sakim.

  “If they are on the point of closing with us,” I said, “I will resort to oars.”

  “Be patient,” said Sakim.

  “Would that the breeze might freshen,” said Clitus.

  “Our sail thirsts,” said Thurnock. “Would it could drink the paga of the wind.”

  “Hear the drums,” I said.

  “The beat increases,” said Thurnock.

  “They do not spare their oarsmen,” said Clitus. “In half an Ahn, with chains and hooks they will be upon us.”

  “Clearly,” I said, “they are eager to finish their work.”

  “Bloody work, to be brought to a quick finish,” said Thurnock.

  Shortly, the first of the three ships was within forty yards of us. We could see files of helmeted men, mercenary warriors, not mariners, doubtless mercenaries embarked from the beach near Mytilene. Sunlight was reflected from helmets, from the metal bosses of rounded shields, from the blades of spears. We heard the rustling of looped chains terminating with short, thick metal rods, each of which, as though exfoliating, seemed to blossom into three metal hooks.

  “We must act,” said Clitus.

  “Patience,” urged Sakim. “There are three pursuing ships, three, large and heavy, each laden with supplies and men. Each has fifty oars. These oars, hastening, strike the water, again and again. They are fools, or do not know the waters they ply.”

  “Ready oars,” I called to the benches.

  “Be gentle, I beg of you,” said Sakim. “Be silent as the fog, glide like the cloud, float like the petal of a flower.”

  “There is no time,” I snapped.