Wiqua lowered his head. “You are too kind, Commander, but there have been many others among my people more powerful than I. And yes, I have some talent with healing but when dealing with matters of the mind, there is only so much one can do. I’ve reduced the swelling around his head but he will have to wake on his own.”
“I don’t understand. If there isn’t anything physically wrong with him, why can’t you just wake him? I saw horses that had broken legs walking shortly after they were healed.”
“Animals and humans are different. And more importantly, healing the body and healing the mind are leagues apart, especially the human mind. It is too complex, too unique, and too specific to each individual.”
“So you’re saying you can’t get him to wake up.”
“No, I can wake him, I choose not to. I never touch another’s mind without the consent of the individual. Even the slightest push or prod could affect a person’s sanity. Then again, everything could be fine. It is not my place to make such decisions and it is against my belief to take such a risk. I’m sure you would not want your friend to wake and discover he is not the man you knew.”
“I say wake him anyway. Any change can only improve him as far as I’m concerned,” said Hag.
Jonrell gave the old woman an icy stare, his gray eyes grew cold under the warm sun. “No. I won’t risk it. Wiqua, grab some men and take him down below. Stay with him and do all you can.”
Great. Now we’re outnumbered, facing a better ship, and going against two mages with no one to throw back against them.
Hag just shook her head, watching Krytien be carried below deck. “There goes our ace in the hole.”
“That’s ok.” Jonrell said with a grin, putting his hand on her shoulder. “I’ve got the perfect wild card.”
* * *
Sails had come in, secured tight with rigging.
No need to give those mages a target.
Oarsmen churned away at the now choppy waves, propelling
Ocean Spirit
forward at cruising speed. The earlier breeze had strengthened. A storm brewed off in the distance. Heralded by flashes of lightning, the ship was on course to meet the leaden sky.
Jonrell pulled open the captain’s spyglass as a light spray covered its lens. The approaching galley had exposed its name.
Sea Beast
. In comparison to
Ocean Spirit
, a beast is just what the ship reminded Jonrell of. Weighed down in full armor, men struggled to keep their feet on the swaying deck.
Good old Melchizan. Better protection does little when you’re rolling on an unsteady deck or sinking to the ocean floor.
Jonrell smiled when he moved his spyglass to the ship’s wheel and saw Melchizan himself bringing the galley in. He wore heavy plate, including a thick helm with the visor down.
This should be interesting.
A man who looked to be
Sea Beast
’s captain yelled in Melchizan’s direction, gesturing wildly with his hands. He made a move toward the wheel, but several of Melchizan’s guards shoved him back. The captain fell into one of his own crew’s arms, gesturing obscenely as he stormed off.
Hmm, if I can even the odds a bit, the ship’s crew might take care of my problems for me. Just got to get rid of those mages.
Sea Beast
’s sails were taut in the wind. However, the galley’s approach slowed. The oarsmen’s strokes grew uneven and out of sync, a sign of either a poor rowmaster or fatigue.
They’ve spent themselves just trying to reach us.
Jonrell closed the spyglass and handed it back to Sylik. The old man carried a face hardened by a life at sea and exposed sun. His beard hung low and so did the opening in his shirt. The captain led a merchant ship now but Sylik had spoken to Jonrell of his time as a smuggler in his younger days. He had given up the life after he lost his entire ship and crew at sea.
Sylik and he had reached an agreement and the old seadog had deferred everything to Jonrell except the wheel and command of his oarsmen.
“It’s time. Any questions?” Jonrell asked.
“You do your part, I’ll see we do ours.” The old man peered across the water at the approaching galley, his mouth parting into a smile filled with rotting teeth. “The way that ship’s rolling about, can’t say it’ll be much of a challenge anyway.” The captain took over the ship’s wheel from his first mate and started bellowing orders to his crew.
Jonrell looked down to the main deck. He gestured first to a group of thirty men, a third of whom were the ship’s deckhands, and the rest his own. They took cover behind barrels stacked in the deck’s center, and at his signal notched their arrows.
“Anyone fires a shot before I give command, I’ll make sure it’s the last one they ever fire. Remember your orders,” Jonrell bellowed over the wind. There was an edge to his voice, and men looked more focused than before.
Near the portside railings, most of his remaining men crouched down using shields, crates, and heavy tarps for cover. They waited with a calmness about them, gripping tight the weapons in hand. Jonrell didn’t bother with any final words for that group. They were his most trusted and most experienced, chosen because of their resolve.
“She’s gaining fast,” said Raker, standing a dozen feet behind the commander.
Sea Beast
was only a few hundred yards away, oarsmen still out of step, beating the waves with an uneven sense of urgency.
“Aye, just a couple of minutes.” He glanced back. “Don’t you go off half-cocked either. Wait until Hag has done her part.”
“Aw c’mon. I may get antsy but this right here is what I live for,” said Raker, patting the tarp.
“I hope that thing works,” said Jonrell.
“Trust me,” said Raker. He spat a wad of chew on the deck. “Like Hag, she ain’t pretty, but she’ll get the job done.” He looked over to Hag. A rope ran up through a set of pulleys situated high on the main mast. Several sailors held one end while another secured the other end around the woman. She had bottles strapped to her in every which way and another sailor pulled a cloak over her head, covering the bottles beneath. “Why you got her doing this anyway?”
“She’s four and a half feet tall and older than dirt. Who would be intimidated by that?” asked Jonrell.
“I would.”
Jonrell smiled. “That’s because you know her.” They shared a laugh and Jonrell looked out across the ship one last time, eyes meeting Kroke who waited at the bow in solitude. He caught Jonrell’s eye and nodded.
I swear that man has a death wish to volunteer for what he’s attempting.
A stack of bottles filled with lamp oil lay at Jonrell’s feet. Three old timers among the
Ocean Spirit
’s crew stood next to the bottles.
In the last two hundred yards,
Sea Beast
came roaring in, bobbing erratically in the waves as Melchizan kept precariously on course for a boarding action. Their novice mages attacked first, sending small fire balls across the span of the two ships. The mages showed their inexperience, as many sailed over the deck or sizzled into the water between the ships. Sylik’s call to soak the tarps and deck itself paid off as the flames failed to catch.
“A hundred yards, captain!” Jonrell shouted.
“Aye!”
Sylik shouted down orders to his first mate who relayed them to the rowmaster below.
Jonrell turned back to
Sea Beast
where men prepared gangplanks and twirled grappling hooks, ready for when the ships met.
Jonrell drew his sword. “Take aim!”
The galley inched closer and Sylik shouted for oars to be pulled in portside.
“Release!” Jonrell called out.
Arrows sailed over
Sea Beast
’s railing, falling in one concentrated spot, where Melchizan stood. Despite his protection, the barrage caught him off guard and he stumbled to the ship’s deck.
Grappling hooks sailed above the span and clacked over
Ocean Spirit
’s railing. Jonrell’s men hacked away at the ropes until Melchizan’s men swung across amid a gust of wind from the mages, helping propel the fully armored men.
Jonrell cursed.
I didn’t count on the mages doing that!
Melchizan’s guards held up shields to protect their leader from the continued arrow fire as he struggled to regain control of his ship. Jonrell signaled Sylik and the old captain seized advantage of the moment, separating the two ships with a turn of the wheel and a push from the portside oarsmen.
At least that worked out.
Shouting, chopping of wood, glass breaking, and steel clanging all rang in Jonrell’s ears but over the next few moments he saw none of it, as the last several men to chance the leap across
Sea Beast
down to
Ocean Spirit
swung toward him on the sterncastle.
As the first came in, Jonrell sidestepped the man’s stroke, and countered with a slash of his own that severed the man’s arm at the elbow. Two others followed but the three old timers near the railing dumped each over the side before they gathered themselves.
Another two swung right past Jonrell, high overhead, just as a loud
whoosh
whisked past his ear.
One Above. How many made it across?
Jonrell turned to catch a high blow with his shield. He nearly dropped down to one knee at the impact of the strike, but quickly recovered. Jonrell used his speed against the stronger, more heavily armored foe. He avoided a thrust and swung his sword across the back of the man’s neck.
He kicked the lifeless form under the railing and over the side, chain mail scraping wood as the body careened into the ocean. The commander looked up at Raker throwing a mutilated figure over the railing himself. The bloodied mace he used lay on the deck just near the mercenary’s ballista, now uncovered and empty.
He got the shot off.
Most of the fighting had ended on the rest of the ship. The last two men to have crossed over to
Ocean Spirit
did their best to defend themselves, but their effort was wasted as two arrows from the crow’s nest pierced each man’s neck.
The commander scanned the area at his feet quickly and breathed a small sigh of relief.
Good, the bottles are gone.
Sea Beast
came under control, struggling to turn about and pursue the fleeing merchant ship.
“Any damage captain?”
“Nothing major,” said Sylik. Two arrows stood near his feet and another embedded in the wheel, neither seemed to cause him concern. Blood covered his sleeve and neck.
“Are you hurt?”
Sylik looked down at his arm. “Not mine.”
A ball of magefire hit
Ocean Spirit
’s deck while several others splashed harmlessly into the water. Crew members ran over and beat out the sputtering flames before they caused any damage.
“Good,” said Jonrell. “How soon before we can let them catch up?”
“Whenever you’re ready. I’m just playing cat and mouse with them now while we make some minor repairs.” He laughed. “Most of them fools never made it across the span and are lost in the black below.”
Jonrell pulled out his spyglass to get a better look at the galley. A man clung to the side of the hull, a blade in his teeth.
One Above, that man is lucky.
Kroke’s ripped shirt exposed sinewy arms flexing as he worked his way across the ship’s side.
He doesn’t look like much, but I sure wouldn’t want to be on his bad side.
“Kroke made it. We’ll give him a couple of minutes while we ready ourselves for the next pass.”
The old man roared out orders over the wind and his crew ran around desperate to fill them. The sky above darkened with each passing moment.
Jonrell panned his spyglass over the main deck and spotted the green mage. He failed to see the yellow mage. The rest of the deck moved about in a frenzy as many prepared for the next pass as well. Melchizan stood back at the wheel, still in armor and visor down. “Raker, you got the yellow one.”
“I told you she would work.”
“And I told you to aim for the green one. He’s the one I’m concerned with.”
“I didn’t have a shot. The yellow one was the only one distracted by Hag swinging overhead on the rope and throwing the bottles of oil. The green one knew better.”
Jonrell let out a sigh. “Load the ballista again and fire at the green mage this time.”
Hag yelled and pitched a fit as Jonrell made his way to the main deck to survey the damage. He yelled to the man set on untangling her from the rigging. “Is she hurt?” he asked, noting several arrows sticking from her chest, the front of her tarp blackened.
“No. Just in a bad mood is all. The padding and armor stopped any arrows and we soaked the tarp well enough where she only got singed.”
“Only singed! I swear I’m going kill all of you when I get down from here. You swore to me that I was only to be a distraction and nothing more. I didn’t know I’d be target practice for them lackwits.”
“Complain to me all you want later. Did you drop the bottles?”
“Aye. I dropped them all. And I’ll be doing more to you than complain later, that’s for sure.”
Jonrell turned to the man still struggling with the rigging as Hag cursed his clumsiness and lack of speed. “Put her off to the side for now. She won’t be going up again and I need you with the archers on this pass.” The man smiled and Hag swore but Jonrell paid neither any mind.
Jonrell met Glacar at the railing, as he tossed the last dead body overboard and picked his double sided axe back up, grip wrapped in shark skin. The man’s beard and hair were so wild and unkept they nearly met in the middle of his face, with just a scarred nose and a hint of dark eyes peeking out. Glacar had turned out to be one of the few positives from their last trip to Thurum so many years ago. The burly man had stayed on with the group after the nightmare surrounding the battle of Asantia.
“How did we fare?” asked Jonrell.
“Well enough.” The mercenary looked down at Jonrell’s blood sprayed gauntlet.
“Did we lose anyone?”
“Two of the ship’s crewman, both burned from the green mage. We’ve got a couple men of our own bloodied up, but they ain’t dead yet.”