A Reign of Steel (18 page)

The
dawn broke unusually calm for the Upper Isles, as Reece, Stara, Matus, and Srog
stood on board, facing east, watching the first sun creep over the horizon and
greet the day. Behind them stood Commander Wolfson and his dozens of men, all
on deck, all with weapons at the ready, all watching the horizon. The day was
cold but surprisingly cloudless, the sky streaked with amber, and as the early
morning darkness began to fade and the sun began to light the sky, Reece
wondered what everyone else was surely wondering: when would the Upper
Islanders attack?

The
tension was so thick, Reece could feel it in the air. Now that dawn had broken,
now that the stormy night was behind them, Reece was certain it was only a
matter of time until Tirus’s ships arrived from the open sea and flanked them
from behind. They had decided to dig in, and Reece knew their cause would be a losing
one. With a mere dozen ships left of Gwendolyn’s fleet, there was no way they
could defeat what would surely be dozens of ships, trapping them here in this
harbor.

Reece
examined the shoreline, and he saw the silhouettes of hundreds of Tirus’s
soldiers lined up, arrows at the ready, prepared to fire flame onto the fleet
if they came into range. They were trapped.

Srog
stepped forward, hands on his hips, looking out at the sky. He turned and
looked back over his shoulder, at the open sea, at the direction from which Tirus’s
ships would surely approach.

“We
must hold our position,” Srog said. “And yet, at the same time, if we sit here
we shall be killed.”

Srog
stood, thinking, and Reece stepped forward and surveyed the shores, thinking
too. Reece knew Srog was right; he knew that something had to be done.

“What
would your sister have us do?” Srog asked Reece.

Reece
closed his eyes, thinking.

“She
would not want us to wait and be killed,” he answered. “She would want us to
attack—just as my father would want us to attack. He always cherished the
element of surprise. A smaller force attacking a bigger one: that is something
they would not expect. If we are all to go down, we should go down boldly, attacking,
with swords raised high. Not sitting here, waiting to be destroyed.”

Reece
opened his eyes and examined the shoreline.

“And
since we can’t sail out to sea, my father would want us to attack the shore.”

Srog
examined the shore, perplexed.

“But
as we get into range, their arrows will set us all aflame,” he protested.

Reece
nodded.

“But
if we move quickly enough, they cannot get all of us.”

“And
if we turn and sail out to sea?” Srog asked. “We could confront Tirus’s fleet.”

Matus
stepped forward and shook his head.

“No,”
he said. “My brother’s fleet dwarfs ours. They are well armed and well trained.
It would be a slaughter.”

“It
seems it will be a slaughter either way,” Srog observed.

Reece
examined their options, staring, thinking hard. He came to a conclusion.

“Better
to die on land than at sea,” Reece said.

As
they stood there, debating, suddenly a sailor high up on the mast called down
urgently.

“My
lord! They have arrived!”

All
heads turned, and they rushed to the far side of the ship and looked out: the
horizon was filled with the outline of ships, all sailing right for them.
Tirus’s fleet, on way to trap them in the harbor. To sandwich them between their
ships and the shore.

Reece
could feel the vice getting tighter.

Wolfson
nodded, decided.

“Sail
to the shore!” he commanded. “It is time to attack!”

*

Reece
ducked as a flaming arrow sailed by his head, heart pounding as it just missed.
All around him the boats filled with the panicked shouts of men, as their fleet
sailed for shore, right into the army of flaming arrows flying for them. To
speed up their attack, dozens of men rowed with all their might, trying to
bring the ships faster to shore.

It
was a slow, grueling effort, despite the crashing waves and current helping
them toward land, and all around Reece, the air was punctuated by the screams
of men, as flaming arrow after flaming arrow pierced them—and worse, began to
pierce the sails and the wood.

Reece
and the men scurried about, alternately rushing to put out the flames as fresh
arrows landed, and firing back. Reece glanced out at the other ships, and he
saw that some of them were on fire, the arrows having hit the sails too high, sending
their ships into flame. Reece looked around with dread as he noticed that already
several of their ships were flame, a flaming flotilla sailing into shore. Reece
wondered how much of their fleet, if any, would even be left by the time they
reached shores. If they ever did.

Reece
turned and looked out at the sea, at their escape route, and spotted Tirus’s
fleet getting closer; he knew that they had to make shore. It was just a
hundred yards—but they would be bloody.

Beside
Reece, Stara fought bravely, not even ducking as she stood at the rail and
fired off arrow after arrow at the shoreline, taking out men left and right. As
a flaming arrow whizzed by Reece’s head, he dropped his oar, stood, grabbed a
bow, and joined her, firing back. He landed a perfect shot, from nearly a
hundred yards, and he heard the cry of one of Tirus’s men in the distance and
watched him drop to the sand.

An
arrow landed a few feet from Reece, lodging into a sail, and the flame began to
spread on deck; Reece grabbed a pail of water and doused it immediately. It hissed
and smoked and luckily he put it out—yet Reece did not know how many times they
would be so lucky.

“Lower
the sails!” the captain commanded.

Sailors
rushed to execute his command, just as a flaming arrow hit one; they pulled
faster and faster, Reece running over and joining them, and as the canvas
lowered, Matus ran up and patted out the flames with his bare hand. He did it
just in time, before the sail lit up entirely; leaving a large, black hole in
its center.

Reece
felt the speed of their ship drop, and Srog looked at the lowered sails with
worry.

“It
will cut out speed!” he yelled to the captain.

“I
don’t care!” the captain yelled back. “It’s my ship! And we’re not going down
in flames!”

Reece,
too, worried about the slower pace—and yet he realized it was a smart move, as
the barrage of flaming arrows grew thicker and as more ships in their fleet
began to catch fire. The sails just made them too vulnerable.

“LOWER
THE SAILS! PASS IT ON!” the captain shouted out to the ship beside them, and
their sailors yelled out his order to the next ship, and they to the next ship.
One at a time, all the sails in his fleet began to lower. One of the ships
could not lower them in time, and Reece flinched at the awful sound of his men shouting
as they lit up in a great ball of flames.

As
they got neared, now about seventy yards from shore, the currents were getting
stronger, pulling them in amidst the crashing waves, and they regained their
momentum. They passed the jetty on their right, and Reece spotted a group of
soldiers, hidden amidst the rocks, suddenly rise and take aim for them.

Reece
saw that Stara was in their line of fire, and that she had no idea, as she
stood proudly and continued to fire for the shore; he turned and ran for her.

“Stara!”
he cried.

Reece
sprinted across the deck and dove, tackling her, driving her down to the deck.
They hit the deck hard, Stara crying out as she impacted the wood. Yet as they
sank, an arrow sailed by exactly where she had just been. The arrow pierced Reece’s
shoulder instead, and he shouted out in pain.

Reece
lay there, groaning, looking at Stara, who looked at him, equally wide-eyed. Reece
could tell by her expression that she realized he had just saved her life.

He
wanted to talk to her, but he was in too much pain; the flaming arrow was still
on fire in his shoulder, and Stara, horrified, patted it out. With each pat, it
hurt Reece even more.

“Stay
still!” she cried. “I have to get this out!”

Reece
looked over, and saw the head was not all the way in, only a few inches. But
still, it felt as if were piercing through his entire body.

“I
don’t know if you should—” he began.

But
before he could finish the words, Stara reached down and yanked the arrow out
with all her might.

Reece
shrieked, blood gushing from the wound. It was the most painful thing he’d ever
experienced; Stara quickly reached up with her palm and covered the blood. She then
used her teeth to pull a strip of cloth from her shirt, and wrapped it around
his shoulder several times. More arrows whizzed by overhead, and they both ducked
low to miss them.

Reece
looked down, his wound throbbing, and saw his bandage seeping blood. Stara tore
another strip and tied it again.

“Sorry,”
Stara said, as Reece winced. “It’s not exactly what I’d call a lady’s touch.”

There
came a great shout and a commotion on board, and Reece looked up with surprise to
see several of Tirus’s men jumping on onboard as they sailed closer to shore, alongside
the jetty of rocks. Reece looked up and saw they were now hardly thirty yards from
shore, and Tirus’s men were lined up, all leaping for the ship. Several bounced
off the slick rails and landed, screaming, into the waters; others grabbed on
but were knocked off by Reece’s men. Yet enough of them managed to land on
board, and to pull themselves up. They were invading the ship.

Reece
scrambled to his feet, along with Stara, raised his sword with his good arm,
and raced for the invaders. He stabbed two of them before they could get over
the rail and sent them hurling back into the waters. A third, though, landed
beside him, and he raised his sword and swung around, aiming for Reece’s
exposed neck. Reece could not turn in time to block it, and he braced himself.

Stara
lunged forward, wielding a long spear, and stabbed the soldier in the chest before
he could complete his blow. The man cried as she jabbed him backwards, over the
rail, over the ship, and tumbling backwards into the waters.

Reece
looked at her, stunned, and so grateful.

“Looks
like we’re even,” he said.

She
smiled back, but she did not pause. She raced past him, wielded her spear in a
dazzling display, surprising Reece as she swung the ten-foot spear around again
and again, using it as a staff, knocking out four more of Tirus’s men as they tried
to take the ship.

He
came up beside her, looking out at the damage, all the floating bodies in the
water, and both of them stood there, breathing hard, side by side.

“Where
did you learn to wield a spear like that?” he asked, impressed.

She
shrugged.

“Women
on the Upper Isles are not allowed to use swords. So I learned to wield staffs.
You don’t always need a blade to kill a man.”

Several
more arrows sailed above their heads, and Reece looked out and saw how close
they were to shore now. Waves crashed all around them, and their ship lifted
high and was brought low, as the current brought them in at full speed now,
riding the waves. They were now hardly twenty yards to shore, and hundreds of Tirus’s
men, wielding swords, firing arrows, rushed forward to greet them, wading out
into the waters. His men, firing back, were falling left and right. It was like
walking into a wall of fire.

Reece
knew that something needed to be done fast—if they continued like this, they
would all be dead before they reached shore.

Reece
had an idea; it was bold, and risky, but it was crazy enough that it just might
work. He turned to the captain.

“Can
you set it aflame?” Reece shouted out.

The
captain, just feet away, turned and looked at Reece as if he were crazy. He
clearly did not understand.

“Our
ship!” Reece called out. “The sails! Light them! Set the whole thing on fire!”

“Are
you mad?” the captain shouted back. “So we shall all go up in flames and die?”

Reece
shook his head, coming in close, grabbing the captain’s arm with urgency as
arrows sailed by their heads.

“We
shall arrange casks of oil around the center flame. As we get closer, we will let
his men board the ship. As they do, we’ll jump off the back, and when we’re
safe in the waters, we’ll fire our flaming arrows and burn our ship with
Tirus’s men aboard!”

Srog,
standing nearby, looked at the captain, who looked questioningly back at Srog,
both of them uncertain if Reece was mad or a brilliant commander. Finally, arrows
whizzing by, they both seemed to decide there was little left to lose, seeing that
a certain death lay ahead of them

The
captain nodded and began barking orders. His men rushed to follow his command,
placing several casks of oil around the mast, and draping the lower sails over
them.