Malspire (7 page)

"You did. It can be tedious, but I have found a place, Ajator. I fit about as well as a thorn in an admiral's arse, but I'm here and I think I could be a good captain one day."

"A thorn? Literally or figuratively?"

"Both," I said, smiling at the thought. "I would like to see more action though. I want to strike at our enemies. I want to show the fleet that the Sea Huntress has a sting."

"Be careful what you wish for, Malspire. The gods might be listening."

Chapter Three

“Smoke to starboard!” called the lookout high above me.

I stood at the taffrail. Due to another officer's illness, I was still on duty having already passed the long cold hours of the night watch. I felt tired and hungry. Crosp was there and we tried as best we could to avoid one another. We were a few days out from Umuron and I was looking forward to some land time after a straight run from the capital. I was expecting my brother to be in the region. Ajator had left Norlan a few days earlier. It had now been three uneventful weeks at sea.

The captain and I stepped over to the side where we did indeed see a stack of smoke like a dark smudge on the grey horizon. It was cold, and a light drizzle made the crew damp and helped the cold reach the bone. Although pleased for my waxed long-coat, even that could not entirely protect me from the constant wind and drizzle.

“Bring us about, Mister Ardalrion. We shall investigate.”

“Aye aye, Captain. Bring us about. Starboard, three points. Full speed Mister Brintyne,” I called. The helmsman acknowledged and spun the wheel.

The ship came round, and the engine pounded to a new beat, the great paddle wheel at the rear of the Sea Huntress churned the water white. I made my way to the forecastle and using my officer’s glass, saw a plume of black smoke from a powered boat in the distance. It could have been a merchantman or Imperial Navy, but I had a gut feeling that there was trouble over there. We had boarded many ships in the past but here in the vast expanse of the great ocean, the small Sea Huntress - an insignificant little speck, suddenly felt like a flimsy barrier to the sucking depths and terrors that hunt these waves.

The ship cut a sure path through the grey sea, spattering me with more spray, adding to the drizzle as she rose and fell on the waves. Slowly the distant shapes of two ships came into view. One was a steam vessel of some kind, and the other a large white sailing ship of three masts, one of which was broken. I could just make out the tiny blotches of smoke from gun shots. The powered vessel looked like she was going to board the tall ship. On returning to the captain, I reported what I had seen.

“Clear the deck. Battle stations, Mister Ardalrion.”

“Clear the deck! Battle stations! Run out the guns! Marines to you stations!” I called out and began to walk calmly to my cabin to fetch my arms, observing the crew as I did so.

A boy rang the bell, and all hands ran to their stations. I saw thirty or so marines line the ship. They looked smart next to the seamen in their dark midnight blue uniforms, round helmets crested by a nasty spike, with a metal forehead plate and peak. Each had a musket which was tipped with a long, slightly curved blade. Marksmen climbed to the crow's-nest. Twenty four guns were run out, powder bags taken from storage and placed by each gun which already had shot and water buckets in place. All this happened in the short time it took me to reach my cabin.

All officers took their places, and I returned armed with a service cutlass, which I much preferred to the officer’s rapier sword. I liked to cut, hack, stab and slash, not play dandy footsy like the other officers. Although I was inexperienced I was sure they would die fast in a true sword fight. Perhaps we would soon get the chance to find out.

As we got closer, we saw that the steam vessel was a frigate, a little smaller than the Sea Huntress, and was indeed locked with the tall ship. I could make out a running battle on the white merchant with the defenders holding the forecastle, and the attackers making bloody murder on the rest. The powered vessel was an older style frigate with two large wheals at her rear, and I could now see that her flag was red with a white snake.

“Pirates,” I growled. They were not as common in these parts as further south, but with the war and the confusion it brought, they could probably make a good living here now. Rumour had it that the rebels where using privateers to good effect and these probably had a letter of marque from the rebel leader Duke Valthorn.

“I see it. Close the gun ports and make ready to board her,” Crosp said, standing resolutely, hands behind his back.

I called out the orders, and more men came up on deck with knives, swords, clubs, spears and a few with pistols. Some had put on chain mail, while others had found shields and tin helmets. I too had put on a fine suit of chain mail under my coat, and just hoped I did not fall into the icy waters. Now I could hear the gunfire and the ring of metal. The stink of powder was in the air as was blood and fear. I saw as the enemy, who had now seen us, were trying to cut free of the merchant ship, but they were so entangled that they soon gave up and made ready for boarding instead.

"We shall board the merchant," said Crosp frowning as he made his calculations. "That way they shan't have the opportunity for a broadside before we enter the fray, and we shall join the defenders, Mister Ardalrion. Push them back onto the frigate then keep pushing until they're either standing on water or drowning."

"Sir," I said. "Permission to lead the boarding party, sir?"

Captain Eezuk Crosp turned to give me a chilling smile. "Granted, Mister Ardalrion. Granted."

A bullet hissed past my ear. It was all I could do not to drop to the deck. The captain watched me. Another shot hit the bulwark.

"Marines may fire," said Crosp returning his attention to the battle.

I looked down at the marine sergeant who was waiting for the order to open fire. They were already taking aim. "You may open fire, sergeant."

"Aim low, lads. Aim for their balls. Fire!" called the sergeant which was followed by a spark from each gun, a gout of flame from the muzzles and the deafening roll of the musket volley. Each gun spewed a cloud of smoke which was quickly whipped away by the sea breeze.

At this range, the muskets were not accurate but there was no point in holding back and a few lucky shots found their targets on both sides. I saw two Marines go down, one dead with a dark stain spreading across the chest of his uniform, and the other screaming with a shot to the shoulder. The man was quickly dragged off to the surgeon. We crept closer. With all the gunfire, both decks where covered in stinking gunpowder smoke, and it was getting hard to find solid targets. The smoke stank, and stung the eyes. It was like a poison in the air, and already gave me a sore throat.

“Kill the vermin. Show no mercy. I want the captain alive,” said Crosp.

“Aye, Captain,” I said drawing my cutlass. The captain saw it and sneered at the use of such a butcher’s cleaver.

The noise of battle was a fearful song. The screams of pain mixed with the roars of warriors. Steel rang on steel and shot punctured the melody with discordant beats. Apprehension gripped me with the sudden realisation that I was about to board an openly hostile enemy, something I had never done before in battle. In the books it was associated with heroism and glory but I knew not to trust such words, and as we crept closer I began to feel that I was right not to do so as I saw the grizzled faces and pointed blades and blackened muskets of the enemy.

The helmsman stopped the engines and let the Sea Huntress glide closer. I ordered grappling hooks which were thrown across and pulled tight, men heaving on the ropes. The enemy did not try to cut them but instead shot at the Sea Huntress or shouted curses, and spat and jeered. Again I had to resist the temptation to flinch or duck as the shots filled the air around me. There was fighting all along the merchant but one man found the time to pull his breaches down and show the See Huntress his white arse. The fool was fired upon by just about every musket and pistol on the Sea Huntress but fortune seemed to favour the jester who quickly pulled them up and danced away.

Had I not been so tense, I would have smiled at the show, but instead I gritted my teeth, then called, “Boarding party, make ready!” I stood in the aftcastle and intended to drop down onto merchant’s lower aftcastle together with seven or eight marines and a few sailors including Jodlin who I later learned was told by Harl to keep an eye on me. Others would cross over all along the deck, but I did not want the enemy using the aftcastle as a defensive position. With only yards to go, both sides screamed at each other. Shots fired, and even a few harpoons and spears were thrown. An arrow grazed my shoulder and embedded itself in the stock of a marine’s musket. Then with a crash of timber upon timber, we were upon them.

“Charge!” I screamed as I turned from the cover of the wooden crenulations and stepped up onto the Sea Huntress’s gunwale. It was then that the fear struck me. It had been there the whole time, waiting for its moment to bite. Now it reared its ugly head and bit hard! I was always a craven man in my own mind and it took hold of me like a crushing grip and made me falter. It was a long drop of about eight feet into a pack of braying wolves, but I was now a clear target and so had to either jump or turn and flee. I could not move; either option was too horrific to comprehend, but finally with an effort of will and a sudden fatalistic acceptance, I forced myself to go.

Of course they were waiting and I had a bristling field of blades pointing up at me. That I was not skewered before even landing was a miracle, but I screamed wildly, kicking one blade away, and two more being robbed of my death by the chain mail before coming down with the full force of my cutlass onto a man’s head, who, without a sound simply fell dead to the deck. I too fell and rolled quickly aside to avoid the knives and blades hacking at me. One spear point nicked my ear. A blade just missed my belly. I was being kicked and stomped and had to lash out with the cutlass to make space. The blade went deep into a man's shin. He screamed and fell away. I then managed to hamstring another before finding some space. Jumping to my feet, I did not pause or feel fear anymore, or at least I felt something beyond fear. It was a rage and the only thing left open to me, so I embraced it with all my heart allowing it to overcome all conscious thought.

I half shouted, half grunted with effort and hacked at an arm which recoiled, then slashed at a man's head who threw himself backwards. As more men joined the fight, I began to dance around the deck, cutting, parrying, thrusting, dodging, and stabbing. I killed easily, and found that I was indeed a good fighter or at least a nasty fighter and kicked, spat and head butted as readily as I stabbed and thrust. I cut a man's arm from wrist to elbow. The man had tried protect his head. I forced the blade into another pirate's belly and had to twist and yank hard to release it from the sucking grip of flesh and blood. One ragged looking pirate tried to run a spear through my gut but I stepped aside and pulled the spear past me, forcing the pirate off balance at which point I grabbed him and bit his nose. The poor fool screeched and scrabbled frantically to be free of me, but I mercilessly bit harder and with a sickening crunch bit the man's nose clean off. Blinded by pain and stunned by my ferocity, the pirate fell on his side, face in hands, screaming in horror. I put my blade through the man's neck and left him to drown in his own blood. Why did I bite the man? I do not know - it just felt right.

There was a mighty roar, and the deck shook as Jodlin landed in amongst the enemy. He had a shield and an overly large blacksmith’s hammer which he used to terrifyingly good effect. I saw him crush a man's skull with sickening ease. Jodlin then took a blow on the shield, turned to strike, and although the enemy tried to parry with his blade, Jodlin simply pulverised the fool. Each strike seemed to bring a pirate down. A knife stabbed me in the back which was stopped by the chain mail. This returned my attention to my own fight, swinging the cutlass round to slash the attacker's belly open.

Soon the enemy where backing away from us, a look of fear on their faces. I must have looked like death, bent, hobbling and covered in blood with a cold, half mad smile on my face. I saw the opportunity to rout them from the aftcastle and so charged again.

"Kill them!" I cried. "Crush the pirate vermin. Cut them! Kill them all!" I threw myself at them. Again my armour saved my life from a stab to my side. It hurt like a punch and winded me, but it did not stop my crazed onslaught. Suddenly the pirates fell back. We had taken the aftcastle, and I stopped to survey the situation. Blinking, I wiped blood from my eyes. I had taken a cut to the forehead, but did not remember how. Looking across the deck I could see the battle was not progressing well as more of the enemy joined the fight from the pirate ship. Sudlas was surrounded but seemed to be holding out. I was about to order another charge when through the smoke and noise and confusion, I saw her.

I have often wondered about beauty. When I see a perfect flower, or the perfect sunset, or even the perfect face, I nod and think, it is perfect, but I do not admire it. There is something boring about perfection. The perfect beauty is pleasing to the eye, but it is, strangely, of no interest at all. Something close however, something nearly perfect, but flawed is something to wander at. In the broken, is something to admire. It is close but it is not perfect. It is interesting, even fascinating. There is no need to love the perfect for it is perfect. The flawed however can be loved and the closer to perfection, the greater the love can be.

She was tall. She had hazel hair and she was striking; beautiful, but perhaps not a conventional beauty. There was something in her face and bearing that spoke of strength and confidence. Clad in a full yellow dress and a pretty white coat, she looked completely out of place in this battle and would not have looked amiss in one of the Imperial parks on an afternoon stroll with some lady friends. Now the dress was blood spattered and gunpowder stained, her hair was falling about her shoulders and she was gritting her teeth with a grim determination.