Shards of a Broken Crown (33 page)

“Worse. It
looks like we’ve got a Quegan raiding fleet heading this way,
and it looks like they’ll get to us before the Kingdom fleet
does.”

Nardini looked
perplexed. “There shouldn’t be enough ships in Queg to
make up a raiding fleet. A few of the richer nobles, like Vasarius,
have a single galley, one they didn’t send on that big raid
last year, but if there are five other warships left in Queg, I’d
be shocked. A dozen or so are under construction in Queg, but they
won’t be ready to launch for at least another month.”

“Then who
belongs to that second fleet?” asked Roo.

Nardini
shrugged. “We’ll find out soon enough.”

Roo said, “I
wish I had your calm.”

Nardini said,
“Well, truth to tell, if you get free, I’m a rich man. If
you get caught, I was your prisoner.”

Roo had to
admire the Captain’s poise. But his perverse nature demanded he
spoil it. “Well, if Vasarius catches us, I hope I live long
enough to hear you explain to him how you managed to let us capture
your ship.”

The Captain’s
face drained of color. “Put on every inch of sail you can!”
he shouted aloft.

Roo laughed.

The Captain
continued calling out orders to the men aloft as the two fleets bore
down on the ship. Roo called to the lookout, “As soon as you
can identify that fleet off the starboard, sing out!”

“Yes,
sir!” replied the man aloft.

Roo found it
impossible not to look continuously astern, to attempt to measure in
his mind the progress the galley behind was making. In his mind’s
eye he could see the hortator belowdecks slamming his wooden mallets
onto the drum used to keep the rowers in unison. Roo knew that when
they were close enough, and the Captain called for ramming speed, the
beat would pick up and that huge ship would seem to leap forward, its
heavy iron-clad ram striking this little ship in the stern. Then
armed men would swarm aboard, and if Roo was lucky he’d die
during the combat.

The galley drew
nearer and Roo saw a man standing at the bow, watching intently.
After a few moments, Roo said, “Well, it’s Lord Vasarius
himself.”

Nardini said,
“Then we had better pray that the wind picks up or more slaves
die quickly, for we are unlikely to encounter mercy at his hands.”

“I’ve
found the man lacks any sense of humor, myself.”

Nardini said,
“I’ve never had the pleasure of any social encounters.”

“With
luck, you won’t anytime soon,” said Roo.

From aloft the
lookout shouted, “Kingdom ships to the starboard!”

Roo raced to the
bow of the ship and looked. After a few minutes, he could see that
both squadrons heading toward him were Kingdom ships. He whooped in
joy and turned to shout to the Captain, “Which can we reach
first?”

From the rear of
the ship, the Captain shouted back, “Those to the starboard are
closer, but if we change course toward them, we will lose speed.”

Roo didn’t
debate. “Just keep as much speed as you can and let Vasarius
decide who he wants to fight first.”

Roo heard a
crash. He ran to the stern of the ship and saw the Captain cowering
over the loose tiller, letting the high sterncastle shelter him.
“What was that?” he asked Nardini.

“A
ballista bolt! Vasarius seeks to slow us down.”

“Or he’s
mad enough to sink his own treasure ship before he lets it get away.”

Looking over his
shoulder, where men worked frantically or watched in fear, he
shouted, “Do we have a bow on this ship?”

Silence greeted
his question. “Damn,” Roo swore. “We can’t
even shoot back!”

Captain Nardini
said, “A little more to the left and he’d have disabled
our tiller.”

As if listening,
the officer in charge of the ballista fired more accurately, and
Captain Nardini was almost cut in half by the tiller as it slammed
hard into him. Blood flowed from his mouth and nose and his eyes were
glassy before he collapsed to the deck.

Roo saw the
tiller swinging loosely and knew the shaft connecting it to the
rudder had been shattered. Roo knew it was possible to control the
ship a little by trimming sails, but he had no idea of how one did
that and was certain a high rate of speed was now out of the
question. The ship began to drift to starboard and the sailors above
frantically tried to trim sails. They looked down, awaiting orders,
and a few of them could see the Captain lying dead on the deck.

Roo sighed in
resignation. He pulled his sword and shouted, “Ready to repel
boarders!”

Instantly those
in the rigging above began sliding down sheets to reach the deck.
Those who had no weapons grabbed belaying pins or large wooden
tackles on rope which could be wheeled like a morningstar.

The Quegan
galley bore down on them and another ballista bolt sped toward the
ship’s stern. A loud crack was accompanied by the entire ship
shuddering with the impact.

From below a
voice called out, “We’re taking water.”

“Wonderful,”
Roo said.

His ship began
to turn sideways to the galley as the wind shifted quarter, and
suddenly the huge galley’s ram was angled at the starboard
stern.

An arrow sped by
and Roo realized he was standing exposed to any archers in the
rigging of the other ship. He ducked low, behind the slight shelter
offered by a hatch cover, knowing his chances for survival were very
thin. If they could stay alive until the approaching Kingdom fleet
reached them, Vasarius would be forced to withdraw. But the chances
of this handful of sailors and smugglers holding off the Quegan crew
were slim.

Obviously a
couple of the sailors agreed, as they dove from the rigging into the
water, attempting to swim to shore rather than face the wrath of a
Quegan warship’s crew. “Stand!” shouted Roo, hoping
whatever note of authority he could muster might stiffen the spines
of the remaining crew.

Suddenly the
ship shuddered and shook like a rat caught by a terrier. The stern
lifted as the huge iron-shod ram ripped into the starboard rear
quarter of the ship. Roo held on for his life as more arrows sped
past.

He kept as low
as possible, waiting for the first boarder.

It seemed as
soon as he thought of boarders, they were there. Quegan sailors swung
down on ropes overhanging the bow of the galley. Similarly dressed in
white trousers and shirts, with red headcovers, they were each armed
with cutlass and knife. Roo gave a silent prayer that Vasarius wasn’t
accompanied by a squad of Quegan Legionaries. The men who swarmed his
ship were little better than pirates, and might be held at bay.

Roo leaped at
the first man near him, running him through before the boarder had a
chance to defend himself. Roo ducked back, using the rear mast as
cover from the archers above. Another pirate managed to step in the
way of an arrow aimed at Roo, and fell to the deck screaming as the
arrow protruded from his thigh.

Roo heard
members of his own crew climbing the ladder from the main deck to the
quarter, and saw the boarders hesitate. He launched a furious attack
at the next man, who stepped back. This caused those behind to
retreat, and suddenly there was a bunching of boarders on the rear of
the quarterdeck. Arrows rained down from above indiscriminately,
striking Quegans as well as Roo’s men.

Another shout
from above caused Roo to dive away as a second volley of arrows cut
down men around him. Roo struck a dying man, who groaned as Roo
rolled over him and came to his feet. One enterprising boarder was
trying to hoist the dead body of a companion to use as a shield
against the arrows, but Roo skewered him before he could get the dead
man adjusted on his shoulder.

A shaft sped by
Roo’s face, close enough for him to feel the wind, and he moved
backward, again trying to use the rear mast and the sails above as
shelter from the bow-fire.

He glanced
around and realized that only two of his own men were standing and
there were a half-dozen boarders advancing on him. He also knew that
if he leaped to the main deck, he’d be exposed to even more
fire from above.

Roo had not
gotten to where he was by hesitating. Without looking back, he
shouted, “Abandon ship!” and with a single step he dove
over the side. Roo struck the water as he felt a hot sting in his
shoulder, and he gasped involuntarily. Suddenly he had a mouth and
nose full of seawater and he began choking.

Roo forced
himself to the surface, choking and spitting water, and by sheer
force of will he kept himself from panic. He managed a deep breath as
arrows sped by him, and with a single gulp of air, he dove under the
water again and started swimming toward the shore. After he had held
his breath as long as possible, he broke the surface and turned,
treading water.

Panic had
erupted on both ships, as the sailors on the deck of his ship were
frantically scrambling to gain the ropes they had just used to board
it. The reason was that the galley was backing water, attempting to
free the ram from the foundering ship. And the reason for that was
the two Kingdom warships that were now bearing down on the galley.

The two ships
were fast cutters. Neither alone could stand up to a Quegan war
galley, but with the galley’s ability to maneuver hindered by
the sinking freighter, the two cutters were like hounds on a wounded
bear with its muzzle stuck in a trap.

Men ran around
on deck like ants after a stick had been jammed in their hill. The
first cutter fired a ballista bolt that sheared rigging and fouled
lines. The second fired a bolt that shattered several oars on the
port side of the galley, probably killing a dozen slaves as the oars
suddenly slammed around inside the hull.

Then the Kingdom
ship closest to Roo blocked his view of the galley for several
minutes. He heard ballistae fire several times before the ship passed
and he could again see the galley. The galley was afire. The ship on
the far side loosed another flaming bolt and the crew of the galley
began to abandon ship.

Roo turned and
swam toward the shore, memorizing landmarks in the distance. After a
few minutes another Kingdom ship appeared, bearing down on him, and
Roo raised his hand, waving his arm back and forth. The ship lowered
sail and armed men on deck stood ready to retrieve those in the
water. Roo looked again at the two Quegan ships locked in a death
embrace. The sinking treasure ship turned, and Roo could see the
stern. There painted in red were the words,
Shala Rose
. Roo
realized he hadn’t even known the name of the ship until that
moment. Now she was down by the stern and forcing the burning galley
down by the bow.

Both ships were
taking on water and men still swarmed off the decks of the galley.
For a moment he wondered if anyone had unchained the slaves
belowdecks, and said a silent prayer for those who wouldn’t get
abovedecks.

Then the Kingdom
ship was upon him and a rope was lowered. He grabbed it and climbed
aboard. Rough hands pulled him over the railing, and as he stood
dripping sea-water upon the deck, one of the officers said, “And
who might you be?”

“Rupert
Avery of Krondor,” he answered.

The name caused
a visible shift in manners. “Mr. Avery,” said the
officer. “I’m Lieutenant Aker, second officer of the
ship.”

“Glad to
meet you,” said Roo. “A few of those swimming around may
be my men, but most of them are Quegans.”

“Quegans?”
said the young officer. “Are they taking a hand?”

“Let’s
say it’s a personal matter. Still, they were not kindly
disposed to our cause.”

“If you’d
like, sir, I’ll escort you to our Captain.”

“Thank
you.”

Roo followed the
officer to the quarterdeck, where they halted just before the ladder
to the sterncastle. Roo knew that Kingdom navy tradition forbade
anyone to climb the stairs to the Captain’s domain without
invitation.

The Lieutenant
called up, “Captain Styles, sir!”

A grey-haired
head peered over the railing and called down, “What is it, Mr.
Aker?”

“This is
Mr. Rupert Avery of Krondor, sir.”

“Heard of
you,” said the Captain to Roo. “Forgive my lack of
hospitality, but we have to rescue some drowning men.”

“Understood,
Captain,” replied Rupert.

“Perhaps
you’ll dine with me this evening, after we reach Sarth,”
suggested the Captain. He turned away before Roo could answer.

Roo looked at
the young officer. “Lieutenant, what ship?”

“You’re
aboard the
Royal Bulldog
, sir. If you’ll come with me,
we’ll get you into some dry clothing.”

As they crossed
the deck, Roo saw other Kingdom ships racing northward, carrying
soldiers to reinforce Sarth. “How many ships?” asked Roo.

“A dozen.
Five carrying troops and the rest of us running screens. So far no
enemy ships, until this one.”

Roo said, “I’m
confused a bit. Two squadrons of Kingdom ships?”

Aker said,
“We’re from the Far Coast, Mr. Avery. This is what’s
left of the command in Carse, with a couple of ships from Tulan and
Crydee tossed into the bargain.” He pointed to the rear. “The
other squadron are the lads from Port Vykor.”

Roo said, “Well,
wherever you’re from, I’m very glad you got here.”

Roo went down
belowdecks, to a small cabin he assumed belonged to the Lieutenant.
The officer produced trousers and a white shirt, dry stockings, and
small clothes. Roo quickly changed, and said, “When we get
situated, I’ll make sure these are returned.”

“No rush,
sir. I’ve another set.”

Roo made his way
back up to the main deck to find Quegan sailors being hauled up over
the railing, then tied and forced to sit under the watchful gaze of
armed Kingdom sailors. Sitting at the front of them, looking as much
like a half-drowned rat as anything else, sat a dejected-looking
figure familiar to Roo.