The Exodus Sagas: Book I - Of Spiders And Falcons (65 page)

“And what of Saberrak and Gwenneth?” James drew his blade, raising it to examine the edge, not that the enchanted weapon ever really dulled, but it was habit. Then he produced a bottle of wine. He knew they all stared at him that moment, heard their breathing stop. He closed his eyes and thought of Annar, his dreams, the scroll, and that he finally had something and someone to stand for. He looked to the Altestani vessel with no fear, and threw the bottle end over end into the Carisian Sea. They did not speak, but James Andellis felt their breathing commense, and he felt peace.

“Gwenneth will be protecting us from the arrows and bolts that they rain down on us, and dealing with the doppelganger wizard. Once they begin to board, and we take out their rudder, steering and masts, she will unload upon the ship with all she has, so we can break off and make it to port while they drift and burn.” Lady T’Sarrin drew her matching swords, head down, realizing that she had just given more bad news.

“
Doppelganger wizard
? You’re serious? How do you know that?” James looked at the slaveship, a hundred yards closer now.

“I sensed it, read the aura from afar. It is old and powerful and leads the ship disguised as the noble that the creature killed I presume. I will handle it, and try and keep us protected from anything he conjures up. Have faith, knight, my skills and training are far beyond any devious shapeshifter.” Gwenneth held her dark staff and black wand in one hand, trying to keep her long dark hair out of her face as she spoke since the breeze of the sea picked up.

“And how do we take out the rudder and steering?
Magic
?” James, always pointing out what was missing, looked at the elf again.

“No. Saberrak is taking care of that. Gwenne has a spell that will allow him to breathe water for a time, and he will leave from the bow of the ship, travel under theirs, and then climb up the rear of the ship, and board them. Once the steering is destroyed, he will take down the masts, then get back onto the Harpy.” Shinayne looked up to the enemy ship again, fifty yards closer. “They are almost within range.”

“
Saberrak
! That is suicide,
plain and simple
.” James shook his head in disbelief of such a notion as he tried to whisper some common sense.

“
Thanks
, I like a challenge. I’ll take that bet, Knight of Chazzrynn.” the gray gladiator smiled, eager to be outnumbered, to be in the middle of a mass of enemies, and to defend what was his. “The scroll is hidden in your bedroll, James, should I not make it back. You have seen Annar and know as much as I in the matter. Please protect it.”

“
Don’t say that
. Please. Just do not let the men give up, and do not get killed. That would make me very angry, and I hate being angry.” Shinayne tucked her feelings away, smiled, and looked back to the helm. “Once we are loose of them, I will need to come back here to get us to port safely. Zen, you will have to cover my end of the ship when I do. Keep the men hopeful and fighting, and do not let anyone be taken.”

“Yes Captain.” Azenairk prayed, feeling the presence of God, and prayed for light and guidance. He felt he needed to help more, do more, so he asked for that as well.

“Regardless of what you may think of me, of what you believe, it has been an honor to fight with you and make it this far.” James turned from his only friends, unable to face them at this moment, fearing it may be one of the last. They were the only ones who had ever stood by him through anything, knowing little much good about him, there was nothing left to do but try and survive, alone at sea.

The knight went the fore of the ship, facing starboard, the priest stopped on the main deck and did the same. Saberrak walked past, patting them both on the shoulder and crouched on the tip of the bow of the Bronze Harpy. Gwenneth uttered a few arcane words, and levitated above the deck, a few feet only, not wanting to get her concentration disrupted by any motions of the ship on the water or the collision that was soon to occur. The elven swordswoman watched, her course set with a man at the helm to keep it, she saw the Altestani trireme keeping pace, running nearly parallel to them, and not allowing for any advance or retreat, nowhere to turn. The tarnished yellow flag of the Bronze Harpy and the white flag of peace and surrender waved in the wind.

“My Lady?” an old sailor with his frazzled orange beard and dingy clothes that manned the crow’s nest spoke up. “The Harlians aren’t gonna be answerin the white flag captain, and neither is that big ship, are they?”

“No, they are not.” Shinayne kept her aqua eyes on the enemy vessel, the men preparing to fire. She maintained the serious composure of stone that was needed by a hundred men looking to her. They knew, all did, that death was moments away.

“The men would feel better if ye took it down captain, since we won’t be surrenderin and all. We have an old Chazzrynn one, from the Harpy’s scouting days for the king. Your permission to hoist it up there Captain?” the man had a folded blue flag in his hands.

“Permission granted.” Shinayne stared, watching the men receive the nod from their captain and draw down the white flag, and raise the blue flag of Chazzrynn, the black falconhead fluttering in the breeze. The crew cheered, yelling and staring at the trireme barge almost ontop of them, waving their blades at both the enemy and their elven captain. The colors reached the top of the crow’s nest, and the men yelled more, a string of curses and threats to the Headhunter.

James drew the blade, Arlinne’s blade, and saluted the war barge of Altestan. The roars of defiance in the face of certain death brought him back to Arouland, back to thirteen years ago. This time he spoke, loud enough for the Gods, and surely the Altestani, to clearly hear. “Crew of the Headhunter of Altestan, you are to stand down your colors and diverge from your course! I am Sir James Andellis, knight of Chazzrynn and by order of the king, you will stand down!”

The cheers from the crew like thunder, the roars from all his friends like a blessing that showered him in light, and he cared not whether they listened or no. James felt more freedom now than ever in his life, surrounded by a symphony of defiance and friendship. Not the ogre slaying mercenary, not the vagabond drunk, he felt alive in the midst of leading a stand against evil.

Then silence. The first volley of trebuchet harpoons and arrows filled the sky over the Carisian Sea. Hundreds upon uncounted hundreds stole the light from the clouds above.

Gwenneth rose higher off deck, almost twenty feet in the air, and held her staff toward the incoming volley. Shimmering translucence walled the starboard side of the galleon, from water to the top of the masts, like a curtain of magical nothing. The men took cover, James and Zen raised their shields, but the elven woman and the minotaur did not move. The arrows and bolts bounced and shattered, hitting something that was stronger than steel, yet like silk on the wind. The larger projectiles passed through, wobbling and off target, like they had gone through water and lost their momentum, crashing into the sea harmlessly.

Another volley flew at the Bronze Harpy, with the same results, splintering arrowheads, flaming bolts falling to singe the waters, and harpoons skittering short of the ship. The crew was amazed, thinking not to survive the onslaught that would ream from the massive warship. They pointed their blades at Gwenneth, yelling and cajoling the opposition as it came within a hundred yards now. A third volley launched and a fourth, meeting the magical barrier the wizard held in place, causing neither harm nor breach to the ship or her crew.

The young wizard, starting to feel the strain of her magicks, saw her enemy above deck dressed as a turban wearing Altestani noble, and saw him begin to point at her. “There you are, doppelganger, let me see what you know.” she rose higher, hoping to keep it focused on her and not the ship. The creature let loose a bolt of crackling blue light at her, streaking across the air between the ships, simple arcane lightning, not the real invocation she had held for a moment once. He was testing her, and she knew it. Her wand went up, she concentrated for a moment then green energy pulsed from the tip of the black crystal device, striking the incoming electricity. The sizzling bolts vanished, as did the green aura from her wand. She returned the message with one of her own, her staff in place holding the barrier secure with little concentration. Gwenne’s wand put away, her fingers fanned out, she chanted over the noise of wave and crew, firing three scorching white streaks of flame at the creature in disguise. They shot through the air faster than arrows, all turning to steam as they got within ten feet of his upheld palms, water misting from them as the spell fell harmless. “Hmmm, you
do
know a little. But how much?” Gwenneth, talking to herself still, flew higher, up to the tips of the masts and above, eye level with the approaching creature, drawing any of his assaults to her and away from the galleon.

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The great slaveship pulled alongside, thirty feet from the starboard side of the Bronze Harpy, showing all the decks and floors filled with dark skinned Altestani men ordering pale skinned slaves to ready hooks, ropes, planks, and weapons to board the ship. Hundreds more than were on the galleon, ready to raid and kill for their masters. Saberrak waited, twenty feet, fifteen, ten, and he dove into the water off the bow of the ship. His greataxe strapped tight on his back with a leather holster, shortsword in his hand, he swam under the crashing waves of the trireme with the dragon flags. He breathed the water like air, feeling a tingle in his chest from the magicks the wizard had cast upon him. He grabbed at the underside of the ship, his hand sliding on the smooth wet wood. Suddenly this was all moving much faster than he had thought. He saw the oars pulling back, their passing overhead reminded him of how short the ship really was at this speed. His blade dove into the wood, splintering as it went, the minotaur being drug back by the current. He grabbed again, trying to slow his pace in the blue depths of the freezing waters, and then he saw the anchor. Iron and massive, shaped like a dragon with outstretched wings matching some of the flags, he reached and held onto it. Breathing in the water, hearing murmured blasts and yelling from above, Saberrak climbed the chain. Using the sword as a climbing tool into the wooden wall he braced against, air finally hit his lungs. He tried not to gasp out of reflex since he had not been truly holding his breath. He climbed higher, above the water on the side of the slaveship, out of view on the rear of the vessel. Fifty feet above the sea, he hung at the very top, hidden below the deck, waiting for the enemy to board the Harpy. He knew that he could not take on the crew alone, so he paused, patient, until their focus was on the galleon. Then he would make his move.

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The collision knocked barrels across the decks, men rolled off their crouched stances, and wood groaned and thundered as the trireme crashed alongside the galleon. Scraping, the ships drove forward on the waves, the smaller Harpy being pushed closer to the coast and away from Harlaheim. Yells and battle charges sounded as planks and hooks from four decks of the massive vessel flew from portholes and bridges. Too many to count, the hooks that passed the magical barrier grabbed the siderail, and pulled tight the ships together. The crew of the Harpy back on their feet, just in time to see the planks fill with men from the Headhunter as they dropped between the ships. They swung by rope, climbed by hooked supports, and ran down planks. Men of various cultures, thin, strong, young and old, driven by finely armed and dressed masters with curved blades and headdresses above their darker skin. Hundreds charged the smaller galleon.

“Cut the ropes! Push the gangplanks into the sea!” Shinayne left the helm, blades out, charging to the deck below her, rallying her men as the enemy boarded.

“Fire!” James Andellis stood low, his men behind him loosing their arrows and bolts into the charging slaves that passed through the barrier. “Now stand your ground men, we
hold them here
!” the knight stood at the front of the foredeck, dozens charging past those that fell from the volley. He raised his broadsword, the edge to his face, and saluted the mass of enemies that he stood against.

Azenairk picked up his warhammer from where he had been praying on the middle deck, and stood hard as his men threw planks and cut ropes. He had done all he could, and felt that he would fight it out and let God decide. The slaves leapt onto the ship, the men cut and crossed swords, one of the slaves swung his machete at the priest, hitting his raised shield. He countered with a hard swing to the man’s ribs, shattering them beneath the flesh and then turned on another. There were many, too many, and Zen attacked the nearest one, swinging his weapon into their bodies, deflecting cuts from an array of swords, his men fighting and dying beside him.

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Gwenneth resisted more energy as spiraling waves of black rushed at her from the palms of the doppelganger, magicks of the dead, forbidden spells, arcane contraband for the mortal world. Her hand ached from unleashing so much power to dispel his attacks. She looked down at the crew. Seeing the battle in place, young Lazlette pulled her staff with both hands, letting the barrier fade. She pointed the tip at the doppelganger, shards of ice by the hundreds launching forward. Flames erupted from his palm, melting the barrage. Another followed, this time orbs of shadow and electricity shot through the evening sky, unerringly targeted on Gregore’. His hands pressed together, black eyes staring at the woman, and a red globe of illumination surrounded him, the sparking bolts crackling into it before they reached him. As they did, Gwenne uttered a quick dispel of her own, not on the globe, but on the shapeshifter. His form involuntarily reverted to a hairless beast, covered in arcane tattoos, with a black cloak around him that whipped in the wind. His curved noble sword and jewelry remained, and he stood on the deck, revealed. Several of his men nearby took notice and began talking in Altestani, and word spread.