David Wells: Linkershim

“That was close,” Jack said.

“A little too close,” Alexander replied.

The ballista bolt had fallen several yards short, leaving nothing but a patch of white frothy bubbles where it had plunged into the ocean.

Captain Kalderson’s hoarse voice carried his orders over the wind, pushing his crew to coax more speed out of the sails and oarsmen. And it was working … the gap was widening.

Hours after Kalderson’s ship had passed out of the protected waters within the ring of sharp stone peaks surrounding the dragons’ home, the watchman in the crow’s nest had called out in warning, pointing to the horizon. Alexander’s all around sight didn’t reach far enough for him to see the threat, but judging from the flare of fear and anxiety in Jack’s and Kalderson’s colors just moments after the alarm, he knew it was bad.

In the first few minutes after the small armada had been spotted, Alexander chided himself for failing to anticipate Phane’s next move. He knew full well that the Reishi Arch Mage could see nearly as well as he could. It was naive to expect that Phane wouldn’t be waiting for him. A few minutes of clairvoyant reconnaissance would have provided all the warning Alexander needed. And yet, it hadn’t occurred to him. Too many weeks of lying in bed, he rationalized.

Over the course of the afternoon and early evening, the ships trailing behind them became strung out as each captain pushed his crew to the limit.

Shortly after the enemy had been spotted, Alexander went to his stateroom and spent a few minutes gathering information about his pursuers. Through his clairvoyance, he discovered that they flew the flag of Tyr, and the lead ship was commanded by the heir of the House of Tyr, the man Alexander had taken the Thinblade from. He suspected the man wanted it back.

Now, standing at the railing with Jack, blind to the enemy in the distance, Alexander could do nothing but wait while Kalderson’s crew struggled to stay ahead of them.

He felt the sensation of imminent danger flood his mind just moments before another ballista bolt hit home, high on the hull of the ship. It wasn’t a particularly damaging shot but it was proof positive that at least one of the enemy ships had closed to weapons’ range.

Captain Kalderson came running up next to them, leaning over the gunnel to inspect the damage.

“It looks like that bolt has four tines,” Jack said.

“It’s a shredder. Pirates use them to tear up a ship’s sails.” Kalderson looked out at the enemy ship and shook his head. “Makes no sense. They shouldn’t be gaining on us like that.”

“They have a wizard on board,” Alexander said.

Kalderson looked at him and swallowed. “Lord Reishi, I don’t know how long we can keep this up. My rowers are getting tired.”

“I know,” Alexander said. “It’s after dusk … maybe we can lose them in the dark.”

Before Kalderson could respond, the watchman in the crow’s nest cried out, pointing dead ahead.

“Dear Maker,” Kalderson whispered.

“What do you see?” Alexander asked, frustration welling up in his belly at his blindness.

“A blockade,” Kalderson said. “Looks like twenty ships or more stretched out between Baden and Almeria … they’re still a long way off, just a string of lights on the horizon.”

“Douse all your lanterns, wait for dark, and then turn due south,” Alexander said.

“The wind isn’t with us,” Kalderson said. “We’ll have to rely on the oars.”

“As long as they can’t see us, it won’t matter,” Alexander said.

“The strait between Baden and Lorraine is dangerous, shallow in places,” Kalderson said. “Trying to navigate it in the dark is risky.”

“Not as risky as trying to run a blockade,” Alexander said.

Night fell, moonless and clear, countless stars casting a soft, eerie glow on the calm water. The ship turned in the dark and set a course along the western coast of Baden. The crew held their breath as the enemy ships slid past them in the night.

Alexander went to his stateroom and opened the door to his Wizard’s Den. He sat cross-legged inside his magic circle and within seconds, he was floating against the ceiling in the captain’s mess of the enemy ship.

Several men were seated around the worn and stained table bolted to the floor in the middle of the room. Tyr sat at the head of the table, lamplight shining off his bald head as he absentmindedly twisted his jet-black goatee. A wizard sat to his right and the ship’s captain and first mate sat to his left. At the opposite end of the table, facing the captain across the length of it, sat a wraithkin.

“We know he can cast illusions,” Tyr said, “so it stands to reason he’s still nearby.”

“Perhaps,” the wizard said, “though he may have simply eluded us in the dark.”

“So how do we find him?” Tyr asked.

“Patience,” the wizard said. “All avenues of escape are being watched. You’ve worked tirelessly all winter to prepare for this day. It’s only a matter of time before his ship is disabled and then we’ll have him.”

The wraithkin started laughing softly, drawing disconcerted and nervous looks from the other men at the table.

“What’s so funny?” the first mate asked.

“You underestimate your quarry,” the wraithkin said, vanishing a moment later, leaving faint wisps of black smoke in his wake.

“I don’t like him,” the first mate said.

“Neither do I, but he may be useful,” Tyr said.

“And he may be right,” the wizard said. “Phane has spent the past year trying to kill the pretender and yet he still lives. I would advise caution.”

Tyr snorted, shaking his head. “I have almost fifty ships under my command. I’ve sold or bartered everything in my hold to make ready for this day. I will have my sword back if it costs me the lives of every single sailor in this fleet.”

“I’m simply suggesting that you spend the lives of those aboard other ships rather than risk those of us aboard this ship,” the wizard said.

“That goes without saying,” Tyr said.

Alexander drifted up through the decks into the sky; then with a thought, he was floating over the blockade stretching between Almeria and Baden. More than twenty ships spanned the gap between the two sub-islands of Tyr. He moved south, the island of Baden passing by in a blur, and found another blockade stretching across the gap between Baden and Lorraine. A few more minutes of exploration told him that all of the channels leading from the interior of the Isles of Tyr to the open ocean were blocked by ships either flying the flag of Tyr or allied with him.

The only way out was through the enemy. He opened his eyes and sighed, shaking his head as he stepped out of his Wizard’s Den.

“Anything you want to talk about?” Jack asked from his bunk.

“Looks like we’re going to have to fight our way through.”

“I was afraid of that.”

***

Dawn brought clear skies and a shift in the wind, but most importantly, a clear horizon.

“Looks like your gambit worked, Lord Reishi,” Kalderson said, smiling broadly.

“For now, Captain,” Alexander said. “But I’m afraid we’re headed for another blockade. Fortunately, the dozen or so ships in our way aren’t carrying any wizards.”

“What are we going to do?” Kalderson asked.

“Run the blockade,” Alexander said with a shrug.

“You do remember what happened the last time we ran a blockade, yes?”

Alexander nodded. “Show me your maps, Captain.”

A few minutes later in the captain’s stateroom, Alexander tapped a spot in the channel between Baden and Lorraine.