Morgan Rice - Night of the Bold

“The war is beginning,” Dierdre said excitedly. “We must help them.”

She kicked her horse and they rode downhill, skirting the lake that was once Ur, her heart pounding, until finally they reached the shore where the harbor met the cliffs.

They stopped, breathing hard, and looked out. A battle was clearly raging. Cannons boomed, and cannonballs, she could see, sailed through the night, between rows of ships aflame. Dierdre wondered who was fighting.

She looked closer to her and observed the Pandesian ship anchored closest to the harbor. It was massive, its ropes tied near the cliffs, and on its deck she could see, lit by torchlight, Pandesian soldiers rushing across the deck, lighting cannons, their great wicks sparking. She suddenly reeled back as there came another boom, and she watched as a cannonball soared from the ship through the night.

Dierdre followed its trail out to the ocean and saw its missed target: a lone ship, sailing in the blackness, its silhouette visible amidst the conflagrations. It cut its way stealthily through the greater Pandesian fleet. Dierdre’s heart skipped a beat as she realized: those were Escalon soldiers aboard that Pandesian ship. They had commandeered it. It was cutting through the fleet and wreaking havoc – and now the Pandesians were aiming to blow it to pieces.

“We must stop them!” Dierdre said urgently. “They will kill our people! We must board that ship and stop them from firing!”

“But how?” Marco asked.

Without waiting, Dierdre dismounted, ran, and took a flying leap off the cliff. Her stomach plummeting, she aimed for the huge rope anchoring the Pandesian ship and just caught it, palms burning. She wrapped her legs around it and began to climb. Andor whinnied from land, as if egging her on, as if furious he could not join her.

The rope burned at her palms and the arduous climb made every muscle in her body ache. She inched her way up slowly, one foot at a time, making her way toward the edge of the ship, eager not to be seen. Luckily the Pandesian soldiers, their backs to her, were too fixated watching the battle at sea to check their backs.

Dierdre suddenly felt a great shaking on the rope, and she looked down to see Marco landing on it, following her lead and climbing too, just feet behind her.

She soon reached the rail, and in one quick move climbed over the edge. Marco was close behind, and as the two of them landed on deck, they both rose to their feet and looked at each other, shocked they had made it this far, that they were in the thick of enemy territory.

Andor, on land, clawed the ground, stomping, irate he could not join them.

“Go, Andor!” Dierdre called out, feeling badly for this great beast who had brought them here, not wanting him to give them away. “Return to Kyle. Fight for us there!”

Andor did as he was asked, turning and galloping off, needing no prodding.

Dierdre, heart slamming, saw, feet in front of her, dozens of Pandesian soldiers lined up at the rail, heaving cannonballs, preparing the cannons, and lighting torches. She looked out to sea and was able to finally see who they were firing at. She gasped in recognition.

“Seavig!” she whispered to Marco.

“You know him?” Marco asked.

“My father fought with his men many times,” she replied. “We must help them.”

She knew there was little time.

“But how?” Marco asked.

Dierdre gestured to Marco, and they both watched the soldiers lowering torches to the cannons. Without thinking, they both rushed into action at the same time.

They sprinted forward and as they reached the unsuspecting Pandesians, Marco tackled one to the ground, while Dierdre grabbed hold of the hair of another and yanked him away. She also snatched his torch and hurled it over the edge, sending it hissing into the water below. The cannon was already lit, though, and Dierdre, realizing there was no time, threw her body weight into it, desperate to move it before it fired at Seavig’s ship.

Dierdre shoved it a foot to the right a second before it fired.

A great boom shook the air, and the cannonball flew through the air and just missed Seavig’s ship, thanks to her.

The commotion on deck caught the attention of the other soldiers, though, and Dierdre turned to see dozens of fully armed, irate Pandesian soldiers charging for them. She realized, too late, that she had thrown herself right into the enemy’s lap.

She had saved Seavig. But her run had come to an end.

Alec stood at the bow of the ship as he led the small fleet from the Lost Isles, gripping the Unfinished Sword and staring out at the Sea of Sorrow. It had been a harrowing journey from the Bay of the Death all the way along the cost, but finally they were nearing the harbor of Ur. They would skirt it, as was the plan, sail around the massive Pandesian fleet, and continue on in the darkness all the way to the Tower of Ur, where Lorna had directed him to go. It was where, she had said, the Unfinished Sword must be put to use to end this war, and Alec, loyal soldier that he was, would go anywhere he was needed to save his homeland.

Alec held the Unfinished Sword tight the entire way up here, gripping the hilt, unwilling to let it go, this magical weapon which had become a part of him. He marveled at how his life had changed since the Bay of Death. He still saw in his mind’s eye his felling of dragons. It almost felt like a dream.

As they neared the port of Ur, this place that had once meant so much to him, Alec was overcome by a new feeling. He could not quite understand it, but it was almost as if the sword were communicating with him, as if it were urging him to stop here. As they approached the harbor, Alec held out a hand and the ship came to a stop, and the fleet behind him.

His men stood beside him, looking at him questioningly.

“Why have we stopped?” one of his men asked, coming up beside him.

“The Pandesian fleet lies ahead,” another chimed in. “If we stay here too long, they will see us.”

Alec gripped the rail and felt a vibration run through his palm from the sword’s hilt.

“I sense something,” he said.

He closed his eyes and felt the sword commanding him.

“I am needed here,” he finally said.

The men looked at each other, baffled.

“Our mission is to bring you – and the sword – to the Tower of Ur,” the soldier replied. “You heard Lorna. She told us not to stop for anything. It is too dangerous.”

Alec nodded.

“And yet, I feel I am needed here now. I cannot abandon the cause the sword is leading me to.”

The men looked to each other, baffled.

“If we stop here, we will all be killed,” added another soldier, coming up beside them. “We have no time. We must sail from here, and along the coast to the tower of Ur. The Pandesian fleet will soon spot us.”

Alec nodded, realizing.

“That is why you shall go on without me,” he said, stepping forward to the rail, preparing to depart. “Sail north and meet me at the Tower of Ur.”

The men looked at each other, then at him, shock in their eyes.

“You will die here,” the soldier said sadly.

Alec shook his head.

“I go where the sword bids,” he replied. “It shall protect me.”

Without another word, Alec grabbed a rope and lowered himself down into a small dinghy. It rocked wildly as he sat in it, and he wasted no time in pushing off from the larger ship, rowing quickly.

Before him lay the entire fleet of Pandesia, and as he rowed, he realized he would be one man against a nation. As much as he wanted to, he did not look back. He knew he had to only look forward.

Alec rowed and rowed, cutting through water, alone in the small dinghy, feeling dwarfed by the midnight sky, the million red stars, and the enormity of the universe. He navigated his way silently through the Pandesian fleet, his only saving grace the impenetrable dark and a persistent mist that drifted in and out, thickening like a fog. His boat was too small, luckily, for the Pandesians to be looking for – if it were any bigger, he figured, he’d be long dead by now. He did not know where the Unfinished Sword was leading him, but he knew enough by now to trust his instincts.