Jack Whyte - The Sorcer part 2 - Metamorphosis

The enemy ship's captain was now practically helpless. He had grown careless, convinced of his own superior ship handling skills, and had underestimated the man against whom he was pitched; it was a fatal error. Beneath his hull the water was growing shallower with every stroke of the oars, yet he could not break to either side without exposing himself broadside to Connor's ram. Instead, showing great courage and determination, he attempted to alter the inevitable by stopping his ship dead in the water. In the space of a single oar stroke, all his sweeps started back paddling, cutting his vessel's headway so abruptly that Connor's bireme seemed to leap forward, closing the gap between the two craft so suddenly that Connor himself was almost completely taken by surprise. It was a brilliant move, and Connor found himself admiring it even as he moved to counteract it, changing his own craft's heading so that it would sweep alongside the enemy instead of ramming it directly in the stern.

As the two vessels closed, Ironhair's oarsmen struggled to ship their oars, swinging them up and inboard, and they might have succeeded had Connor's bireme not been one oar stroke too close, moving too swiftly, and one beat ahead of them in reacting. Connor's left banks of oars swept up towards the vertical moments before the other bireme's right banks attempted to do the same, and the overtaking vessel swept along the slower one's right side, shearing the rising oars like icicles hit by a stick, smashing them to kindling and creating havoc, carnage and utter destruction among the rowers, who, chained to their sweeps, were cut down by jagged flying splinters and flailing oar stumps. Only a few benches of rowers towards the bow of the stricken vessel were able to ship their oars in time, but even they fell victims to the chaos behind them.

While the left banks of oars were high out of the water, the front right quadrant of Connor's rowers stroked again, driving their bireme sideways into their quarry. As they did so, the two vertical gangway towers fore and aft slammed down to drive their holding spikes into the other ship's decking, creating bridges to the other ship, and Connor's Scots surged forward in a screaming tide.

Ambrose, Tress and I sat spellbound as Connor described the encounter. The ensuing fight was short and decisive, he said, and he was aided by the fact that his men were not slaves and all could fight. Connor took the bireme into his possession and threw its crew, save only the slaves and leaders, overboard, to drown or swim.

Only then did he give his attention to what was happening with the remainder Of his fleet. The entire shoreline was littered as far as the eye could see with the wreckage of the smaller vessels that had sailed up from the south in convoy with the fighting ships. Eventually, he would learn that his Scots had won a great victory, inflicting huge losses on the enemy, sinking nine of their twenty galleys and crippling and capturing five others. Only six managed to escape completely. The price of the victory was three Scots galleys sunk with all hands, and two set afire. There were many survivors picked up from all five of these vessels.

I was glad to hear of the victory, but I was afire to find out about Ironhair and Cardiac, and Connor's news on that topic stunned me. Neither man had been aboard the bireme. The man who had captained the ship was captured and he told Connor that Ironhair had not been with the fleet, nor had he been with the armies in Cambria. He was not even in Cornwall and had not, in fact, been seen by anyone in more than two whole months. He was away, the man said, with Carthac, replenishing his armies.

Upon learning that, Connor had set out to find me immediately, first sailing north to where Huw's forces penned the hapless enemy upon their narrow strip of beach, then heading swiftly south and east to intercept me at Caerdyff. Too late to find me there, he had struck southward again, to find his brother Brander's fleet anchored at the point closest to Camulod. From there, he came inland, arriving at the Colony ahead of us.

Connor's revelation about Ironhair came as momentous and unwelcome news to me, for since the outset of his tale I had been convinced that the ending would involve the capture or death of my enemy. To learn that he was still alive and still a threat appalled me and left me speechless. I was conscious of the pressure of Tressa's fingers around my own and knew that she was squeezing my hand tightly, but whether in sympathy or in distress I could not tell. Ambrose and Connor both sat silent, watching me until I was ready to speak again, and Ambrose was frowning slightly, evidently perplexed.

"So," I said at last, "he's still alive and still plotting. That is simply wonderful—exactly what I had hoped and needed to hear. Damnation take the man!"

Now Ambrose leaned towards me, his frown deeper than before. "Brother, I don't like this, but I have to speak and to ask you something now, so please understand that my question comes from simple ignorance and curiosity. Why are you so violently concerned about this man? Your reaction seems... disproportionate, somehow. I know that you and he are enemies. I also know that he has successfully attempted to suborn some of your people in the past. You threw him out of Camulod, but he has never sought to return here—not really. Why does the mere mention of his name incense you so?

"Peter Ironhair has never been a direct threat to Camulod. He has never moved overtly to attack us. Certainly, he has invaded Cambria, but that was in support of Carthac Pendragon, who has, however ludicrous it might be, a blood claim to the leadership he seeks. Ironhair's support of his cause may indeed be specious. Nonetheless, Brother, what he does in Cambria should not concern you as greatly as it does, here in Camulod. If and when he ever does move against Camulod, then you will be justified in seeking his death. Until then, I must say I believe you are overreacting, and you are wrong to feel and behave as you do."

I sat staring at my brother as he spoke, making no effort to mask my astonishment and, I must admit, my displeasure. It was the first time he had ever voiced any doubts about my motivation or my beliefs. Hearing him speak so plainly in disagreement with me made my face flush, and I had to bite back the bitter words that sprang to my tongue. I forced myself to sit still and absorb what Ambrose had said, thinking it through objectively, to the best of my ability, and attempting to see my behaviour through his eyes. But that was impossible: my anger flared, overriding coherent thought. Ambrose knew he had infuriated me, but he was his own man, and he spoke his own beliefs openly and without fear.

The silence stretched and grew. Connor sat as though carved from wood; Tress, I knew, was gazing down into her lap. Finally, when I felt sure I had mastered my voice and the tone of it, I replied.

"Very well, let me see if I can satisfy your curiosity. Are you familiar with the old saying, 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend?"' He nodded. "And do you agree with the sentiment?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I suppose I do. "

"Good. What about the corollary: "The enemy of my friend is my enemy. ' Would you agree with that?" I held up my hand, palm outwards. "Don't answer, because it's not important right now. What is important is that / believe it. You and I have not talked about what happened in the final stages of the campaign in Cambria, but the turning point came when Huw Strongarm took up the leadership of all Pendragon. Huw has no ambition for himself—had he any, he would long since have declared himself a contender for the kingship. He is now War Chief of Pendragon, and he has sworn to uphold the honour and freedom of Pendragon in Cambria, maintaining it in trust for the man he believes to be his true king, the son of the king he followed all his life, Uther Pendragon. So Huw rules now, or will rule soon, in Cambria, as regent for Arthur, just as surely as Flavius Stilicho ruled in Rome as regent of the young Emperor Honorius. "