Richard Parker - Elsewhere

As if on cue, the Toranado ships banked sharply to the north and Deihm and his first mate instinctively glanced up to check the flags.

“No fool then,” Deihm whispered then turned briefly to the High King. “M’lord, get below or to the rear and brace yourself. We’re in for a battle,” he added with a genuine smile of pleasure.

“Blake, set a heading due west,” the Captain barked. “We can’t let them get the wind beneath their sails.”

“Aye Sir,” the first mate yelled and the Rhondono ships turned sharply to the port. “Full oars!” He added and the ship slowly began to gain speed until it was surging through the waves.

The Rhondono vessels held their westerly course for nearly fifteen minutes before the Captain cursed.

“We have to turn about,” the first mate said loud enough that Mastoc, who was now yards away in the rear, could hear him clearly. “Make a run for it. They have the wind.”

Captain Deihm shook his head. “We’d not make it,” he answered and pointed to the group of Toranado ships barreling their way. Curiosity got the better of the High King and he quickly moved forward so he stood closer to the Captain and his mate. He was quiet now however, so Deihm ignored him. And though King Mastoc knew little of naval strategy he could plainly see that the Toranado ships had turned with the wind and were now heading straight for them. The enemy ships were riding full sails and moving much faster than their Rhondono counterparts.

“Keep on course,” Deihm told Blake. “Our best chance now is to punch through and hope they attack the troop ships, then we can turn about and we’ll have the wind.”

Mastoc moved a few feet closer. “You’ll not sacrifice the troopships. I need them to conquer Massi.”

“I don’t think they’ll be landing on the Massi shore anytime soon,” Deihm retorted. “I’ll offer them up as bait for the Toranado and if there commander is foolish enough to take it, then at least we will have our revenge.”

“And if they don’t take the bait?” one of the Temple guards asked, clearly concerned.

Deihm glanced back briefly. “Then I hope you can swim.” Of course he had no intention of losing his ship to the Toranado; he just liked to scare the hell out of land lovers. He glanced to the starboard to check the Rhondono formations and cursed again. The Hermes was positioned perfectly only a hundred yards away and keeping to a parallel course, as were a half dozen other ships but one trireme and two smaller galleys had slowed to swing about and move back toward land.

“Cowards!” Deihm spat then checked the port and was gratified to see that only one ship was attempting to make the slow turn back to Massi. ‘They’ll never make the turn,’ he thought but didn’t dwell on their fate.

“Five degrees port!” He yelled trying to make for a gap between two Toranado heavy triremes but they only made about three degrees before the two fleets finally met.

ǂ

Captain Tramm stuck his head in the tent quietly to see if Captain Hothgaard, lead commander of the Temple Knights was awake. He was, though he was lying very still on his bunk with a fever and a raging headache.

“Captain,” Tramm said softly. “It’s confirmed. The Massi cavalry have arrived in Manse.”

Hothgaard groaned inwardly but was careful to make no audible sound. He sat up slowly throwing off his blankets, the chills had left him in any case but his skin was still clammy with sweat. He swung his legs around and stood up, feeling weak.

“That does not bode well for the Palmerrio,” Hothgaard said and walked to the small table near the back wall of the tent. Earlier the doctor brewed a strong batch of willow bark tea for the pain and fever and Hothgaard was working his way quickly through the large pot. He would need more soon.

Tramm just watched his commander without a word. There was a sickness running through the camp, debilitating but not deadly as yet, though a full fourth of the Knights were down with the illness.

“There’s been no word from King Weldon,” Tramm commented.

“He must be weakened or dead,” Hothgaard said, drinking a cup of luke warm tea.

Tramm shook his head. “Not necessarily. We nearly broke through their defenses; perhaps Prince Gwaynn is concerned about losing Manse. The war will be all but over when the city finally falls. He must realize this.”

“Perhaps,” Hothgaard said, though deep inside he did not believe it. His instincts told him that the young Prince of Massi had crushed the Palmerrio army just as he crushed the Deutzani. He was proving to be an excellent field general and was beginning to make Hothgaard uneasy.

“Any word from the High King? Has he landed yet?”

“No word yet,” Tramm answered but he was not worried, when the Rhondono arrived with their ten thousand foot soldiers they would be the dominant force in the land. It would just be a matter of time before they ground the Massi down.

Hothgaard just frowned. From the beginning he argued against splitting their forces but King Mastoc insisted the Palmerrio circle around to the Plateau. If their armies had stayed together the Massi would have had no chance of defeating them. And though the High King’s plan could have led to a quick and decisive victory, it also left them vulnerable to many unforeseen variables. Now, it seemed they were being picked apart.

“He’s not due to land until later this afternoon,” Tramm added.

Hothgaard drained his cup. “I’ll still feel better once his forces are on dry land.”

Tramm glanced at his commander, suddenly concerned. “You still fear the Toranado navy?”

Hothgaard nodded. “Always. The latest reports put them in the harbor around Cape, but if they extend their patrols it’s possible they could spot the slow moving troopships. They would not fare well against heavy triremes.”

“Should I send for Speaker Nadler?”

Hothgaard shook his head. “No…we’ll wait. If there’s no word by tomorrow morning we’ll contact the High King. Now let me rest and get over this damned sickness. Have the doctor brew more tea.” He ordered and moved back to his bunk. His fever was returning and with it the chills. He crawled back under the covers without another glance at his fellow Captain. For the first time in his life he was actually grateful for the siege; it allowed for the luxury of rest.

ǂ

“ Port oars!” First mate Armitage yelled and with smooth precision half the ships oars were raised and pulled inside the trireme for safety. Captain Wicks grabbed tightly to one of the reinforced railings that weaved throughout the ship and hung on as the bow of her trireme struck the smaller Rhondono vessel in the aft quarter. Almost immediately the Toranado ship, the Universe, lurched and shuddered, but its momentum carried it through the smaller ship with a colossal explosion of wood and noise. Planks, oars and beams cracked and tore under the massive force of the ramming and the collision threw large splinters of wood all about the wounded vessel. Wicks was vaguely aware of the screams of men and boys, and caught sight of a few enemy sailors as they were hurled out and into the sea below.

“Archers!” Armitage shouted but there was no need, already nearly two dozen men were launching flaming arrows down at the stricken vessel. “Starboard full oars!” the first mate added over the noise and chaos and immediately the oarsmen began to pull for all they were worth. The grinding of the two ships continued for several long minutes and then quite suddenly they were through and in the open sea once more.

“Turn us about,” Captain Wicks commanded loudly but with her unusual calm. The large ship began its slow turn, and the ship’s archers rushed from the port side to the starboard. “Hold you fire,” Wicks added, glancing at the wounded ship and watching dispassionately at the mad scramble. The enemy sailors were trying desperately to stay out of the sea while their vessel quickly foundered. Wicks knew the stricken Rhondono ship was doomed and any additional shot was just a waste of good arrows.