by James Dale
“And go where, sir?” asked Dario.
“Wherever the wind blows us I suppose,” Braedan sighed, “so long as it’s far away from here.” He really didn’t care which direction the wind blew them, his path was set. He was headed for Brydium and Brythond. And hopefully for answers.
Jack rested for a few more minutes, then gathered up his crew and headed off into the night. By the time they reached the hidden longboat, the sun was just beginning to peak above the horizon to the west. The four weary men boarded the small craft and rowed out to the Seawolf, where they were met by the entire crew.
Once aboard, Braedan was forced again to repeat the terrible tragedy that had fallen up Brimcohn, and the fate of Bloody Max and the remainder of the Brotherhood. There were muttered curses and more than a few tears. Every man on board had lost friends and many of their families.
“I am sorry about Kaiddra, Jack,” Tarsus said, laying a consoling hand on his shoulder. “She was a special woman.”
“I wish our last words had not been spoken in anger,” Jack sighed.
“That is life Jack Braedan,” the Amarian replied. “Man always thinks there will be time to make amends. It is not your fault my friend.”
“What do you think happened to Dorad and Alnordel?” Braedan asked.
“Alnordel is no fool,” Tarsus assured him. “I think Bloody Max had the right of it. If he saw the danger in time he probably turned round and headed out to sea. There are many places in Aralon where they would both be welcomed.
“What is your command, Captain?” Belizet asked.
Tarsus surveyed his gathered crew, his crew. Gods, he’d had such plans for them. Now those plans lay in ashes on the other side of the island. “Listen to me Free Brothers of the Sea. You heard the words of Jack Braedan. He said the Brotherhood lives as long as we live. I say to you the Brotherhood is finished. Your oaths to the Council and the Brotherhood have been burned by the torches of Norgarth. You are truly free men now. Free to do as you please. If any of you desire, you can go ashore and perhaps exact some small measure of revenge for your fallen family and friends before you are cut down by their swords. Or…or you can remain on the Seawolf with me. I do not know where we will be tomorrow or the next day, but we will have a deck beneath our feet and wind in our sails.”
“You are my captain,” Belizet said, moving to stand beside him. “The Seawolf is my home. Where you sail I sail with her.”
“I rekon I’ll stay a bit longer meself,” Rhonn nodded. “Where ‘er the wind blows us, I think as long as you be the captain, we will find some interesting things to see.”
“What say the rest of you?” Tarsus asked.
To a man, the rest of the crew decided to stay with their Amarian captain.
“Then let’s raise sail men and put some distance between us and the Felnors,” he ordered.
With grim silence, the crew of the Seawolf, last ship of the Free Brothers of the Sea, scrambled to get her underway.
“I’m headed for Brythond,” Jack said, when he and Tarsus were alone.
“I thought you might be,” he nodded. “You have a pardon waiting for you no doubt. And Thessa should be able to convince King Theros to give you whatever you desire. I haven’t been to Brythond in oh…a dozen years. Would you mind if I tag along? There are still taverns in the north that serve a decent mug of ale. And the women are all like Thessa. Dark hair and blue eyes. Not much to do when the snows set in but drink and well…snuggle under blankets.”
“I’d be honored to have you come with me,” Jack smiled wearily.
“Go get some rest. You are exhausted,” Tarsus said, laying a huge arm across Jack’s shoulders. “We’ve a long road ahead of us.”
Jack headed to the quarters he had shared with Dorad, and collapsed onto his old bunk. He awoke several hours later, feeling refreshed and rested. He emerged on deck to find that it was sunrise again. He’d slept the entire day. It didn’t surprise him. He had been running the last two days on adrenalin and nerves. He made his way down to the galley where Rhonn happily scrounged him up something to eat, then went looking for Tarsus. He found the Amarian at the stern of the ship, looking back towards the Felnors.
Jack leaned against the railing next to his friend. Tarsus glance over at him then back out to sea. “Well that is a melancholy look if there ever was one,” Braedan sighed. “What are you thinking about?”
“Home,” Tarsus replied.
“Amar?”
The huge man nodded, without turning.
“You don’t talk about it much,” Jack ventured.
“What is there to talk about?” Tarsus sighed. “Amar is a wasteland. It is all barren, rocky hills. Cold as death in the winter and hotter than seven Hells in summer. To the north is Brydium, to the south Denelad, to the east…to the east is the Bergaweld and Grethor.”
“The Bergaweld?” Jack said, “That’s Ailfar. It means…”
“The Bloody Plains,” Tarsus nodded. “Or the Plains of Blood depending on how you say it. You heard Alnordel’s tale. It is where the Whesguard Alliance broke the back of the dark King’s army during the Second War of the Stones. One hundred thousand men died there in three days. Twice as many grim’Hiru by some accounts. Legend has it when the battle was done, you could walk twenty leagues in any direction of the backs of the dead. So much blood soaked into the ground there’s been nothing but scrub grass growing there to this day. I went there once, many years ago when I was young and foolish. There are ghosts in the Bergaweld.” He said, shuddering.
“Sounds a bit like Gettysburg,” Jack replied.
“Where is that?” Tarsus asked. “I don’t recognize the name.”
“It’s a small town in Pennsylvania,” Braedan replied. “There was a civil war in my country over one hundred…sixty years ago now. Outside Gettysburg, large armies of the opposing sides of my split country met, quite by accident. That battle lasted three days as well. Fifty thousand casualties’ maybe? Neither side could claim victory, but the rebels of the Confederacy never recovered. Two of my great uncles, many times removed, died there, fighting for the Union.”
“Are there ghosts at Gettysburg?” Tarsus asked, finally turning to him.
Jack shrugged. “I think maybe there are…echoes of the dead, in all places where men slaughter each other. Gettysburg. Normandy. Korea. Afghanistan.”
“Do you think a man could leave his ghost at sea?”
“I don’t know,” Jack replied. “Why?”
“That’s why,” Tarsus said, pointing back toward Brimcohn and the Felnors.
Far, far way, just on the edge of the horizon, Jack spotted them. White specks on the blue sea. “Norgarthans?”
“Raibertos saw them as soon as the sun rose,” Tarsus nodded. “Three, maybe four war-ships. Apparently we did not escape unnoticed.”
“Can they catch us?” asked Jack.
“Depends on how pissed they are Marc burned the Sword of Urgiss,” the Amarian replied. “We have perhaps half a day’s lead on them. With their larger sails, they’ll steadily make up that distance. It will be a close thing if we turn now and try to race them to the mainland.”
“If we change course at night,” asked Jack.
“We will try it of course,” Tarsus shrugged. “But they will doubtless plan for just such a move. Spread out before sundown and reacquire us in the morning. It’s what I would do. And I’m not that smart a sailor.”
“So what do we do?”
“We head for Doridanian waters,” Tarsus decided. “It may be they won’t follow us there. Like I said, depends on whether they want vengeance for their flag ship.”
“And if they do?”
“I guess we will find out if a man can leave his ghost at sea,” Tarsus replied grimly.
As Tarsus had predicted, the slowly growing white specks broke formation just before sunset, and the next morning, upon discovering their prey had maintained its course, they re-grouped and continued their chase.
“To
night,” Tarsus announced, looking at the warships through Braedan’s rifle scope. “While they are still some distance off, we will change course. If we wait until they are much closer, the maneuver will aid us little.”
The Norgarthans again broke formation at sunset. The four white specks were specks no longer and could clearly be seen as ships. It was a grim testament to the distance they had gained on the Seawolf during the day. The lead ship remained on course with the fleeing pirates, while the two ships on the left flank broke to the west and the remaining ship turned east.
“Why do they only send one ship to the east?” Braedan asked the Amarian captain. “Surely they know if we change course it will be to the east and land?”
“Maybe they are over confident in their ability to catch us?” remarked Tarsus. “They will not make the same mistake tomorrow.”
Around midnight, the Seawolf changed course and sail due east for three hours. Tarsus directed Lars to change again after that, northeast this time. An hour before sunrise the Seawolf changed course again, turning by fifteen degrees until they were head east by northeast. When it grew light enough to see, only one Norgarthan ship was visible on the far horizon.
“It will take them most of the day to re-group,” Tarsus smiled with satisfaction. “We have gained ourselves another half day. How are we set for supplies?” Other than the Norgarthans, pursuing them, it was his most pressing concern. When the Seawolf had departed on the mission to find a ship for Thessa, they had only taken aboard enough supplies for a month.
“Not good,” Jack replied. “Rhonn says if we cut to half rations we will have enough food for eight or ten days. Maybe.”
“And water?”
“About the same. Two weeks if we are vigilant in our rationing,” Jack informed him.
“We will go to a third rations on food and half rations on water,” Tarsus decided. “We will save the rest until our last day. A man shouldn’t have to die on an empty stomach.”
“One meal at noon?” asked Jack.
“That will be fine,” agreed the Amarian.
“I’ll tell Rhonn,” Jack nodded.
The crew of the Seawolf grumbled about receiving only one meal a day, but they knew the seriousness of their plight. They knew they couldn’t just sail around endlessly, trying to avoid the Norgarthans. They plan to save more rations for the final day was a sound one. But there would be rumbling stomachs before that day arrived.
When the sun set that evening, the Norgarthans remained in their wedge formation. They did not break ranks as they had done the previous evenings. “Crafty devils,” Tarsus muttered with grudging respect. “Not tipping their hands tonight.”
“So what now?” Braedan asked.
“If we were not so low on food, we would change course to the west,” Tarsus mused.
“East again, then?” Jack said.
“East again.”
The Seawolf repeated the same maneuver it had executed the previous evening, and when morning broke, all four Norgarthan ships were still visible on the horizon. They had also closed some distance over the night.
“So much for trickery,” Tarsus announced. “From now on we sail straight for Wheslake and Dorihil. With any luck, we will run into a Doridanian patrol in a few days and we can escape in the confusion.”
“You call that luck, captain?” Belizet asked. That morning he had been voted as the new Second Mate of the Seawolf and was now involved in the planning along with Tarsus and Braedan.
“It is our only hope,” Tarsus shrugged. “As slim as it is. Helmsman!”
“Aye sir,” answered Daria.
“Set a new course. Thirty eight degrees.” Tarsus instructed.
“Thirty eight degrees, aye,” Daria replied. “Yh help us.”
Over the course of the next five days, the Norgarthan warships grew steadily closer to the Seawolf. The four ships were a menacing presence on the horizon, growing larger with each passing hour it seemed now. Soon the crew began to constantly stop their work and glace behind them, at the pursuing dreadnoughts. On the morning of the sixth day, many stopped working altogether to simply stand at the railing and watch their doom approach closer.
On the morning of the seventh day since fleeing the Felnors, the Norgarthans were only five thousand yards distant. As dawn broke on the eighth morning, they had cut the Seawolf’s lead in half. With each passing hour, the fleeing pirates grew closer to Doridanian waters. But with each passing hour, the Norgarthans drew closer as well.
“What I wouldn’t give for another storm,” Tarsus remarked to Braedan as they stood at the stern and watched the Norgarthans nipping at their heels. “Or a bit of fog. I’d turn us around and we’d sail right between the bastards.” But he looked up at the clear blue sky and knew it was a vain hope.
“They will catch us tomorrow,” Jack said grimly. “The next day at the latest.”
“Run up our colors Jack, I will speak to the crew,” the captain of the Seawolf ordered his first mate.
Jack went to the captain’s quarters and drew out the Seawolf’s flag from Tarsus’ sea chest. The crew gathered around him at the main mast as he unfurled the black flag with saber wielding skeleton. Belizet helped him attach it to the mast line and the crew cheered as it snapped defiantly in the stiff breeze.
“Men,” Tarsus said, moving to the railing of the quarter-deck to address his crew. “Soon we will run no longer. Tomorrow will we turn and face the dogs snapping at our heels. Sharpen your swords, shine up whatever armor you have, and pray to Yh’Adan if you think He’ll pay heed to you. Tonight, Rhonn is going to cook up whatever stores we have left and we’ll have ourselves a nice final meal. We’ll break out a barrel of that Succra Valley and drink us a toast the Seawolf, last ship of the Free Brothers of the Sea!”
The crew of the Seawolf drew their swords and cheered their captain. John Michael Braedan, son of a United States congressman, drew the sword Dorad Ellgereth had given him on his first day aboard this ship, and cheered just as loudly. Sailing on the seas of a different world, the former Special Forces Master Sergeant joined them in their cheer. It felt as natural to him now as anything he’d ever done in his former life. It was a stirring display of courage by the crew of the Seawolf, but it did not slow the approaching Norgarthans.
For the rest of the day, the crewmen not busy tending to the ship honed their swords until they had a razors edge. They polished shields and whatever armor they could find until each bit of metal flashed like a mirror in the bright sun. While the crew of the Seawolf worked with weapons, Rhonn labored in the galley preparing their final meal. He gathered the last of the ship’s supplies and combined them in two great cook pots. Their work completed, the last pirates of the Brotherhood were each given a piping hot bowl of stew and gathered together on the main deck to eat their fill. When the meal was complete, they lined up single file and their captain poured each man a tankard from the last barrel of Brydianic dark wine they’d captured in Norgarth.
When every man was served, Tarsus poured Jack and Belizet a cup, then one for himself. The three officers mounted the quarter-deck and faced their crew. Tarsus Aernin raised his silver goblet high and it caught the last rays of the setting sun. “To the Brotherhood!” the Amarian toasted.
“The Brotherhood!” his crew shouted in reply.
The captain of the Seawolf drained his cup, turned, and threw it defiantly at the pursuing Norgarthan warships. Jack Braedan and Belizet of Zsolandar did the same. The pirates, following their officer’s lead, downed their wine and hurled their cups over the railing with a shout.
“It will be tomorrow,” Jack said, looking back at the warships following in their wake.
“Indeed,” Tarsus agreed, not looking back. He had no need. The Amarian had watched the Norgarthans steadily gain on his ship all day. “Rest now Brothers!” he shouted at his crew. “Tomorrow we fight the Brotherhoods last battle!”
When darkness fell, the warships pursuing them stayed in formation and lit torc
hes for the first time, marking their positions. “They want us to know how close they are tonight.” Tarsus cursed. “Light the lamps!” he bellowed at the crew. “Let them know how close we are!”
“How many men do those ships carry?” Braedan asked, sometime later.
He, Belizet and the captain had taken up positions on the stern to watch the Norgarthans while most of the crew slept.
“Ships of that size?” Tarsus scowled. “Perhaps fifty crewmen and twice that many marines.”
“They will only be able to come at us one or two at a time, right?” Braedan said, calculating the odds. “So…that’s like oh, four or five to one? That’s not so bad.”
“Did I forget to mention that many of us will already be dead by the time they board?” Tarsus asked, finally turning from his watch of the pursuing ships to look at Braedan. “Their borelstrades, much larger than ours, will rip the Seawolf to shreds.”
“So, eight or ten to one then?” Jack shrugged.
“About that,” the Amarian laughed grimly.
“When I kill my ten,” Jack said with mock seriousness, “I think I’ll retire. I’m getting bored with this pirating business.”
“I wish I would have met you sooner Jack Braedan,” Tarsus sighed. “Perhaps I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“Likely you’d already be dead,” Jack countered. “Trouble seems to follow me like a shadow. Did I ever tell you about the first man I killed?”
“No you haven’t,” Tarsus replied.
“No?” Jack said quietly. “I was a young, foolish corporal, only six weeks out of Ranger school. They sent my Regiment to Afghanistan’s eastern border. My first mission we were patrolling some…god awful valley in the Paktia Province. I volunteered to be point man, because, you know, that’s what dumbshit, nineteen year old Rangers do. We were walking some goat trail that even goats avoided and I rounded a bend and walked right up on this Taliban scout taking a piss. I put two shots in his chest quick as lightning purely by reflex. He fell dead before he even knew I was there. Died right there on that goat trail with his pecker still in his hand. I threw up on his boots.”