by Jackson Lear
The next rider appeared behind us. Still no ambush from Odalis. Still no Adalyn either. Maybe I would have to use that wrist sooner than expected.
Odeh edged towards the water. Torunn turned towards the trees and the mountain.
“Nobody move,” I said.
A cataclysmic WHUMF! of flame scorched the road beyond us, engulfing the rear half of Draegor’s cavalry as the fireball consumed everything in a staggering burst. The rest of the cavalry charged forward, panicked, some horses running freely in every direction despite their reins being yanked. Five riders at the front were shunted off their saddles, their horses galloping away, the riders landing awkwardly on their backs and being trampled by the remainder of the cavalry who quickly became wise to the tripwire at chest level. Another ten horses ran at full speed into the second tripwire, hitting their knees and bucking the two trees on each side. The rods broke. Ten horses collapsed. More riders galloped past, pelted with arrow after arrow while shouting out the obvious – “We’re under attack!”
The whumf from the road behind us turned out to be less of a prolonged fireball and more of a burst of light and heat. It scorched people. It sizzled horses. Several riders lost control and fell, but most of them survived the blast.
Sailors in the harbor glanced up. Cries from the whole town spread. Panic and bewilderment rippled outwards like a tidal wave.
The fortress gate swung open with Adalyn heaving from the other side, her sword shaking as blood dripped to the ground.
We were in business.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Six of us stormed Ice Bridge: Dalo hobbling on his broken leg while loosing arrow after arrow into oncoming watchmen; Jarmella, Adalyn, and Odeh shouting fake words like they were spells to spook the watchmen into cowering; while the rest of the vanguard and northerners hauled ass to reach us in time.
Arrows sang from the trees, striking horsemen and beast alike. A vicious shriek ripped through the air. A clash of blades sliced through Odalis’ defensive line. Another shriek and howl as Lieutenant Loken – wrists bound with iron manacles – tossed one of the wounded bodies five feet into the air, wiped the blood from his mouth, and charged into the fray with his new found vampiric strength.
“That might be a problem,” muttered Jarmella.
“Add it to the list.”
An office door burst open, a bleary-eyed and stinking drunk captain of the night shift charging forward with his sword drawn. Torunn swung his ax into the captain’s arm, slicing six inches down, drew back, swung into the captain’s head.
Odeh and I went door to door, securing the immediate area and finding a grand total of six people present that day – three of whom had been killed before Adalyn had even scaled the wall, three more falling from Dalo and Torunn’s quick work. Behind one door lay several corked jars with rags stuffed into the necks. A recent defensive measure against an all out assault. I popped one. Sniffed. Probably looked like an idiot as I smiled.
Ewen and Elgrid were the first through the gate. “Loken’s a vampire!”
“Which makes rescuing him less of an issue and killing him more. Everyone grab a jar. It’s time to burn Draegor’s fleet to the bottom of the lake.”
We hustled, the archers taking out as many of the Vasslehün raiders as they could as men and women hustled from their ships and thumped across the wooden docks with cries of bloody murder running through the air. Some had magic on their side, others were just as sharp with their bows as we were. And behind them all stood the towering castle of Brilskeep.
An arrow slammed into an upturned rowboat right in front of us. We dropped, the thump thump of more arrows never leaving our ears.
“Torunn! Find us a boat!”
Torunn scanned the row of vessels nearest to us. “That one.”
“Something closer.”
“That’s the only one big enough.”
The vanguard were into the fortress. Odeh secured the swivel posts, keeping the gate open and waiting for Odalis and the others to make it through.
The cavalry thundered behind us – the gate open yet the defenses still engaged. Some riders realized it just in time. Most failed. Shrieks, cries, gasps, and howls erupted from horses and riders alike as Ice Bridge’s fortress catapulted its own people ten feet into the air and hurled them back, head over heels. Bodies crumpled to the ground. Horses squished their riders. Axes and swords flew freely and pelted everyone in their wake. Riders trampled, horses tumbled, and the last of our archers picked off the surviving few to free the last of the Faersrock prisoners.
“I’m-m telling you, it’s that one,” pointed Torunn.
“Fine. That’s our ship. Is everyone ready?”
It was pretty much a collective ‘no’ but no one dared to say it. Agnarr squirmed in his restraints. The rest of us would just have to make sure he was going to keep up.
“Go!”
We charged into the hail of arrows, past the short row of buildings, ropes and netting, hurrying onto the heavy wooden docks as sailors and raiders alike turned in confusion at the explosions from behind the wall and the inland attack which had caught them completely off guard. Behind us, Odalis and Wilbur wrangled horses free, desperate to reach us in time before we set sail.
Ewen and Elgrid threw the first jars of fire. Smoke and flames scorched the main sail of two ships, the wind batting at the flames and threatening to put them out. Knives, daggers, and axes came to people’s hands but they were too late. Our archers got to swift work, one arrow in the eye of a northern captain, another through his first-mate’s neck. Jars flew, arrows sailed, and enemies swarmed as we thumped, bashed, and blasted our way along the wooden docks to the big bastard of a ship at the far end of the pier.
A distant horn cried out. Another met its call. A drum sounded across the city, reaching as far as Brilskeep. We’re under attack. Everyone to arms. Turn every ship around to defend us.
Six of Ice Bridge’s sailors were waiting for us in our chosen ship, hiding on the deck until they realized that we were coming straight for them. Gilmero, Kilmur, and Yahnson leapt on board, swinging and slicing and jabbing and thrusting, Gilmero taking a sword to the gut, but we were forty strong and the defenders had just six.
“Torunn! Get her ready.”
Odalis, Wilbur, Ivar, and Magnus galloped towards us, Odeh hustling after opening and closing the swivel posts to let them through.
“Cover them!”
An arrow found its mark, skewering Torunn in his chest. His eyes turned marble-white, instantly realizing that this was the end. Another pierced Adalyn’s arm. Yahnson caught Torunn as he fell. Told him it would be okay, that help was on its way. The rest of the northerners scrambled to the oars.
Our cavalry reached the end of the pier, their attackers confused at recognizing the beasts of war but not why their riders seemed to be helping us escape. Odalis and Wilbur hurried with a writhing body slung over their shoulders, scrambling with uneven footing after running for their lives. “Take him!”
Loken hissed at his restraints, his mouth gagged and blood flecked across his face and fingertips. He bled from three arrow wounds in his chest. I pushed Torunn’s mouth to Loken’s chest but his eyes were already gone. I wiped the inside of Torunn’s mouth with a finger’s worth of blood, and another, hoping it would trickle through his body and work its magic. If only he had been hit five seconds later, or Loken had reached us sooner.
His hand flopped to the side. Dead.
We were moving. I was still on the boat and we were moving. Brilskeep and Desdola were both practically in reach.
Hands shot out towards Odeh, mouth wide, breathing heavy, desperation blinding him as we set sail.
“JUMP!” shouted Jarmella.
Odeh leapt. Jarmella flung him forward, crashing into her and Odalis. Odeh glanced up, plopped his sweaty lips onto Jarmella’s cheek, and rolled to safety.
“That’s everyone!” shouted Jarmella, as she wiped a tear from the side of her face. “Raike?”
“To Orkust!” I bellowed, dragging Loken to the back of the ship – out of direct sight of the Vasslehün bowmen, and dumped him next to Agnarr.
“Get me the fuck away from him!” cried the would-be king.
Three longboats in the harbor had started to turn around, heading towards us. The drums of war continued to sound. Ships were aflame and half of Brilskeep’s cavalry had been taken out by their own defenses. Raiders scrambled for the harbor, desperate to reach the farther ships in time. The first-mates were already barking orders, waving their crew to hurry up if they knew what was good for them. Blood lust was in the air and there was no better target than Kasera’s own people.
Our sails unfurled, everyone to an oar, and into the black shored Dead Lake we sailed, away from the fortress city with the sun setting in the east, away from Brilskeep with Desdola watching our every move, and into the frozen night with a dozen warships closing in on us.
Chapter Fifty-Four
Agnarr’s people were all experienced sailors but they weren’t an established crew. They didn’t have the shorthand needed for quick commands, some were tripping over each other as they tried to fill their preferred position instead of the right position, and for the most part it seemed like there were too many captains and not enough sailors.
I whistled. They largely ignored me. “Yahnson?”
The old guy lumbered over. “Aye?”
I pulled Menrihk over to translate. “I want you to shout at these guys right now. ‘Everyone, listen up. There are too many of us on board. Whoever doesn’t get their shit together is going to swim. Our mages are ready to throw you over.’”
Menrihk stumbled through the language. Yahnson squinted. Nodded. Bellowed. Added in a couple of ‘korlas’ for good measure.
“Who can’t swim?”
Menrihk translated. A couple of them raised their hands. I chose the surliest looking guy with an even mix of gray and brown in his beard. “Have many years have you sailed for?”
“Since I was a boy.”
“How many raids have you been on?”
“Ten? Twelve?”
“What’s your name?”
“Hilgar.”
“You’re in charge. We’re going to Orkust. Put everyone where they need to be.”
Jarmella said, “The soldiers will help. Where do they need to go?”
Hilgar started barking commands to some of the disgruntled faces, pushing them to the oars and sails.
“Cavalry onto the oars at the front, infantry next, mages third, archers fourth. Move.” Jarmella turned to me. “Sir?”
“I’ll help.”
“You might be best up here, keeping watch. If they get close enough for a vampire to jump over we’ll need someone who can respond quickly.”
“I could use a mage close by to knock them into the water if they try that.”
A distant horn broke across the lake. Two lanterns shimmered within the cold fog to our rear, moving independently of each other. The horns sounded from one ship to another, a series of pre-determined blasts and wails.
“What are they saying?” I asked.
“We’re the enemy,” said Yahnson, gnarling one eye as the spray of salt water stung our faces.
We lurched forward, two men to an oar as we picked up speed, but the ships behind us were lighter, faster, and their crews well-rested.
Another set of horns sounded from behind. The rest of Draegor’s former fleet were closing in.
Jarmella turned one of the auroch horns over in her hand. “They’re going to catch us.”
“I know. We could use more of that spell you used on Saskia.”
“Charging more than one between rests is as dangerous as it gets.”
“You can do it, right?”
“Of course, but … there’s no guarantee it will work as intended. And it may do me just as much harm as whoever I target.” She searched the lake behind us. “We’re too heavy. It’s slowing us down.”
“We’re keeping Loken.”
“He’s dead weight.”
“They’re going to catch us whether we’re one person down or not.”
“And if he breaks free?”
Loken rattled his chains and growled from behind his gag.
I asked, “How well do you know Commander Lavarta?”
“Not very well. He welcomed us to his fort in Anglaterra, he’s spoken to us formally, and I can recognize him and his voice, but I’ve never served with him. Why?”
“I’d like to know more about his reputation. General Kasera has a history up here. Lavarta doesn’t. The Kaseras and Lavartas arranged for Alysia and the commander to wed so there must be some similarity in how the parents think and respond to their allies being under threat. Basically, when we reach Orkust will Lavarta be there or will we be on our own?”
“You spent months with him training his troops.”
“I know what he would do for his troops. I don’t know what he would do for us, especially if he’s trying to get his wife to safety.”
“If he’s anything like General Kasera, he’ll be there,” said Jarmella.
Another blast of salt water rained across us.
“You don’t look very optimistic,” said Jarmella.
“Well, ever since we arrived things have been going very wrong for us and for everyone we know.”
Jarmella glanced behind. “Optimism or not, it won’t really matter where the commander is if that fleet catches up to us before we land.”
Hilgar bounded across the top of the longboat, snuffing out the lanterns. “Everyone shhh.”
We rowed for an hour, watching Draegor’s longboats slowly gain on us. When we shifted in one direction the longboats behind us blasted their horns and corrected their course as well. When we shifted back they blasted us again and maintained their pursuit.
Hilgar grumbled. “Vampire watching us.”
The first soldier threw up from exertion. That caused another to throw up, another to drop to his ass with bleeding palms and a delirious sweat.
Hilgar crept through the crew, whispering a command. His people scrambled to one side, all working in unison to realign the sail and rudder. Our course shifted southwards.
I asked Yahnson, “Where’s Orkust?”
He pointed south east. “Ten miles that way, but we can’t get there by sailing into the wind. In one mile we go north east. Then south. Then north east again.”
“What if the fleet use their oars to sail into the wind and reach Orkust before we get there?”
“Then a lot of us will die.”
We waited for a horn to follow us. Instead, the midnight fog covered us completely. We lost sight of their lanterns, of their sails and crew, but they weren’t far behind. Worse still they were down-wind of us with vampires on board who could track our scent like blood hounds.
A chill swept over me, one I hadn’t felt since wondering if we were about to be ambushed back in Orkust.
“SHIP!” shrieked Jarmella, pointing to our left.
The fog broke. A longboat was upon us. Ten yards and closing, their oars at full speed, their ship at a heavy list, their sail larger than ours.
Jarmella shouted, “Archers! Up here now!”
“We’re being boarded!” I added.
Our ship lurched from the sudden loss in speed as every single member of the vanguard raced up to the deck, drawing their weapons and trying to find their best position of attack. The enemy ship collided into the side of our rear, spinning us around and driving our right hand side towards a full capsize.
The first creature leapt forward, blood thirsty and in a full frenzy, holding a curved short sword in each hand. Jarmella blasted him, saving half a dozen of our lives as the vampire crashed into the water. The rest of the boarders were luckier. Humans with axes, leaping from their rails onto our deck, swinging and slicing and barreling through the line of infantrymen.
The first raider dropped in surprise with an arrow to his face. The rest charged fo
rward, swarming us quickly as archer after archer loosed their arrows, striking flesh, weapons, padded armor, the ship, and air behind us.
One of Draegor’s people fired off a spell, skittering Odalis across the deck and dropping him through the gap to the oars below. Another blasted Volbrig at the same time as he fired one at his target.
Axes crashed into swords and shields, swords checked one attack after another, and the first streak of blood arced across us all. Jarmella drove her sword into the falling body of one raider. Kilmur rammed his sword through the elbow of an attacker about to skewer Jarmella. Ewen took a slice to his shoulder and a stab to his gut. Spell upon spell blasted one raider overboard, one of us overboard, with half a dozen of the vanguard clinging to the side of the ship as the crew abandoned their positions and raced upstairs, axes swinging wildly as the first tinge of blue crept broke across the horizon.
Odeh scorched the enemy ship. Two of Hilgar’s crewmates lobbed a jug of oil, bursting Draegor’s ship into flames.
Ithka screamed from the water, a jagged frenzy as the vampire dug into his throat, slashed his face, and drank him dry. Ander roared in blistering rage. Leapt. And with his ax high above his head and arcing down he slammed the tip of the blade into the vampire’s skull, cleaving down to the creature’s nose and driving him under water. Ander wrestled the kid back to safety. Hands reached out. Pulled the survivors back up.
We broke free, our ship bobbing listlessly in the water as the rest of Draegor’s fleet closed in upon us.
“Everyone to the oars!” I shouted.
We threw ourselves down below, sweat stinging our eyes, blood dripping across our faces, the taste of sticky saliva and heaving breaths as we fought to keep moving as our bodies resisted. We rowed until our arms fell off. We rowed until we puked. And we rowed until the sun finally broke over the horizon.
If there was ever a god watching out for us, please let us reach Orkust in time. And please have Commander Lavarta’s cohort in place ready to blast these fuckers to oblivion.
The mages patched up everyone they could, our hearts thumping out of our chests while being stitched up, patched up, and wounds closed with elder leaves and the burning paste.