The Eye and the Arm

by Andrew Q. Gordon

  On his fifth attempt, Miceral’s spear struck the foremast. Two-thirds of the way up the tall spar, the heavy steel missile drove itself deep into the wood. Miceral exchanged looks of disappointment with the first officer.

  “I can keep putting holes in their sails, and it might even make the men in the rigging jumpy, but I think I’m wasting my weapons.”

  A strong gust of wind elicited a new round of curses from the men trying to repair the damage to the Rose’s sails. The crew had nearly finished closing the hole in the mainsail, but the long gash to the forward sail would likely not be fixed before the pirates caught them. Barring a miracle, they would be overtaken within the hour.

  “Look!” Peter yelled.

  Miceral spun around and watched as the top third of the pirate’s forward mast toppled over under pressure from the wind. The vessel seemed to lurch as the damaged spar fouled the rest of the rigging.

  “Well done, Master Elgin,” Captain Nathan shouted from the helm. His demeanor improved noticeably as he barked out orders to try to regain their speed.

  The smaller ship started to lose ground as the crew struggled to clear the damage, but Miceral’s good feeling quickly faded. The sweep of the oars increased even as the pirates improvised to get more sail on their depleted mast.

  At first Miceral dared to hope they’d keep ahead of the buccaneers, but soon he noted the ship began to creep closer. With a look toward the first officer, he asked, “Any chance we’ll get that mainsail fixed?”

  “Not unless we take it down. Even ripped, it’s better than no sail.”

  Miceral nodded his understanding. Not the answer he’d been hoping to hear. “They’ll still catch us before sunset.”

  “Agreed, but keep it to yourself.” Emerson picked up one of the four remaining javelins. “Maybe you can make lightning strike again.”

  “I think I’ll hold these until they get closer. It will improve my odds of causing real damage.”

  “Don’t wait too long. I don’t want to smell them before you try your luck again.” The officer returned to the forward section and could soon be heard exhorting the men to redouble their efforts.

  Miceral waited until he heard the thud of the drum used to hammer out the pace for the pirates’ oarsmen. Peter offered to spot for him, but at this distance, Miceral felt comfortable with his own observations.

  His first attempt shattered one oar before damaging a second one that broke after two more strokes. The second javelin struck the hull and quivered up and down, almost mocking the warrior. Another oar shattered with the third toss. Miceral opted to keep the last spear for the inevitable assault.

  “My apologies, Captain. I was not able to do more than break three oars. This last spear is reserved for their captain.” Hoisting the remaining javelin in his right hand, Miceral bared his teeth in a wicked grin.

  “Lad, you did a right decent job. Restored the balance, you did, and then some. We just might stay ahead of them long enough for your wizard to save our backsides.”

  Miceral didn’t want to speculate. Right now he didn’t expect Farrell to make it before the pirates boarded them, but it didn’t hurt for the crew to have hope.

  New oars replaced the damaged one, and the pirate crew cleared the last of the fouled rigging and sails. The speedy sloop slowly began to gain on them again, the cadence hammered out by the drummer increasing as the brigands moved in for the capture. Miceral had bought them time. But would it be enough for Farrell to get back?

  After an hour of trying, the crew had made little headway with the damaged sail. The stiff breeze ripped the stitches before the men could finish the job. Without furling the canvas, they had little chance of succeeding, but they couldn’t risk taking it down. Finally, Emerson ordered the men out of the rigging.

  “Tiring the men trying to do the impossible isn’t fair to them,” the first officer told Captain Nathan. “Not when they’re going to be fighting for their lives soon enough.”

  The captain seemed ready to argue, but after a moment’s pause nodded crisply. Emerson stepped off, barking orders for the men to arm themselves.

  Miceral grabbed Peter by the shoulders, bringing them face-to-face. “Listen to me. Nothing fancy and nothing heroic. Stay close to me and guard my back. I’ll do the same for you. If I give you an order, you obey me without question, even if I tell you to run. Remember who and what I am if you have a mind to try to protect me. Farrell will be here soon, so above all else, stay alive.”

  Hand on the hilt of his sword, the young prince nodded.

  “Scared?” Miceral asked.

  “A little. I’ve never been in battle before.”

  Miceral cupped his hand behind Peter’s head, pulling him closer. “Good. You’re supposed to be. Only fools look forward to war. The rest of us just hide our fear.”

  “Even you?”

  “Even me.” He let go of Peter and picked up his last javelin. “Come on, let’s go help with the defense of the Rose.”

  “We have few spears and fewer bows,” he heard the first officer say. “Anyone who’s good with either, come forward now.”

  One sailor, an older seaman with iron-gray hair, stepped from the group. “I used to hunt a fair bit with my pa when I was a kid. I think I can still shoot straight.”

  “Close enough. Find a safe place and concentrate on picking off their archers. I doubt they’ll have many, but those they have will probably be doing the same thing, so be careful. Anyone else?”

  Two others raised a hand and accepted a bow and a quiver of arrows. Before Emerson could ask again, Peter held out his hand.

  “I’m a good shot. My father had me train with all types of weapons.”

  Beaming like a proud parent, Miceral nodded when Emerson looked over.

  “Give him the bow,” Miceral said. “If you have an extra, I’m a decent shot as well. But I’ll take any spears you can spare.”

  Emerson nodded and handed Miceral a quarter of the ship’s compliment of twenty spears. “Any suggestions for a battle plan?”

  “Prince Peter and I will be the first line of defense as we’re the most capable fighters. We’ll take up a position on the aftcastle.”

  Nathan and Emerson exchanged worried stares.

  “Shouldn’t he be down below?” Nathan asked.

  “You need every fighter you have. The prince is a better swordsman than any on this vessel excepting Kelvin and myself. The best way for me to keep him safe is to help defeat the pirates. To do that, we need to be on deck.”

  Again the ship’s officers stared at each other. Nathan shrugged. “Just so long as you tell Prince Wilhelm it was your idea.”

  “If we make it back to tell Prince Wilhelm, we’ll have been victorious, so it won’t matter.”

  Emerson smirked, avoiding the captain’s gaze. “What’s your plan?”

  Miceral knew the best plan called for him to use his superior strength and speed. But that required hand-to-hand fighting. “If you try to prevent them from grappling with us, they’ll just pick us off. We don’t have enough men to stop them from boarding us.”

  “So you suggest we hide until they come aboard?” The sneer on Nathan’s faced matched his tone. “Why don’t we just abandon ship now and give them the Rose and her cargo?”

  “Captain—” Miceral had to check himself before he insulted the man. “I guarantee you they’ve got people in the rigging waiting to pick off anyone who tries to cast off their grappling hooks. It’s what I would do if I were them. The best place to defend ourselves is on the Rose, where we hold the advantage.”

  “What advantage? Once they get on board, they’ll surround us.”

  “He’s right, Captain.” Emerson’s voice seemed to surprise his superior. “If we find defensible positions here, it’s better than exposing ourselves to their missiles. Besides, I’m willing to bet they’re not prepared to deal with Master Elgin and the prince. That might be enough to keep us alive.”

  Nathan turned from one to the
other, then tossed his hands up. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. But you better be as good as Wilhelm said you were.”

  “My father didn’t lie, Captain.” Peter stared at the man, as if daring Nathan to challenge him. “Elgin is that good.”

  When no one else spoke, Miceral led Peter to the position in the bow he’d picked earlier. Waiting would be the enemy now. With limited weapons, they couldn’t afford to waste a single arrow or spear by firing before the pirates were in range.

  The minutes dragged on as the sound of the drums from the pirate ship grew louder. Miceral could hear the enemy talking about the lack of targets. Some expressed concern when they couldn’t find the weapons that had shattered their ballista and snapped their mast. Most had a bad feeling about this ship, but they seemed more afraid of someone on their ship and resigned themselves to the impending attack.

  Building on those fears, Miceral decided to send a new message. The pirate ship had just inched with range of Peter’s bow. Motioning for the younger man to stay down, Miceral grabbed a spear, stood up, and quickly locked in on a target. With a quick release, he hurled the long spear at a sailor in the rigging. The man fell to the deck, the spear still lodged in his skull. After two more archers fell victim to Miceral’s spears, talk of avoiding the Rose began anew.

  “Those weren’t magically enhanced.” Emerson hugged the crates the crew placed on deck to provide cover. An arrow sunk into the wood a few inches away from him, causing him to duck lower. Miceral spotted the shooter and knocked him from his perch with a spear through the chest.

  Using the confusion from the dead pirate’s scream, Emerson made his way to Miceral’s side.

  “Thanks for drawing someone into the open.” Miceral’s lips twisted into a smirk. “For some reason, everyone’s hunkering down suddenly.”

  Emerson’s eyes narrowed for an instant as he stared at Miceral. Finally, he snorted softly and smiled. “Imagine that.”

  For the next half an hour, Miceral, Emerson, and Peter struggled to find targets. Occasionally one or two pirates scurried across the deck, providing the trio with someone to shoot. Only one sailor made it to his destination and eventually, no one else tried.

  “Should we save our last arrows for when they try to board?” Peter asked. “It’s hard to find a clear target, despite how close they are.”

  Emerson nodded and divided the arrows into three piles.

  “Don’t leave me any,” Miceral said. “When they board, I intend to give them a proper welcome.”

  The first officer didn’t ask what he meant. Instead, he handed half the arrows to Peter and led them cautiously toward the main deck.

  The Seafoam Rose was a big vessel, even for an ocean-going merchant ship. With three masts, an aft and forecastle, she rode higher than her would-be conqueror. Short of swinging over on ropes and climbing down the rigging—a dangerous proposition that would leave any who tried it exposed to attack—the only viable crossing would be the main deck.

  Nathan and Emerson organized the men on the starboard side of the deck. Counting Miceral and Peter, they totaled fifty-one. Enough to give the pirates a good fight, but Miceral still didn’t like their chances. Nathan planned to lead half the crew, leaving Emerson the other half. Peter and the other archers divided the remaining arrows between them and found positions with good protection and a reasonably free line of sight.

  Miceral grabbed his last javelin and crept toward the starboard rail. The tip of pirate’s prow had just reached their stern. He could see men crouched under the protection of the gunwale. “They’re almost here—be ready.”

  Moving faster than the enemy could react, Miceral scaled the short staircase and quickly found a protected spot in the aftcastle. Peering through a narrow opening, he scanned the clusters of men he could see. At the rear of the largest group, Miceral spotted someone who, by clothing at least, appeared to be an officer. With no one else standing out as being the captain, this man became his target.

  Springing to his feet, he hurled the spear before anyone could target him. One of the pirates huddled by the rail fired an arrow, which Miceral caught in midflight. Flashing the enemy a wicked grin, he snapped the shaft in half before dropping back behind his cover.

  Miceral closed one eye and stared through the space between crates. He watched the men look toward where their officer had been standing, and from the shouts he knew he’d hit his mark. One pirate tried to pull the spear out but failed. When he turned to ask for help, a stream of blood dribbled out of his mouth and over the feathers of the arrow protruding from his neck. Everyone else ducked immediately and remained out of sight.

  Miceral traced the shaft’s path back to where Peter knelt, nocking another arrow. He gave his friend a wink and a nod. Before either could enjoy the small victory, a hail of arrows and spears whistled across the deck. Under the cover of this barrage, dozens of grappling hooks landed on the deck of the Rose. Once the barbs dug into whatever purchase they could find, the two vessels inched closer. Miceral heard the faint thud of the two ships colliding and slipped the mace and axe from his belt.

  With the ships tethered together, the pirates flipped long wooden planks from their ship onto the Seafoam Rose. Hooks on the ends secured the slim pathway firmly in place. The first wave of invaders ran across the boards, screaming at the top of their lungs. If they expect to scare the crew into surrender, that hope dissipated when four of their number fell dead from a round of arrows.

  Miceral used the distraction to leap from his hiding place. Screaming his own battle cry, he rushed the startled pirates. From his right, Emerson and Nathan led the crew in defense of their ship.

  The ferocity of the resistance appeared to catch the invaders by surprise. Miceral killed anything in his reach, stalling the attack momentarily. Peter stood next to Miceral and proved the value of all the long hours of practice he’d been put through.

  Unfortunately, Miceral couldn’t defend all points of entry onto the vessel. The pirates quickly learned to avoid the armed warrior who moved with the speed of lightning.

  The initial advantage of the Rose’s crew quickly evaporated as the pirates brought superior numbers onto the trading ship. To avoiding being surrounded, the defenders fell back to a predetermined, more defensible position. This allowed the rest of the pirates to cross unimpeded.

  “Now would be a good time to arrive, Farrell.” Miceral didn’t know if Farrell could hear him, but if he didn’t arrive soon, there’d be no one left to rescue.

  “I’m almost there, Ral.” Farrell’s voice distracted Miceral enough that he cut off an opponent’s arm instead of slicing through the man’s neck. “Hang on!”

  “We might not have too much more time, so hurry.”

  Like wolves on a wounded deer, the invaders sensed they had the upper hand. Several bared their rotting teeth in anticipation of an easy kill. For a long moment, the two sides stared at each other, waiting for the other to make a move. The pirates watched for their rest of their cohorts to arrive. The defenders tried to maintain the most defensible position they had left.

  Miceral glanced over and saw Nathan unsuccessfully trying to staunch the flow of blood from a nasty gash on his upper right arm. No longer able to wield a sword, Nathan moved to the rear of the pack. Miceral used the lull to return his axe and mace to his belt and drew both swords, holding them out. The pirates seemed to draw back, as if waiting for something.

  “Something” arrived in the person of a tall, lanky man in a white linen shirt. Unarmed, the man showed no signs he’d taken part in the fight. If the enemy hadn’t moved aside as he made his way to the front of their pack, Miceral wouldn’t have believed he was a pirate.

  “Where is your wizard?” The man directed the question to Miceral.

  “Who?”

  “Don’t play games with me, merc. You have no hope. Surrender the wizard now, and we may be merciful. Resist and you’ll either become shark food or spend your remaining time on Nendor pulling an oar.” The twitch in
his face told Miceral the pirate lied. “I’ll not make this offer twice.”

  Miceral sized up his foe and vowed to Khron that this man at least would die before they took him or the Seafoam Rose. Still hoping Farrell would arrive, Miceral let the standoff continue.

  “Mercenary, I grow tired. Tell me where the wizard is or—”

  The air off the port side suddenly erupted in a column of water.

  “Surrender now or you will all die!” The voice boomed across the ship with enough force to cause men to clutch their ears.

  Farrell stood on top of the fountain of water, glowing almost white against the setting sun.

  Chapter 13

  MICERAL WATCHED the triumphant expressions on the pirates’ faces disappear in an instant. Even their leader looked a bit less confident. “I’d suggest you listen to him. You won’t like what happens if you resist.”

  “Nice entrance. Glad you could make it.”

  “Is everyone okay?” Farrell remained on his watery pedestal, his gaze never moving from the enemy.

  “Peter and I are fine. There are casualties among the crew.” Miceral resisted the urge to turn around. Instead, he kept his focus on the leader, hoping the man couldn’t tell he and Farrell were communicating. “Nathan’s been injured.”

  “I’ll see to him as soon as I deal with the pirates.”

  “Be careful. The one in front was looking for you specifically.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes. He kept asking ‘Where is your wizard?’”

  Miceral locked eyes with his adversary. The stoic expression gave away nothing. Something felt wrong. If the pirates had counted a wizard among them, the Rose would be in their hands by now. So why the bravado?

  “This feels like a trap.” He spared a split-second glance at his partner.

  “He’s not a wizard. None of them are. But I’ll shield you just in case.”

  “Pirate.” Farrell’s voice cut through the silence. His platform moved until he stepped on board the Rose. “I’ll give you to the count of three to surrender. After that, I’ll kill you all where you stand.”