Howling like madmen, the Smilers charged back to the first house they’d taken. Tirpa and Kostek were already there; Afnir’s team caught up to them before any of the townspeople did.
Sako jumped off his wagon, shouting commands. “Light the torches! Thard! Get the wounded onto the wagons and move out! Take Gomeneg with you!”
The wagons rolled and the Smilers formed a line across the road. The last one was still in sight when a warning was called down by one of the musketeers, “Here they come!”
Several dozen men approached Sako’s line, mostly soldiers, but there were a few civic-minded civilians as well, some of whom carried real weapons. They were led by the fort’s commander, who’d been in the crowd by the tavern. A veteran with twenty years in the infantry, he knew his business well.
Unfortunately for him, Sako had never been trained in the niceties of land warfare. He gave the order to fire as soon as the Agresians were in range rather than wait for them to make a standing formation.
A few fell and one of the civilians decided that he wasn’t very civic-minded after all, but most of them held steady and leveled their weapons. The Smilers dropped their muskets, drew pistols and fired again. Infantry units weren’t armed with pistols, except for the officers, but the Smilers were. Like most sailors of enterprise, they carried several. Dason carried six. They kept firing until they were out of charged pistols. The surprise was complete as more Agresians went down.
The militia broke at that point, but the professionals held, waiting for the command to fire. The commander raised his sword and Dason shot him with his last pistol. The sword fell and the soldiers fired as one.
Sako was amazed. None of his men were hit. He drew his sword. “Boarders away! Throw those torches!”
Laughing and howling, the Smilers charged. The torches landed on the thatched roofs of some of the smaller houses nearby. Sako figured a few fires should slow any organized pursuit.
The soldiers had been reloading and were not prepared to face a charge. They didn’t even have their bayonets fixed. The Agresians collectively decided that it would be politic to go elsewhere.
Sako had a new command. “Avast that!” he roared. “Into the woods!” Most of his men stopped, but not all.
“Aayo! Youse want Clenchjaw to get all the loot? Let’s go! Up the road!” Their discipline restored by greed, the Crew turned as one and ran.
They didn’t run very far. Soon they were blundering and falling in the dark. The Smilers, like all sailors, weren’t used to running long distances, and they’d already walked all day. They were also hungry, and several still carried sacks of loot in one hand.
Widzen lit a torch and led the way, Sako and Dason brought up the rear. Hours later they were taking a rest break when Sako noticed something strange. He called Widzen over.
“How far have we come?” he asked the former highwayman.
“I reckon we’re about halfway home.”
“Then how come I can still see the glow of fires from the town?”
Widzen squinted down the road. “That’s not from the town: that’s torches! We’re being followed!”
“On your feet, Brothers! Reload weapons; there’s soldiers back there.”
“Let ‘em come,” Olik growled.
“You think they got horses?” asked Buck.
“Doesn’t matter,” said Dason. “If there’s one thing soldiers do better than sailors, it’s walk. They won’t need horses to catch us.”
“I hear something!” someone up front called urgently. The Smilers quieted and listened.
“One horse with a wagon,” Widzen announced.
“Everyone into the portside trees,” Sako said. “Leave the torch in the middle of the road.”
The men crashed into the trees, cursing the undergrowth. Soon they were silent and invisible just a few fathoms from the road. The wagon continued toward Stafa at a walk, then slowed. It came to a stop just short of the torchlight.
“Aayo Smilers!” The horse started forward again and the driver’s face was illuminated. Sako and Dason smiled at each other in relief.
“Fishbait! Turn that wagon around. Anyone still carrying loot throw it in. Finve, grab that torch; you’ll ride back with Fishbait. Make sure that torch doesn’t go out and let it be seen to your aft.
“Brog, how many arrows you got left?”
“Twenty-three.”
“Perfect. I want you on the other side of the road, about even with…Who’s that up there? Third man back from the fore?”
“It’s me, Sharkbite.”
“Right. Get abeam of Sharkbite, Brog. When the first ones get even with you, put some arrows in front of ‘em. You can even drop them if you want, but make them bunch up some.
“Nobody else fires until I give the signal. Sharkbite, you and the men in front of you, do not fire straight across! You’re to shoot to your starboard so youse don’t hit Brog.”
“Yeah yeah!”
“Fishbait, go!” said Dason. “And faster than a walk! Finve keep that torch up! After all muskets have fired, draw pistols and its every man for himself. Got it?”
“Yeah yeah!” the Smilers chorused.
“Sorry, Sako. Hope I wasn’t overstepping, but I thought—”
“Don’t worry about it, Dason. Feel free to modify my orders anytime.”
“That’s not very captainly.”
“I’ll have to work on that.”
“See that you do. Sir.”
It took less than half an hour for the soldiers to arrive. Two mounted officers led thirty men marching three abreast. One of the officers carried a torch and there were three more in the formation. These soldiers had bayonets affixed to their muskets. Sako could clearly see and hear them as they passed.
“They’re running now,” one officer said to the other. “See how quickly their torch is moving? They must have seen us.”
“The faster they run, the sooner they’ll get tired. I wonder—”
An arrow sprouted from his horse’s shoulder, and it whirled and screamed as it tried to bite at it. The officer jumped clear just as another arrow hit the other horse in the hindquarters.
That officer was the better horseman, or his mount was in less pain because he was able to keep his seat. “AMBUSH! RIGHT FLANK!”
One of the torchbearers lost his hat, another man was hit in the leg. The rest of the troopers halted and executed a right face. The third file went to one knee and the second file aimed their weapons over the heads of the third file. The first file unslung their muskets and went to ‘port arms’. The maneuvers were swift, sure and very professional. The whole thing took less than a tenth of a minute.
“AIM.” A kneeler went down, then the man behind him fell.
“FIRE.” A nearly perfect volley was fired into the trees in Brog’s general direction. The mounted officer had dropped his torch and drawn his sword.
His orders continued unabated in a trained battlefield voice. “SECOND FILE: KNEEL. FIRST FILE: AIM.” Two more soldiers dropped screaming but the formation held position. “FIRE.”
It was the moment Sako had been waiting for. “FIRE!”
At least four soldiers went down before the dismounted officer reacted. “AMBUSH TO THE REAR! FIRST FILE: BAYONETS! CHARGE!”
This was not what Sako had expected. He’d thought they would decimate the Agresians with arrows and musketry, pick off a few more with pistols, and frighten the rest into running away. Instead, angry soldiers were charging into the trees right at them.
“Repel boarders, lads!”
He drew his own sword as the Smilers let out a howl such as twice their number should have made. A few more arrows hissed in. Brog’s okay. The sailors of enterprise had a serious advantage as the soldiers were backlit by the torches that were still in the road, and the trees offered cover as well as concealment.
“Charge their muzzle flashes!” A good command from the dismounted officer, it was also his last. A boarding axe spun out of the trees and bu
ried itself in his chest.
Now that his hands were free, Olik turned his attention to the nearest soldier. The man made a classic underhand lunge, which Olik narrowly avoided. When the soldier tried to follow through with a butt stroke, Olik simply grabbed the musket and pulled.
The Agresian was very disciplined. He kept his hold on his weapon even after his feet left the ground, and didn’t release it until after he’d been slammed into a tree. Three men from the first file made it back to the road.
The mounted officer realized that the only shots were outgoing and that the arrows had stopped. “CEASE FIRE, CEASE FIRE.”
He’d started this chase with his captain and thirty troops. The captain was down and there were only seventeen troopers left standing.
“Send your next file, lieutenant!” a voice called from the trees. “We’re still hungry!”
Cruel laughter followed Dason’s challenge. The Hyena’s insane cackle was particularly chilling amongst the other sounds of hilarity.
The lieutenant sighed tiredly. He’d done his duty. “Sling arms. Rig litters for the wounded.” He turned back to the treeline. “We are at your mercy. I ask permission to collect my wounded and dead and return to Stafa. Are any of my men in the trees still alive?”
“I’m afraid they’re all dead, sir.” A new voice. “If you’ll agree to a truce, we’ll bring your fallen out to the road.”
The lieutenant scowled. Those of his men still capable of bearing arms had them slung. Any army in the world would recognize that as a signal for truce. He suddenly disliked the owner of that voice. “Agreed.” There was some rustling and cursing before he got a good look at his adversaries.
The men who came out of the woods were pretty much what he’d expected. They were obviously sailors; deeply tanned, garishly dressed, and obscenely well-armed. Most had muskets, all had cutlasses or small, one-handed axes, and every one of them had at least two pistols. They brought out his men and laid them straight in a neat row. There were more than twenty of the pirates, but the lieutenant didn’t bother to count.
Two of them came directly at him. One was a Tayan, but his hair was cut as short as a Dalarian’s. He carried no less than six pistols. The other actually was a Dalarian, with an antique Tayan sword sheathed on his right hip.
“I’m Lieutenant Jad Boranette. To whom should I present my sword?”
“Captain Sako Pizi. You may keep your sword, sir. Your men fought bravely; I have a surgeon—”
“We’ve got our own surgeon,” Boranette snapped. He took a deep breath. “But thank you for the offer. You will be leaving the area, I trust?”
“We are. Immediately if there will be no more pursuit.”
“I can only speak for the garrison. The Navy and the Company may feel differently.”
“That frigate won’t be pursuing anyone for a while,” said Dason.
“Even so. What would you have me do, Captain Pizi?”
“Remain here and rest. Tend to your wounded. Some of my men want to retrieve their weapons, then I’ll need three of yours to come with us.”
“Hostages?”
Sako’s eyes narrowed dangerously at Boranette’s near-accusation. “Don’t be absurd, sir. I could have slaughtered youse to the last man. I didn’t. I have five of your horses and three of your wagons up the road. Your men can drive the wagons back here to transport the wounded back to Stafa. I’ve offered the services of my surgeon, even though I know he’s busy with two of my oldest friends who were injured today. I allowed you to keep your sword; are you trying to provoke me, sir?”
Boranette gaped in surprise, clearly skeptical about Sako’s ‘gentlemanly’ behavior. He coughed to cover his open mouth and glanced at his men. Provoking an opposing officer under flag of truce was extremely dishonorable, and this realization was written over the Lieutenant’s face. “No sir, I am not. Your raid has devastated me—please accept my apologies.”
“Not a problem, Lieutenant. Now, about those men…”
Boranette asked for and received three volunteers to accompany Sako up the road. They were frightened and stayed close together, but they came. Sako ignored them. A few hours later they were met by most of the other Smilers riding in all three wagons.
“I thought you might need some help, Captain,” Fishbait said. “Ship’s all loaded and ready to sail.”
“Outstanding. Turn the wagons over to these soldiers. They have some wounded to cart back to Stafa. Youse ride straight back to Lieutenant Boranette and don’t look back. Go.”
“Yes, sir.” The soldiers drove off.
Sako waited until they were out of sight before he moved.
“How much farther do we have to go?” Dason asked. “My feet are sore.”
“About a half an hour to the boats,” said Fishbait.
Dason sighed.
Sako smiled and looked up at Olik. “Would you mind carrying our First Mate? He’s kind of tired.”
“I’m tired too,” the giant man said. “I was hoping he’d carry me.” The men liked that picture.
Their spirits restored—if not their feet—they pushed on to the boats. Gomeneg had coffee ready, and Sako ordered everyone fed before they weighed anchor. They hadn’t eaten or slept in a long time, and he didn’t want men falling out of the crosstrees from hunger. He went below to check on Sturo and Afnir.
36
Aboard the Iskrondionsaleet
Sako was at the helm when they left the coast after sunrise. He was troubled. None of his men had been killed, and the haul was magnificent. Ellor wasn’t done tallying the take, but it looked like they had taken more in this one raid than all of their other hauls combined.
Kostek had broken a finger and five hands had cuts that were deep or long enough to require sewing, but it was Afnir and Sturo that Sako was worried about. Both had been permanently injured, and neither by the Agresians.
Sturo’s foot had been crushed just aft of his toes, and Thard had been forced to amputate it. The surgeon was sure Sturo could walk again with a prosthetic, but it would take at least three months for the stump to harden.
Afnir was another story. According to Ieskott, Afnir had touched off a powder trail that led back into the armory much too close, and hadn’t taken cover. After the explosion—“His face was a bloody mess and he was flat on his back. I thought he was dead but me and Olik grabbed him anyway,” said Ieskott. The cuts and bruises would heal with minimal scarring, but Afnir’s eyes were gone.
Up until that point, his plan had gone flawlessly.
“Sharkbite got behind the guard and did for him, put on his jacket and took over the guarding. We went in, killed three more without raising a fuss. There was a guard at the armory door; Afnir cut him down and got the key. I stayed outside in sight of Olik, who was in sight of Sharkbite at the back door. Afnir came out with a powder keg, laying a trail, and me and Olik went to block the barracks door. Sharkbite said, ‘Light it now!’ and that’s just what Afnir did. Then boom! And Afnir was screaming and a few guys tried to get by us. We dropped them, grabbed Afnir, and ran to the house, like you said.”
“You did well, Ieskott.”
The tough hand looked relieved. He’d been worried that Sako would hold them responsible for Afnir’s injury. He excused himself and left the helmdeck.
Afnir would have to be left behind when they returned to Port Buxaca, but he deserved better than to be just kicked off the ship. And his mother was broke, she depended on Afnir now.
We need to work in recompense for guys that get hurt that bad, and a House for those who stay behind like the other Crews have. Sako spent most of the next hour thinking on how much money should be given to those too badly injured to keep sailing. Once he had worked out what seemed a fair deal, he’d discuss it with Ellor.
The new hands had done very well. Everyone’s cut should be enough to live very well for a month or so back home; longer, if they moderated their spending, but very few sailors of enterprise believed in saving money for later. The
re might not be a later.
The men might be satisfied with their haul, but Sako was not. He wanted a really big haul, something that would make his name back home as well as make him rich. Forming their own Crew was like starting a business. There were a lot of other Crews doing the same, but Sako wanted to be the best.
Nine out of ten ships boarded or even approached by StrongArm or Deadeye or even the Hangmen struck their colors immediately. Those Crews hardly ever took casualties, as most sailors wouldn’t fight back.
The Smilers could do it. He had quality hands. Sako would match them against any crew afloat: merchant, naval or Brotherhood. He had top-notch fighters as well, even if he had just lost the best swordsman aboard. Listen to yourself! Sturo emigrated from Dalaria with you and Afnir was the second friend you made on the island and you’re worried about losing a swordsman? Maybe you’re becoming a better captain but you’re also becoming a worse friend!
The watch bell rang and Sako turned the helm over to one of his men. Ellor sat at his accustomed place with his writing desk. Sturo had installed chair and desk stops on the deck so that the furniture wouldn’t slide with the motion of the ship but still allowed the deck to be cleared for action.
“Good news, Ellor?”
“I’ve got estimates only, I’m afraid. You do realize that what something is worth and what we’ll get paid for it are two different numbers?”
“Yeah, you’ve explained that before.”
“Alright then. What we’ve taken is eight ivory tusks at five hundred Tayan Crowns per; four silver ingots at two hundred per; fifteen bales of exotic fur and leather at an average of seventy-five per. About eight hundred worth of uncut amber. Apparently there’s a new diamond mine near Stafa, because we took approximately a thousand in uncut diamonds. There are some polished onyx figurines worth about a hundred, and that’s just from the warehouse.” Ellor took a moment to tap out his pipe, repack and light it.
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