Koren knew not to be insulted. “Yes, Mister Scanton,” he made a short bow and hurried over to the barrel to select a bow. He groaned when he saw the selection. Compared to the bows he had used at the castle, or the standard bow of the Royal Army, the weapons in the barrel were of poor quality. And the arrows were old, bent and their feathers ragged or missing entirely. “Oh, Alfonze, this is terrible.”
“Why?” The big man asked. “The enemy will be directly alongside; you won’t have to shoot far.” He picked up and arrow and sighted along it, it was warped.
“No, I want to hit them well before they are alongside.” Koren hefted what looked like the sturdiest bow, rejected it, and picked up another.
“No, you don’t want a bow like that,” Alfonze advised. “A bow like that takes too much effort, you won’t be able to control it. You won’t be able to hit anything with a heavy bow like that. Try this one,” he held up a shorter bow made of a springier wood.
“No,” Koren shook his head. “I can aim fine. With a bow like that one you have, I couldn’t get an arrow halfway to the pirate ship.”
“It’s your choice,” Alfonze said, unconvinced. Glancing at the pirate ship, he added “Choose quickly. The pirates are even with us; they’ll start shooting soon.” He could see the pirates had moved the two ballistas to the middle of the ship, and were jostling them into position. Soon, they would begin cranking the windlasses, and bringing bombs up from the hold.
Koren checked a third bow, which looked crude and well-worn but felt right. He didn’t know why, it simply felt right in his hand. It would take a strong effort to draw back the string, but it was powerful, and he was confident it could propel an arrow across the gap between the ships. The arrows were the real problem, so many of them were warped and splintered that they would fly in a circle, or shatter when he released the bowstring. What he needed, he decided, was a half dozen good arrows; arrows that would fly straight and true to their targets. “This bow”, he handed it to Alfonze. “I’ll take these arrows apart to make some I can use.” Ignoring the fletching, he pulled one arrow after another out of the barrel, rejecting most of them. The good ones he laid carefully on the deck, and when he had seven, he began removing the feathers from warped arrows. Even the first mate glanced over as Koren expertly pulled feathers from bad arrows and set them carefully to properly provide fletching for his seven chosen arrows. Finally, he stood up.
“Seven arrows?” Alfonze asked skeptically.
“Seven arrows,” Koren declared simply while he struggled to fit a string to the bow. He looked at Alfonze with a face devoid of expression. “I was not exaggerating when I said that I never miss.”
This was a Kedrun that Alfonze did not know. Where was the uncertain young man who had come aboard the ship, not knowing anything about seamanship? “Let me do that,” he offered, and used his weight and strength to bend the stiff bow.
“Thank you,” Koren whispered. He didn’t know if he had the strength to get the bow strung correctly by himself.
“Now?” Alfonze suggested impatiently as he stood by the rail next to ‘Kedrun’.
“No,” Koren responded with a grunt. Holding the bowstring drawn back was a tremendous effort, his arm shook.
“They’re about to fire that forward ballista,” Alfonze warned in a harsh whisper.
“I know, it’s not. It’s not right yet,” Koren gritted his teeth from the effort. “I have to wait until the time is right, until I know it’s right.”
“How do you know?” Alfonze asked, and shared an anxious look with the first mate, who was walking by.
“I don’t know how I know; I just know. I feel it,” Koren answered. “I have to wait until-” he released the arrow. The arrow flew high in the air between the ships, wavering in the unpredictable breezes, then arced downward. A cry went up from the deck of the pirate ship, and figures attempted to dodge out of the way, but they got in each other’s way. The arrow found its mark, plunging into the chest of the pirate in command of the forward ballista. The man staggered forward against the railing, slumped over, and fell into the water with a splash.
Both crews were shouting; Koren’s crew exulted with hope, and the pirates screamed threats and insults across the water. Alfonze pounded Koren on the back so hard, the young man could barely breathe. “You did it! You did it!” Alfonze grinned, and shook his sword at the pirates. “You waited to time the roll of both ships?”
“I wait until, it’s hard to explain. Until it feels right, until I know that I will hit the target.” Koren didn’t know why he had such skill with a bow, he simply did, and always had.
On the pirate ship, the stricken man had been quickly replaced by another, and the pirates were cheering as the ballista crews put their backs into winding up the pair of weapons. Most of the pirates, surprised that an arrow had been accurate at such a distance, were warily crouched down behind wood screens along the railing. “Can we do anything?” Koren asked.
Alfonze looked up at the sails, which were listlessly half filled in the light breeze. “Nay, not much. If we had more wind, we could back the mizzen sails,” he meant the sails on the rear of the ship’s two masts, “and slow suddenly to throw off their aim. Or turn to starboard, away from them, to present a smaller target.”
“They’re behind those screens now,” Koren expressed his frustration. “I can’t hit them if they don’t show themselves.”
“Can you hit one of the men winding a ballista?” Alfonze pointed. The men had to stand up, exposed, as they strained to crank the wheel.
“Maybe,” Koren pondered doubtfully. Even if he could, what good would that do? Any man he hit with an arrow would be quickly replaced by another. “Is there a-”
“Down!” Alfonze hauled on Koren’s shirt and pulled the young man to the deck, as both ballistas fired. One of the bombs fell short, crashing into the Hildegard near the waterline. A few droplets of burning oil splattered up onto the deck, to be quickly rendered harmless by handfuls of sand dumped on them.
The other bombs did more damage, hitting the lower sail on the mizzen mast. Oil rained down on the aft deck, causing even the Captain to run for cover, and in an instant, the white canvas was on fire. That lowest sail was rigged fore and aft, so men had to scramble out along the upper spar to cut away the burning canvas, before the flames could spread to other sails. Beating back flames with their gloved hands, two brave sailors succeeded in hacking away the ropes that held the burning sail to the upper spar, while below them, other men worked to swing the sail to hang overboard. The now-loosened sail crashed down, partly on the aft deck, and men threw sand on the flames and sliced the sail with their sharp knives. Other sailors used their pikes to heave the flaming canvas over the rail, and in less than a minute, the sail was in the water and the danger to the ship had passed.
Except that, as Alfonze reminded Koren, they now had less sail area aloft, and the Hildegard had slowed even more. Across the water, the pirates were cranking their ballistas again. Koren could see two men carrying the ‘bombs’ up from a hold, then fitting the bombs to a rail on the ballistas. “Aye,” Alfonze remarked sourly, “here it comes again. They’ll keep shooting until we’re running on bare poles, then they’ll have us. It will be our steel against their steel then,” he said grimly, holding up his sword.
The Captain, having run out of most options, ordered a sharp turn to starboard just as the pirates fired their ballistas again. The forward ballista, which had struck the mizzen sail on its first shot, missed this time, with the bomb passing through the air just forward of the mizzen mast. That bomb soared through the air, to splash harmlessly in the water on the far side of the ship.
The other ballista, whose bomb had fallen short the first time, again threw its bomb less high. The black metal object arced low across the water, headed straight for Alfonze and Koren. It flew too fast for them to safely duck out of the way, and as he fell to the deck, Koren held up his free hand in a futile gesture to ward off the deadly weapon
.
Except it was not a futile gesture. The bomb staggered in the air, as if it had struck something invisible ten feet from the Hildegard, and burst before it hit the ship. Flaming oil cascaded up and to both sides, with some burning drops flying above Koren’s head to splash onto the deck. Most of the oil fell into the water alongside the ship.
Koren got to his knees, retrieving the bow that he had flung away, and peeked above the railing. He had expected to die in a pillar of flame. And now he expected that his crew would be cheering, but they were mostly silent. Or murmuring to themselves, looking at him warily, and some were making gestures to ward off evil. “What?” Koren asked innocently.
Even Alfonze was looking at Koren differently, standing apart. “How did you do that?” Alfonze asked in a hoarse voice.
“What? I didn’t do anything,” he protested. “Their bomb must have burst too early. Or it, hit a bird or something,” he added, now not sure of himself. Seeing that Alfonze’s eyes were wide, that the big man feared him, Koren held up his hands. “I didn’t do anything. You saw!”
“Aye,” Alfonze muttered, keeping a distance between him and the young man.
Partly to distract himself, Koren selected an arrow, and fit it to the bowstring. “Who should I aim at?”
Alfonze shook his head. “Unless you can hit one of the men carrying bombs up from their hold, you’re best to save your arrows until they are closing with us.”
“That’s an impossible shot,” old Jofer scoffed, having shuffled across the deck to stand at the railing beside Koren. Whether Jofer was curious about the young man he knew as ‘Kedrun’, or simply figured that standing near Kedrun was the safest place aboard the ship, he didn’t say.
It was an impossible shot, Koren agreed silently. Still, he asked himself what else could he do that was useful, as he watched the pirates shaking their fists at him. The pirate ship had turned to match the Hildegard’s eastward course, and once again was running parallel to the merchant ship on its port side. Pirates were working the wheels of the two ballistas, cranking them for another shot. A man came up from the hold, carrying a bomb. Koren saw the man’ head first, and as the man was walking very slowly and carefully, Koren was able to draw back the bowstring. But he felt strongly that the timing was not right, and he relaxed the string slightly. The man crossed the deck to the forward ballista, and disappeared from view behind the wood screen. Koren could see the heads and hats of pirates working behind the screen to load the ballista; it would not be long before another bomb was on its way across the water to hit the Hildegard.
Shifting his focus from the ballistas to the hatchway where the pirates brought bombs up from the hold, he once again drew back the bowstring and held it there, his arm shaking from the strain. Closing his eyes, he said a silent prayer. When he opened his eyes again, he could see a man coming up from the hold. Only the man’s head and shoulders were visible above the hatchway when Koren released the arrow.
The arrow flew almost flat across the water, propelled by the great force of the heavy bow. Its target had not yet fully emerged from the hatchway when the arrow struck his left arm, and with a strangled cry, he fell backwards down the steps into the hold, dropping the bomb out of his hands. The dangerous weapon bounced down the steps into the pirate ship’s hold.
“Incredible!” Jofer whispered, astonished. “How did-”
“Look!” Alfonze shouted and pointed at the pirate ship. Flames licked up from the hatchway, followed by more flames. Then there was a great gout of flame leaping high above the hatchway, setting the sails on fire and catching many pirates in its grasp. The bomb must have exploded below the deck, and its burning oil had set off other bombs stowed there. Within seconds, the deck of the pirate ship was a mass of flames, and pirates were leaping into the water to escape, discarding their weapons and masks as they fell toward the waves.
“Hard to starboard!” The Hildegard’s captain ordered, and the merchant ship veered away from the stricken pirate vessel. Burning oil now surrounded the pirate ship, scorching men in the water who flailed their arms and slipped beneath the surface.
Koren held onto Alfonze’s right arm in horror at what he had done. The screams of the dying were terrible to hear, and worse than the desperate cries of the pirates were the unseen slaves trapped below deck. “Can we do anything to help them? They’re dying!”
“Aye, they are,” Alfonze nodded grimly. “And better off they are, than to be slaves of the enemy. Kedrun, no, there is nothing we can do. The pirates chain their slaves below decks, we couldn’t get to them in time.” Already, the pirate ship was listing to port, showing the underside of its hull to the Hildegard. The hull shook as more bombs within its hold exploded, and more burning oil spread upon the surface of the water. The pirates must have had flammable oil stored in casks that had now burst, dooming them and their ship.
“I didn’t mean to,” Koren was unable to finish his thought. “I didn’t mean to-”
“Aye, yes you did,” Alfonze said quietly. “You meant to save us all, and you did.”
“I didn’t mean,” Koren could not look at the men dying in the water as floating oil burst into flames around them. Only a few pirates were able to swim away strongly enough to escape the flames. As Koren watched, one pirate who had escaped turned to shake a fist at the Hildegard. The man’s grotesquely painted face became even more shocking as his mouth suddenly flew open, and he was jerked under the surface. A triangular fin briefly appeared, then there was a violent ripple in the water, and the pirate was seen no more.
Other survivors recognized their new danger, and began crying out for help and frantically thrashing around in the water. Their actions did them no good, serving only to attract the sharks. The sharks, who had been maddeningly frustrated while following one or the other ship, having to satisfy themselves with scraps of garbage, saw their chance to finally feast. The water boiled as fins appeared, racing toward the survivors, and sleek gray shapes flashed at the surface as they fought over their prey. Alfonze took hold of Koren’s shoulders and turned the young man away from the rail so that Koren would not see the pirate ship turn upside down and slip beneath the waves with a mass of bubbles.
The entire crew was silent, staring at the awful scene of destruction. Nothing but debris bobbed on the surface, in between scattered flames as the floating oil burned itself out. No one could speak, for they were all thinking that could have been their fate; to burn to death, to drown, or to be torn apart by horrible sharks.
Finally, Alfonze spoke to break the silence. “That was an incredible shot,” Alfonze shook his head in wonder.
“An impossible shot,” Jofer protested. “An impossible shot,” he glared in fear at Kedrun, and backed slowly away from the young man who he realized he knew little about.
“It wasn’t impossible. I did it,” Koren said, but he knew what Jofer meant. He shrugged. “I’ve always been good with a bow.”
“No one is that good,” the first mate declared. “Captain wants to see you aft, Kedrun. I’ll take the bow, and the arrows.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Koren went below to meet Captain Reed in the man’s cabin. It was at the back of the ship, with several large windows to let in fresh air, light and gave a view of the ship’s wake. The man was standing beside his desk with his back to Koren.
Koren knocked on the door frame. “You wanted to see me, Captain?”
“Yes, come in, and close the door.”
Koen closed the door behind him, noting that the skylight above was also closed. Curious sailors, and all sailors were curious, would no doubt try to listen to the conversation, but they would have a difficult time making out words drifting out the half-open rear windows.
“Sit,” Reed indicated a chair in front of the desk, and the captain pushed items around the desk, as if he planned to sit on the corner rather than in his own chair. Uncharacteristically, the desk was cluttered, Reed usually kept his cabin neat and clean. The wood serving platter from
breakfast was still on the desk, although Koren saw that the dishes and cutlery were piled on a sideboard. As Koren moved to sit, Reed suddenly stabbed at Koren’s face with a dagger. Quicker than the blink of an eye and even without Koren realizing what he was doing, he picked up the serving platter and held it up to block the blade, then knocked the captain off the desk to sprawl on the floor.
Koren sprung to his feet, holding the platter like a weapon. “Ah! Hold, Kedrun! I was testing you. Ah, that hurts. I should have known better.” Reed flexed his sore wrist and pointed to the dagger that had gone flying off into a corner of the cabin.
Koren could see the dagger was still encased in a leather sheath. Captain Reed had not meant to harm him at all. He set the platter back on the desk, and sat down heavily in the chair.
Reed, nursing his sore wrist, went to the sidebar and poured himself a small measure of rum. He tilted his head back and swallowed it quickly, then walked over to sit across the desk from Koren. “Kedrun, no one is that fast. No one. Except for wizards. Are you a wizard?”
“Me? A wizard?” Koren asked, astonished. “No!”
“Your speed, and your skill with a bow, are not natural,” Reed said in an unfriendly manner. A person like Kedrun could represent a threat to his ship and crew; Captain Reed could not stand for that. Even if Kedrun had just that day saved the Lady Hildegard from a ship of bloodthirsty pirates. “And that bomb exploded before it hit you, thought you were not touched. How did you survive that? The bomb should have covered you in burning oil.”
Koren’s mind flashed to when he was with Paedris in the ruined keep, and an enemy wizard had thrown a fireball at him. The ball of magical fire had washed around Koren as if he had worn an invisible suit of armor, and he had not been harmed. That time, Koren was certain, Lord Salva had acted to protect him; Paedris had knocked the fireball aside.
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