“My agents and I were poking holes in the bottoms of the barges, just large enough to be a problem a long way downstream from here. This beehive-shaped thing was a real give-away that you were probably here.”
“Did you poke holes in this barge?” Pel asked with some concern.
“Of course not,” the boy laughed. “We only take action when we have all available intelligence. We spared one other barge. Three girls escaped from it with the help of one of the cavalry soldiers; he didn’t tell them his name. The girls told us which barge he was on.”
“Who were the girls and where are they now?” Blan asked excitedly.
“One was Pinja. The other two had very foreign names which I can’t remember. They are at a safe place not far from my village. Some friends of mine will take them by secret ways into Quolow.”
“Oh, thank you!” Blan kissed the lad. He took it well. Since he had set up his spy network, Nellinu had received more kisses than he had received in his whole life before. He was not entirely happy to be slobbered over all the time. He supposed that a spy should look nonchalant while it was happening, so he did his best to be courteous to his fans.
“Is it safe for us to go out and get some air?” Blan asked anxiously.
“Unfortunately, no,” Nellinu replied sadly. “There are soldiers and guards all over the place. I’ll bring you some small candles and flints so you can have some light inside, also some more food and water. The river water is drinkable but tastes of rotting fish and vegetation. Our spring water is better. I’ll come back just before the barge leaves, when the guards will be preoccupied with all the coming and going of soldiers and stores.”
“How long?” Pel asked.
“Two hours from now.”
True to his word, Nellinu returned with the supplies and news that Pinja and her friends were safely on their way to Quolow. The barge set sail again well before nightfall. Pel, Memwin and Blan were still uncomfortable. However, they had better food, more fresh water, and a small light by which they could at last see each other and their surroundings without alerting the enemy to their presence.
109
Lake Glorz – 30th November
Three more days confined at the bottom of the barge with Pel and Memwin did little to improve Blan’s spirits. Pel had taken to long periods of meditation and this had reminded Blan that she should try to do the same. She taught the technique to Memwin who had been going out of her mind with boredom. Fortunately, Memwin took well to the idea of meditation, finding a way of emptying her mind of frustrations as she used her little dagger to slowly carve an arm-sized off-cut of pine she had found on the floor. Blan gritted her teeth and tactfully intervened on a few occasions to avert an accident, but Memwin was either naturally careful or lucky. In fact Memwin had already learnt to be careful with the dagger, by painful experience, when she had adapted the trunk she used to depart Proequa.
Blan had used Actio B each day to contact Azimath, Nightsight and Penna (Pencar had been learning seacraft from Crowmar and Penntrafa). There was little news from them, except that a single beacon signal had somehow made its way to Proequa from Port Fandabbin with news that the enemy had launched a full-scale attack on River Docks from land and sea. Blan had already guessed something of the sort from her observation of Geode activity. There was no news of the outcome of the battle. Otherwise, Azimath was still preparing an attempt to break through the blockade of Proequa, Penntrafa was playing cat-and-mouse with quimals in the vicinity of Port Cankrar, and Nightsight was still helping Admiral Wayhooay defend Austra Great Harbour.
Just when Blan noticed a tiny measure of natural light coming into the cabin through the peep holes, she felt the barge make a sudden change of direction. Pel, who had been meditating, now became alert.
“Can you hear anything, Blan?” he asked urgently.
Blan concentrated for a minute on listening.
“The river sounds different, like it suddenly became wider,” she decided. “Although I can’t make out the words spoken above, there is a change there too. The babble of many soldiers is replaced by a few sharper voices: officers, I imagine; giving orders.”
“Then I guess we have come to Lake Glorz,” Pel deduced. “If the Free Alliance still holds the line of Glorz River, then the soldiers above will disembark on the east shore of the lake. We must wait until they are gone and then make our escape.”
“Norsnette and Aransette turn seventeen today.” It was not relevant, but Blan felt better for saying it. “Happy birthday, girls!”
“We’ll miss the party,” Memwin supposed. The tone of her voice suggested that she had not given up hope. She could not remember being invited to a party, except for her own birthdays which were more like remembrance services than parties. They certainly did not involve interesting, energetic, young people like Blan, Aransette, Norsnette, Pretsan, Bonmar or Telko.
“I hope they are safe enough to have a party,” Blan mused. Immediately regretting the depressing nature of her reply, she added, “Of course, we will put on another birthday party for them when we get there. We can plan it together, Memwin.”
Memwin was no stranger to disappointment, yet the thought of a party cheered her. It would be a celebration of all the things that had come to her since meeting Blan: love, friendship, purpose, and already some degree of achievement.
110
An hour later, Blan whispered, “Something is wrong up on deck. I can hear urgency and alarm in the voices. The sound of the water has changed again. It’s as though the barge is being pushed to the limit. I think I can hear oars in the water.”
“The oars will be longboats. They will be towing us to the shore of the lake. But I fear that the voices of alarm suggest that we might be running into a battle,” Pel speculated. “I also heard some panicky cries from above. They must have been loud for me to hear them.”
Memwin had also heard the cries. It was a strange environment for her and she did not know what to make of them. Rather than get worked up about it, she decided to think about the party instead.
There was a scuffling sound and some loud banging in the hold next to them. Soldiers were gathering equipment stored there and taking it up to the weather deck. When the noise next door provided sufficient cover, Pel came close to Blan and whispered in her ear.
“They speak a dialect from Krar. Some Dabbinan ships have broken through the barge blockade that the enemy set up yesterday to stop ships from entering the lake from the direction of River Docks. The warships are coming this way. We must get out of here, right now.”
No sooner had Pel said this than they heard a loud thump on the deck above and then another splash in the water nearby.
“Catapult shot,” Pel exclaimed.
As the three of them climbed back into Beehive and Pel sealed the upper trapdoor, they heard several more thumps and splashes. Pel opened the lower trapdoor. Beehive was now a third full of water but daylight also flooded in, and they could see the sandy bottom of the lake less than a fathome below.
Pel climbed to the top of the vessel and started working on some fittings there.
“What are you doing?” Blan asked.
“I’m going to release Beehive from the barge. We can’t risk being attached to it when a Dabbinan warship rams it, nor when it gets into the shallows.”
He had removed five of six bolts securing Beehive to the barge when there was a dull thud and they were violently jolted to one side. There was a pause of a second or two before they felt Beehive being dragged relentlessly through the water at an angle. They were all wondering when it would be torn apart around them.
There was a loud cracking sound and they felt themselves lifted up forcefully until their vessel hit something with a loud thump. Then, as Beehive rolled under whatever it had collided with, they all felt as though they were in a barrel that was spinning out of control.
As Blan guessed and Pel knew, Beehive was being keel-hauled. First the Dabbinan ship’s long ram had pierced the hull of
the barge, then the ship’s stem had met the barge’s hull and forced it forward and over. Beehive had been dragged after the barge until it broke loose. No longer weighed down by ballast, it rose to meet the keel of the attacking warship.
It was a testament to Pel’s skill as a shipwright that Beehive had not already disintegrated. However, one side of it finally gave way and water flooded in. The wreckage quickly surfaced behind the warship. Blan, Memwin and Pel found themselves alive and clinging to one half of Beehive, now floating like a coracle in the lake.
Blan then saw that this was not a major battle. Three Free Alliance warships had raced into the lake on what seemed to be a suicide mission to destroy as many enemy barges as possible. Although there were sinking barges all around, many more remained afloat and yet more were already lining the shore, having discharged their passengers and cargo or in the process of doing so. The enemy were also firing catapults from the shore, just three hundred paces away, and these were now becoming more accurate. Longboats full of enemy crossbowmen were approaching from the shore, some already attacking. The Dabbinan ships would have to withdraw very soon or be taken.
Two longboats were coming up fast, even as the Dabbinan ship was swiftly moving away. Pel produced a small horn from around his neck and blew a series of loud notes. Blan did not know the signal, but it sounded familiar, like a kind of challenge. Had she once heard Praalis hum the tune? Whatever it was, the effect was almost instant.
Three more longboats turned quickly and sped toward them. In each of the five approaching longboats a centurion was pointing to Blan whose hair had now come adrift and was blowing in the breeze like a flag saying, “Here is Blancapaw!” As they did so, the nearest Dabbinan warship started to come around and the other two ships also altered course and headed for Blan. It was now a brutal race.
“What message did you send?” Blan called out to Pel.
“Our only chance is to be rescued by one of those warships, so I risked everything and announced the presence of the Grand Vizier of Krar. It seems that everyone is already looking for you anyway, Blan.”
“Glad to be of service,” Blan called lightly. She said it more in resignation than in humour, although she could not help thinking that there was a funny side to the way that everyone was looking for her.
*
The nearest safe haven for them was a promontory between the main body of Lake Glorz and its southwestern leg that flowed out into Southport River. That was about four miles away. Meanwhile, many longboats and barges, the latter equipped with catapults, and now free of passengers, were speeding to cut off their retreat and that of the Free Alliance warships.
Blan noticed that they had floated to within two hundred paces of the eastern shore where enemy crossbowmen and catapults were busy shooting at the ships. Nobody was shooting at her. She reckoned that orders had already been given that neither she nor Memwin were to be harmed; just captured at any cost. She worried about Pel.
Two of the Alliance ships were burning. Blan could see sailors fighting flames in the rigging and on deck, yet none of the ships were fleeing as they should have done for their own safety. They were also clearly under orders to save her and Memwin at any cost. Blan felt so powerless, sitting drenched and unarmed in what was now just a tub. They had no weapons except knives and Pel’s bow. That would only make a target of him if he produced it.
Just as the first enemy longboat was about to come alongside, Blan raised herself as high as she could, trying to position herself between the longboat and her friends, and called out in the loudest voice she could muster. At first her voice did not seem to work at all after so many days of whispering, but it soon came out much louder than she had thought herself capable.
“Halt! I am Blancapaw Cankrar, Grand Vizier of Krar in succession to my grandfather Praalis and his father Pelundlis the Just. I order you to return to shore and let us depart!” To Blan, this sounded pompous and silly, but it was the only thing she could think of that might delay seemingly inevitable capture. She wondered if the longboat crew would take any notice at all and, if they did, whether they would just laugh at her.
They did not laugh, nor did they pause for very long. The longboat commander ordered the oars up while he considered the matter. He had no doubt that he was going to carry out Black Knight’s orders, yet it was a delicate situation. He was only of centurion rank and was not privy to many of the counsels of his superiors. He knew that he was not to harm the two girls, but could he harm the man with them? What if they resisted? How much force could he use on them without running foul of Black Knight? The Great One obviously wanted them in good condition, at least the little girl and the young woman who claimed to be Grand Vizier.
The longboat commander hesitated for no more than thirty seconds. However, that was just enough time for one of the burning ships to close in. It came within twenty paces of Beehive. Two dragon boats had already been lowered and others were following in response to the skipper’s order to abandon ship.
One dragon boat appeared from behind the ship. Built for resilience at sea, and manned by experienced oarsmen, the dragon boat was faster than the hastily built longboat, and its advantage was increased by the roughness of the water now churned up by the battle.
Blan felt the world collapsing in on her as the ship’s stem appeared above her. It swept past to crush three other approaching longboats. At the same time, the first longboat and the dragon boat reared up on either side just as the wake of the ship squeezed what was left of Beehive upward. Blan found herself level with the top strake of each boat. Arms reached out from both sides. Pel and Blan half lifted and half threw Memwin into the arms of a mariner in the dragon boat. Pel then turned to help Blan across but strong hands grasped her from behind. With the violence of desperation she thrust her shoulders and arms forward to break the hold and then she spun her shoulders around. Her elbow landed in a face. She hoped it was not Pel; it was not. One of the reaching enemy soldiers recoiled with a broken nose, by which time Beehive had fallen below the boats on either side of it. Both Blan and Pel were now clinging to the top strake of the dragon boat with their legs dangling below, both of them at risk of being crushed between the two competing boats. Fortunately, there was no hand-to-hand combat between the crews. Those not trying to grab Blan and Pel were busy manning oars.
The other two Dabbinan warships were now sweeping by and considerably increasing the choppiness of the water. Beehive fell into the trench between two waves and the enemy longboat came down on top of it, crushing and sinking it. Blan felt hands grasp her ankles. The longboat was now lower and a soldier had reached up to grab her. As the boats came level again, she found herself stretched horizontally between them, her arms held by a burly Dabbinan mariner and her ankles held by an enemy soldier. Actio B was in its bag dangling below her neck. Then there was a moment when the boats came together a little and she felt the pressure on her legs and arms ease. With all the force she could muster she hauled in with her arms, hoping the mariner had a tight hold, and kicked out with her feet. She caught the enemy soldier in the mouth and he let go of her. After a painful thud as her shins hit the top strake of the longboat, followed by a bruising grind as she felt the hard crystal of Actio B press between her throat and the side of the dragon boat, she again felt her feet dip into the water, but then she felt herself being lifted and she was at last hauled into the dragon boat.
The longboat pulled away and headed for shore as arrows started to land on it from the nearest Dabbinan warship.
Blan joined Pel and Memwin in the middle of the dragon boat. No one said anything for a while. Memwin was unharmed, Pel had a few minor injuries, and Blan was alternately rubbing her bruised shins and neck. The immediate danger of being crushed and drowned had passed. However, they watched in alarm as events unfolded in the Battle of Lake Glorz.
*
Blan did not bother to count the enemy longboats and barges now seemingly cutting them off from escape. There were certainly too many fo
r just three warships to defeat. The ships could ram and crush many enemy vessels, already had done, but sooner or later they would be burnt to the waterline by fiery catapult shot or boarded by overwhelming numbers of marines from the enemy craft.
One of the three ships had now been abandoned by all except its skipper. That sole mariner was staying aboard to the very end, steering the burning ship north, over as many longboats and barges as stood in its way. When the last sail had been consumed by fire the skipper turned the ship into a southwesterly current so it would collide with more enemy barges on the way back. The six dragon boats carrying the skipper’s crew were already racing westward, including the one carrying Blan, Memwin and Pel. They were pursued by many longboats; barges ahead of them were converging to cut them off. The two Dabbinan ships still in working order, although one of them was still burning, now also headed west to engage enemy craft.
Blan saw that all the crew of the dragon boat were straining at the oars, except the commander who had a bow drawn and arrows ready for flaming. He was standing very close to Blan and Memwin as if he expected someone to attack them at any time.
“I saw your skipper briefly as she sailed past,” Blan remarked to the boat commander. “She must surely abandon ship very soon. Will she be alright?”
“She will not abandon ship until its ready to sink,” the commander replied sombrely. Blan thought she saw a tear in the man’s eye, or perhaps it was just a drop of water from the lake.
“But surely she will be rescued,” Blan insisted.
“We will do everything we can. However, the prospects are not good. It will be better for her to drown with her ship than be tortured to death by the enemy. They will have no mercy. She is a distant cousin of the duke and one of our finest mariners.”
“Oh, she looks like someone I know. What’s her name?”
“Serunipa Fandabbin, the best skipper I have ever served with,” the man said proudly. “She is the Duty Master commanding the squadron today. If we escape, it will be by her sacrifice. We had done as much damage here as one raid could reasonably achieve and were about to return to attack the barges that managed to get further downstream. Then Serunipa saw your vessel emerge and guessed who you were. She ordered that we rescue you at any cost.”
Grand Vizier of Krar Page 41