Grand Vizier of Krar

by W. John Tucker

  Blan was mortified that people she had never met would sacrifice their lives for her.

  “She reminds me of Arnapa; mostly her face and bearing. Do you know Arnapa?” Blan asked.

  “Of course, it is said that Arnapa and Serunipa are also distant cousins,” the man replied. “We picked up Arnapa and her party at Chay-Enn River eight days ago and delivered them to River Docks the next day. Bonmar, Norsnette, Pretsan, Aransette, Zeep and Nellinar are already Heroes of the Duchy for their help in defending River Docks.”

  “Thank you, I’m so glad they all arrived safely.” Blan felt that a great burden had been lifted from her. The fact that the others had come through made her feel freer.

  “Insofar as anyone is safe in these times,” the man said ruefully. Blan could see the worry in his face; worry about Serunipa and his other comrades; worry about his own family who, like all the people of Dabbin, were threatened by Black Knight’s invasion.

  “Look! There is Serunipa now!” Blan cried.

  The ship had come close enough to see the sole figure standing on deck. The masts had fallen and the main deck was burning. The skipper could be seen on the poop deck, surrounded by fire and swathed in smoke. The current had brought the ship near to where battle was joined again, but the ship was sinking. Blan saw its name: Mangrove Robin.

  As fire swept across the poop deck, the figure at the helm ran to the port side, paused for a moment, then leapt into the water. It would not be long before she would be surrounded by enemy longboats. There seemed little hope for her.

  Blan felt a wave of horror at the thought of Serunipa facing torture and a painful death after such heroism to save others. Blan knew the decision she was going to make before she made it. She knew it was folly, not validated by science or logic; the risk was surely too great; a risk to her baby as well as herself. However, in the instant before she made her decision, as she surveyed the field and unconsciously analysed the risk, the realisation sprang into her consciousness that her decision was not devoid of scientific and logical support. There was a high risk of failure, yet the alternative was unacceptable. Above all, Blan just knew that she would try to save Serunipa. Without help Serunipa’s capture was certain and Blan could not see how she could stand by and let that happen. Grand Vizier or village girl, she had to act.

  “Save Memwin!” she enjoined the boat commander. “She is the rightful Queen of Krar. While she lives you can still hope for ultimate victory, whether or not I live.” Well, she felt she had to say something to justify her behaviour and focus the commander’s mind on the need to protect Memwin first of all. As the last words left her lips she handed the bag containing Actio B to a stunned Memwin, leapt past two oarsmen and dived into the lake.

  In some respects this was the worst place for Blan to dive in. They were now two miles from the nearest land in three directions: two miles from the enemy held eastern shore; two miles from a granite ridge on the barren southern shore within easy reach of enemy craft; and two miles from the nearest point on the western shore where the Free Alliance still held control. It was too far for Blan to swim in her current state, and there were now ten enemy barges and fifty longboats cutting off escape westward, with as many again closing in from the northeast.

  The battle began even as Blan’s outstretched arms slid gracefully into the water, followed by her head, torso and legs. Volleys of catapults were exchanged between the two remaining Dabbinan ships and the enemy barges. Longboats surrounded the two ships, grappling irons were thrown aboard and marines clambered up the sides. Fierce, hand-to-hand fighting broke out on deck. Some Free Alliance mariners also descended to fight the enemy in longboats and five of the Dabbinan dragon boats joined the fray.

  Meanwhile, Pel followed Blan into the water, somewhat less gracefully, as the dragon boat crew redoubled their efforts to speed Memwin to the safety of the western shore.

  111

  Serunipa had always wanted to be a mariner and to command her own ship. She had reached her goal of command at an early age. After a few years patrolling the Archipelago as Master of a brig, she had been given command of Mangrove Robin, a great warship, at the relatively tender age of thirty-two. This had nothing to do with being a Fandabbin. She was quite a distant cousin of the duke and her branch of the family had never been prominent, although they were also thought to be related, more closely, to the ruling princes of Belspire.

  Despite her determination to do her duty, and despite overcoming the fears of the last week or two when all her skills had been put to the test in the thick of the most dreadful battles, Serunipa was now truly frightened. She was alone at the helm of her beautiful ship, surrounded by fire. Those earlier battles had somehow been easier because she had not been alone. The smoke was now in her lungs, bringing a hacking cough which made it difficult for her to steer the ship and get the most out of the prevailing current. She did not want to die, yet she could see the end approaching relentlessly. Tears came to her eyes and not just from the smoke. She thought of her parents and brother and sister receiving the news of her passing. She wondered what would become of her little garden that she had grown around her cottage in Township Farms where she spent most of her shore leave. Her dog would miss her, but her brother looked after him when she was at sea and would no doubt look after him still. Her puppy was always so excited and happy when she came home; they would miss each other. She counted her blessings, mourned her losses, and prepared to die. If only she could bring her beloved Mangrove Robin to the shore or to a sand bank so it could one day be salvaged. “No, it’s too far away”, she muttered with painful regret.

  The deck beneath her feet was getting too hot to stand on. The rudder was no longer responding to the wheel. Serunipa let go of the wheel and staggered to the bulwark. How did one go down with one’s ship? She could not wait until she was captured. She knew too much about Free Alliance strategy, so the enemy would torture her slowly to extract information before they enjoyed her painful death. The choice was between staying on board and burning, for that would happen long before the ship sank, or diving into the water to drown. She could try to swim ashore but she was exhausted and could not swim far.

  She thought for a moment about Arnapa. They had known each other since childhood, knew they were distant cousins on the Bel family tree, but never had much opportunity to meet since. She had heard about Arnapa from time to time and always admired her, although Serunipa would never give up a life at sea to become a spy. How strange that they should meet and become friends again just before the end.

  Serunipa looked out at the world one more time and then the decision was made for her. The bulwark she was leaning on as she coughed suddenly gave way and she was flung into the lake. She was aware of hitting the water but then everything went dark.

  112

  Two enemy longboats were converging on Blan as she swam toward Mangrove Robin. She was ten paces from them and they barred her way. The crew were waiting to grab her and haul her aboard. She took a deep breath and dived vertically down. The water was clear and not too cold. She thought she could see the bottom, but it was a long way down. In fact, she thought she could see a broken longboat six fathoms below her. She estimated that she had dived at least two fathoms below the surface and she could certainly see the two longboats above. She swam on underwater until they were both well behind her. She saw the great hull of Mangrove Robin like a dark wall not far ahead and, alarmingly, a body floating slowly down from it. Her lungs almost bursting, she surged forward and caught the body of a woman in her arms. She had no doubt this was Serunipa. Was she too late? She started up for the surface.

  At that moment Pel swam down from above, put his mouth to Serunipa’s lips and blew air into her lungs. As they reached the surface, Blan drew breath again and they took turns to breathe air into Serunipa’s lungs until, to their delight, the woman coughed and spluttered. This, however, attracted the attention of the longboat crews who were still waiting for Blan to surface nearby. They were just f
ifty paces away and had not until then noticed the three swimmers in the ship’s shadow.

  “Come, the ship’s hull is still sound and will not sink yet,” Pel cried.

  They swam toward the ship’s stem where there was a ragged opening in the hull just above the waterline. The hole had opened as the ship had rammed a barge. There was some smoke issuing from the hole but not nearly as much as above deck.

  Having already been seen by the enemy, Pel used the horn around his neck to call for assistance. They were helped by the fact that the hole was just above the ram, which now projected from the front of the ship just above the waterline and was pointing slightly up on account of the ship having taken on water at the stern. Blan climbed onto the ram and then into the hull. She helped haul Serunipa aboard while Pel got onto the ram and pushed from behind. The broken timbers were sharp and they all received splinters and cuts from the struggle to squeeze into the hull.

  They found themselves in a forward cabin, its wrecked furniture of crew’s sleeping equipment and personal effects cast around on either side of the ram which continued through the middle of the cabin and beyond. One of the ship’s anchors had somehow found its way in, along with a lot of cable. The water was knee-deep, but the ram was broad enough for them all to sit above the water and take breath.

  Serunipa was now conscious but her throat and lungs were still too raw for her to speak. Blan felt strangely exhilarated. The enemy longboat was outside, just a few paces away, and its crew were scrabbling around trying to come aboard. Yet Blan felt calm. Anyway, the hole in the ship was only big enough for one person to come in at a time.

  “Can you hold them off for a while, Pel?” Blan pointed to the anchor. Pel noticed and nodded to her. He removed his bow and arrows from where he had them tied to his back.

  “Do you know how to find it?” Pel asked, as though he had read Blan’s mind. They were thinking the same thing. The anchor they were looking at was not the ship’s main mooring anchor but a much smaller kedging anchor used to help change the ship’s course sharply in an emergency or in battle. It would be slung overboard or shot out by catapult, according to need.

  “If this were the pirate ship I came to know so well…”

  “This is close enough,” Pel advised. “I would come with you but someone must defend this entrance. You should have no trouble if you can avoid the smoke and flames. If not, take to the water and try to get to one of the ships or dragon boats. We seem to be drifting nearer them now.”

  Blan peered through the hole just as the first enemy soldier blocked her view. Pel picked up a rod from a ruined bunk and thrust it through the hole at the man’s face. It did not strike him, but he recoiled and slipped off the ram into the water outside, knocking another two men off the ram as he did so. Blan then saw that the battle on the lake had come very close. One of the Dabbinan ships had come within two hundred paces. It was surrounded by enemy longboats and there was fighting everywhere.

  Blan waded to the cabin door. It had been twisted in place, so she used a piece of flotsam to lever it open a little. There was a great deal of smoke in the corridor but no fireballs came to consume her. She took of her wet tunic and used it to cover her mouth and nose as she wrenched the door open. She found a companionway not far down the corridor and, after several flights up, was soon out in the open air of the forecastle deck. The ship had four masts and was much larger than the pirate barque in which she had been abducted nearly four months before, yet not as large as the monstrous quimals of Black Knight’s navy. Most of the main deck and the whole poop deck were an inferno, but the flames were just beginning to climb into the forecastle deck. The ship was listing slightly to port and, despite the flames and smoke, Blan could see that the stern was already two fathomes deeper in the water than it should have been.

  Blan’s fear had been that she would not be strong enough to operate the machinery. She was amazed at how easy it was; just a release lever. She looked down at the enemy longboat four fathoms below. Its crew looked up at her and stopped, stunned and indecisive. Her first thought was that they were overawed at the prospect of having to climb into a burning ship to capture her. Then it occurred to her that her tunic was in her hand. She was wearing nothing else above her waist.

  Blan could see that the two Dabbinan warships were still holding out, albeit with hand-to-hand fighting on deck and in the rigging. The dragon boat carrying Memwin had escaped and was nearing the western shore, now just a mile away. The other five dragon boat crews had managed to fight their way to the ships and to climb aboard, thus strengthening the defence. She could see the five dragon boats drifting away empty. Both ships were surrounded by enemy longboats. Volleys of grappling hooks were cast aboard the ships. Many were dislodged by the defenders, but some remained for the braver enemy soldiers to climb up to join the fight on deck.

  Suddenly there was a loud clunk as a grappling hook almost spiked Blan’s hand. It had been thrown up in the few seconds she had taken to assess the battle. Two more grappling hooks appeared nearby. The longboat crew had decided to come for her, after all. She grasped the anchor release lever with both hands and pulled with all her strength. The lever resisted for a moment and then slid across. A great iron anchor plunged from the side of the ship and into the water to the bottom of the lake. On its way, it split the longboat in two and hurled its crew into the air, their arms flailing and their weapons spinning away into the lake.

  This all provided no more than a short reprieve, for now Mangrove Robin had drifted into the midst of the battle. Several more longboats were upended by the relentless force of the ship as it caught a strong current. However, more longboat crews were now turning their attention to Blan.

  Many grappling hooks were now thrown at the forecastle deck where Blan now stood leaning on the bowsprit. As she turned to make her way back to Pel and Serunipa, she saw a row of dragon boats approaching from the northwest and another three warships approaching from the southwest. There was hope for escape, if she and Pel could just hold out long enough for the reinforcements to arrive. Then Blan felt ashamed. She chided herself for feeling jubilant about the prospect of her own escape when so many brave mariners had been killed or injured in the battle. Four months ago she could not bear the thought of violence at all. She had deliberately avoided even thinking about it. An aversion to violence had been with her since birth as though from some inborn memory of tragedy. Now she was moved to tears for the loss suffered: by those who had been loved; by those who had loved them; by those for whom love had been a yearned for memory; and by those for whom love had been a prospect unfulfilled. She now understood why Praalis, Tor, Arnapa, Carl and others could not allow themselves the luxury of finding anything unbearable; they had to strive onward to build a more just and gentle world according to the Great Plan. In that moment Blan vowed that she would engage in the same struggle, whether as a Grand Vizier or as an ordinary village lass; if she survived the day, of course.

  Flames stormed across the forecastle deck just as Blan reached the companionway.

  “That may hold boarders for a while, yet how long before the smoke suffocates us below?” she muttered to herself.

  Within a second of having her hair singed, she half climbed and half fell down the companionway, deck by deck. Serunipa had recovered somewhat and she and Pel were fighting off the soldiers trying to come in via the ship’s ram. Despite the smoke, Blan put her tunic on again. She might swim naked in the sea near her village without being seen (so she hoped), but she did not want to become a legend for appearing bare-breasted in the midst of battles.

  Serunipa had found a store of weapons in the cabin, so they were using pikes to discourage soldiers from trying to come in. The hull was too thick for soldiers in longboats to pierce with any weapon or tool at their disposal, so they had brought a barge along each side of the ship and were trying to lever strakes out of the ship’s hull to gain access. They had managed to tear out a part of one strake when the ship, hitherto drifting on a st
rong current, shuddered to a halt.

  Blan heard some loud splashes and yelling by the soldiers outside.

  “Grounded!” Pel announced. He jabbed his pike through the opening in the hull before quickly looking out.

  “We have drifted onto a sand bar just five hundred paces from shore. We are being bombarded by catapults from land and sea.”

  “They will be our reinforcements,” Blan explained. “Three more Free Alliance warships and a flotilla of dragon boats are coming to us.”

  Pel and Serunipa both moaned with relief. The sounds outside became more distant.

  “Time to move,” Serunipa urged huskily as a pall of smoke came into the cabin. One by one they cautiously ventured out onto the ram. The enemy had withdrawn and, fortunately, the catapult shots were following them. Having drifted far from the support of their own forces on the other side of the lake, the enemy longboats and barges had been forced to retreat out of the range of the shore catapults. The attacking Free Alliance warships and dragon boats had turned the tide of the battle and saved the two ships under attack just in the nick of time. Having failed in their mission, the enemy were soon recalled to the eastern shore, retreating under bombardment from the newly arrived warships.

  Blan, Pel and Serunipa sat on the ram watching the events to the west, south and north. The ship was now pointing west with its hull firmly grounded on a sandbar.

  “It’s best we wait for a dragon boat to pick us up,” Serunipa suggested, her voice still hoarse from smoke and coughing. No sooner had she spoken than a small boat appeared behind them. It was the type used to take just two or three sailors between ship and shore. An oar struck Serunipa from behind and she fell into the water unconscious. Blan and Pel turned to see that the boat held two soldiers, both centurions, and both attacking with oars.