“I figured that ship had a wizard on it,” Alexander said. “Isabel, I need you to put a hole in the bow right at the waterline. Captain, prepare both ballistae but hold until you can fire both at once. Hopefully, the wizard can only defend against one shot at a time.”
Alexander took up his bow and went to the bow of the ship with Isabel. He could feel the tension build as the two ships approached. When they entered the range of his all around sight, he nocked an arrow.
“Captain, prepare to turn hard to starboard,” Alexander shouted.
They closed to within three hundred feet and Alexander loosed his arrow at the wizard standing on the foredeck just as Isabel unleashed her light-lance spell. The wizard conjured a shield to deflect the arrow, allowing Isabel’s spell to strike her target unhindered, burning a hole the size of a grapefruit through the bulkhead of the ship just below the waterline. Steam rose in a puff, then dissipated quickly.
The enemy ship fired two grappling hooks into the sails of Alexander’s ship, both trailing rope and both scoring direct hits in the mainsail.
“Turn!” Alexander commanded.
Captain Rastus spun the wheel, turning the ship to starboard and bringing both ballistae to bear on the enemy ship, both firing in unison. The enemy wizard deflected one firepot into the ocean but the other scored a hit against the deck cabin just behind the mainmast. Sailors raced to douse the flames but the sails ignited before they could put out the fire.
At the same time, the enemy started pulling on the two grappling hooks entangled in the mainsail, tearing gaping holes in it before the tethers could be cut. Captain Rastus barked orders to the row master below deck to row harder and to the deckhands to prepare the spare sail. Alexander knew it would take more time than they had. The enemy was going to board them and more ships were coming from behind.
The enemy fired their ballistae again, this time aiming for the broadside of the ship with barbed harpoons trailing rope. Both struck home, lodging deeply into the hull. A dozen men pulled on each rope in rhythmic cadence, drawing both vessels closer together with each heave.
One of Rastus’s sailors scrambled down a net draped over the railing in an effort to cut one of the tethers, but before he could reach it, a narrow wedge of blue magical force leapt from the enemy wizard’s hand, driving straight into the man’s heart. The sailor fell into the ocean and slipped under the waves.
Alexander sent another arrow at the wizard but he deflected it easily. Isabel fired a light-lance at one of the tethers, severing it cleanly. The ballistae fired again, this time both firepots shattered into the already burning sails, engulfing them in flames.
The enemy started to deploy their longboats, even as the men on deck heaved on the one remaining tether, pulling the ships closer together. Another of Rastus’s sailors attempted to reach the remaining tether by climbing down the side of the ship. This time Alexander was prepared. He cast an illusion of a curtain of darkness between both ships so the enemy wizard couldn’t see his target. The sailor reached the harpoon and cut the tether, but a moment later three men appeared on the deck of Alexander’s ship, wisps of black smoke fading quickly in the wake of their arrival.
“Wraithkin!” Alexander shouted. The meaning of his warning was lost on the crew, but Alexander’s friends understood the threat at once. Hector and Horace stood back to back, as did Alexander and Isabel. Jack flickered out of sight.
Alexander dropped his bow as he drew Mindbender and stretched out with his magic to see into the minds of his enemies.
He was in a fight and he had a sword in his hand … everything else faded away.
The first wraithkin killed a sailor with almost casual ease, then vanished and reappeared next to the first mate. The second in command of the ship stabbed the wraithkin in the gut with his dagger, but the wraithkin just winced in pain as he slashed the man’s throat and then vanished, only to reappear right in front of Isabel.
With the tethers cut, the gap between their ship and the now fully blazing enemy ship was widening even as the remaining fourteen ships in the flotilla were gaining on them. The rowers below deck were pulling against the water with all their might but the mainsail was offering little thrust and the sailors on deck were now engaged in a pitched battle with an enemy beyond their understanding.
The second wraithkin vanished before a sailor could bring his blade around in a slashing attack that would have decapitated him, only to reappear behind the commander of the fore ballista crew. He stabbed the man in the back and vanished again.
The third wraithkin easily sidestepped the thrusting attack of a deckhand, cutting him deeply on the outside of the arm before vanishing. A moment later, Alexander heard a shout of terror come from below decks in the rowers’ cabin.
Isabel sent the wraithkin before her flying over the railing toward the water with a hastily cast force-push spell, but he disappeared in midair and reappeared to the side of Hector and Horace, stabbing at Hector the moment he appeared.
Hector turned to vapor almost instantly, using his innate ability as a sorcerer to once again save his life. The wraithkin looked almost puzzled as his blade thrust through the insubstantial form of his target. Horace seized the opportunity the wraithkin’s hesitation gave him and stabbed him under the chin, driving his blade up through his head and out the top of his skull.
Alexander waited, listening to the intent of his enemies. The wraithkin that had killed the commander of the fore ballista appeared beside him, as Alexander knew he would. When Phane’s dark creation materialized amid wisps of blackness, Alexander was poised to strike and his thrust was true, stabbing into the wraithkin’s right eye socket and driving through his skull. The man mixed with darkness slumped off Mindbender to the deck of the ship.
Another scream from below decks sent Alexander scrambling for the ladder. The rowers were their only means of propulsion and the lone remaining wraithkin was slaughtering them. Alexander reached the base of the ladder and found six of the sixteen rowers dead. The wraithkin saw him and smiled before vanishing.
Alexander heard a shout from the deck above and scrambled back up the ladder. Captain Rastus lay bleeding. The wraithkin reappeared behind another sailor and killed him with a quick thrust. Alexander reached out to see into his mind as he vanished.
“Beside you, Horace!” he shouted.
The wraithkin appeared beside Hector and Horace, poised to strike when Jack flickered into view, stabbing down through the back of the wraithkin’s skull with his dagger, dropping him to the deck with the force and violence of his blow.
Sudden calm descended on the ship. Alexander took a moment to assess his situation. It was bad. The captain and first mate were dead, as were the commander of the fore ballista, six rowers, and as many sailors. The mainsail was torn, and fourteen enemy ships were closing on them.
Just as he made up his mind, a deafening crack reverberated through the ship. The wizard, standing on the longboat rowing toward them, unleashed a spell that sent a whirling disc of blue-white magical energy scything through the mainmast, cutting it off just above the cabin and sending it toppling into the water.
“How close is land?” Alexander asked Isabel.
“A league, maybe less,” she said.
Alexander grabbed the nearest sailor.
“Take the wheel, head for the coast,” Alexander said, pointing to the coast of Lorraine off in the distance.
“You men go below decks and row,” he commanded the crew of the fore ballista before racing to the aft ballista.
“Sink that longboat,” he ordered.
The ballista crew had a firepot loaded and fired quickly, but it shattered against a shell of magical energy and dripped off into the ocean.
“Be ready to fire on my order,” Alexander said. He visualized a cloud of dense white fog surrounding the longboat and sent it into Mindbender. An instant later, fog materialized around them, enshrouding the enemy longboat. Alexander held the illusion and waited. He didn’t have to wait
long before the wizard dispelled the fog; it dissipated nearly as quickly as it had come into being.
“Fire!” Alexander commanded.
From a distance of fifty feet, the ballista launched a firepot into the longboat, scoring a direct hit. The wizard leapt into the water in a panic as his robes went up in flames.
“Cut the mainmast free and rig the secondary sails to give us best speed,” Alexander shouted to the stunned sailors.
After only a moment’s hesitation, they sprang into action.
“Take a shot at that ship,” Alexander said to the commander of the aft ballista, pointing at the boat that was nearest and gaining. The firepot narrowly missed.
“We only have three firepots left,” the commander said.
“Very well, hold your fire,” Alexander said, “but keep one at the ready.”
The pursuing ships stayed just out of range of Alexander’s ballistae, but that was fine by him. His plan of sailing through the enemy blockade had failed, and badly. He stood on the bow of his damaged ship, stretching out with his all around sight in spite of the pain it caused him, and considered his limited options. He would soon be on dry land in enemy territory with fewer than two dozen sailors to stand against fourteen ships’ worth of sailors and soldiers, not to mention whatever enemy he might find on the island of Lorraine.
“Hector, Horace, what can you tell me about Lorraine?”
“It’s the second largest of the subislands of Tyr,” Hector said. “Rich in minerals and stone with some timber, used mostly to build ships. It’s ruled by five warlords that seem to be in a constant state of conflict. They almost routinely make and break alliances with one another to gain some advantage or other. They trade primarily with Andalia and Karth, but only sail in well-protected flotillas to defend against piracy, which is rampant in the waters of Tyr.”
“Any idea who the ships chasing us belong to?”
“Most are flying the flag of Tuva, the subisland across the strait, “ Horace said, “but a few are sailing under the flag of the warlord who controls the southwest coast of Lorraine. We’re headed right for his territory.”
Alexander sighed.
“At least we’ll have solid ground under our feet,” Jack said.
“And it’ll probably take some time for them to get organized,” Isabel said. “We can probably make it out of this territory before they can send enough men to be a threat.”
“Let’s hope so,” Alexander said. “I’d like to move north and find another boat as soon as we can. Going to ground might throw off the ships chasing us enough for us to get to the dragon isle.”
They ran aground in shallow water and took longboats to shore. Alexander had twenty-three frightened sailors left. As they set foot on dry ground, the enemy ships began putting longboats into the water.
The coast rose rapidly into a small range of lightly forested, rocky hills. Alexander led the way directly inland over the rugged and wild terrain. This part of the island didn’t appear to be inhabited but he was wary nonetheless. They reached a vantage point with a good view of the coast and Alexander turned to see how close his pursuers were, but they were well beyond the range of his all around sight.
“Lend me your eyes, Little One?”
“Of course, My Love.”
Through Chloe’s eyes, Alexander saw a dozen or more longboats lined up along the shore, each capable of carrying ten to twenty men. The flotilla of enemy vessels was holding station off the coast in a long line stretching north and south.
“We’ll head north along this ridgeline,” Alexander said.
“And then what?” one of the sailors asked.
His colors were bright with fear and dismay. Alexander understood how he felt but he didn’t have time to argue the necessity of his objective, so he ignored the man and started out. At first, the sailor was reluctant to follow, but Hector spoke quietly in his ear. The sailor stiffened for a moment before he nodded quickly and fell in line with the rest of the crew.
They traveled through the sparse forest for the rest of the day. Isabel reported that nearly two hundred enemy soldiers were following their trail about an hour behind. Worse, she saw at least one wizard with the small army, and Alexander suspected that there were probably a few more wraithkin among the soldiers.
“There’s a village on the coast about a league ahead,” Isabel said.
“Are there any ships big enough for all of us?” Alexander asked.
“Three. And they’re all flying the same flag as the ships we fought this morning.”
Alexander led them as close to the village as he dared before they stopped to wait for dark. He used the time to do some reconnaissance. When he opened the door to his Wizard’s Den, the sailors that had been reluctantly following him fell silent to a man, staring in awe at the magical portal. Alexander sat down in his magic circle and quieted his mind. Horace stood guard at the doorway while Alexander slipped free of his body and sent his mind to explore the village he intended to raid.
It was primarily a fishing village with a number of docks extending like fingers into a deep lagoon protected from ocean turbulence by a jetty made of large stones. The villagers didn’t seem to know or care about the battle that had taken place just south of their little community but they did openly fly the flag of the warlord who ruled over the area, the same warlord who had sent ships to kill Alexander.
He scouted the three larger ships in port and found his target, the only warship of the bunch, the only vessel armed with heavy weapons, the only vessel loaded for combat, the one vessel that was most likely preparing to join the enemy flotilla that was hunting him. The other two ships were cargo transports. While either was large enough to carry Alexander and his crew, neither was armed and both were heavily laden with freight, either waiting to be unloaded or just recently loaded for transport to another port.
Alexander surveyed the security of the small village and found it lacking. They were not prepared for an attack. The few men aboard the warship were playing dice and drinking rum. He floated through the village and found the rest of the crew in three taverns that lined the main street running through town.
Once he was satisfied with his plan, he sent his mind up the coastline in search of other enemy vessels that might be waiting for him farther north, but found none. Next he moved in a blur to the dragon isle. He understood in a glance why the people of Tyr called it the Spires. There was a ring of black stone spires surrounding the central volcanic island, each spire reaching up out of the ocean a thousand feet or more. The orange-red glow emanating from the top of the volcano beyond painted an ominous picture.
He moved closer, searching for a place to hide his ship. He was counting on Bragador being reasonable, but he wasn’t foolish enough to approach a dragon’s lair unprepared. He had no intention of revealing the presence of his ship until he had his prize … maybe not even then.
The entire island was the product of an all-too-active volcano, the cauldron sputtering and smoking, rivulets of bright red lava flowing down the sides of the mountain from a number of cracks and fissures. As he delved deeper into the mountain, he discovered a labyrinth of caves, caverns, and passageways. While many of the areas in the center of the mountain were occupied by molten rock, steam, and smoke, the periphery was far less dangerous.
All throughout the mountain were dragons of many different colors and sizes, which was surprising to him. He assumed that dragons were all the same as Tanis, but these were far different, smaller, though still larger than a wyvern, scaled in a variety of colors from bright reds to dark greens to black and displaying a wide variety of horns, spikes, and bone ridges along their backs, necks, and heads.
After some searching, he found a cave that met his needs. It was large enough to sail a warship into, far enough away from the main entrances to the network of caves inhabited by the majority of the dragons, yet linked to the labyrinth of passageways permeating the mountain.
Having learned what he needed to know abo
ut his destination, he brought his awareness back to his location and then set out in search of the enemy soldiers and sailors pursuing him. He found them easily, not two leagues away and moving slowing through the forest in his general direction.
They would reach his position before sunset.
He slipped back into the firmament and listened to the song of creation for a few minutes, simply allowing his mind to take in the totality of the present moment. He could feel the strife unfolding in the world, hear the angst of countless people struggling with the hardships of war, and feel the desperation of people everywhere trying to preserve a future worth having.
He returned to himself quietly and sat for a moment longer, collecting his thoughts and mentally preparing for the night to come. Stepping out of his Wizard’s Den, he closed the door and faced his band of wayward sailors.
“They’ll be here within an hour so we have to move now. We’ll get as far as we can with stealth, then I’ll provide a distraction for the townspeople so we can reach the ship. Once we’re aboard, we need to remove the crew and cast off as quickly as possible. Who’s the ranking officer?”
There was a palpable hesitation among the crew before one of the men raised his hand.
“I’m the weapons officer,” he said.
“Good, what’s your name?”
“Dreven Kalderson,” he said.
“All right, Dreven, you are now the captain,” Alexander said. “Assign duties to your crew so everyone knows their place once we board.
“We move in ten minutes.”
***
They moved quietly toward the road that ran down the coast from the north and then turned east in the middle of town, heading up into the rugged hillside. The people seemed to be preoccupied with their day-to-day business and didn’t take much interest in Alexander and his group, until they entered town.
He led his sailors straight down the road toward the docks, watching the townsfolk closely for any sign of a threat. Most of them eyed him curiously, a few vanished between buildings as they approached, either out of fear or, more likely, to warn what passed for authority in the little town of the arrival of a group of strangers.
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