"We can fire one quarrel at a time or all three at once," explained Max Caber. "They are designed to get sufficient elevation to reach a thousand paces. We had to modify the deck a bit to keep the original profile of the ship, but the enemy will never know they are here until it is too late."
"If Captain Gomery can maneuver us in time to use them," Mikal commented as he rubbed his chin in thought.
"I wouldn't leave that much to chance," smiled Max. "There are six of these beauties on deck. There are three on each side of the ship, two forward, two aft, and two amidships."
"I am impressed," Mikal said with genuine appreciation.
"There is more," smiled Max. "If you check the rails, you will find that we installed holders every ten paces. The holders are meant to secure jars of fire glue that we can use in heavy seas without igniting our own deck. There is a quiver of arrows attached next to each jar holder so no archer will run out when the fighting gets tense."
"You have prepared for war," smiled Mikal.
"That was my task," replied Max. "I have always wanted to create such a weapon platform, but there has been little need for one and no funds to try it out. I am really grateful for this opportunity. We also modified the bow of the ship. There is a fine steel edge painted to match the hull. If we have to ram another ship, we will come out of the collision in much better shape than the other guy."
"Excellent," said Mikal. "You have earned your keep already. Now you can relax for a few weeks."
"Hardly," chuckled Max. "I have waited too long to have fun like this. Now I want the chance to try them out. There are also a few other things that we are still working on. I'll let you know when we have something more to show you."
Mikal patted the Ranger as he smiled and walked away.
"Quite a warship, eh?" remarked Shawn Cowen.
Mikal stopped where the other two Rangers were leaning against the rail.
"Very impressive," agreed Mikal. "Though I truly hope we never need to use them."
"The same can be said for the myric quills we brought on board," replied Shawn. "We had a devil of a time getting a sufficient quantity for a trip into the unknown, but we managed to procure several hundred of them. You wouldn't be planning on wiping out the entire island that we are going to, would you?"
"It's more than an island," commented Clint McFarren, the Ranger charting expert. "From the chart I have seen, I estimate it to be as large as Alcea."
"How sure of that are you?" asked Mikal.
"Not very," admitted Clint, "but it's a fair guess. The chart you gave me is rather crude, and it lacks features of the land, but the rivers indicate a large landmass. I doubt that the chart maker would waste his time plotting small creeks, and large rivers just don't happen to occur real close to one another without merging. Therefore, it's reasonable to assume a fair distance between rivers. If you take that for granted, the landmass is large."
Talk of Zara proved tempting for those within earshot, and Max and the elves soon joined the conversation.
"How wide would that make the entrance to the Sea of Tears?" asked Mikal.
"Ah, the Needle," nodded Clint. "I estimate that to be between twenty and thirty leagues wide. A fairly wide channel by anyone's estimate."
"Unless you wanted to enter unseen," commented Mikal. "With the Needle being between the Cliffs of Ranool and Suicide Point, I suspect it might be impossible. If you read the chart as I do, it indicates that both of those places are promontories overlooking the Needle. Do you have an estimate of how high they might be?"
"There is nothing on the chart to indicate their height," Clint shook his head. "Cliffs could be anything from a couple of paces high to a thousand paces high. We will just have to wait to see."
"Why go through the Needle at all?" asked Prince Rigal. "With a landmass as big as all of Alcea, we could disembark anywhere."
"That is true," admitted Mikal, "but we don't know if the whole continent is hostile. One of the four cities on the coast of the Sea of Tears is named Giza. At least one of the assassins sent to Alcea was from there. I figured that would be a good place to start our snooping."
"Snooping?" asked Shawn. "What exactly is out mission, Colonel?"
Mikal frowned and glowered at the Ranger. "Mikal is how I will be addressed," he said softly.
"I apologize," blushed the Ranger. "Old habits die hard, but I have been trained to know better. It will not happen again."
Mikal's face softened, and he nodded understandingly. "We have several objectives," he explained. "Prince Rigal will lead the elves in a search for the Dielderal. We need to know how strong a faction they are and whether or not there is any leverage for causing dissent, either within the elves, or between the elves and the humans."
"So you plan to do to the Zarans what they tried to do the Alceans by attacking Hega?" asked Lyron.
"That is one possibility," Mikal nodded. "I truly do not know exactly what we can accomplish just yet. Our primary goal is to gain information that will help Alcea win the upcoming war. We will have to remain flexible until we know more about our enemy."
"What about us?" asked Shawn.
"The Rangers will be tasked with mapping the continent," answered Mikal. "Clint is to draw up maps as detailed as possible of all of Zara. I think the fairies could be very helpful in this area. They have the ability to travel swiftly and remain unseen. They also have the ability to project images of what they have seen."
"That will be quite a boon in creating the detail," brightened Clint. "With six fairies I could just sit down and draw."
"Life will not be that simple," chuckled Mikal. "The fairies are also our only means of communicating with each other. I want all groups to know what the others are doing. We may seem like a large group on this ship, but once we hit land it will be quite different. Each group will need the knowledge that the other groups have obtained."
"And what will you be doing, Mikal?" asked Prince Rigal.
"My group will be entering the cities of Zara," answered Mikal. "I want to get a feel for the political climate of Zara as well as their military might. If we can find those who are driving the invasion, perhaps we can decapitate their leadership." Mikal paused as he looked at the group surrounding him. He knew that he had a wealth of talent with him, and it made him smile. "Other than that, I am open to suggestions. This is likely the only chance Alcea will have at seeing who our enemy is before they strike, so if you have any thoughts at all about how we should proceed, don't keep them to yourself."
* * *
The Remora was three nights out of Atar's Cove when the storm hit. Even though the night was as black as it could be, the sailors knew what was coming. First came a subtle shift in the winds and then high wispy clouds started to obscure the stars. The waves started increasing in height and frequency, and thicker clouds erased the moon and stars completely. Chanz was at the helm, and he sent a sailor to awaken the captain. Captain Gomery promptly appeared on deck and stood next to the mate, but did not take the helm.
"It's going to be a wild one for sure," Captain Gomery said under his breath.
"Badder than some," commented Chanz, "but we've been through worse. The waves are changing quickly now. I figure we have less than hour before it starts."
"Aye," Captain Gomery agreed thoughtfully. "You've learned your lessons well, Chanz. I'll take the helm for a spell while you get us to full crew, but then come back and relieve me. I want to be fresh when it starts."
"Aye, Captain," the mate responded as he turned over the helm to the captain.
Captain Gomery held the wheel lightly, getting a feel for the wave action rocking the ship. He turned his face into the wind and inhaled deeply, feeling the rising moisture in the air. He heard Chanz near the bow shouting commands and waking up the crewmembers that had been sleeping. Chanz also woke those sleeping on the deck and sent them aft so that the sailors had room to work.
"I think we were in the way up there," commented Gerant as the passengers g
athered at the stern. "Do you think it will be a bad storm?"
"Bad enough," remarked Max Caber. "There will be waves washing over the deck before too long."
Captain Gomery cracked a tight smile as he listened. As Chanz returned and took the helm, the captain joined the passengers.
"There will be no sleeping on deck tonight," he announced. "My cabin is open to all of you who can fit, and the rest can grab a spot on the floor of the companionway. It's going to be a rough ride for a bit, so you might want to cushion yourselves with whatever you can find."
"If it's all the same to you, Captain," Max replied, "I'd just as soon remain on deck. I know enough to help out if things start going poorly."
Max was a solid, crusty-looking man with a full brown beard sporting just a touch of gray. The captain looked at him in silence for a moment, as if measuring his worth, and eventually nodded.
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Captain Gomery said, "but if it does, your hands will be welcome indeed."
"I have sailed a bit myself," offered Clint McFarren. "I am no professional sailor, but I know the terms, and I understand how to take orders."
Clint was quite the opposite of Max. He was blond, lean, and orderly, but there was strength and discipline evident in the way he held himself. The captain nodded his agreement in silence.
The third Ranger was short, dark, and black-haired. While he was a more-than-capable fighter, his expertise was in wilderness survival, and he knew little of ships and sailing.
"I think all of us are available should you need us, Captain," declared Shawn, "but I would probably be in the way unless you have something specific for me to do."
"I am sure the captain knows that," interjected Karl Gree. "It is probably best if you and I joined the elves below and leave what is coming to those who know how to handle it. Captain Gomery will certainly shout if he needs more help."
"Well said," agreed the captain. "Not every man is a sailor, and there is no shame in keeping dry. If we need more hands, rest assured you will be dragged out into the rain."
As if on command, a downpour started pelting the deck. Prince Rigal led the elves in a dash for the hatchway, and Karl and Shawn closely followed them. The captain turned out of the rain and looked at the two Rangers.
"Have either of you ever manned the helm?" he asked.
"I have," answered Max, "but I am not a seaman. I can hold a steady course, and I can bow into the waves, but I wouldn't think of matching my skills with your mate."
"An honest answer," smiled the captain. "I might take you up on your help if the storm lasts for a long time. There is a certain strain to manning the helm in a storm, and Chanz has been at it for hours already. Mind you, I will avoid calling on you unless I have to. Do not take it as a slight."
"No offense will be taken, Captain," Max replied. "This is your ship and you are best equipped to get us through whatever perils come."
"Good," the captain nodded in satisfaction. "With that said, why don't the two of you get out of the rain. If you are needed up here, I would prefer for you to be fresh and dry."
"We'll stay close to the hatchway," nodded Max. "Shout and we will be here."
Max and Clint retreated to the hatchway and settled on the stairs where they could watch the helm. Captain Gomery walked the length of the ship giving instructions and words of encouragement to the sailors before returning and taking the helm from Chanz. By that time, the rain had become steady and the winds had increased significantly. Sheets of rain raced over the ship, and it became impossible to see the bow at times. The waves had increased to the point where the ship was doing almost as much vertical travel as horizontal, and the storm had yet to hit with its full fury.
"It might get a wee bit worse than we anticipated," Captain Gomery said to Chanz. "Have each of the men secure lifelines and then shorten the sails.
Captain Gomery had been in a fair number of storms on the Targa Sea, and he was familiar with the rotation of winds around a major storm. He checked his course as Chanz disappeared into the gloom and then tried to visualize how the winds would affect his course as the storm passed by. The last thing he needed was to become lost in an unknown sea, but he knew that the storm would have its way with the ship to some degree.
"Short sails," Chanz announced as he appeared out of the gloom of the wind-driven rain. "I ordered the forward sails lowered completely if the wind gets strong enough to endanger them."
"Well done," nodded the captain. "It looks as if we are heading directly into the eye, and this chart is not accurate enough to chance a change in course. We are in for a rougher ride than I would have cared for."
Chanz nodded with resignation. He knew that the captain's decision was a rough one to make, but they had already passed small islands that had not appeared on the simplistic Zaran chart. He made his way into the wind to the port rail and untied two lifelines. He tied one around his waist and dragged the other to the helm. Without comment, he tied the second lifeline around the captain's waist.
The wind whipped across the ship with a fierce intensity, and waves started crashing over the bow. The Remora crashed into towering waves and then felt almost motionless before crashing downward, only to smash into the next wave and begin the cycle anew. The ship creaked loudly, the timbers protesting the savage fury of the storm. As the hours dragged by, the waves grew higher and higher and the wind screamed to an ear-numbing roar.
"Strike the sails," ordered the captain. "Bring the mizzen to a quarter."
"We'll flounder," warned the mate.
"Aye," nodded the captain, "but we'll have masts intact if we get through this. The winds will be astern shortly. She's sucking us into the eye."
Chanz let go of the helm and was instantly tossed forward by the wind. He managed to grab onto the starboard rail and steady himself before inching forward to give the order to lower the sails. The captain watched his mate being blown forward and shook his head, sending sprays of salty water flying from his hair. It was doubtful that Chanz would be able to fight the winds to make it back to adjust the mizzen.
"Max!" shouted Captain Gomery. "Secure a lifeline and shorten the mizzen."
The Ranger had been watching the growing fury of the storm, and he was prepared to move when the captain called. He leaped out of the hatchway and dashed to the rail. The wind-driven rain pelted his skin like bee stings, and the force of the wind drew his skin taut and tore at his clothing. Wrapping his legs around a stanchion, Max tied the free end of a lifeline around his waist. Pulling hand-over-hand along the rail, the Ranger made his way to the stern of the ship. Hanging onto the rail with one hand, Max Caber inhaled deeply as he concentrated on the mizzenmast. When he felt confidant that the wind would take him where he wanted to go, Max let go of the rail.
The wind threw the Ranger forward, and Max reached out and snared the mast as his body threatened to continue onward. With considerable effort, Max wrapped his arms around the mast and pulled his body in close to it. He sighed with relief as he felt his feet hit the deck of the ship. Wrapping his legs around the mast, the Ranger quickly shortened the sheet as the captain had ordered. That was when the shouts ripped through the air.
"Man Overboard!" came the cry from multiple voices.
Chapter 4
Water Water Everywhere
"Sound off!" shouted Chanz.
The mate listened as each sailor shouted out his name. Only one voice was silent. Keltin had been assigned to the bow. Chanz hoped that the man had obeyed orders and tied a lifeline around his waist. At the end of his own lifeline, Chanz fought his way upwind to the rail and secured another lifeline. He tied it around his waist and cut the original line to give him more freedom of movement. Using the rail to maintain balance, Chanz made his way forward.
"It's Keltin," shouted Warren. "One minute he was working the forward sheet, and the next minute he was gone."
"Finish his task," ordered Chanz. "Get that forward sail down."
By the time Cha
nz reached the bow, Alando was already there.
"I have his line," Alando declared, "but I can't manage it by myself. I fear I will bash his head against the ship. I can hold it while you get the other end and feed it into the winch."
"Hold it fast," Chanz responded with a nod.
"I can make the winch easier from here," shouted Cirris. "I will need both of you to give me some slack so I can cut his lifeline."
"Be quick about it when the slack comes," Chanz shouted in return as he moved next to Alando and grasped Keltin's lifeline. He braced a foot against a stanchion and waited for Cirris to say he was ready.
"Now!" shouted Cirris.
Alando and Chanz pulled together to create some slack in Keltin's lifeline. Even though they were expecting the additional strain when the line was cut, it still came as a bit of a shock. The two sailors grunted with exertion until Cirris shouted that the line was secure.
"I don't know if he can possibly be alive after all of this," Alando remarked. "It felt like we were pulling an anchor up."
"Aye," Chanz replied with exhaustion. "Wind her in," he shouted to Cirris. "Slowly, lad. Slowly."
Cirris operated the winch while Alando and Chanz leaned over the rail in an attempt to keep Keltin's body from bashing into the hull. It was an agonizingly slow process, but they eventually hauled the sailor's body over the rail. A group of sailors were already waiting to take the body and secure it.
"Tie him to a mast," instructed Chanz. "There's no time to be taking him below in this weather."
As the sailors finished securing Keltin, the wind suddenly increased to a torrent blasting the length of the ship from stern to bow. The sailors huddled at the base of the mast and clung to each other as the masts began to lean into wind. The ship groaned as if it was about to be torn apart. The sea was chaotic and angry waves splashed over the rails sending rivers of seawater washing across the deck. Max's lifeline snapped as some piece of debris was hurled by the wind, slicing through the rope. The wave broke over the stern and swept Max off his feet. The wind sent him flying towards the bow, but the Ranger managed to grasp the helm on his way by. Captain Gomery let go of the wheel and grabbed the Ranger's arm.
Final Voyage of the Remora Page 5