by Alex Paul
“If they do, they’ll have plenty of time; we’ll still be far behind.”
“But that Lantish vessel ahead looks to be built more like our ship; perhaps we can row as fast as her. Though we might not catch her later when the wind comes up.”
“You don’t mean to draw close enough in this ship to engage it with Mork’s fire, do you?” Yolanta asked. “We were lucky that the Lantish panicked and kept missing us back there. I’ll wager that won’t happen again. The Reaper is our only ship with Mork’s fire. We can’t risk losing her.”
“You’re right, sir. No, I propose I transfer to one of our smaller ships that can row faster than the Reaper and row at top speed. We might get close enough to that Lantish ship to stay out of their catapult range but cripple them with arrows.” Brumbal’s heavy eyebrow arched. “Our leg-fired longbows have a slightly longer range than their catapults. At the same time as we’re attacking, you could have two of our ships pursue the lead Tolarian ship and capture Princess Sharmane after the wind blows and helps our sailing ships close the gap.”
“Good! A question?”
“Sir!” Brumbal’s eyes sparkled with the idea of the chase.
“This Princess Sharmane is rumored to be a young beauty, isn’t she?”
“Yes, sir, and wasted on her husband to be.” Brumbal spat. “Prince Dahl!”
“Then tell two of our ships to pursue the Tolarian military vessel that carries Princess Sharmane. Tell our captains to save the Princess from harm. Then I’ll marry her to ruin the Tolarian’s plans! I could always use another wife.”
“Your wives will revolt against you someday.” Brumbal laughed and pointed at Yolanta as if scolding him.
Yolanta’s laugh rumbled across the open bow. “You’ve more wives than I do!”
“But I’ve pledged to add no more.” Brumbal winked.
“You are a rogue.” Yolanta grinned and clapped his comrade on the back, making another smile crack Brumbal’s battle-scarred face. “There’s just one problem with your plan, Brumbal!”
His second-in-command frowned. “Sir, tell me.”
“You should take three ships to try this, not one. And you’re excluding me from the fun and a good row! We’ll leave the Reaper to stand off to sea and keep pace as best she can while we do this together—or not at all.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Brumbal, signal the fleet to gather!” Yolanta roared. “You and I can transfer by rope from the Reaper to our closest pursuit vessel and never have to stop our chase.”
“Sir!” Brumbal acknowledged, rushing to the stern to set signal flags and give orders.
Yolanta turned his attention to his ship: mast down, sail rigged, the strongest men at oars. No matter which ship Brumbal chose, they were all rigged the same. What more could he do to increase the speed of his ships? Then an idea began to form in his mind as he waited to transfer. They had never tried two sails, one ahead of the other. Someday he would try that. It wouldn’t help while they were rowing, of course, but it might give them an advantage under sail.
Yolanta believed his Tookan people were masters of the sea, despite the Lantish claims to the contrary. Tookans had controlled the waters off their coast since before his father’s time. Now with their new allies, the Amarrats, destroying the Tolarian Empire, Yolanta was confident his people could expand their area of control beyond the Isthmus of Fron and out into the Circle Sea.
He didn’t care if the Amarrats took over the Tolarians’ land as long as they left his Tookans alone to take over the trade routes of the Circle Sea.
The Amarrat invasion was a blessing for Yolanta. The recent alliance between the Lantish and Tolarians would have doomed the Tookans to destruction, because both countries considered the Tookans to be pirates and had vowed to crush Yolanta’s people.
In Yolanta’s mind, piracy was forced on his people because the Tolarians had always forbidden them from carrying trade because the Tolarians wanted the profit of a monopoly in shipping. What option beyond piracy did they have, besides fishing like the miserable inhabitants of the settlements along the north coast of the Circle Sea? Tookans were too fierce, too proud for that.
With the Tolarians out of the way, Yolanta was confident he could at least share the trade routes of the Circle Sea with the Lantish—or if necessary, crush the Lantish fleet and control the entire Circle Sea.
Yolanta pursued the Necklace of Tol to fulfill his promise to King Zuul; yet, Yolanta did not trust him. The Amarrats spoke a different language than the Lantish used by all the city-states living around the Circle Sea, and that made it difficult to communicate. Yolanta’s alliance with the Amarrats was sensible, if only for the compass and Mork’s fire, two weapons of incredible value. And the size of the gold fortune promised to him for retrieving the necklace was beyond belief.
Yolanta worried what might happen to his people if he failed to return with the necklace. He knew the Amarrats were obsessed with collecting slaves. They needed them to build pyramids along the Nital River in the highlands where the river began its drop down into the Medit Valley and formed a freshwater lake that flowed into the Sea of Salt at the west end of the Medit Valley. If he failed to retrieve the necklace, would the Amarrats turn his people into slaves?
He pushed the worry from his mind. Soon he and his men would have the necklace, and his people would not have to worry about the Amarrats enslaving them. Although, Yolanta well knew he would not rest easy until the Amarrat king put the Necklace of Tol to the test and was satisfied it had special powers. He didn’t want the Amarrat king to be disappointed and take it out on him and his country.
“Ready, sir.” Brumbal waved. The lines were set between the ships, and they were ready to transfer. Yolanta tore his gaze from the sea and hurried to Brumbal. Soon they were pulling hard on the oars of their cutter, the Dagger, trying to catch the Lantish jat ahead of them.
CHAPTER 19
PRINCESS SHARMANE FLEES
Our fleet is destroyed. The Golden Willow cannot extinguish the Mork’s fire. Such a horrible weapon, this sticky substance that burns violently, even when water is poured on it. We flee to the south.
—Diary of Princess Sharmane of Tolaria
“Halt rowing!” Captain Dunn shouted. He had ordered the Sea Nymph to turn, so as the ship drifted slowly to a stop it now pointed south toward Lanth. As the two Tolarian ships drew closer, the merchant vessel halted rowing, the oars lifting in the air, while the military ship maintained their rowing pace. The merchant ship was still on fire, despite the crew’s efforts to spread sand over the deck.
“I see the princess on the military ship!” Asher shouted, pointing at the approaching ships. He ignored Saldet Tyo’s order to stay by the catapult, ran to the bow railing, and jumped up as easily as a lizard. He steadied himself on a rope as he waved at the approaching ship. “Princess Sharmane!” Asher yelled.
A young woman in a long blue gown with a blue hood stepped to the railing. She had been standing near the helm. Guards tried to keep her back, but she ordered them aside.
“Who calls me?” She pushed her hood from her head, and her long black hair flowed over her shoulders. Arken thought that she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen in his life.
Asher turned around and glanced at Arken and the others before yelling back.
“Asher! Your brother!”
“Asher! Greetings!” she shouted. “Is Lanth still our ally?”
“Yes, they await your arrival!”
“Thank Tol! Then we flee for Lanth! Do you wish to come aboard?”
Asher looked back at Arken, who had remained by the catapult. Arken was startled. Did Asher just say he was the Princess’s brother? Arken looked around to see if anyone else had heard, but the catapult crew was busy, and no one had even looked up. But if he was the Princess’s brother, did that make him the king’s son? Then why had he said he was the ambassador’s son?
“No, I don’t want to leave my comrades. We’ll be right behi
nd you.”
“Then take on treasure from the burning ship that follows, while we take on their rowers and half their warriors! Your ship will be faster when the wind comes up.”
“We will!” Asher shouted.
The princess’s warship turned away to allow the burning merchant ship to glide into the space between the warship and the Sea Nymph.
“Keep that fire at bay!” shouted the lean, gray-haired captain of the burning ship. “We’re out of sand, so pour water all around so the fire can’t spread! We don’t want to grapple and set our rescuers on fire.” The Tolarian sailors quickly tossed buckets into the sea and lifted ropes attached to the bucket handles. Then they poured water on the fire that stubbornly burned at the ship’s stern. They couldn’t put out the Mork’s fire with water, but by soaking the wood around the burning deck they could slow its spread.
It looked to Arken like the Mork’s fire had landed on the command deck and ignited, but the bomb had skidded off the deck before leaving all its fuel. A lucky break for the ship and crew.
Sailors lashed the burning merchant ship to the princess’s warship on one side and the Sea Nymph on the other. Arken watched several men jump from the Golden Willow to the princess’s vessel.
The gray-haired captain of the burning ship saluted Captain Dunn. “Captain Rallat, sir, of the Golden Willow. We carry the temple’s treasure. Will you take it and half our crew? We’ll bring no slaves on board, only freemen.”
“Gladly, sir. We need warriors. But let’s be quick! The enemy draws near. And bring the best rowers among your freemen. We’ll need them to escape!”
In moments, at least fifty men had carried their equipment and supplies from the burning Golden Willow to the princess’s vessel, while on the port side of the ship crewmen rigged a line from the Golden Willow’s mast to that of the Sea Nymph. A block and tackle was on the line, and the Tolarians ran the block with a hook on the end down by a net that had been spread on the deck of the Golden Willow next to a large chest. Six sailors lifted the large chest made of dark wood with bronze straps, hinges, and lock and set it in the net.
“Any word of Father and Mother?” Asher yelled across to his sister as the Tolarian crew on the Golden Willow gathered the ends of the net and put them over the hook on the block, and then pulled on the pulley rope, lifting the net up and around the chest.
“Father left Baltak before the city fell,” the princess shouted across the gap between the ships. Arken could barely hear since the crews of all three ships were making so much noise, so he left the catapult and walked to the rail.
“He went on a mission to attempt Mother’s rescue,” Sharmane yelled. “He will sail to Lanth after the rescue and establish a new capitol there until we can retake Baltak. Tol bless his venture!”
“Tol bless,” Asher yelled from the railing as he stood on his tiptoes. “Our uncle and aunt await you in Lanth!”
The crew of the princess’s ship undid the ropes lashing their ship to the Golden Willow and pushed away, leaving the Sea Nymph and Golden Willow lashed together to complete the transfer of the chest.
“She’s your sister?” Arken asked Asher in astonishment.
“Yes. My older sister.” Asher waved goodbye. “Farewell, Sharmane. We’ll follow shortly!”
“You should flee with her,” Arken said.
“Perhaps, but I don’t want to abandon my shipmates during battle,” Asher responded.
Arken didn’t want to insult Asher by saying he’d be of no use to them in combat, so he said nothing. But he thought Asher would be smarter fleeing.
“Why have you gone over there against my orders, you idiot?” Saldet Tyo hissed at Asher from the catapult. “And you, too, for that matter,” Tyo added, glaring at Arken.
“I’m saying goodbye to my sister,” Asher explained, his voice tinged with irritation.
“Goodbye to who?” Tyo asked, his eyes widening.
“Should I tell him?” Arken asked.
Asher nodded. “It won’t matter for them to know now.”
“That was Asher’s sister, the Princess of Tolaria. Asher is Prince and heir to the Tolarian throne,” Arken explained.
Saldet Tyo’s jaw fell open, and he dropped to one knee where he was standing by the catapult and bowed his head to Asher. Then Tyo turned sideways to Lancon Koman. “Sir, Asher is the Prince of Tolaria and heir to the throne, we must show our respect!”
Koman and the catapult crew scrambled to take a knee and show their respect. Arken turned his gaze back to the princess’s black hair and sparkling, bright blue eyes as she waved from the now-receding ship.
“Please rise, all of you,” Asher said, sounding embarrassed as he turned his attention back to the catapult crew of the Sea Nymph.
“She’s your sister?” Lancon Koman rose from his knee and approached Asher, who was still standing at the railing with Arken.
“Yes.” Asher looked back at the Tolarian warship as it rowed away. “Yes, she’s eighteen, four years older.”
Koman stared at the departing ship. “She is so beautiful,” he said.
“And engaged to your Prince Dahl,” Asher reminded him.
“Yes, sir, I understand. No hope for the likes of me.” Koman returned to the catapult. But he looked back one last time to watch the escaping Tolarian ship, and Arken was sure that his gaze locked with Princess Sharmane’s for a moment.
“Three Tookan ships have pulled away from the approaching fleet and are rowing fast toward us!” Talya shouted from the bird’s nest.
All eyes turned toward the approaching enemy ships.
“Make this transfer quickly,” Captain Dunn shouted. The crew of the Tolarian ship drew the net tight by lifting the pulley so that the massive chest was suspended in the net by the rolling block on the rope drawn tight between the masts of both ships.
The Tolarians tied a line to the net, and then it was tossed over to the Sea Nymph so its crew could pull the net and chest over to their ship. The heavy chest began moving toward the Sea Nymph, but then the weight of it made the rope sag as the two ships rolled toward each other, their masts leaning in. The net and chest rolled quickly to the lowest point on the rope, and the crew of the Sea Nymph could not make it budge because they were now pulling the chest uphill on the rope between the masts.
“What’s going on?” Captain Dunn looked at the rope. “Why does the rope dip? We’re lashed together!”
“The ships are heeling over toward each other, sir.” Lancon Koman had run back to help when the ship heeled over. “Look, the catapult is tipped, meaning our ship is tipped because it always rides dead level.”
“By Kal!” Captain Dunn looked north toward the Tookans.
“We have to hurry, sir; they’re drawing closer,” the old lookout shouted from high above.
“Blast you man, I know,” Captain Dunn said. “We need more men on the pulling rope.”
Arken and Asher ran to join the other cadets and sailors grabbing the rope to pull the chest aboard.
“Push on the chest, men,” Captain Rallat said, urging his men on the Tolarian ship. The heavy net with the chest inside slowly edged forward until the net containing the chest was suspended over the deck of the Sea Nymph.
“Release that tackle rope so the chest can drop to our deck.” Captain Dunn pointed. A crewmember grabbed the rope and snapped it, which should have released the tackle, but it didn’t budge.
“Jammed, sir, won’t come free,” the sailor yelled.
“Step clear.” Captain Dunn drew his sword and began to slash at the netting. After three swings, it tore open and the chest began to slide to the Sea Nymph’s deck.
“Careful, Captain Dunn, you’ve got the Necklace of Tol in there!” Captain Rallat shouted. He was watching from the deck of his ship.
“I don’t care what holy bauble you have in there, we’ve got to get moving!” Captain Dunn shouted. As the strain on the rope between the masts was relieved, the two ships rolled upright, and the sudden movement
tipped a man off balance.
“My foot!” screamed a sailor as one end of the chest ripped out of the partially torn net and crashed to the deck.
“Lift the chest, men!” Captain Dunn dropped his sword to clatter on the deck. The captain heaved on the chest with five other men. The injured sailor slithered out from under the weight as they lifted.
“Take him below to the healers,” the captain yelled. “Zeem, you have your first patient. Attend him, please.”
Lancon Zeem stood on the deck next to the stairs, which led down to the galley and the rowing room. He had been organizing the cadets into a reserve force. He hurried toward the ship’s stern and held open the door that led to the rooms below the command deck, including his infirmary.
Captain Dunn turned his attention to the Tolarians. “Board quickly now, the enemy draws near.”
A great rush of crewmen jumped from the burning ship to the Sea Nymph, emptying the burning Golden Willow. Arken and Asher returned to the forward catapult.
“Help me grab a pike pole, we’ll need to push off!” Lancon Koman shouted at them and pointed at the long wooden poles hanging from loops below the railing. “Just hold it straight up like this!” He planted the pole’s end on the deck, and then left it for them to hold. It was all Arken and Asher could do to keep the long, heavy pole vertical as the ship rocked back and forth on the morning swell.
The last to board was the Tolarian vessel’s captain. He turned and saluted his burning ship, and then his eyes met Captain Dunn’s. “Permission to board, sir?”
“Aye! Be quick!” Captain Dunn saluted him.
The thin Tolarian captain jumped to the deck as easily as a man in his twenties, though Arken thought he had to be at least fifty. “Captain Rallat of the Golden Willow.” He bowed to Captain Dunn, and his long, gray-and-black ponytail flipped forward over his skull.
“Oars out and row for home!” Captain Dunn ordered. “Quickly now. Maintain our fastest pace and change rowing crews often,” he added.