by Tony Roberts
“I want constant updates from you, lookout! What is happening?”
“Sir! Merchant ship ten lengths ahead of pirate ship but she is being closed down. The wind is with the pirates.”
They would close their quarry down, with three masts to two. The imperial ships had three, and a trained and disciplined crew. True, the pirates had been imperial navy once, but they would not be so disciplined anymore. Too much carousing and wenching and not enough practice on deck and manoeuvring. It would the death of them.
The two imperial ships widened the distance between themselves, peeling off in order to gain as much manoeuvring space as possible. The breeze would be a factor, too. Currently the pirates had it but if the imperial ships split wide enough, one of them would get something, and that’s all they would need. The sails of the merchant ship were now visible to those on the main deck, and clearly the skipper of that vessel had seen the red masts and was making for them as fast as he could in desperation. The pirates were closing on him and it was only a matter of time before they were caught, boarded and slaughtered.
Drakan took the starboard approach while his sister ship the port. Between them they would hopefully catch their prey in a trap. “What’s the pirate vessel doing?”
“Slowing – they’ve spotted us, skipper. They’re turning.”
“Which way?”
“Port.”
Drakan laughed in triumph. To their side. “Now we’ll take them. Keep us away from the merchant ship – I don’t want our course upset by their wake!” he snapped to the steersman.
“Aye aye, Cap’n.”
The red and black striped sails were ahead now, and a target for them to head for. The merchant ship was filling the foreground, speeding straight for the widening gap in between the imperial navy ships. The crew could now be made out, waving in relief and exultation to the sailors aboard the two Kastanian ships.
As the merchant vessel passed by at its nearest point, Drakan waved from his position to them, a gesture of success and to continue to the port of Galan, half a day’s sail from where they were. He got a grateful salute from the merchant skipper and then he lost interest in the merchantman, for now he was in hot pursuit of an enemy he despised.
The pirate vessel, built on similar lines to those of the Zephyr’s Kiss, was heeling over sharply to port and beginning to swing north, hoping to make a clean getaway, but they had been too engrossed in chasing down what they had seen as an easy target that they had not seen the naval ships until too late. “For’ard javelins, make ready! I want that brigand snared fast!”
The two men manning the javelin shooters crouched low, peering along the lines of the long and heavy missiles. Each had an eye bolt close to their base and fixed to this was a stout rope. The ropes were coiled beneath the shooters, and would reach the length of a stadia. Both ships were now closing on the pirate vessel which had turned but was struggling to pick up speed. Figures could be seen running to and fro, and raised voices floated across the waters.
“Ha ha, not so damned happy now, are you?” Drakan growled, and waved his crew to greater efforts to cut the distance. Not long now to range. They closed the gap but the pirate vessel was picking up speed so the distance closed was slowing. “Put a javelin up their arse, Mister Lambust. Bo’sun, make a signal to the Aester Rider. Tell them to ram them amidships once I have them!”
His tactics were simple. Seize the enemy by the stern with the javelins, slow them down, and allow their sister ship to smash into them. Hopefully that would sink them. The sound of the javelins being released came to him and he watched as the first missile arced across the sea and bit into the stern of the pirate, embedding itself deep. The second one glanced off a timber and fell harmlessly into the water.
“Make more! We’ve got them but I want them held fast!”
Two more were shot and this time they stuck. The pirate vessel was now tied to the Zephyr’s Kiss by three strands. Pirates immediately peered over the rail and saw their predicament. Men grabbed axes.
“Cut those canines down!” Drakan snapped.
Marines with bows raised their weapons and shot a volley at the stern deck of the enemy vessel, scattering the crew and hitting at least two. One, already leaning over the rail, cried out and fell into the sea and vanished with a splash. A few spears and javelins came arcing back but they lacked aim and the distance was yet too far for them to be effective.
“All stop! I want that garbage scow dead in the water for the Aester Rider to bugger them senseless!”
The naval vessel dropped its sails, it turned to port and the three ropes went taut. The distance was too far for the pirates to hit them with what missiles they had and they were held fast and could do little to stop it. More men appeared at the rail with axes and began flailing at the ropes below them. The archers shot more missiles across the sea, but even they found it to be hard at that distance, the heaving of the waves and the fact the pirates were now using shields to protect their sailors while attacking the ropes. One by one the three ropes were slashed and suddenly the pirate ship was free.
Drakan swore, but then suddenly from the port side of the pirate ship the other naval vessel came into sight, plunging through the wave tops, sending spray high on either side, and bore down on the wallowing pirate vessel. Screams came from the deck of the doomed enemy ship as they realised they had no time to get out of the way.
With a deep, rending splintering sound, the Aester Rider smashed plumb into the middle of the port side of the pirate vessel, the ram punching deep into the bowels of the ship. Both ships shuddered under the impact, and the skipper of the imperial ship ordered a full astern under oar. As it began to wrench itself free of the damaged ship, men began jumping overboard, wanting to be away as fast as possible from a sinking ship. Waters flooded into the hole and it began to list, sliding more and more steeply onto its side. The masts began to snap as the tilt became too much, and suddenly it rolled onto its side and began to slip under the surface of the sea.
Soon, all that was left were the heads and shoulders of shouting and pleading men, beseeching the ships to pick them up before denizens of the deep claimed them.
“Very well, Mister Lambust, get those carrion eaters out of the water and under irons. I want their captain.”
The two imperial vessels rescued thirty men in all between them. Ten had died on board and fifteen had vanished as the ship had sunk. The captain was hauled up and marched, his arms bound behind his back, up to the bridge.
Drakan eyed the man, soaked and bedraggled. He snorted. “Well, well, if it isn’t my old colleague under sail Captain Bandir. Long time no see, you turncoat.”
Bandir scowled, water dripping off his clothing and hair. “Thought you too old to be still at sea – the emperor reliant on senile old fools now, is he?”
Drakan regarded his old naval colleague. His white shirt was open to the navel, showing a round, hairy belly. “So what happened to your youthful figure, hey?” he patted the more than ample gut. “What’s this? Who’s the lucky father, then?”
The crew broke out into gales of laughter. Bandir was less than impressed. “Hah, you’re just jealous of good living, that’s all. What was it you used to do in the old days? Read books, yes that’s it, read books! Hah!”
“I still do, you illiterate moron. If you can’t read, how can you learn anything? Still, enjoying the fleshpots is just about your limit, isn’t it? I’m surprised you’re able to navigate yourself about, unless you’ve got a catamite or two who’ll show you how, for a favour or two, if you know what I mean,” and he winked at his sailors who guffawed again.
Bandir went red and struggled, all to no avail. “What are you going to do with me then? Send me to Kastan City, to put me on trial for treason? You’re nothing more than the emperor’s errand boy.”
“The emperor has many issues to address, and leaves the running of matters on the waves to me, you little turd. As long as I keep the seas clear, he’s happy to let me do mo
re or less as I please. And right now, what I want is to hang you from the yardarm.” He waved curtly and the man was dragged off, screeching his protests, to the main deck again. Drakan now leaned on the rail overlooking the main deck at the pirates his crew had pulled from the sea. “As for you lot, you can suffer the punishment of Kastan city’s dungeons. I’ll leave your fate to Prince Elas’ mercy, only I think he doesn’t know what the word means.”
The pirates were ushered into the hold while the luckless Bandir was strung up and left dangling from the yardarm, a gruesome trophy. Both ships turned about and headed south for the Kastan Straights, their immediate task fulfilled, in the wake of the merchantman which was now far away, hull down on the horizon.
They almost caught up with by the time they reached Galan, and by-passed the port just as darkness was beginning to fall. They couldn’t see whether they were being waved at again or not, and shortly they were busy navigating the straights at night, not an easy thing, but beacons had been placed on the shoreline where rocks jutted out as an aid to sailors, another of the recent re-instalments the current governors had agreed to do that which had been sadly neglected under the previous emperors.
It was with relief that Drakan saw the flickering lights marking the entrance to the military harbour of Kastan City, and his pilot competently steered the ship through the stone arms of the entrance and into a berth close to the repair yard. Drakan liked to have his vessel looked after. The Aester Rider followed suit and soon both crews were walking onto the harbourside and exchanging tales of their voyage. The prisoners were chained together and marched off under guard from the marines to the city dungeons.
Drakan dismissed the crew and spoke briefly to the harbour guard captain whose task it was to provide ample patrols for the facility, and after making sure a skeleton crew was left aboard, made his way to the palace. The streets were dark with only an occasional light illuminating the way, but small patrols of militiamen were visible walking up and down the main street.
He made his way past the guards at the entrance and announced himself at the main hallway to one of the palace courtiers. He was left with two guards waiting for a short while, then the echoing footsteps from the right heralded the arrival of the officer of the watch. Drakan was escorted along a long corridor to one of the few rooms showing a light from within. He was shown in and sitting behind a desk was Prince Elas, flanked by two more guards and two scribes.
“Admiral Drakan, you are welcome. I understand your mission was a success?”
Drakan bowed. “Indeed, sire.” He went on to explain what had happened and the hanging of Bandir. “We safely saw the ship from Zipria dock in Galan as we passed. I was surprised at how far into the Aester Sea the pirates had dared to come this time, and my concern is that they may become bolder and begin to raid along the coastlines of Lodria and Bathenia.”
“Then your job is to ensure they do not, Admiral,” Elas replied sternly. The light from the oil lamp swinging above his head from the ceiling cast deep shadows on his face. “We have reason to believe the Duras are now ashore on Romos and may be directing the pirates with their knowledge of the region.”
“Sire I only have four ships, including the other ‘fleet’. There is very little anyone can do with such limited resources, as I’m sure you know. I have no idea at present where Admiral Fostan is, by the way. His ships are still not in dock.”
“They are currently engaged on imperial business, Admiral, do not worry unduly; they shall be reunited with you in a short time. Now, as you know we are currently lacking in maritime facilities. It may be a valid criticism of the new ruling House that very little has been spent on improving them, but you may be interested to know that I have set aside a small amount of funding for the enlarging of Kastan City’s military harbour. Work is to commence in two days’ time when the new shipwright has examined the harbour here and made his deliberations as to where the work can be done.”
Drakan looked shocked. “Sire – I had no idea that this project was even being considered! This is welcome news indeed.” He frowned. “But sire, where is there a shipwright? I know of none in these parts.”
“One arrived from Zipria this evening, Admiral; you helped in bringing him here.”
Drakan opened his mouth, then shut it. He chuckled. “You’re a crafty one, Prince Elas. Oh, begging your pardon, sire,” he added quickly, seeing the unamused stare from the Prince. “I meant no offence!”
“None taken, Admiral,” Elas said heavily. He was aware some people tried humour in conversations but such things were lost on him. “I will note your conduct in this and send a letter to the emperor in Zofela recommending a salary increase for you.”
“Why – thank you, sire!” Drakan was once again shocked.
“Think nothing of it; good acts and loyal service should be properly rewarded. Your execution of the traitor Bandir sets a good example to both loyalists and rebels alike, for differing reasons. You may go now, Admiral, I have a report to write.” As Drakan turned to go after saluting, Elas called his name softly.
Drakan turned. “Sire?”
“Next time you capture a pirate captain, perhaps you may consider bringing him here for interrogation. We may learn something useful from them. Who knows?”
“Indeed, sire. I’ll do that next time.”
Elas nodded and then bent his head and proceeded to write on a parchment on his desk. Suitably dismissed, Drakan left the room and blew out his cheeks in relief in the corridor. That was one stone-faced man! He would not like to get on the wrong side of him!
Back in the room Elas stopped writing and leaned back. He pondered long on the news of the pirate incursion. That was unwelcome and unexpected. It was fortunate that the tiny imperial navy still had competent and loyal men serving it; he was of the opinion that the Koros were wary of the remaining navy since most of their colleagues had defected to piracy some years back. That was one reason why Kastania had such a small navy. He knew that it was no good concentrating on having an efficient army if one neglected the navy. Both had to be built up, and an enlarged military harbour would be the first step in ensuring this. Bigger boats could be built; more could be berthed. Better facilities would attract more men. It was simple, really.
He would write a long message to Astiras. Thankfully the emperor was not one given to overly flowery prose, something he agreed with. One must get down to the point at once and not waste time on flattery or unnecessary procrastination. Efficiency was his by-word. His thoughts turned to Amne. She would be returning to Kastan in the next day or two by sea. He worried that pirates may attack, but Admiral Fostan would be escorting her; Elas had made sure Fostan knew his duty, and if he failed and anything happened to Amne, then Fostan was to jump overboard at sea and not be seen again. Grunting, he resumed his letter. No rest for the diligent.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The journey up the Storma Valley was a delightful one. On both sides of the river the fields were in full bloom and in the distance the hills rose in waves of blues and purples, their detail lost in the heat haze rising off the land. Trees were decked in leaves and avians flew overhead in huge flocks, great black swarms suddenly veering off in a random direction, then back again.
The three wagons rumbled along the single military road that ran from Turslenka to Bragal, the beasts of burden ambling along at no great pace. Isbel was in no hurry; she was enjoying herself, being away from the responsibilities of helping to run an empire and dealing with the intrigues at court. For the next few sevendays she was going to be here with her son, Argan, and just a few others. Her’s was the middle wagon, in which sat Argan, Kerrin and Mr. Sen. At night both the latter left to sleep elsewhere, but during the day and whilst they were on the move, both would sit with Argan and talk. It was not good if he sat alone and brooded; he needed company and stimulating company. Isbel knew that she could only speak with him for so long. What he needed was to keep up with his tuition and Mr. Sen provided that for both boys. That w
ay neither would get up to any silly stuff.
The other two wagons carried the guards and supplies. Each wagon had a drover and guard, and two more guards rode in the front wagon.
They had been sent off from Turslenka by a happily waving crowd, pleased that Prince Argan had recovered enough to ride in the wagons to Zofela. It was such a relief to have a prince of the ruling House recover from what seemed a life threatening illness. The governor, Thetos Olskan, and his body slave Metila had said their own personal farewells inside the residence. Isbel was glad to be away from there. There was something she didn’t quite like about the place.
Once away from Turslenka her mood had lightened and now she was quite cheerfully looking at the countryside pass by. It was a glorious late summer day, and soon the leaves would begin to turn and transform this place into a colourful exhibition of nature’s beauty show. In a way it was a pity they weren’t coming up here then. No matter, she would maybe commission an artist to paint the valley at that time and have it hung on her wall in the castle in Zofela. She sighed slightly. She hoped the castle was going to be good enough for her and her family. She didn’t wish to spend the winters especially in some draughty austere barracks.
Argan was happy to be moving as well; he had become bored with life in Turslenka, and it was all so stuffy there. It was still stuffy here because his mother would not let him out of her sight, but at least there was something different to see every time he looked up from his books. Kerrin was good company, though, and they talked a lot about the different military units and their strengths and weaknesses, and invented a game. They would count down from three to one, then shout out a unit type, either spearmen, cavalry or swordsmen. If it was swordsmen and spearmen, then the swordsmen would win; if it were cavalry and swordsmen, then the cavalry would be the winners, and finally if it were cavalry and spearmen, then spearmen would win. That way nobody was sure as to who would win until both shouted out their choice. Sometimes both shouted out the same, and then Mr. Sen declared it a draw.