“The pirates are closing in on us.” He tried to keep his mental voice calm. Panic wouldn’t bring Farrell any sooner. “My best estimate is they’ll overtake us in two hours, definitely less than three. But I think they have a ballista on board. If they use it to foul our rigging or rip our sails, they’ll catch us sooner. We could really use your help.”
“I’m trying. Really, I am,” Farrell said. “I don’t have a good enough image to open a Door to a moving ship and I can’t risk flying, because if I miss you, I might not make it in time. This way is slower, but the dolphins assure me they know where you are.”
“I know you’re doing your best. Can they tell you when you’ll be here?”
“My guides don’t understand time like we do, so it’s hard to judge what they’re telling me. I know we’re not close, but we should arrive well before sunset. Sorry I can’t be more specific.”
Given the rate the corsair closed on them, Miceral still doubted Farrell would make it in time. “Just hurry. Please.”
Farrell didn’t reply immediately. Before he could ask if something was wrong, Farrell’s voice reappeared in his mind.
“Sorry, I was trying to speak with you and the dolphins at once. From what they can tell, it will probably take us about the same amount of time to reach you as it will take the pirates. We’re farther away, but we can travel faster. If, however, they manage to slow you down, they will get there before me.”
“Understood. Be careful.”
“Ha!” Despite Farrell’s laugh, he didn’t sound amused. “I’m not the one about to be attacked by pirates. You be careful.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“I love you, Ral. Please be in one piece when I get there.”
The anguish in his partner’s voice overwhelmed Miceral “It will take more than a few pirates to keep me from you.”
“I have to go. My new escorts tell me we can travel faster underwater without having to fight the waves.” The link went silent.
“What did he say?” Peter barely contained his fear.
“That he’s on his way, but it’s anyone’s guess if he beats the pirates to the Rose.” Miceral waved the first mate to their position. “Don’t mention this conversation to Emerson.”
“Understood.”
When Emerson came down to check on them, Miceral spoke first. “I’ve noticed more activity. I’m thinking we’re almost in range of whatever they’ve got on deck.”
Emerson stared over the bow. “I’ll advise the captain and let him decide our next move.”
Miceral watched the first officer and captain speak. Nathan looked at the approaching corsair, then nodded to Emerson. The two began barking orders, sending sailors running around.
The sails fluttered briefly as the men worked to trim the canvas. The Seafoam Rose slowed slightly but then quickly surged ahead. A loud splash off the port side drew everyone’s attention. Although he didn’t see what happened, Miceral knew they’d been fired upon.
Emerson and the captain worked in tandem, shouting orders as they prepared another maneuver. On the pirate ship, Miceral saw brigands scurrying about.
“Peter, come here.” He handed the teen the spyglass. “I’m going to try to knock out their catapult. Watch where my javelins land and let me know immediately how far off the mark I am.”
Miceral squinted, trying to gauge the distance as best he could. After testing the weight and balance of his weapon, he leaned back and let the magically altered spear fly. He watched it arc all the way to the vessel, where it disappeared from view.
“Ten feet too far, four feet to the left!” Peter shouted. “But you took out one of the sailors. And now the sailors are arguing with each other.”
Ignoring Peter’s voice, Miceral plucked a second javelin and closed his eyes to familiarize himself with its balance. Focusing on his target, he hurled the metal rod as hard as he could. When the spear began its descent, Miceral turned away—he knew it would miss.
“Short,” Peter said. “It was right on target, but it hit the front of the ship.”
“Got it.” Grabbing another javelin, Miceral made sure to keep his current position. He’d been high and low with his first two tosses. This time he’d hit the mark.
“Miceral! They fired the weapon again!”
“Elgin,” he growled when their eyes met. “Just keep your attention on the ballista.”
“I am, but they fired it again.”
“I heard you.” He concentrated on his goal and made his third attempt. When the weapon struck, he didn’t need Peter to tell him what happened. The front of the ship exploded in a mass of flying wood and ropes.
“Direct hit!” Peter screamed. “You did it! It’s totally destroyed.”
Miceral turned around to answer Peter but stopped when he saw the sails above the young prince. The spear Peter called out had cut through one sail and embedded itself in another. Slowly gravity pulled the barbed tail toward the deck, creating a big tear in the mainsail.
CAPTAIN NATHAN swore furiously, pausing only to issue orders. Sailors quickly scaled the rigging carrying needles and thread in a desperate attempt to repair the torn canvas. Emerson stared at Miceral, then walked over with a determined stride.
“I saw you take out their ballista.” His voice held an unspoken accusation. “How’s that possible?”
“Magic.” Miceral handed the officer a javelin. “Kelvin enchanted these before we arrived. They’re practically weightless, and the spell lets me throw them much farther than a normal spear. But when they land, they return to their true mass.”
Twirling the javelin with his fingers, Emerson nodded toward the enemy ship. “Can you use the rest to slow them down?”
“I’ll try, but even if I manage to damage their sails, they still have their oars. I doubt I can destroy enough of them to make a difference.” Hefting a javelin to estimate its weight, he looked over at Peter, who opened the spyglass.
“Where should I be watching?”
Miceral turned to Emerson, who still watched the approaching ship. “I only have nine left. The odds of my hitting an oar or two are rather slim, but any holes I put in their sails probably won’t slow them very much.”
Emerson drummed his fingers along the rail before handing the javelin back to Miceral. “Aim for the sails. Maybe you’ll get lucky and destroy a mast or a spar.”
“That’s as sound a plan as any. Watch the mast closest to us, Peter.
At least if I miss, the spear will hit a sail or two.”
Miceral’s first four throws missed the mast, but they left multiple holes in several sails. Each hole started small but quickly widened as the wind continued its relentless push against the canvas. With each new tear, the corsair slowed a little more, but the sleek vessel still gained on the larger Seafoam Rose.
On his fifth attempt, Miceral’s spear struck the foremast. Two-thirds of the way up the tall spar, the heavy steel missile drove itself deep into the wood. Miceral exchanged looks of disappointment with the first officer.
“I can keep putting holes in their sails, and it might even make the men in the rigging jumpy, but I think I’m wasting my weapons.”
A strong gust of wind elicited a new round of curses from the men trying to repair the damage to the Rose’s sails. The crew had nearly finished closing the hole in the mainsail, but the long gash to the forward sail would likely not be fixed before the pirates caught them. Barring a miracle, they would be overtaken within the hour.
“Look!” Peter yelled.
Miceral spun around and watched as the top third of the pirate’s forward mast toppled over under pressure from the wind. The vessel lurched as the damaged spar fouled the rest of the rigging.
“Well done, Master Elgin!” Captain Nathan shouted from the helm. His demeanor improved noticeably as he barked out orders to try to regain their speed.
The smaller ship started to lose ground as the crew struggled to clear the damage, but Miceral’s good feeling quickly fa
ded. The sweep of the oars increased even as the pirates improvised to get more sail on their depleted mast.
At first Miceral dared to hope they’d keep ahead of the buccaneers, but soon he noted the ship creeping closer. With a look toward the first officer, he asked, “Any chance we’ll get that mainsail fixed?”
“Not unless we take it down. Even ripped, it’s better than no sail.”
Miceral nodded his understanding. Not the answer he’d been hoping to hear. “They’ll still catch us before sunset.”
“Agreed, but keep it to yourself.” Emerson picked up one of the four remaining javelins. “Maybe you can make lightning strike again.”
“I think I’ll hold these until they get closer. It will improve my odds of causing real damage.”
“Don’t wait too long. I don’t want to smell them before you try your luck again.” The officer returned to the forward section and could soon be heard exhorting the men to redouble their efforts.
Miceral waited until he heard the thud of the drum used to hammer out the pace for the pirates’ oarsmen. Peter offered to spot for him, but at this distance, Miceral could rely on his own observations.
His first attempt shattered one oar before damaging a second one that broke after two more strokes. The second javelin struck the hull and quivered up and down, almost mocking the warrior. Another oar shattered with the third toss. Miceral opted to keep the last spear for the inevitable assault.
“My apologies, Captain. I was not able to do more than break three oars. This last spear is reserved for their captain.” Hoisting the remaining javelin in his right hand, Miceral bared his teeth in a wicked grin.
“Lad, you did a right decent job. Restored the balance, you did, and then some. We just might stay ahead of them long enough for your wizard to save our backsides.”
Miceral didn’t want to speculate. He didn’t expect Farrell to make it before the pirates boarded them, but it didn’t hurt for the crew to have hope.
New oars replaced the damaged one, and the pirate crew cleared the last of the fouled rigging and sails. The speedy sloop slowly gained on them again, the cadence hammered out by the drummer increasing as the brigands moved in for the capture. Miceral had bought them time. But would it be enough for Farrell to get back?
After an hour of trying, the crew had made little headway with the damaged sail. The stiff breeze ripped the stitches before the men could finish the job. Without furling the canvas, they had no chance of succeeding, but they couldn’t risk taking it down. Finally, Emerson ordered the men out of the rigging.
“Tiring the men trying to do the impossible isn’t fair to them,” the first officer told Captain Nathan. “Not when they’re going to be fighting for their lives soon enough.”
The captain seemed ready to argue, but after a moment’s pause nodded crisply. Emerson stepped off, barking orders for the men to arm themselves.
Miceral grabbed Peter by the shoulders, bringing them face-to-face. “Listen to me. Nothing fancy and nothing heroic. Stay close to me and guard my back. I’ll do the same for you. If I give you an order, you obey me without question, even if I tell you to run. Remember who and what I am if you have a mind to try to protect me. Farrell will be here soon, so above all else, stay alive.”
Hand on the hilt of his sword, the young prince nodded.
“Scared?” Miceral asked.
“A little. I’ve never been in battle before.”
Miceral cupped his hand behind Peter’s head, pulling him closer. “Good. You’re supposed to be. Only fools look forward to war. The rest of us just hide our fear.”
“Even you?”
“Even me.” He let go of Peter and picked up his last javelin. “Come on, let’s go help with the defense of the Rose.”
“We have few spears and fewer bows,” he heard the first officer say. “Anyone who’s good with either, come forward now.”
One sailor, an older seaman with iron-gray hair, stepped from the group. “I used to hunt a fair bit with my pa when I was a kid. I think I can still shoot straight.”
“Close enough. Find a safe place and concentrate on picking off their archers. I doubt they’ll have many, but those they have will probably be doing the same thing, so be careful. Anyone else?”
Two others raised a hand and accepted a bow and a quiver of arrows. Before Emerson could ask again, Peter held out his hand.
“I’m a good shot. My father had me train with all types of weapons.”
Beaming like a proud parent, Miceral nodded when Emerson looked over.
“Give him the bow,” Miceral said. “If you have an extra, I’m a decent shot as well. But I’ll take any spears you can spare.”
Emerson nodded and handed Miceral a quarter of the ship’s complement of twenty spears. “Any suggestions for a battle plan?”
“Prince Peter and I will be the first line of defense as we’re the most capable fighters. We’ll take up a position on the aftcastle.” Nathan and Emerson exchanged worried stares.
“Shouldn’t he be down below?” Nathan asked.
“You need every fighter you have. The prince is a better swordsman than any on this vessel excepting Kelvin and myself. The best way for me to keep him safe is to help defeat the pirates. To do that, we need to be on deck.” Again the ship’s officers stared at each other. Nathan shrugged. “Just so long as you tell Prince Wilhelm it was your idea.”
“If we make it back to tell Prince Wilhelm, we’ll have been victorious, so it won’t matter.”
Emerson smirked, avoiding the captain’s gaze. “What’s your plan?”
Miceral knew the best plan called for him to use his superior strength and speed. But that required hand-to-hand fighting. “If you try to prevent them from grappling with us, they’ll just pick us off. We don’t have enough men to stop them from boarding us.”
“So you suggest we hide until they come aboard?” The sneer on Nathan’s faced matched his tone. “Why don’t we just abandon ship now and give them the Rose and her cargo?”
“Captain—” Miceral had to check himself before he insulted the man. “I guarantee you they’ve got people in the rigging waiting to pick off anyone who tries to cast off their grappling hooks. It’s what I would do if I were them. The best place to defend ourselves is on the Rose, where we hold the advantage.”
“What advantage? Once they get on board, they’ll surround us.”
“He’s right, Captain.” Emerson’s voice surprised his superior. “If we find defensible positions here, it’s better than exposing ourselves to their missiles. Besides, I’m willing to bet they’re not prepared to deal with Master Elgin and the prince. That might be enough to keep us alive.”
Nathan turned from one to the other, then tossed his hands up. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. But you better be as good as Wilhelm said you were.”
“My father didn’t lie, Captain.” Peter stared at the man, as if daring Nathan to challenge him. “Elgin is that good.”
When no one else spoke, Miceral led Peter to the position in the bow he’d picked earlier. Waiting would be the enemy now. With limited weapons, they couldn’t afford to waste a single arrow or spear by firing before the pirates were in range.
The minutes dragged on as the sound of the drums from the pirate ship grew louder. Miceral heard the enemy talking about the lack of targets. Some expressed concern when they couldn’t find the weapons that had shattered their ballista and snapped their mast. Most had a bad feeling about this ship, but they seemed more afraid of someone on their ship and resigned themselves to the impending attack.
Building on those fears, Miceral decided to send a new message. The pirate ship had just inched within range of Peter’s bow. Motioning for the younger man to stay down, Miceral grabbed a spear, stood up, and quickly locked in on a target. With a quick release, he hurled the long spear at a sailor in the rigging. The man fell to the deck, the spear still lodged in his skull. After two more archers fell victim to Miceral’s spears, talk of
avoiding the Rose began anew.
“Those weren’t magically enhanced.” Emerson hugged the crates the crew placed on deck to provide cover. An arrow sunk into the wood a few inches away from him, causing him to duck lower. Miceral spotted the shooter and knocked him from his perch with a spear through the chest.
Using the confusion from the dead pirate’s scream, Emerson made his way to Miceral’s side.
“Thanks for drawing someone into the open.” Miceral’s lips twisted into a smirk. “For some reason, everyone’s hunkering down suddenly.”
Emerson’s eyes narrowed for an instant as he stared at Miceral. Finally, he snorted softly and smiled. “Imagine that.”
For the next half an hour, Miceral, Emerson, and Peter struggled to find targets. Occasionally one or two pirates scurried across the deck, providing the trio with someone to shoot. Only one sailor made it to his destination and eventually, no one else tried.
“Should we save our last arrows for when they try to board?” Peter asked. “It’s hard to find a clear target, despite how close they are.”
Emerson nodded and divided the arrows into three piles.
“Don’t leave me any,” Miceral said. “When they board, I intend to give them a proper welcome.”
The first officer didn’t ask what he meant. Instead, he handed half the arrows to Peter and led them cautiously toward the main deck.
The Seafoam Rose was a big vessel, even for an ocean-going merchant ship. With three masts, an aft, and forecastle, she rode higher than her would-be conqueror. Short of swinging over on ropes and climbing down the rigging—a dangerous proposition that would leave any who tried it exposed to attack—the only viable crossing would be the main deck.
Nathan and Emerson organized the men on the starboard side of the deck. Counting Miceral and Peter, they totaled fifty-one. Enough to give the pirates a good fight, but Miceral still didn’t like their chances. Nathan planned to lead half the crew, leaving Emerson the other half. Peter and the other archers divided the remaining arrows between them and found positions with good protection and a reasonably free line of sight.
Champion of the Gods Box Set Page 51