by DAVID B. COE
Upon reaching the stone wall, they turned and followed it in the direction of the main gate. Before long, they found what they had sought: an unadorned stone door, all but indiscernible along the façade of the defenses.
Kad pushed the door open and waved his men and the knights inside. A few still carried torches. Landry did not. He stepped through the doorway, into a narrow space that smelled of must. An iron gate bolted into the opposite wall guarded a second doorway. Landry mastered the lock, opened the gate, and pushed on the second door. It opened as easily as the first. Beyond it loomed the jungle through which they had been led so many days before.
They walked around the fortress, keeping close to the wall, shrouded in shadow, out of sight of the guards atop the ramparts. In little time, they came within sight of the main gate, and the road leading away from it. Redman’s men stood watch there. The Templars and sailors halted, and after a bit of discussion, cut away from the wall and entered the tangle of trees and brush. They moved with stealth, even after they were hidden within the jungle.
Redman’s men patrolled the stone road as well. Landry and the others crept through the shadows parallel to the thoroughfare, monitoring the guards, remaining out of sight. They knew that eventually they would reach the dirt path they had followed from the ship, on the day Redman and Gaspar brought them to this place.
When they did reach it, they veered onto the path and quickened their pace, no longer concerned with making noise. The journey back to the water proved longer than Landry recalled, but also easier. Rather than climbing, the path descended over much of the distance. He and the other Templars could not run, but they maintained a brisk gait, navigating the rough trail by the light of the moon.
The wound to Landry’s side ached, and fresh blood still soaked his shirt and breeches. He was weakened, light-headed. Walking such a distance couldn’t be good for him, but since the other choice was death, he swallowed his complaints.
Tancrede walked just ahead of him and glanced back his way at intervals, concern etched in his gaunt face. He said not a word, perhaps understanding that nothing he could say or do would help. They needed to leave the isle. Then, Draper could tend to Landry’s injury.
Landry had no doubt that Gaspar pursued them. After watching his leader die, he would not simply allow the knights and sailors to escape. More, he had to know that they would head to the cove where the pirates’ ships were anchored.
The others knew this as well. No one celebrated their liberation from the fortress. No one sheathed his weapon. A tense silence hung over them as they wound among the trees.
He heard the surf before he saw it. His heart lifted at the gentle brush of waves across the sand, at the scents of brine and fish and seaweed that seasoned the air. Minutes later, a last dip of the path deposited them onto the strand’s moon-whitened sand.
Upon reaching the shore, Landry dropped to his knees, and took several long, deep breaths.
A shadow loomed before him. He looked up into Godfrey’s lined face. The commander extended a hand, pulled him up, and led him across the expanse to one of the skiffs resting on the wet sand by the water.
Kad’s men had already taken up the oars.
Godfrey and Tancrede helped Landry into one of the vessels and shoved it into the water. They then hopped into a second skiff that already bobbed in the shallows. A third skiff they lit on fire. The sailors began to row them away from shore, to one of the large ships anchored some distance out on the water.
“Our ship was the Petrel,” Kad said. “She was fast, and well-equipped to fight off most adversaries. I’d dearly love to have her back. But we’ve no choice but to take one of Redman’s ships.”
Landry noticed that they were headed to the smallest of the vessels.
“This one ahead looks to be the swiftest,” Kad went on. “I hope I’m right.”
“We’ll defer to your judgment, Captain,” Godfrey said.
Despite the darkness, Landry saw the man’s face color. “I’m no captain.”
“I believe you are. You’ll have to be. Your men look to you for leadership. And none of us, not even Tancrede, knows as much about sea-craft as you do.”
Kad bore many injuries. Blood darkened half his face and he held his wounded arm tucked to his side. But he pulled himself up to his full height, in that moment appearing every bit the captain he needed to be.
The sailors rowed them alongside the vessel, and tied the skiffs to the ship. One by one, they climbed the lines onto the deck. Landry barely made it up. He collapsed onto the wood as soon as he cleared the rails. Draper helped him up and out of the way to a corner near the stern.
Tancrede and Kad hoisted the ship’s anchor. Two men climbed back down the lines bearing torches, cut the skiffs loose from the ship, and lit those on fire as well. When Gaspar and the pirates reached the shore to give chase, they would need to swim out to the remaining vessels.
“Shouldn’t we burn those other ships as well?” Landry asked.
Kad turned. “I fear taking the time to do so. Better we should get away.”
Kad’s sailors rowed their vessel away from the strand toward the open sea. Tancrede, Nathaniel, and Godfrey prepared the sails so that they could be raised as soon as they were out of the cove.
Draper helped Landry strip off his tabard, mantle, and mail. The Turcopole sucked in his breath when he saw Landry’s injury.
“This does not look good, my friend.”
“Do what you can,” Landry said. “I will not allow this wound to be the death of me. I won’t let Redman win.”
Draper grinned. “No, of course you will not. You are a stubborn man, Landry.”
Noise and light from the strand drew their gazes.
Gaspar and his men streamed onto the sand. Several men carried bows. They ran to the water’s edge and loosed their arrows. Already, though, Kad and the other sailors had oared them beyond the archers’ reach.
Gaspar shouted orders to the pirates. Then all of them waded into the water and began swimming toward the two ships still anchored in the cove.
“We’ll be able to put some distance between us and them,” Kad called. “That’s something at least.”
Something, but perhaps not enough. If it came to a battle at sea, the sailors and Templars would be overmatched. Again.
The Templars’ ship emerged from the cove a short time later. They had too few men to make much headway on sweeps, and even after they reached open water, the wind remained light. Tancrede and the others raised the sails while the sailors shipped the oars. Wind filled the cloth of the sails, all of which were marked with black crosses. Still, the ship’s speed did not increase by much.
Landry continued to watch the pirates while Draper dressed his wound. Despite the loss of the skiffs, Gaspar and his men were soon aboard the two vessels. Due to their own progress beyond the cove, Landry lost sight of the pirates before they went to sweeps, but he had little doubt that they would give chase before long. Whatever advantage the knights and sailors had gained would not amount to much.
Kad piloted them eastward away from the cove – a decision that seemed to be based solely on the direction of the wind. He steered them parallel to the shoreline, keeping them close enough that if they had to flee to land, they could.
Landry stared back from the ship’s stern, watching the mouth of the cove, waiting for the pursuing vessels to appear. As the minutes passed, and the distance between their ship and the cove increased, his hopes rose. Perhaps their lead on the pirates was greater than he had credited.
The pirate ships surged out of the cove moments later, still on sweeps. They turned to the east, and hugged the coastline as they carved through the water after the Templars’ ship. At first, they appeared to be gaining, but this didn’t last long. Maybe Gaspar’s men were weary, or perhaps there were too few of them left alive to row the ships at the speed required to close the distance. Whatever the reason, they chased, but they did not draw nearer.
The
sky ahead of them brightened with dawn’s approach. Silver-gray at first, then tinged with gold as the sun neared the horizon.
Landry hoped that daylight might bring a stronger wind, but it didn’t. He peered back again. In the light, the pirate ships appeared closer than they had at night, and the Templars’ advantage far more tenuous.
“Damnit!”
Landry faced forward again to follow the line of Kad’s gaze. His heart sank.
Another ship had appeared ahead of them, angling in from farther out to sea. It was also on sweeps, and it would cut them off before long. They were trapped between Gaspar’s pirates and this newest threat.
Chapter 20
“Do we make for the shore?” Godfrey called from along the rails.
Kad shook his head and spat a curse. “We’re too far, and the ships behind have gained too much on us. If we steer to the coast we’ll lose the wind and have to tack in or go to sweeps. Either way, they’ll be on us before we make land.” He glanced Landry’s way. “Perhaps you were right. Forgive me.”
“Never mind that,” Godfrey said. “What can we do?”
“I’d suggest you pray, Templar. Pray that ship is not filled with Redman’s pirates.”
The third vessel bristled with oars and moved at speed, cutting across the swells as if propelled by Poseidon himself. As far as Landry could tell, it was headed directly at their ship. It might have intended to ram them with its high, curving prow.
He looked back again. Gaspar’s vessels remained close. The few men on the ships’ decks had turned their gazes on this strange ship. Gaspar had a spyglass raised to his eye. Whoever was aboard the third vessel, they did not appear to be known to the pirates. Landry was heartened by this.
Still, the ship’s pilot appeared to pay little heed to the pirate vessels. It adjusted its course repeatedly to bear down on the Templars’ ship.
Landry gazed up at their sail again, at the black cross, which he recalled from the day Redman captured them. He turned and studied the furled sails of the pursuing vessels. He couldn’t make out much, but they did appear to bear some sort of black marking as well. Crosses? Did those aboard this unknown vessel believe the Templars’ ship and Gaspar’s ships were together, rather than at odds?
If so, attacking the lead vessel made a great deal of sense, particularly if they believed they could incapacitate the ship before being engaged by the trailing vessels.
Landry had put his shirt back on when Draper finished bandaging him. But his mail, mantle, and tabard remained in a pile on the deck.
He strode to them now, grabbed his tabard, and crossed to the main mast.
“Landry,” Tancrede called. “What are you doing?”
He and Kad intercepted Landry before he reached the mast.
“What if they think we’re with Redman?” Landry said. “Or that Redman himself is aboard this ship? That may be why they seem intent on ramming us.” He held up the tabard. “I want to fly this from the mast. Let them see that we’re Templars.”
Tancrede and Kad eyed the approaching vessel, before peering up at the top of the mast.
“That’s not a bad idea,” the captain said.
“I know—”
“But you’re in no condition to climb. Give it to me.”
Landry recognized the wisdom in this. He handed the tabard to Kad, who gripped it between his teeth and began to climb.
Even wounded, the captain climbed like a desert cat and was soon at the top. There, he tied the tabard to the mast and allowed the wind to take it. It snapped in the breeze, the red cross clearly visible to any who might look for it.
But Landry wasn’t convinced that those on the unknown ship would notice.
He marked the vessel’s progress: every dip of every oar into the azure waters, its unwavering track toward the Templar vessel. Soon it would be too late. Even if someone aboard did notice the tabard, they might not be able to alter the course of such a grand vessel in time. And Gaspar’s ships continued to hunt them. They had escaped the prison for nothing. He and his fellow knights were in much the same predicament they’d been in the day Redman took them prisoner.
“They’re turning.”
He fixed his attention on the unknown vessel once more. It took him a moment to see that Tancrede was right. The ship had changed its course. Not by much, but enough. Now, rather than being on course to collide with the Templars’ ship, they would soon set themselves between the Templars and the pirate ships.
A form appeared on the deck of the new ship. Slight, dark-haired, a glass raised to eye level and trained on their ship. Landry raised a hand, as in greeting.
Could it be?
“We have bows, arrows as well!”
Nathaniel had emerged from the hold bearing at least a dozen bows and several quivers filled with arrows.
“Excellent,” Godfrey said. “Every man who can should take up a bow.”
“This newest ship may have turned, but we can’t simply trust—”
“I think the ship is piloted by Melitta,” Landry said, still watching the vessel.
“What?”
Seconds later both Godfrey and Tancrede were at his side.
“The one on the deck with the glass?” Godfrey asked.
“Yes.”
“But how would she have gotten away? I thought Redman had killed the Melitta’s crew, or at the very least sold the survivors to slavers.”
“That looks like a slaver’s ship,” Tancrede said. When Landry and Godfrey both stared at him, he added, “I’m just offering an observation.”
As the large vessel drew nearer, a familiar voice – a woman’s voice – shouted from its deck. “Ahoy, Templars! Glad to see you’re alive!”
“And you!” Godfrey called in reply. “What would you have us do?”
“Come about. Help us fight off the trailing ships.”
Before Godfrey could relay the instructions to Kad, the captain said, “I heard! Coming about!”
Kad and his men succeeded in turning the ship in a tight arc. Nathaniel distributed the bows and quivers. Landry had to refuse. With the wound dealt him by Redman, he hadn’t the strength to draw a bow.
Melitta’s ship bore down on Gaspar’s lead vessel. Too late, the pirate captain appeared to understand his peril. He tried to change direction, but that proved an error as well.
By this time, archers on both Gaspar’s ship and Melitta’s vessel had taken to the decks and were exchanging volleys of arrows. But as the pirate’s vessel altered course, it exposed the side of its hull to Melitta’s ship.
Melitta cried out to the oarsmen below deck. Landry couldn’t make out what she said, but the effect of her words was unmistakable. Those in the hold quickened the rhythm of their strokes. The ship sped up, and crashed through the side of Gaspar’s ship.
The rending of wood was like a thunderclap. Men screamed.
The oarsmen on Melitta’s ship rowed on, so that their vessel drove itself through the pirate ship, splitting it in two. Dozens of men spilled into the sea, some flailing as they fell, others dropping like stones. The ruined halves of the pirate ship began to take on water and sink.
Kad tacked their ship in Melitta’s wake, so that the two vessels closed in on the second pirate vessel.
This ship had commenced its turn at the same time as Gaspar’s ship. When Melitta’s vessel cleared the wreckage of the first ship, the second had already completed its turn. Whoever was captaining the vessel seemed unwilling to engage Melitta’s ship and the Templars. They were content, it appeared, to flee and live another day.
Pirates swam in the waters around Melitta’s ship and that of the Templars. Landry wanted to urge his fellow knights to use their arrows on the men, to exact some measure of revenge for their ordeal at the hands of these cutthroats. He knew, though, that there was little difference between killing a defenseless man with his sword, and slaughtering these men in the water.
“Should we rescue them?” Gawain asked, joining Landry and the
others at the rails. “Do we let them drown, or be eaten by sharks?”
Tancrede stared down at the men. “They would have killed us had they caught the ship. I feel no need to save their lives.” He faced Godfrey. “But if you order us to do so, I will, of course.”
The commander considered the pirates below as well. “I know that. I’m torn.”
“What about him?” Tancrede asked, pointing.
Landry looked in the direction indicated. Gaspar clung to the side of Melitta’s ship, a sword still on his belt. He was climbing stealthily toward the deck.
Three bows thrummed, almost in unison. Arrows loosed by Godfrey, Gawain, and Tancrede arced into the clear sky and carved downward toward the pirate.
They struck in quick succession. One pierced Gaspar’s neck. The other two buried themselves in his back, close to his heart. He fell away from the ship, his body slapping the surface of the water and floating there. Blood stained the sea. He didn’t move again.
“That was well done,” Tancrede said. “It’s a shame the two of you couldn’t find his neck as I did, but still, well done.”
“As you did?” Gawain rounded on him. “It was my arrow that took him in the neck.”
“Actually, I’m reasonably certain it was mine,” Godfrey said.
Tancrede shook his head in the manner of a disappointed parent. “You’re both wrong. I understand how hard it must be for you. In truth, it wasn’t that difficult a shot.”
“Landry,” Godfrey said. “Would you settle this please? Tell them it was my arrow that killed the man.”
Landry raised both hands. “I don’t think I want any part of this conversation. All I know is, if I could have drawn a bowstring, I would have taken out his eye.”
He regarded the pirates again. Most of those who remained had grabbed hold of scraps of wood from their ship. He didn’t believe any of them would drown. As for sharks, especially with Gaspar’s blood in the surf… well, if they started for shore now, they might make it there in time.