A Reign of Steel (19 page)

Reece
led the others in grabbing arrows, wrapping their tips in rags, and soaked them
in oil, prepared for flames. They all, as he led them, abandoned their
positions and ran to the rear of the ship, giving up the bow to give Tirus’s
men an opening to board.

They
huddled there in the back, waiting, as the current lead them closer and closer
to shore. Reece watched as Tirus’s men began to board; like ants, they began to
crawl over the rails of the bow and drop down to the deck, one after the other.

All
his men, crouching, waiting, were fidgety, anxious to jump off the ship.

“Not
yet!” Reece commanded.

More
and more of Tirus’s men stumbled onto the ship, filling the deck, hundreds of
men. They began to run across the ship as they spotted them, an army racing to
kill them.

“Not
yet!” Reece ordered. He wanted the ship to fill with as many of them as
possible.

They
came closer and closer, nearly reaching them, drawing swords, letting out
battle cries, assuming that Reece’s men were afraid.

Finally,
as the closest soldier was but yards away, Reece screamed, “Fire!”

As
one, the Queen’s men fired, unleashing dozens of arrows, aflame, for the sails
and the casks of oil beneath them. They did not even wait for the arrows to
hit; they followed Reece’s lead and immediately turned and leapt off the rear
of the ship, into the ocean.

As
Reece went flying over the edge, he grabbed Stara, and the two of them landed
in the water together. The water was freezing, especially as Reece was immersed
over his head, but he held onto Stara’s hand, and she to his, and while he was
underwater, he heard a tremendous explosion which nearly rocked his ears.

Reece’s
feet hit bottom—luckily only about ten feet deep here—and he bounced back up
and surfaced to a spectacle the likes of which he was sure he would never see
again. The ship he had just abandoned was exploding, in explosion after
explosion, completely aflame, as one cask after another lit up. It lit the mast
and the sails and the entire deck and rail, and the whole thing went up so fast,
there was no time for Tirus’s men to react.

There
came the cries of hundreds of men aflame. They leapt from the ship, on fire, but
it was too late for most of them.

Reece
looked out at the scene with a great sense of satisfaction. He had taken out hundreds
of Tirus’s men, and had saved all of his men on the ship. They had gone from
sure death, to now having a fighting chance.

Reece,
bobbing in the waves, turned and looked to the shoreline. Grabbing Stara’s
hand, he, along with all the others, swam until he was up to his chest; then
they began to wade, up to their stomachs, then their knees, as they made their
way in the strong tides, waves breaking all around them, for shore.

Yet
still, they had no safe haven. Hundreds more of Tirus’s soldiers, reinforcements,
appeared on shore, and these men, swords raised, charged for them, wading out
into the water to greet them.

Reece,
his shoulder throbbing, dripping wet, freezing, knee-deep in water, raised his
sword with his good arm and rushed out to meet his first foe. He blocked his
blow with a grunt, the man twice his size, leaning in for him, then he
sidestepped him; the man rushed forward into the water, and Reece spun and
slashed him.

All
around him, his men fought hand-to-hand, soldier to soldier, trying to fight for
each step, to fight their way to shore. They fought fearlessly, fighting for
their lives, as the air filled with the clang of metal and the cries of men.
Men fell on both sides, and soon the waters ran red with blood.

Still
more of Tirus’s soldiers arrived on shore, a never-ending stream. With each
step Reece gained, with each man he killed, yet another man arrived.

There
came a chorus of horns, and Reece turned to see Falus’s flotilla bearing down
on them, dozens and dozens of huge warships, closing in fast. They were
trapped, sandwiched between two foes.

Reece
knew he would die on this day; yet at least he took comfort in the fact that he
would die on his feet, as a soldier, sword in hand, and would not stop fighting
until he could not lift his arms. He might die—but he would bring down all the
men that he could with him.

As
dawn broke, Gwendolyn stood on the bow of her ship, clutching Guwayne, looking
out with dread over the gloomy ocean of the Upper Isles. Finally, land had come
into view—and yet, that was not what was catching her eye.

Instead
of feeling relieved at seeing land, relieved at having made it, Gwen’s eyes
settled on a much more disturbing view: she saw dozens of warships, bearing
Tirus’s banners, their backs to them, all sailing for the bay, as if to attack
their own island.

At
first, Gwen was confused. It made no sense. Why would they be launching an attack
on their own people?

Kendrick,
Godfrey, Steffen, and all her advisors came up beside her in the early morning
sun, all looking out at the same alarming view. And as they sailed closer, as
Gwen squinted at the horizon, it all began to make sense. There, trapped in the
bay, were about a dozen of her fleet, many of them on fire, plumes of black
smoke rising to the horizon. The shouts of dying men could be heard even from
here. They were trapped between Tirus’s fleet at sea, and his men on shore.

Gwen
realized what had happened: Tirus’s men were waging an all-out war on the
remainder of her fleet. And her men, the few who remained, were getting
slaughtered.

As
Gwen looked out, she felt certain that her brother Reece was on one of the
ships—along with Srog and all of her men. Gwen immediately felt guilty.
Clearly, they had held their positions here to honor her command. She felt as
if somehow she had let them down, had exposed them to die at the hands of these
Upper Islanders.

Gwendolyn
felt a wave of panic, and she knew she could not allow this to happen—she could
not allow her men to go down in defeat. Whatever the cause, even if Reece had
defied her command, even if he should not have murdered Tirus, he was still her
brother, and these were still her men. The Upper Islanders could not be allowed
to harm them. They needed to learn what happened when you defied the Queen, the
Silver, the MacGils; they needed to feel the wrath of the Ring.

Yet
Gwendolyn sailed in a vulnerable position, vastly outnumbered by the dozens of
large, well-armed ships of the Upper Isles. While Gwendolyn’s fighting force
was superior, there was clearly no way they could defeat them at sea in a
head-on match.

“Not
exactly the welcome you expected, is it, sister?” Kendrick asked, looking out with
a warrior’s visage, remaining calm as he studied the scene with a professional
warrior’s eye.

“I
told you that Tirus was not to be trusted,” Godfrey added.

Gwen
shook her head.

“None
of that matters now,” she said. “We create our own welcomes in this world.”

Her
voice was cold, hardened, the voice of her father—and all her men looked to her
with a clear respect.

“But
surely, my lady,” Aberthol said, “we cannot just attack this vast fleet.”

“We
bear the element of surprise,” Gwendolyn said. “They are not expecting an
attack from the rear, from the open sea. They won’t be looking for us. By the
time they react, we could already have taken out a good portion of their fleet.”

“And
then what?” Aberthol pressed. “Once they catch on, once they turn and face us,
they will crush us at sea.”

Gwendolyn
realized he was right. She needed a plan, a crafty plan, something to be
executed in haste. She could not risk a head-on confrontation.

She
scanned the horizon, studied the topography, the jetties jutting out into the
sea, the U-shaped basin in which her brother was trapped; she drew on all of
her reading of history, of military strategy and tactics, of all her
scholarship of a thousand famous battles—and suddenly, she had an idea.

Her
eyes lit up with excitement as she realized it was crazy enough that it just
might work. What was it her father had told her?
For a commander to win, his
plan must be two-thirds logic and one-third madness
.

“They’re
trapping our men in a narrow bay, in a U-shaped passage, between those jetties,”
Gwendolyn said. “Yet that can work to their disadvantage too. When you trap
others, you are also trapped yourself.”

They
all looked at her, confused.

Godfrey
furrowed his brow.

“I
do not understand, my lady.”

Gwen
pointed to the jetties.

“We
can trap them,” she added

Her
men blinked, still not comprehending.

“The
ropes,” she said hastily, turning to Kendrick. “The spiked ropes. The ones in
the hold. How long are they?”

“The
ones used for harbor warfare?” Kendrick asked. “At least a hundred yards, my
lady.”

She
nodded as she recalled the ropes she had once seen her father use, endlessly
long, with spikes tied to them every few feet, sharp as a sword. She had once
seen her father spread the ropes in a harbor, and had watched as the enemy ships
sailed over them, and crumbled into pieces.

“Exactly,”
she said. “Those.”

Kendrick
shook his head.

“It
is a good idea for a condensed fleet,” Kendrick said. “But it would never work
here. This is open water, not shallow water. Remember, we’ll attack them from
the sea. The water won’t be shallow enough to damage the holds of the ships.
Those ropes are placed on a shallow ocean floor.”

Gwen
shook her head, the idea crystallizing in her mind.

“You
don’t understand,” she said. “Those ropes can be used other ways, too. We
needn’t drop the ropes on the ocean floor—we can sail close and make the ropes
taut in the water, and as they pursue, it will destroy them.”

Kendrick
stared back, puzzled.

“But
how, my lady? How will you get the ropes taut?”

“We
shall attack from their rear and set their fleet on fire,” she explained. “As
they turn to confront this, we will already have the ropes in place. We will
launch small boats first, one on either end of the harbor, one led by you, the
other by Godfrey. Each will carry one end of the rope, and will tie them to the
rocks, to one end of each jetty. You will make them taut, and keep them just
below the surface of the water. Tirus’s men will be looking at us when they
attack—not below the surface for any trap in the water. They will sail into our
spikes!”

Kendrick
peered out at the horizon, studying the topography, hands on his hips. Slowly,
he nodded.

“Is
a bold idea,” he concluded.

“It
is madness!” Aberthol said. “I can think of a hundred things that can go wrong!.”

Gwendolyn
stepped up and smiled, a fearless commander in her prime:

“And
that is exactly why we’re going to do it,” she said.

*

Gwen
stood at the bow, her heart pounding, looking out as her half dozen ships sailed
beside her, all of them, at her command, keeping as quiet as could be. Not a
sound could be heard save for the howling of the wind and the distant shouts of
her men, of Reece and the others, trapped in the bay, fighting for their lives.

Gwendolyn
watched with satisfaction as the two small boats, each holding a dozen men, one
led by Kendrick, the other by Godfrey, rowed quickly, each holding one end of
the rope. Inside their boats were the boldest warriors who had volunteered on
the risky mission, among them several Legion—Elden, O’Connor, and Conven, along
with several of the new recruits. Steffen wanted to volunteer, but Gwendolyn
selfishly kept him here, by her side.

Her
fleet approached at full sail, the wind picking up, gaining momentum as they
sailed closer and closer to the rear of Tirus’s fleet. Gwen held her breath,
hoping no one in Tirus’s fleet turned around and spotted them.

Gwen
waited impatiently, clutching Guwayne, as she watched her boats getting into
position. They rowed as hard and as quietly as they could, their oars slapping
the water, until finally, Kendrick and Godfrey’s boats each took their position
at the end of each jetty, but yards away from the enemy ships. Immediately,
they set about tying each end of the rope to the huge boulders at the end of
each jetty. As they did, the rope became taut, briefly rising above the
surface, until they slackened it to allow it to be hidden below.

“Bows,
prepare!” Gwen commanded to her men onboard.

A
host of her men raised their bows, flaming arrows at the ready, awaiting her
command.

“Aim
for the top sails!” she called out. “As high as you can!”

They
sailed closer, and closer, the tension so thick she could cut it with a knife. She
had just one shot at this, and she wanted it to be perfect.

They
were barely fifty yards away from the rear of Tirus’s fleet when, finally, she
was ready.

“FIRE!”
she cried.

A
thousand arrows suddenly filled the air from Gwen’s fleet of ships, all aflame,
all sailing in a high arc. Gwen held her breath as she watched them lighting up
the dawn.

A
moment later they landed, blanketing Tirus’s fleet.

“FIRE!”
she yelled again.

Her
men fired volley after volley, flaming arrows lighting up the sky like a plague
of locusts, and landing on Tirus’s ships.

There
arose cries of confusion, and of pain, as some of Tirus’s ships suddenly went
ablaze. A half dozen ships, in the rear of his fleet, were so badly hit that
they went up in a quick succession of flames, men trying frantically to put out
the flames, but unsuccessful. They leapt, on fire, into the ocean.

The
rest of the fleet, though—dozens more ships—were out of reach of the arrows, or
managed to put out the blazes fast enough so that no real damage was done. They
all slowly turned around to face Gwendolyn, an army vastly larger than hers. They
gave up the chase in the harbor, but now they set their sights on Gwen.

They
were intimidating, this well-coordinated fleet of warships bearing down on them,
and Gwen knew that if her ropes didn’t work, she and her men would be dead
within minutes.

Gwendolyn
raised her hand and lowered it sharply, the sign she had prepared. As she did,
she watched Kendrick and his men yank the heavy rope on one end, and Godfrey
and his men on the other. The rope rose higher, just above the water’s surface,
one hundred yards wide, and they quickly wrapped it around new boulders, again
and again, securing it.

They
had waited until the last moment, until Tirus’s fleet was too close to see the
spikes protruding from the water. Tirus’s men finally noticed it—but too late.

Tirus’s
fleet, unsuspecting, sailed right into the trap. The sound of splintering wood
tore through the air, followed by the sound of wood groaning. Kendrick and Godfrey
and all the Legion boys manned their positions fearlessly, holding onto the
ropes with their bare hands, to make sure they didn’t loosen. They held on for
dear life, groaning against the weight of the ships.

Tirus’s
fleet continued to lodge itself into the spikes, one after the other, too late
to turn around, all lined up side by side in the narrow harbor, all sailing in
haste to destroy Gwendolyn. Within moments, the ships began to buckle, then to
list. The bows began to nosedive, straight down into the water, as the ships fell
apart into a million pieces.

Tirus’s
men cried out in terror, falling from the off-balance ships, flailing in the
ocean as the great currents sucked them down. Within moments, his fleet,
sailing so proud, indomitable just moments before, was completely wiped out.

Gwendolyn’s
men let out a great cheer of victory as Tirus’s fleet plummeted down to the
depths of the sea.

“ATTACK!”
Gwen screamed.

Gwendolyn’s
men raised the mainsail, and they picked up wind and sailed and rowed with all
they had, full speed right into the harbor, to reinforce Reece and what was
left of her fleet. As they neared, she could already see Reece and the others wading
in the waves up to their knees, fighting hand to hand, outnumbered by all Tirus’s
men on shore.

That
was about to change. A chorus of horns sounded, marking the arrival of Gwen’s
feet, and Tirus’s soldiers on shore began to stop their fighting and look up at
the arriving fleet in fear.

“AIM
HIGH AND FIRE!” Gwen shouted.

Her
men unleashed hundreds more arrows in a high arc, sailing through the air, over
the heads of Reece and her men, and striking Tirus’s soldiers on shore. Screams
filled the air, as one after another soldier dropped to the sand, bloody, as
the sky darkened with arrows. Volley after volley rose up and landed, and soon,
nearly every man on the beach, save her own, was dead. Whoever remained turned
and fled.

Gwen
was close enough to see Reece’s face as he and the others turned and looked up
at her in shock, in awe, and in gratitude.

They
had survived. Victory was theirs.