Tulan repeated the command with a good deal of cursing and fuming.
Reuth felt the surge of renewed speed as the oarsmen leaned into their work. The swordsmen were useless on their timing, but they had real power. And the
Lady
was responding as before: she didn’t feel sluggish at all. The planking held, thank their Mare carpenters and Ruse enchantments of seam and timber.
They were coming abreast of the short black tooth of rock that Reuth had named the pony in his mental map of the route ahead, and he called out: ‘Ready for the return!’
‘Aye!’
‘Now! Sweep to the middle!’
Gren cursed and heaved, bringing the heavy timber arm back the opposite way. The
Lady
’s bows now swung over, but heavily, as they fought the swifter current in this narrow pinch close to the port cliff.
‘Ramming speed!’ Reuth called out.
‘Ramming speed, you dogs, or we’ll drink with Mael this night!’ Tulan roared.
The oars dug in, pulling. The
Lady
shuddered. So close did they draw to the cliff that one rear oar on the port side clattered from the face. They gained speed as real panic seemed to take hold and the
Lady
shot out towards the middle of the channel.
Reuth was pleased: they’d avoided the worst of this lowest section of the Rocks, stretches where the waters swelled and boiled signalling many hidden teeth below. The line ahead promised smooth glassy portions. Briefly, he wondered how the trailing vessels fared, but he dared not glance to the rear to search for them.
He pointed to the coming maze of rocks. ‘Take that first one on the port side, Gren.’
‘Aye.’
After that first turn of the crowded middle section, Reuth couldn’t be certain of the route he chose. He only had split seconds to send the bow one way or the other and the answers came to him more or less on instinct: the fat curl of one swell; the deeper blue of one particular channel; the foam gathered in one side pool that promised a slower current. The teeth brushed past so close Tulan stepped in to order oars raised, or poles deployed to fend the
Lady
off a rock the current was pressing her against. Wood scraped in tortured groans. Oars cracked on stone, or were bashed aside in a rattling head-smashing sweep of the benches.
At one point a sideswipe knocked the entire starboard side into disorder in a running clatter of breaking oars. Tulan leapt the stern railing to help clear the chaos. Here the discipline of the Stormguard paid off as they immediately followed every command. Reuth glimpsed one of them pulling blind, his face a solid sheet of blood pouring from a gash in his scalp. Another yanked one-handed while his other hung useless, the bone of his forearm shattered.
These men know how to fight the sea, he realized. This was their life, their sworn calling. He had one moment to realize that this was why they’d left Korel – they could no longer find a battle there – then the next instant he had to select an escape even as the
Lady
, losing headway, began a spin driven by the current.
‘Back round!’ he yelled to Gren. ‘Circle the rock for another try!’
The steersman shot him a mad grin and laughed. He pushed the arm fully over.
This particular rock was a huge one, which was why Reuth could try the move. He only hoped that Tulan and Storval could knock the starboard banks into order before they came round once more. As the
Lady
made its dancing turn round the great tooth, Reuth was treated to a view back up Fear Narrows. He glimpsed many ships yet in play, all galleys, the pirate vessel closest behind. Its sweeps flashed in poor timing but with massive deep bites that seemed to lift the entire ship.
Spelling, he said to himself. They must be spelling the oarsmen – no one could sustain such an effort for longer than one quick rush.
The bow continued its arc and then came the time for them to catch the current once more. Reuth looked to the banks: the port oars were raised waiting to start, but disorder still reigned among the starboard sweeps.
‘Trapped,’ Reuth breathed aloud. ‘We’re caught!’
‘What for it then, lad?’ Gren answered.
‘Port side drag oars!’ he yelled. Gren took up the call as well, yet Reuth could well imagine that their voices hardly carried over the thunder of the churning waves pounding on all sides.
Then Tulan’s great bull-roar sounded out: ‘Drop them port sweeps! Back oars! Push, you dogs! Break your backs!’
The drag pulled on the bow and in the widening gap a portion of the starboard sweeps bit into the swell.
‘Take us into the open,’ Reuth told Gren. He nearly dropped then, quivering, his legs almost without strength.
The steersman nodded. ‘The line?’
Reuth gestured up the middle. ‘It looks to be opening up.’
The
Lady
limped along now, but the narrows broadened here, the current slower. The vertical cliffs still allowed no respite for any crippled vessel, but they made headway. Reuth allowed himself a glance to the rear: incredibly, many vessels still followed.
He returned to scanning for the best route ahead. Don’t fail now, he told himself. Not when we must be nearly through. He examined the waters emerging from round each looming rock ahead; some frothed far more than others, suggesting a rougher path. He decided to keep to weaving through the middle to avoid getting pinched against a cliff.
This long drawn out section of the way wore hardest upon him. He was already exhausted, unable to focus as well as he had. He dragged a hand down his face and rubbed his stinging eyes. Then he thought of the oarsmen still pulling below him and shook off the mood. None of them had been spelled through any of this. The
Lady
simply didn’t have a large enough complement.
‘We might be through,’ he told Gren.
The steersman rolled his massive shoulders to loosen them. ‘We might.’ Then he frowned. ‘I smell smoke.’
Reuth squinted ahead. Smoke? How could there be … He caught coils of black smoke now curling round the rocks ahead. What in the Lady’s name …?
The stern of a tall three-tiered vessel came edging out from behind the looming centre tooth – an enormous galley entirely engulfed in flames.
Shouts of alarm sounded from the crew below.
‘Lad …’ Gren murmured.
Reuth simply stared. A sea battle ahead? A sea battle in the middle of the narrows? But the
Lady
’s entire crew was given over to the benches. How could they possibly hope to —
‘Lad, choose …’ Gren prompted, louder. ‘Now.’
Reuth shook himself. Choose? Now? He studied the vessel’s aimless spin as it came heading broadside down towards them like a wall of fire. Black smoke billowed, cloaking a portion of the channel.
‘Hard Port!’ he shouted.
Gren thrust the tiller arm over. The
Lady
’s bow swung towards the port shore of the narrows while the burning vessel, helpless in the current, came directly across their line. Smoke blew across their deck in thick sooty billows that blinded Reuth.
‘Pull!’ Tulan urged, coughing. ‘Keep pulling!’
The hungry roar of flames now overtook the rush and hissing of the waters about them. Gouts of flame penetrated the wall of smoke like bursts of those damned Moranth munitions. A firestorm much taller than the
Lady
came crackling and thundering, as searingly hot as an enormous kiln, directly past their starboard side. Reuth covered his face. He coughed and gagged in the thick oily smoke. Something hot kissed his hand and he yelped, jumping and waving the hand.
‘Put those fires out!’ he heard Tulan barking. ‘Douse those embers!’
The pall of smoke began to clear. ‘Sail’s caught!’ Storval shouted.
‘Drop it!’ Tulan ordered.
‘Cut the ropes!’ Reuth heard Storval call.
Blinking, Reuth felt more than saw the bundled sail come crashing down, crossbar and all, while flames licked about it. ‘Overboard!’ Tulan bellowed. ‘Now!’
Men grunted and heaved. Wood grated, then a heavy splash announced that the burning bundle had struck the waves.
Reuth started then, remembering his duty, and called out: ‘Back over, Gren.’
The steersman grunted his surprise and slammed the arm across. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured.
Reuth wiped his face and his hands came away black with soot. ‘Is it a sea battle, Gren?’
‘Don’t know, lad.’
‘Because we can’t—’
‘Never mind. You just get us through.’
Reuth gave a quick shamed nod. ‘Yes. Sorry.’
He studied the possible paths ahead. The way appeared to be broadening. He did his best to choose the turns that would send them into a line that would allow the most options. His main concern now was their waning speed. The men were spent, of course, and their headway was flagging. Yet the current was weakening. Portions of this section even ran smooth.
After a few more slow turns they emerged into a full wide channel marred only by a few isolated rearing teeth. It appeared they’d run the Guardian Rocks.
Gren shot Reuth his mad grin.
Tulan came stomping up to the stern. Soot blackened his sodden furs and his beard seemed to have caught fire along one side. He was drawing in great breaths as he laid a hand on Reuth’s shoulder and squeezed. ‘Well done, lad,’ he croaked, his voice almost gone. ‘Well done.’ He turned to peer ahead, drew in a great lungful of air. ‘Now what?’
‘There are a few mentions of a settlement here. Ruse, some write it.’
Tulan grunted. ‘Fair enough. We’ll make for it. We need safe moorage for a refit.’
Gren began untying himself from the tiller arm. ‘You’ve your sea legs now, I think, hey?’
‘I’ve had enough of the sea.’
Gren laughed. ‘There you go. You’ve the way of it now.’
A sailor Tulan had sent up the mast now called out: ‘Our shadows are with us. One close, others distant.’
Reuth glanced behind. Indeed, more vessels were limping out from among the rearing teeth. They were far behind, but it appeared that the lead one was their pirate friend.
The crew continued to row, but at a leisurely pace. The narrows broadened. There was almost enough of a breeze to warrant lowering a sail, if they still had one.
‘Something ahead,’ the lookout shouted.
Reuth shaded his eyes but couldn’t make anything out. Tulan called up: ‘What is it, man?’
‘Hard to tell … ships! Looks like a mass of ships!’
Reuth thought of his worries about a sea battle. Tulan’s brows crimped and a hand went to check for the sword at his hip. ‘See that everyone’s armed,’ he ordered Storval.
‘Aye.’
They closed at a slowing pace. What awaited ahead was a mass of ships, but no fighting. The forest of mismatched galleys, launches, fishing boats and cargo vessels were congregated around a slim side channel. As they neared, it became clear that most had seen heavy fighting. Reuth made out archers crowding almost every deck. ‘Don’t like the look of this,’ he murmured to Gren.
‘We’ll surprise ’em,’ Tulan answered. He leaned over the stern railing. ‘Full speed! Looks like a reception committee.’
‘You heard the man,’ Storval announced. ‘No more easing off! You and you – back to your positions.’
Ahead, a single arrow took flight above the ragtag navy and with that signal the vessels dispersed like a swarm of bees. It looked to Reuth as though they meant to cordon off the entire narrows.
‘Chase speed!’ Tulan bellowed out.
The
Lady’s Luck
surged ahead, though with not nearly the power and crispness of earlier in the day. It was now a race. Reuth motioned to the opposite cliff face and Gren nodded. He slowly angled the bow aside.
‘Ramming speed!’ Tulan ordered. In answer, the
Lady’s Luck
hardly accelerated. ‘Row, you wretches!’ the huge man raged. ‘Put some effort into it for a change!’
The fastest of the navy vessels were leading the dash to the opposite cliffs, but it looked to Reuth as if they might just slip past first. He congratulated himself on being of Mare – the greatest seafarers and shipbuilders on the earth.
He turned to Gren with a smile on his lips. ‘We might just—’
‘Get down!’ the steersman cried, and yanked him by an arm.
A rain of arrows came slamming into the
Lady’s Luck
. Men yelled all up and down the benches. The sweeps clattered and slapped into chaos. Some caught the water to drag. The
Lady
lost headway as if sliding up a sand bar. Tulan was now bellowing among the oarsmen. A second volley of arrows swept the deck and Gren held Reuth in the cover of the ship’s side.
Something rammed them in a snapping of sweeps and grinding of timbers. Reuth’s head struck the side, leaving his vision blurry. He peered up to see that a smaller galley had struck them a glancing blow. Grapnels flew from the enemy vessel while a crowd of archers continued to rake the
Lady
.
‘Cut those ropes!’ Tulan roared.
A second blow shuddered through the
Lady’s Luck
as another vessel scoured alongside.
‘Repel boarders!’ Storval called.
‘Doesn’t look good,’ Gren hissed, looking down. Reuth followed his gaze to see an arrow standing from the man’s thigh.