The Narthani leader was an older, blocky man whose main skill was to confirm the worst stereotypes of the Narthani—arrogant, condescending, and eyes like a Drilmarian zernik, the goat-sized omnivore renowned for being stupid, prolific, vicious, and making parts of the Drilmar continent essentially uninhabitable. Musfar hoped someday that someone would exterminate both the zerniks and the Narthani.
“Look at those asses, Musfar,” said Abel Adalan. “Strutting around and acting like they have any idea how to sail a ship or carry out a raid.”
Musfar turned to his cousin and second-in-command. “Now, now, Abel, you mustn’t show such disrespect for our benefactors. They have made all of us exceedingly rich the last few months. When we return home, both we and our clan will be among the greats of Buldor.”
“They’re still asses.”
Musfar sighed. “Yes, Abel, they are asses, but they’re our asses for now.”
The two cousins laughed loud enough to draw disapproving looks from the three Narthani on the other end of the vessel. Musfar gave them a respectful bow and waved. “I will bow and scrape before even these asses for the loot we’ve already accumulated, but my cousin, I feel it may be time for our sails to catch the westerly winds in this part of Anyar.”
“My thoughts as well. As our illustrious grandfather has said to us many times, ‘It’s good to be greedy, just not too greedy.’”
Musfar looked at the other ships in line behind Warrior’s Pride. All five vessels were abuzz with activity, as crews unsheathed and prepared to lower longboats to be filled with the armed men waiting on and below deck. The normal ships’ crew complements were around 350 men for the five ships. However, for shore raids, more men were needed, and months earlier Adalan had sent back to Buldor for another 100 clansmen and 170 men from another clan of Buldor. Though Musfar’s clan considered the Benhoudi to be little better than dogs, they were available, since the poorer clans always looked to hire out their men to supplement their own activities.
The raid this day involved 400 men ashore, 250 of Musfar’s Benkarsta clansmen, and the 150 Benhoudi, leaving skeleton Benkarsta crews on the ships. Although it wasn’t spoken openly, all, including the Benhoudi, knew that the Benhoudi would get the more dangerous assignments on raids. Still, the potential for loot was so great, and their clan so poor, the Benhoudi leader considered the risks acceptable. So far, this calculation had proven profitable for all, even for the Benhoudi, who would return home among their clan’s wealthiest members, having so far lost only 20 of their original 170.
Abel Adalan, as Musfar’s second-in-command, would lead the raiding party. The two men went into the command cabin, where a map of Abersford and the abbey area was pinned to a wall.
“I’ve looked over your plan for the raid, Abel, and I see no obvious changes to make.”
Abel traced lines of planned movements with a forefinger. “You’ll get us within about two hundred yards of shore, assuming the information from the Narthani agent is accurate, and the bottom is as deep as they say,” he commented, indicating the same beach Yozef had been found.
“We’ll anchor offshore and immediately lower all shipboard longboats, while we pull in those we’re towing.” The Buldorian vessels didn’t have room on deck for enough longboats to contain all of the men heading to shore, and hawsers connected more boats to the ships. On earlier raids, they put the men ashore several miles from the target, believing it gave better chances to approach undetected. Since then, they had changed their approach tactic and at first light drove the ships as close to shore as they could, then rushed ashore before the locals had time to react.
Abel’s finger rested on the abbey, as he continued his review. “Four hundred men, two hundred and fifty of ours and the hundred and fifty Benhoudi. As usual, I’ll try to keep the Benhoudi in the forefront, if there’s major resistance. I’ll be with the main group of three hundred hitting the abbey, since that’s where the major resistance should concentrate and where the Narthani information tells us the best booty is located. It’s also where large numbers of the villagers will go for safety, so there should be many women and children inside.
“The other hundred of our men will sweep through the village, making quick plunder of cartable valuables and potential slaves—the sweep to be finished within thirty minutes and all booty returned to the ships. The remaining men of that group are then to reinforce the abbey looting if necessary.
“The main body of three hundred men will move on the abbey, as soon as ashore and organized. Speed and coordination are essential. The information from the Narthani and a look with our telescope confirm the wall around the abbey is only seven to eight feet tall. Assuming the other information is correct, most of the fighting men will be absent, partly due to our feints on the other villages down the coast two days ago and partly from Narthani assurances that another portion of the fighting men will be absent.
“It bothers me, as it always does, that we’re proceeding based on information we didn’t gather or confirm ourselves. So far, though, I have to give reluctant credit to the reliability of the Narthani intelligence,” grumbled a resigned Abel. “Assuming, once again, the information is accurate, the locals shouldn’t be able to stop a simultaneous assault at multiple points on the wall.” Abel pointed to three ‘X’s on the map. “We’ll attack the abbey complex wall at these three points in hundred man groups. First, two groups, each of seventy-five Benhoudi and twenty-five of our men, will attack about halfway between the main gate and the two corners—we assume the gate will be closed and barred. Either or both groups should be able to get over the wall and engage the locals. The wall next to the gate, and the gate itself are twelve feet tall, so ignoring the gate area and going directly over the eight-foot wall is easier. Once we’re inside, we should be able to overwhelm the defenders. It’s getting over the wall where most of our losses will happen.
“The third group of one hundred of our own men will wait for the first two groups to launch their attacks, then hit the western wall of the abbey complex. Most defenders should be involved with the first two group, so the third group might get inside the walls untouched or might not even be needed, but just in case . . . ”
Musfar approved. His cousin had earned his position. He was fearless as necessary in battle, yet his real value was his planning and cool thinking. Musfar knew of too many Buldorian men wasted because of stupid leaders. He took it as a matter of pride that his men suffered as few casualties as they did when balanced with the volume of booty this expedition had garnered. No small part of that success was the result of Abel’s careful planning and attention to detail. This might be the last trip with Abel as his second. He was due for a command, and Musfar would support him if he chose to go out next time as a commander. He’d miss him.
“If all goes as expected,” Abel went on, “we should be back at the beach within two to three hours. If there’s either more resistance or more booty than expected, I’ll balance time and booty potential. Whatever happens, I don’t expect the raid to take longer than four hours at the most.”
The two men returned to the deck and squinted to shore as their ship sailed toward the beach. Within ten minutes, they’d be anchored and the first men scrambling into the longboats.
“Good luck and good hunting,” said Musfar, and the two kinsmen clasped forearms, before Abel turned to lead the raid.
The sun peeked above the eastern mountaintops on a typical morning on the southwest coast of Keelan Province. Scattered white clouds hinted at a clear day. The slight onshore breeze brought in the usual sea freshness. A morning haze still lay on the fields, and the same atmospherics allowed the haze hovering over the ocean to just start to clear with the sun’s first rays.