ǂ
“Captain! What are you doing?” High King Mastoc shouted in alarm as the large Rhondono trireme began to turn into the chasing Toranado ships. At first Captain Deihm ignored him and barked orders to the flags mate who quickly signaled the other warships in the area.
“Captain!” The High King shouted again, this time grabbing the man’s shoulder and squeezing it hard.
“We have to turn into them,” Deihm spat, impatient with the other man’s ignorance, High King or no. “If we run and they catch us, they’ll smash through our hull like so much kindling and then we’re all for the fishes. I expect they’d enjoy High King just as much as Captain!”
Mastoc stood horrified for a moment, peering out over the tumbling seas at the approaching vessels. He glanced to starboard and saw that Hermes, the flagship of the Rhondono navy, was also turning with them. The High King could just make out the features of King Donnis gesturing wildly in the direction of the oncoming ships.
“But we’re in luck, the Cassinni are not pursuing.”
“Traitors!” The High King yelled, his anger replacing his unease.
“Yes…now remove your hand please so I can work,” the Captain said gruffly, glancing only briefly at the three guards that always hovered near the High King.
‘Temple Knights no doubt,’ Captain Deihm thought but found that he cared little. He was old and very near to the time when he would give up his war ways and settle in the north country. There he would command only his fishing boat…and perhaps his wife, but she was growing old too and would not be ordered about easily.
“Can we break through?” The High King asked and Deihm shot the man a look of disgust.
“If the Cassinni refrain from joining the fight, we have the Toranado outnumbered,” the Captain said as if to a simpleton. “But we will need time to gather our ships. If the Toranado commander is good they will move in before we have the chance.”
As if on cue, the Toranado ships banked sharply to the north and Deihm and his first mate instinctively glanced up to check the flags.
“No fool then,” Deihm whispered then turned briefly to the High King. “M’lord, get below or to the rear and brace yourself. We’re in for a battle,” he added with a genuine smile of pleasure.
“Blake, set a heading due west,” the Captain barked. “We can’t let them get the wind beneath their sails.”
“Aye Sir,” the first mate yelled and the Rhondono ships turned sharply to the port. “Full oars!” He added and the ship slowly began to gain speed until it was surging through the waves.
The Rhondono vessels held their westerly course for nearly fifteen minutes before the Captain cursed.
“We have to turn about,” the first mate said loud enough that Mastoc, who was now yards away in the rear, could hear him clearly. “Make a run for it. They have the wind.”
Captain Deihm shook his head. “We’d not make it,” he answered and pointed to the group of Toranado ships barreling their way. Curiosity got the better of the High King and he quickly moved forward so he stood closer to the Captain and his mate. He was quiet now however, so Deihm ignored him. And though King Mastoc knew little of naval strategy he could plainly see that the Toranado ships had turned with the wind and were now heading straight for them. The enemy ships were riding full sails and moving much faster than their Rhondono counterparts.
“Keep on course,” Deihm told Blake. “Our best chance now is to punch through and hope they attack the troop ships, then we can turn about and we’ll have the wind.”
Mastoc moved a few feet closer. “You’ll not sacrifice the troopships. I need them to conquer Massi.”
“I don’t think they’ll be landing on the Massi shore anytime soon,” Deihm retorted. “I’ll offer them up as bait for the Toranado and if there commander is foolish enough to take it, then at least we will have our revenge.”
“And if they don’t take the bait?” one of the Temple guards asked, clearly concerned.
Deihm glanced back briefly. “Then I hope you can swim.” Of course he had no intention of losing his ship to the Toranado; he just liked to scare the hell out of land lovers. He glanced to the starboard to check the Rhondono formations and cursed again. The Hermes was positioned perfectly only a hundred yards away and keeping to a parallel course, as were a half dozen other ships but one trireme and two smaller galleys had slowed to swing about and move back toward land.
“Cowards!” Deihm spat then checked the port and was gratified to see that only one ship was attempting to make the slow turn back to Massi. ‘They’ll never make the turn,’ he thought but didn’t dwell on their fate.
“Five degrees port!” He yelled trying to make for a gap between two Toranado heavy triremes but they only made about three degrees before the two fleets finally met.
ǂ
Captain Tramm stuck his head in the tent quietly to see if Captain Hothgaard, lead commander of the Temple Knights was awake. He was, though he was lying very still on his bunk with a fever and a raging headache.
“Captain,” Tramm said softly. “It’s confirmed. The Massi cavalry have arrived in Manse.”
Hothgaard groaned inwardly but was careful to make no audible sound. He sat up slowly throwing off his blankets, the chills had left him in any case but his skin was still clammy with sweat. He swung his legs around and stood up, feeling weak.
“That does not bode well for the Palmerrio,” Hothgaard said and walked to the small table near the back wall of the tent. Earlier the doctor brewed a strong batch of willow bark tea for the pain and fever and Hothgaard was working his way quickly through the large pot. He would need more soon.
Tramm just watched his commander without a word. There was a sickness running through the camp, debilitating but not deadly as yet, though a full fourth of the Knights were down with the illness.
“There’s been no word from King Weldon,” Tramm commented.
“He must be weakened or dead,” Hothgaard said, drinking a cup of luke warm tea.
Tramm shook his head. “Not necessarily. We nearly broke through their defenses; perhaps Prince Gwaynn is concerned about losing Manse. The war will be all but over when the city finally falls. He must realize this.”
“Perhaps,” Hothgaard said, though deep inside he did not believe it. His instincts told him that the young Prince of Massi had crushed the Palmerrio army just as he crushed the Deutzani. He was proving to be an excellent field general and was beginning to make Hothgaard uneasy.
“Any word from the High King? Has he landed yet?”
“No word yet,” Tramm answered but he was not worried, when the Rhondono arrived with their ten thousand foot soldiers they would be the dominant force in the land. It would just be a matter of time before they ground the Massi down.
Hothgaard just frowned. From the beginning he argued against splitting their forces but King Mastoc insisted the Palmerrio circle around to the Plateau. If their armies had stayed together the Massi would have had no chance of defeating them. And though the High King’s plan could have led to a quick and decisive victory, it also left them vulnerable to many unforeseen variables. Now, it seemed they were being picked apart.
“He’s not due to land until later this afternoon,” Tramm added.
Hothgaard drained his cup. “I’ll still feel better once his forces are on dry land.”
Tramm glanced at his commander, suddenly concerned. “You still fear the Toranado navy?”
Hothgaard nodded. “Always. The latest reports put them in the harbor around Cape, but if they extend their patrols it’s possible they could spot the slow moving troopships. They would not fare well against heavy triremes.”