“One error, like the many we have been making of late, could cost many of our crew their lives,” the wizard pressed on.
Deudermont lowered the glass and regarded his cryptic friend, then followed Robillard's reasoning, and his sidelong glance, to Wulfgar, who stood at the starboard rail amidships.
“He has been shown his errors,” Deudermont reminded.
“Errors that he logically understood he was making even as he was making them,” Robillard countered. “Our large friend is not controlled by reason when these affairs begin, but rather by emotion, by fear and by rage. You appeal to his rational mind when you explain the errors to him, and on that level, your words do get through. But once the battle is joined, that rational mind, that level of logical progression, is replaced by something more primal and apparently uncontrollable.”
Deudermont listened carefully, if somewhat defensively. Still, despite his hopes to the opposite, he could not deny his wizard friend's reasoning. Neither could he ignore the implications for the rest of his crew should Wulfgar act irrationally, interrupting Robillard's progression of the battle. Badeen's ship, after all, carried two wizards and a healthy number of dangerous archers.
“We will win this fight by sailing circles around the lumbering craft,” Robillard went on. “We will need to be quick and responsive, and strong on the turn.”
Deudermont nodded, for indeed Sea Sprite had employed maneuverability as its main weapon against many larger ships, often putting a broadside along a pirate's stern for a devastating archer rake of the enemy decks. Robillard's words, then, seemed fairly obvious.
“Strong on the turn,” the wizard reiterated, and Deudermont caught on to what the wizard was really saying.
“You wish me to assign Wulfgar to the rudder crew.”
“I wish you to do that which is best for the safety of every man aboard Sea Sprite” Robillard answered. “We know how to defeat a, ship such as this one, Captain. I only ask that you allow us to do so in our practiced manner, without adding a dangerous variable to the mix. I am not going to deny that our Wulfgar is a mighty warrior, but unlike his friends who once sailed with us, he is unpredictable.”
Robillard made to continue, but Deudermont stopped him with an upraised hand and a slight nod, an admission of defeat in this debate. Wulfgar had indeed acted dangerously in previous encounters, and doing that now, against this formidable pirate, could bring disaster.
Was Deudermont willing to risk that for the sake of a friend's ego?
He looked more closely at Wulfgar, the big man standing at the rail staring intently at their quarry, fists clenched, blue eyes blazing with inner fires.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Wulfgar reluctantly climbed down into the hold—even more so when he realized he actually preferred to be down there. He had watched the captain's approach, coming to him from Robillard, but still Wulfgar had been surprised when Deudermont instructed him to go down into the aft hold where the battle rudder crew worked. Normally, Sea Sprite's rudder worked off the wheel above, but when battle was joined the navigator at the wheel simply relayed his commands to the crew below, who more forcefully and reliably turned the ship as instructed.
Wulfgar had never worked the manual rudder before and hardly saw it as the optimal place to make use of his talents.
“Sour face,” said Grimsley, the rudder crew chief. “Ye should be glad for bein' outta the way o' the wizards and bowmen.”
Wulfgar hardly responded, just walked over and took up the heavy steering pole.
“He put ye down here for yer strength, I'm guessin',” Grimsley went on, and Wulfgar recognized that the grizzled old seaman was trying to spare his feelings.
The barbarian knew better. If Deudermont truly wanted to utilize his great strength in steering the ship, he would have put Wulfgar on the main tack lines above. Once, aboard the old Sea Sprite many years before, Wulfgar had brilliantly and mightily turned the ship, bringing her prow right out of the water, executing a seemingly impossible maneuver to win the day.
But now, it seemed, Deudermont would not even trust him at that task, would not allow him to even view the battle at all.
Wulfgar didn't like it—not one bit—but this was Deudermont's ship, he reminded himself. It was not his place to question the captain, especially with a battle looming before them.
The first shouts of alarm echoed down a few moments later. Wulfgar heard the concussion of a fireball exploding nearby.
“Pull her left to mark three!” Grimsley yelled.
Wulfgar and the one other man on the long pole tugged hard, lining the pole's front tip with the third mark on the wall to the left of center.
“Bring her back to left one!” Grimsley screamed.
The pair responded, and Sea Sprite cut back out of a steep turn.
Wulfgar heard the continuing shouts above, the hum of bowstrings, the swish of the catapult, and the blasts of wizardry. The sounds cut to the core of the noble barbarian's warrior identity.
Warrior?
How could Wulfgar rightly even call himself that when he could not be trusted to join in the battle, when he could not be allowed to perform the tasks he had trained for all his life? Who was he, then, he had to wonder, when companions—men of lesser fighting skill and strength than he—were doing battle right above him, while he acted the part of a mule and nothing more?
With a growl, Wulfgar responded to the next command of, “Two right!” then yanked back fiercely as Grimsley, following the frantic shouts from above, called for a dramatic cut to the left, as steep as Sea Sprite could make it.
The beams and rudder groaned in protest as Wulfgar forced the bar all the way to the left, and Sect Sprite leaned so violently that the man working the pole behind Wulfgar lost his balance.
“Easy! Easy!” Grimsley shouted at the mighty barbarian. “Ye're not to pitch the crew off the deck, ye fool!”
Wulfgar eased up a bit and accepted the scolding as deserved. He was hardly listening to Grimsley anyway, other than the specific commands the old sea dog was shouting. His attention was more to the sound of the battle above, the shrieks and the cries, the continuing roar of wizardry and catapult.
Other men were up there in danger, in his place.
“Bah, don't ye worry,” Grimsley remarked, obviously noting the sour expression on Wulfgar's face, “Deudermont and his boys'll win the day, don't ye doubt!”
Indeed, Wulfgar didn't doubt that at all. Captain Deudermont and his crew had been successfully waging these battles since long before his arrival. But that wasn't what was tearing at Wulfgar's heart. He knew his place, and this wasn't it, but because of his own weakness of heart it was the only place Captain Deudermont could responsibly put him.
Above him, the fireballs boomed and the lightning crackled, the bowstrings hummed and the catapults launched their fiery loads with a great swish of sound. The battle went on for nearly an hour, and when the call was relayed through Grimsley that the crew could reattach the rudder to the wheel, the man working beside Wulfgar eagerly rushed up to the deck to survey the victory, right behind Grimsley.
Wulfgar stayed alone in the aft hold, sitting against the wall, too ashamed to show his face above, too fearful that someone had died in his stead.
He heard someone on the ladder a short while later and was surprised to see Robillard coming down, his dark blue robes hiked up so that he could manage the steps.
“Control is back with the wheel,” the wizard said. “Do you not think you might be useful helping to salvage what we might from the pirate ship?”
Wulfgar stared at him hard. Even sitting, the barbarian seemed to tower over the wizard. Wulfgar was thrice the man's weight, with arms thicker than Robillard's skinny legs. By all appearances, Wulfgar could snap the wizard into pieces with hardly an effort.