"Now, Derek!" he roared, and Derek's hand flew up in a signal. At the sight of it, four men who had been waiting in the courtyard at our back, holding the end of a long rope, ran behind us for four strides and stopped again. As they did so, Liam's corpse, which dangled at the other end of the long rope, jerked upward, rising almost to the top of the outer wall to dangle, stark and unmistakable, before the eyes of his astounded countrymen below. The oars flew up again as confusion struck among the galleys' crews, and in the momentary chaos Longinus gave his own signal, jerking the lever out of the windlass.
The concussion of the massive catapult's release thrummed in my breast as my eyes followed its huge bolt's swift and awesome flight out and downwards towards the ship on the right. Even before it landed, I heard a similar release on my left and glimpsed the second missile flash outward. Then the first struck home, crashing into the packed mass of oarsmen, destroying men and oars instantly before smashing down to the galley's bottom. Screams floated upwards immediately, and I swung my eyes in time to see the second bolt hit home on the lead ship, striking die central mast with sufficient force to gouge an enormous splinter from its side, and then slewing with vicious, eye- deceiving speed in a murderous pivoting motion, anchored by its barbed point, until it burst asunder with the stress and showered lethal splinters in every direction, so that sprays and gouts of sudden, brilliant blood appeared as if by magic among the mangled crew beneath.
I did not see the impact of the third missile on the remaining ship, for my attention was seized immediately by the amazing spread of arcing plumes of smoke as the two ballistae released their loads of blazing coals. Much of it splashed, hissing, into the water, and as far as I could see none touched the first ship that Longinus's bolt had pierced. The others were less fortunate, and the galley farthest from me must have been sorely hit, for now the bulk of screaming seemed to be coming from it, and already I could see smoke beginning to drift over the central spine of its decking.
I had been aware of Longinus's crew working frantically to my right, swarming about their catapult as they readied it to shoot again, some of them manhandling another heavy, lethal bolt into its place as the sounds of windlasses and straining cables creaked ever higher on the weapon's great bow frame. The target ship had not yet been able to move, other than spinning in a wild circle, since the oars on one side now far outnumbered those left working on the other.
Suddenly all movement ceased at the catapult, indicating that it was ready. Longinus scuttled into position, cast a glance along the shaft, then leaped back and released the lever. Again the tree-trunk shaft flew straight and true, striking like a thunderbolt into the churning chaos of the galley's centre and disappearing downward. And then I saw a sight that took me by surprise and left me gaping. A human body flew into the air from atop our wall, arms and legs spread, whirling like a child's toy as it arced up and then down to land among the men swarming in the waist of the farthest of the three galleys as they scrambled to douse the fires that had sprung up. Even as the shape spun high to the zenith of its arc, I recognized the green and yellow tunic worn by Liam Condranson.
This macabre finale had been prearranged, but I had not been told. The sight of the soaring corpse was the signal that brought our men erect, lining the walls and roaring their defiance as the bowmen among them sent their shafts seeking the enemy. Stunned, and feeling slightly sickened, I stepped away from the parapet and looked about me. The roaring intensified as I moved away, and I heard shouts of "Sinking!" and "Going down!" amid the tumult.
I stepped back to the edge and looked downward again to see that Longinus had done well with his two bolts. The galley he had struck was low in the water; its crew was leaping overboard, abandoning the craft, which canted sideways even as I looked, its mast waving wildly. It righted itself again, but sluggishly, and then simply settled in the water, slipping beneath the surface to rest on the shallow bottom, its mast projecting high above the waves. Men swam from it in all directions, but others, unable to swim, simply drowned, their limbs churning in panic as they rose and sank in the agitated waters.
On the far left, the burning galley was fully ablaze now, and it, too, was being quickly abandoned; its warriors- swimmers and non-swimmers alike—evidently preferred the risk of drowning to death by fire. The central, remaining boat was under way again, but very slowly. Though its crew had been decimated, the survivors were struggling to bring it about quickly, as far from the threatening wall as possible. Before they could win clear, however, two more blows shook them: a basket full of blazing coals landed full on top of the furled sail, followed almost immediately by a slashing bolt from the central catapult that struck at a shallow angle among the rowers on the right side of the mast, splintering oars and men and lodging in the vessel's side timbers, a full third of its length projecting through the shattered planking above the surface of the water. Seeing the deadly missile strike home, and recalling the angle at which Longinus's two bolts had disappeared, I found it small wonder that the first craft had sunk so swiftly. The impact of the metal-clad tree trunks must have smashed its hull beneath the water-line like an eggshell.
What followed next was an object lesson in defiance and sheer courage that I have never forgotten. One man, wearing a long blue cloak and a horned helmet, which led me to presume him the commander of the craft, moved purposefully along the central spine of the vessel, blatantly disdaining us and our missiles as he harangued the remaining members of his crew. At his urging, they organized themselves into some semblance of a unit again, bending to their oars in unison as he banged a short-sword against his shield, beating a cadence they could follow. I was not the only one who noted his behaviour, and as awareness of his actions spread along the wall, so, too, did silence, until no sound at all came from our battlements. All men, I think, revere the brave, and the spectacle being played out in front of us was one of extreme bravery. After the silence fell, only one shot was fired towards the Erse captain, and the bowman was shouted down and reviled by his own comrades, so that he stood shamefaced.
Five, six, seven strokes the oarsmen made, and then their captain called for them to stop. A knot of swimming men lay just abreast of them, and we watched as the men in the galley threw ropes to the swimmers. When they were safe aboard, the captain strode to the stern and stared up at us, then shouted more orders. The galley turned and moved slowly towards another group of swimmers, hauling them aboard as well. All of this occurred while they were still within easy range of our catapults, but we made no move to threaten them further, until another vessel from the stationary lines behind them sought to move forward.
Longinus leaped to his catapult, shouting orders, and his men began immediately to elevate the device, aiming it skyward. Longinus sighted and calculated, making swift adjustments until he was satisfied, then jumped back and threw the lever, launching the bolt. We watched it as it soared upward, shortening then lengthening as it began its downward curve. It sliced into the sea mere paces ahead of the oncoming galley, making barely a splash. The message was plain. The vessel sheared away. The rescuers continued with their work throughout, ignoring or unaware of the event. Somehow, without a word being said, the captain of the Erse craft below knew he could complete his task in peace.
At one point, a small boat of some kind was lowered from the galley and three men climbed into it. While one worked the sculls, the other two retrieved a lifeless body. Its clothing was colourless, waterlogged, but I knew they had recovered their admiral. That done, and now fully crewed again, the galley swung away and joined the rest of the fleet, after which all sixteen vessels turned and made their way beyond the island.