CHAPTER FOUR
1838 Words
CHAPTER FOUR
Erec stood at the bow of the ship, Alistair and Strom beside him, and looked out at the narrowing river with worry. Following close behind was his small fleet, all that remained of what had set out from the Southern Isles, all snaking their way up this endless river, deeper and deeper into the heart of the Empire. At some points this river had been as wide as an ocean, its banks no longer in sight, and its waters clear; but now Erec saw, on the horizon, it narrowed, closing into a chokepoint of perhaps only twenty yards wide, and its waters becoming murky.
The professional soldier within Erec was on high alert. He did not like confined spaces when leading men, and the narrowing river, he knew, would leave his fleet more susceptible to ambush. Erec glanced back over his shoulder and saw no sign of the massive Empire fleet they had escaped at sea; but that didn’t mean they weren’t out there, somewhere. He knew they would never give up the pursuit until they had found him.
Hands on his hips, Erec turned back and narrowed his eyes, studying the forlorn Empire lands on either side, stretching endlessly, a ground of dried sand and hard rock, lacking trees, lacking any sign of any civilization. Erec scanned the river banks and was grateful, at least, to spot no forts or Empire battalions positioned alongside the river. He wanted to sail his fleet upriver to Volusia as quickly as possible, find Gwendolyn and the others, and liberate them—and get out of here. He would sail them back across the sea to the safety of the Southern Isles, where he could protect them. He didn’t want any distractions along the way.
Yet on the other hand, the ominous silence, the desolate landscape, also left him to worry: was the Empire hiding out there, waiting in ambush?
There was an even greater danger out there, Erec knew, than a pending attack by the enemy, and that was starving to death. It was a much more pressing concern. They were crossing what was essentially a desert wasteland, and all their provisions below had nearly run out. As Erec stood there, he could feel the grumbling in his belly, having rationed himself and the others to one meal a day for far too many days. He knew that if some bounty didn’t appear on the landscape soon, they would have a much bigger problem on their hands. Would this river ever end? he wondered. What if they never found Volusia?
And worse: what if Gwendolyn and the others were no longer there? Or already dead?
“Another one!” Strom called out.
Erec turned to see one of his men yanking up a fishing line, a bright yellow fish at the end, flopping all over the deck. The sailor stepped on it, and Erec crowded around with the others and looked down. He shook his head in disappointment: two heads. It was another one of the poisonous fish that seemed to live in abundance in this river.
“This river is damned,” his man said, hurling down the fishing rod.
Erec walked back to the rail and studied the waters with disappointment. He sensed a presence and turned to see Strom come up beside him.
“And if this river does not lead us to Volusia?” Strom asked.
Erec spotted concern in his brother’s face, and he shared it.
“It will lead us somewhere,” Erec replied. “And it brings us north. If not to Volusia, then we will cross land on foot and fight our way.”
“Should we abandon our ships then? How shall we ever flee this place? Return to the Southern Isles?”
Erec slowly shook his head and sighed.
“We might not,” he answered honestly. “No quest of honor is safe. And has that ever stopped you or I?”
Strom turned to him and smiled.
“That is what we live for,” he replied.
Erec smiled back and turned to see Alistair come up on his other side, holding the rail and looking out at the river, which was narrowing as they sailed. Her eyes were glazed and had a distant look, and Erec could sense she was lost in another world. He had noticed something else had changed about her, too—he was not sure what, as if there was some secret she were holding back. He was dying to ask her, but he did not wish to pry.
A chorus of horns sounded, and Erec, startled, turned and looked back. His heart fell as he saw what loomed.
“CLOSING IN FAST!” shouted a sailor from up high on the mast, pointing frantically. “EMPIRE FLEET!”
Erec ran across the deck, back to the stern, accompanied by Strom, racing past all of his men, all of them in battle mode, grabbing their swords, preparing their bows, mentally preparing themselves.
Erec reached the stern and gripped the rail and looked out, and he saw it was true: there, at a bend in the river, just a few hundred yards away, was a row of Empire ships, sailing their black and gold sails.
“They must have found our trail,” Strom said beside him.
Erec shook his head.
“They were following us the whole time,” he said, realizing. “They were just waiting to show themselves.”
“Waiting for what?” Strom asked.
Erec turned and looked back over his shoulder, upriver.
“That,” he said.
Strom turned and studied the narrowing river.
“They waited until the river’s most narrow point,” Erec said. “Waited until we had to sail single file and were too deep to turn back. They’ve got us exactly where they want us.”
Erec looked back at the fleet, and as he stood there, he felt an incredible sense of focus, as he often did when leading his men and finding himself in times of crisis. He felt another sense kick in, and as often happened in times like these, an idea occurred to him.
Erec turned to his brother.
“Man that ship beside us,” he commanded. “Take up the rear of our fleet. Get every man off of it—have them board the ship beside it. Do you hear me? Empty that ship. When the ship is empty, you’ll be the last to leave it.”
Strom looked back, confused.
“When the ship is empty?” he echoed. “I don’t understand.”
“I plan to wreck it.”
“To wreck it?” Strom asked, dumbfounded.
Erec nodded.
“At the most narrow point, where the river banks meet, you will turn that ship sideways and abandon it. It will create a wedge—the dam that we need. No one will be able to follow us. Now go!” Erec yelled.
Strom jumped into action, following his brother’s orders, to his credit, whether he agreed with them or not. Erec sailed his ship alongside his others and Strom leapt from one rail to the other. As he landed on the other ship, he began barking orders, and the men broke into action, all of them jumping, one at a time, off their ship and onto Erec’s.
Erec was concerned as he watched their ships begin to drift apart.
“Man the ropes!” Erec called out to his men. “Use the hooks—hold the ships together!”
His men followed his command, running to the side of the ship, hoisting the grappling hooks and throwing them through the air, hooking them onto the ship beside them and yanking with all their might so that the ships stopped drifting apart. It sped up the process, and dozens of men leapt from one rail to the other, all grabbing their weapons hastily as they abandoned the ship.
Strom supervised, yelling orders, making sure each man left the ship, corralling them all until there was no left on board.
Strom caught Erec’s eye, as Erec watched with approval.
“And what of the ship’s provisions?” Strom yelled out above the din. “And its surplus weaponry?”
Erec shook his head.
“Let it go,” he called back. “Just take up our rear and destroy the ship.”
Erec turned and ran to the bow, leading his fleet as they all followed him and sailed into the bottleneck.
“SINGLE FILE!”
All his ships fell in behind him as the river tapered to its narrowest point. Erec sailed through with his fleet, and as he did, he glanced back and saw the Empire fleet closing in fast, now hardly a hundred yards away. He watched hundreds of Empire troops man their bows and prepare their arrows, setting them on fire. He knew they were nearly in range; there was little time to waste.
“NOW!” Erec yelled to Strom, just as Strom’s ship, the last of the fleet, entered the narrowest point.
Strom, watching and waiting, raised his sword and slashed half the ropes attaching his ship to Erec’s, at the same time jumping ship over to Erec’s side. He cut them just as the abandoned ship sailed into the bottleneck, and it immediately floundered, rudderless.
“TURN IT SIDEWAYS!” Erec commanded his men.
His men all reached out and grabbed the ropes that remained on one side of the ship and yanked as hard as they could, until the ship, groaning in protest, slowly turned its way sideways against the current. Finally, the current carrying it, it lodged itself firmly in the rocks, crammed between the two river banks, its wood groaning and beginning to c***k.
“PULL HARDER!” Erec yelled.
They pulled and pulled and Erec hurried over and joined them, all of them groaning as they yanked with all their might. Slowly, they managed to turn the ship, holding it tight as it lodged more and more deeply into the rocks.
As the ship stopped moving, firmly lodged, finally Erec was satisfied.
“CUT THE ROPES!” he yelled, knowing it was now or never, feeling his own ship begin to falter.
Erec’s men slashed the remaining ropes, disentangling his ship—and not a moment too soon.
The abandoned ship began cracking collapsing, its wreckage firmly blocking the river—and a moment later, the sky turned black as a host of flaming Empire arrows descended for Erec’s fleet.
Erec had maneuvered his men out of harm’s way just in time: the arrows all landed on the abandoned ship, falling twenty feet short of Erec’s fleet, and they served only to set the ship aflame, creating yet another obstacle between them and the Empire. Now, the river would be impassable.
“Full sail ahead!” Erec yelled.
His fleet sailed with all they had, catching the wind, distancing themselves from their blockade, and sailing farther and farther north, harmlessly out of the way of the Empire’s arrows. Another volley of arrows came, and these landed in the water, splashing and hissing all around the ship as they hit the water.
As they continued sailing, Erec stood at the bow and watched, and he looked out with satisfaction as he watched the Empire fleet come to a halt before the flaming ship. One of the Empire ships fearlessly tried to ram it—but all it got for its efforts was to catch fire; hundreds of Empire soldiers cried out, engulfed in flames, and jumped overboard—and their flaming ship created an even deeper sea of wreckage. Looking at it, Erec figured the Empire would not be able to get through for several days.
Erec felt a strong hand clasp his shoulder, and he looked over to see Strom standing beside him, smiling.
“One of your more inspired strategies,” he said.
Erec smiled back.
“Well done,” he replied.
Erec turned and looked back upriver, the waters snaking every which way, and he did not take comfort yet. They had won this battle—but who knew what obstacles lay ahead?
- Writer
