Chasing the Prophecy
Page 34
Jason didn’t know all the details of the plan. Jasher, Aram, Nia, and an older drinling named Heg had been the architects—dividing up the teams, issuing assignments, and deciding how they would signal one another. Jason knew that Jasher was leading a group to sabotage some of the other craft in the harbor. A couple of small assault teams were supposed to charge along the walls, slaying sentries in order to stop the watchmen from closing the harbor mouth. The majority of the drinlings were working to secure the Valiant and get underway.
Crossbow ready, Jason watched the port. Every second that they went undetected increased the chances of their escape. Drake gripped Jason by the elbow and nodded off to the left. Flames were spreading across the deck of a large two-masted ship and leaping up into the sails. A moment later no fewer than five other fires started on five other ships, each moored to a different pier.
“Lantern oil,” Drake murmured. “No other ship in port could possibly outpace an interceptor. But three might be able to chase us to Windbreak Island in time to cause trouble. Jasher wanted to torch a couple others for good measure.”
Scattered drinlings began to converge on the pier alongside the Valiant—the raiders returning from the neighboring ships. A bell began to clang from the mouth of the harbor. Other bells on the wall took up the call. The sentries had caught sight of the rapidly spreading fires.
Jason surveyed the dock, finger near the trigger of his crossbow. The incessant bells made him feel jumpy. No more operating in secrecy. Trouble was coming. The only question was how long it would take to arrive.
Drinlings raced up the gangplank, making it bow and bounce. Three drinlings paused on the pier beside the Valiant to spill a generous quantity of lantern oil. Torch in hand, Jasher came racing along the dock. He sprinted onto the pier, dropped the torch in the pool of lantern oil, and kept running as flames licked across the planks behind him.
“Cast off!” Aram bellowed. “Away we go!”
Jasher pounded up the gangplank and sprang aboard just as the Valiant drifted away from the pier. A moment later the gangplank dropped into the water. Ships burned on either side, a few of them already becoming infernos as the flames spread from sail to sail. Men poured out of the nearest inns. Several raced for the pier where the Valiant was departing. They were met with a volley of arrows from the near side of the warship. At least one man was hit. Several others dove for cover.
Aram personally dumped the four soldiers who had guarded the Valiant over the side, all the while shouting orders about their heading and the state of various sails. Jason could not decipher the specifics of the nautical jargon, but it all sounded very official.
Jason heard water sloshing. Peering over the side, he saw three huge oars helping to propel the Valiant toward the harbor mouth. He assumed there were three more on the opposite side.
“The sweeps don’t accomplish much for a vessel this large,” Drake commented. “But they offer a little hope if we get caught in a calm. And they can add a little speed in situations like these.”
“Nobody rows like the drinlings,” Jason said, remembering his voyage from Ebera to the Durnese River.
“We have some of the best oarsmen in Lyrian aboard,” Drake agreed. “The harder they row, the stronger they get.”
The big waterfront bell towers added their gonging clamor to the alarm. The Valiant was now away from the pier and heading for the gap between the breakwaters. The fire on the dock was dying out as men beat at it, but the burning ships were lighting up the night. On two of them the fire had climbed to the highest sails, which meant that flames were stretching eighty feet into the sky, throwing fierce highlights onto the billowing smoke.
“We’re away,” Drake said calmly. “They can’t catch us from the docks. Their only chance is to block the harbor mouth. They have a pair of enormous winches on each side of the opening that can raise heavy chains to close off the gap.”
“Think our guys will stop them?” Jason asked.
Drake rubbed the back of his neck. “Our lives depend on it. Each drinling squad has a sledgehammer and a few flagons of lantern oil. They’ll try to smash and burn the winches into inoperability. They shouldn’t meet too much opposition. Nobody expected an attack tonight, least of all from inside the city. Their hardest chore might be to repel the reinforcements until we’re through.”
“Do they have an escape plan?” Jason queried.
“A risky one. Some of the drinlings used a skiff to board the Valiant while Aram distracted the guardsmen. Two drinlings were assigned to tie it to the stern with a long rope, so it will drag behind our ship. If the drinlings on the wall make it to the end of the breakwaters, and if we successfully slip through the gap, and if they’re still alive, they can dive in and swim for the skiff. Once out to sea and away from immediate danger, we can welcome them aboard. Any stragglers who miss the skiff will have to swim into open water and try to get away unaided.”
Jason peered anxiously ahead, trying to make out what was happening atop the sea walls. The hellish light of the blazing ships added to the illumination from the watch fires. Figures were running on the walls. The ship felt like it was advancing in slow motion. The breeze was weakening, and the oars could only do so much. Aram barked commands and occasionally climbed the rigging himself in the attempt to get the sails into the best possible position.
The bells continued to clang. Jason glimpsed fighting near the bonfire at the end of the left sea wall, silhouettes attacking one another. More combat became visible around the big bonfire on the opposite breakwater. A body fell from the wall. Jason hoped it was an enemy. After the fighting stopped, Jason could see figures attacking the great wooden winches, firelight glinting off the metal heads of sledgehammers. The left winch burst into flames, followed by the right.
Aram hollered the loudest, his rumbling voice audible over the panicky bells and the cheering of the other drinlings. Jason wondered if the drinlings on the wall could hear the gratitude. He wished the ship would sail faster. It was like riding a turtle during a jailbreak.
Back on the dock the fires were spreading. All the ships burned fiercely. A flaming mast had collapsed onto a pier, setting it ablaze. A second ship had ignited another pier. Whirlwinds of sparks spun up into the night above great sheets of flame. As a whole, the wild conflagration was beginning to look apocalyptic. If control was not soon gained over the fires, the entire waterfront would be lost.
The Valiant cruised toward the dark gap, oars sloshing, sails not slack but not bulging. Many guardsmen could be seen racing along the sea wall, best visible as they passed torches or cressets, sprinting toward the gap where the winches now blazed. The guardsmen moved faster than the ship, but they had more distance to cover.
Crossbow ready, Jason watched the port. Every second that they went undetected increased the chances of their escape. Drake gripped Jason by the elbow and nodded off to the left. Flames were spreading across the deck of a large two-masted ship and leaping up into the sails. A moment later no fewer than five other fires started on five other ships, each moored to a different pier.
“Lantern oil,” Drake murmured. “No other ship in port could possibly outpace an interceptor. But three might be able to chase us to Windbreak Island in time to cause trouble. Jasher wanted to torch a couple others for good measure.”
Scattered drinlings began to converge on the pier alongside the Valiant—the raiders returning from the neighboring ships. A bell began to clang from the mouth of the harbor. Other bells on the wall took up the call. The sentries had caught sight of the rapidly spreading fires.
Jason surveyed the dock, finger near the trigger of his crossbow. The incessant bells made him feel jumpy. No more operating in secrecy. Trouble was coming. The only question was how long it would take to arrive.
Drinlings raced up the gangplank, making it bow and bounce. Three drinlings paused on the pier beside the Valiant to spill a generous quantity of lantern oil. Torch in hand, Jasher came racing along the dock. He sprinted onto the pier, dropped the torch in the pool of lantern oil, and kept running as flames licked across the planks behind him.
“Cast off!” Aram bellowed. “Away we go!”
Jasher pounded up the gangplank and sprang aboard just as the Valiant drifted away from the pier. A moment later the gangplank dropped into the water. Ships burned on either side, a few of them already becoming infernos as the flames spread from sail to sail. Men poured out of the nearest inns. Several raced for the pier where the Valiant was departing. They were met with a volley of arrows from the near side of the warship. At least one man was hit. Several others dove for cover.
Aram personally dumped the four soldiers who had guarded the Valiant over the side, all the while shouting orders about their heading and the state of various sails. Jason could not decipher the specifics of the nautical jargon, but it all sounded very official.
Jason heard water sloshing. Peering over the side, he saw three huge oars helping to propel the Valiant toward the harbor mouth. He assumed there were three more on the opposite side.
“The sweeps don’t accomplish much for a vessel this large,” Drake commented. “But they offer a little hope if we get caught in a calm. And they can add a little speed in situations like these.”
“Nobody rows like the drinlings,” Jason said, remembering his voyage from Ebera to the Durnese River.
“We have some of the best oarsmen in Lyrian aboard,” Drake agreed. “The harder they row, the stronger they get.”
The big waterfront bell towers added their gonging clamor to the alarm. The Valiant was now away from the pier and heading for the gap between the breakwaters. The fire on the dock was dying out as men beat at it, but the burning ships were lighting up the night. On two of them the fire had climbed to the highest sails, which meant that flames were stretching eighty feet into the sky, throwing fierce highlights onto the billowing smoke.
“We’re away,” Drake said calmly. “They can’t catch us from the docks. Their only chance is to block the harbor mouth. They have a pair of enormous winches on each side of the opening that can raise heavy chains to close off the gap.”
“Think our guys will stop them?” Jason asked.
Drake rubbed the back of his neck. “Our lives depend on it. Each drinling squad has a sledgehammer and a few flagons of lantern oil. They’ll try to smash and burn the winches into inoperability. They shouldn’t meet too much opposition. Nobody expected an attack tonight, least of all from inside the city. Their hardest chore might be to repel the reinforcements until we’re through.”
“Do they have an escape plan?” Jason queried.
“A risky one. Some of the drinlings used a skiff to board the Valiant while Aram distracted the guardsmen. Two drinlings were assigned to tie it to the stern with a long rope, so it will drag behind our ship. If the drinlings on the wall make it to the end of the breakwaters, and if we successfully slip through the gap, and if they’re still alive, they can dive in and swim for the skiff. Once out to sea and away from immediate danger, we can welcome them aboard. Any stragglers who miss the skiff will have to swim into open water and try to get away unaided.”
Jason peered anxiously ahead, trying to make out what was happening atop the sea walls. The hellish light of the blazing ships added to the illumination from the watch fires. Figures were running on the walls. The ship felt like it was advancing in slow motion. The breeze was weakening, and the oars could only do so much. Aram barked commands and occasionally climbed the rigging himself in the attempt to get the sails into the best possible position.
The bells continued to clang. Jason glimpsed fighting near the bonfire at the end of the left sea wall, silhouettes attacking one another. More combat became visible around the big bonfire on the opposite breakwater. A body fell from the wall. Jason hoped it was an enemy. After the fighting stopped, Jason could see figures attacking the great wooden winches, firelight glinting off the metal heads of sledgehammers. The left winch burst into flames, followed by the right.
Aram hollered the loudest, his rumbling voice audible over the panicky bells and the cheering of the other drinlings. Jason wondered if the drinlings on the wall could hear the gratitude. He wished the ship would sail faster. It was like riding a turtle during a jailbreak.
Back on the dock the fires were spreading. All the ships burned fiercely. A flaming mast had collapsed onto a pier, setting it ablaze. A second ship had ignited another pier. Whirlwinds of sparks spun up into the night above great sheets of flame. As a whole, the wild conflagration was beginning to look apocalyptic. If control was not soon gained over the fires, the entire waterfront would be lost.
The Valiant cruised toward the dark gap, oars sloshing, sails not slack but not bulging. Many guardsmen could be seen racing along the sea wall, best visible as they passed torches or cressets, sprinting toward the gap where the winches now blazed. The guardsmen moved faster than the ship, but they had more distance to cover.
