A Dream of Mortals (Book #15 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (6 page)

Thor heard footsteps and turned to see dozens
of pirates bearing down on him. This was not a small boat but a huge, professional
ship, as large as any warship, and it contained at least a hundred pirates, all
of them hardened, accustomed to a life of killing at sea. They all charged,
clearly welcoming the fight.

Thor’s Legion brothers poured out of the hold,
each racing forward to reclaim their weapons before the pirates could reach
them. Elden jumped out of the way as a pirate brought a machete down for his
neck, then he grabbed him and headbutted him, breaking the pirate’s nose. He
snatched the machete from his hand and cut him in half. Then he leapt for his
battle-ax.

Reese snatched his halberd, O’Connor his bow,
Indra her spear, Matus his flail,  and Selese her sack of sand, while Angel
darted past them, kicking a pirate in the shin before he could throw a dagger
at Thor. The pirate screamed and grabbed his leg, and the dagger went flying
overboard.

Thor charged forward and leapt into the group,
kicking one pirate in the chest and slashing another, then spinning around and
slashing another’s arm before he could bring his machete down on Reece. Another
charged and swung a club for his head, and Thor ducked, the club whizzing by.
He prepared to stab him, but Reece stepped forward and used his halberd to kill
him.

O’Connor let loose two arrows which went whizzing
by Thor, and Thor spun and watched two pirates, charging for his back, fall
dead. He spotted a pirate charging for Angel and Thor was about to chase after
him when O’Connor stepped up and put an arrow in his back.

Thor heard footsteps and spun to see a pirate
charging for O’Connor’s back with a club. Thor lunged and, feeling the Sword of
the Dead vibrating, slashed his thick club in two then stabbed the pirate in
the heart before he could reach him. Thor then spun around, kicked another man
in the ribs, and, the Sword of the Dead leading the way, chopped off the man’s head.
Thor was amazed. It was as if the sword had a beating heart of its own, willing
Thor on to what it wanted him to do.

As Thor slashed furiously in every direction, a
dozen men piled up before him, he covered in blood up to his elbows—when suddenly,
a pirate jumped him from behind, landing on his back. The mercenary raised a
dagger, bringing it down on the back of Thor’s shoulder, and he was too close,
and it was too late, for Thor to react.

Thor spotted an object in the air, hurling at
him out of the corner of his eye, and he suddenly felt the man release his grip
and drop down to the deck. Thor turned to see Angel standing there, having just
thrown a stone, and realized she’d connected perfectly with the man’s temple.
The man squirmed at Thor’s feet, and Thor watched, amazed, as Angel stepped
forward, grabbed a hook off the deck, and raising it high, impaled it in the
man’s chest. It was the same hook the pirates had used to ensnare them in their
net at sea. Justice, Thor realized, had come full circle.

He’d had no idea Angel had it in her; he saw
the fierceness in her eyes as she stood over him and he realized she had a true
warrior’s spirit and was much more complex than he knew.

Thor turned and threw himself into the fray and
he and his men attacked relentlessly, all of them banding together, as they had
in so many places, a fine-tuned killing machine, all watching each other’s
backs. They fought beautifully together, knowing each other’s rhythms. As Elden
swung his battle-ax, Indra hurled her spear, killing those he could not reach.
Matus swung his flail, killing two pirates at once, while Reece used his long
halberd to kill three pirates before they could reach Selese. And Selese, in
turn, sprinkled the dust from her sack on their wounds, healing all their
wounds as they went and keeping them strong.

Slowly the tide turned, as they cut down one
man after the next. The bodies piled high, and soon there remained but a dozen
of them.

Eyes wide with fear, the dozen remaining pirates,
realizing they could not win, dropped their daggers and machetes and axes and
raised their hands, terrified.

“Don’t kill us!” one yelled out, shaking. “We
didn’t mean it! We just went along with the others!”

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Elden said.

“Don’t worry,” Thor said, “we’re not going to
kill you.”

Thor sheathed his sword, stepped forward, grabbed
the pirate, lifted him over his head, and hurled him overboard, into the sea.

“The fish will do that for us.”

The others joined him, driving the remaining
few overboard with their weapons, into the sea, and Thor watched as the seas
soon turned red, sharks circling and drowning out the cries of the pirates.

Thor turned to the others, who looked back at
him. He could see in their eyes that they were thinking the same thing as he: victory,
sweet victory, was theirs.

Erec bent over the rail and looked down in the
torchlight into a sea filled with Empire corpses. A dozen Empire soldiers lay
floating, all killed by Erec and his men, all pushed over the rail, and as he
watched, slowly, one at a time, they sank.

Erec looked up and down his fleet of ships and
saw his men on all of them, all now free, thanks to Alistair’s breaking their
bonds. The Empire had been foolish to leave but a dozen soldiers to guard each
ship, thinking themselves invincible. They had been vastly outnumbered, and once
Erec’s men’s bonds were broken, it had been easy to kill them and retake their
ships. They had underestimated Alistair.

They also had no reason to fear an uprising
because they had completely surrounded Erec’s ships. Indeed, as Erec looked up
he saw that the Empire blockade, with their thousand ships, was still intact. There
was nowhere for them to go.

More horns sounded, more Empire soldiers cried
out in the night, and Erec could see the lanterns being lit all up and down the
fleet. The Empire, that sleeping dragon, was slowly rallying. Soon they would
enclose Erec’s men like a python and strangle them to death. This time, Erec
was sure, they would show no mercy.

Erec thought quickly. He surveyed the Empire ships,
looking for any weak spot in the blockade, a place with fewer ships. As he
turned and looked behind him, he noticed a spot where the Empire ships were more
spread out, spaced perhaps twenty yards apart. It was the weakest point of the
circle—though, even so, the blockade was hardly weak. It was the best of the
worst options. They had to make a run for it.

“FULL SAIL!” Erec shouted, and as he rushed
into action, his orders were shouted and echoed up and down his fleet.

They hoisted the sails and began to row, Erec standing
at the bow, his ship out front, his fleet close behind. He looked out ahead,
aiming his ship for the weak point of the blockade. He only hoped that they could
ram it quickly enough, before all the Empire ships closed in and tightened
their positions. If they could only get through, then they would have open seas
before them. He knew the Empire would follow closely, and that most likely it
would be a chase he could not win.

Still, he had to try. Some plan, even a
reckless plan, was better than conceding to defeat and death.

“Can we ram it?” came a voice.

Erec turned to see Strom coming up beside him, hand
on his sword, still red with blood where he had killed the Empire soldiers,
peering into the night.

Erec shrugged.

“Have we a choice?” he replied.

Strom stared into the horizon beside him,
unflinching.

“How long until they know we are coming?”

They received their answer as an arrow whizzed
through the air, right past Erec and Strom, and found its target in one of Erec’s
men, just a few feet behind them. The man screamed out and fell on his back,
clutching the arrow in his chest, pulling at it with both hands, quivering on
the floor as he was dying.

Another arrow whizzed through the air, then
another, and another. Neither he nor Strom ducked, both standing fearlessly,
holding their ground.

Erec looked out and made out shapes in the
darkness, saw the Empire soldiers taking aim, lining up, firing rows of arrows,
and he knew this was going to be bad. They still had a hundred yards to go until
they reached the blockade.

“Shields!” Erec yelled out. “Get together! Stay
close! Man to man!”

Erec’s men obeyed, falling into formations, raising
their shields, and Erec, satisfied, did the same, kneeling beside Strom and
others, and holding his shield overhead.

Erec felt three arrows land on it in three
quick thuds, the vibrations shaking his arm.

Shouts cut through the night, and Erec heard a
body plunge into the water; he turned and his heart sank to see the commander
of one of his ships falling over the rail. The man plunged into the water, two arrows
in his chest, and Erec could see the fear in his men’s eyes as the ship beside him
was beginning to stray. Erec knew that without their commander the ship would
not follow, and he would lose his men. A ship needed a commander—especially now.

“Strom!” he called out to his brother, frantic.
“Can you make the swing if I get close enough?”

Strom looked back at his brother then out at
the ship, and in an instant, he understood what Erec wanted. He nodded back
with confidence, and without hesitating, he ran to the rail.

Erec ran to the wheel and steered his ship
closer to the other, and as they got close enough, Strom, ignoring the arrows, stood
on the rail. He raised his bow, quickly tied an arrow to a rope, aimed high,
and fired.

The arrow, with rope attached, flew high in an
arc over the mast of the ship, and looped around it.

Strom tugged at it, satisfied, then grabbed it
and leapt into the air.

Strom sailed through the air, a good forty feet,
swinging in an arc, until he finally reached the other ship, jumping down and
tumbling on the deck, to the astonished looks of all the sailors on board.

Strom gained his feet and took the helm, and as
he did, all the men, re-energized, fell in behind him.

“Forward!” Strom yelled out, taking charge. “We
follow my brother!”

The men went back to their positions, taking up
oars, hoisting sails, ignoring the arrows sailing down on them.

As Erec turned and faced the ships, getting
ever closer, the sea of arrows thickened, and more of his men screamed out and
fell over the rail. Erec knew something had to be done. He had to keep the
Empire off guard or else risk losing too many of his men on the approach.

“Archers, take positions!” Erec called out.

His men did as commanded, and they followed
suit on the other ships as well, Strom echoing his command.

“Fire!” Erec yelled.

His men sent back a volley of arrows at the Empire
ships, and Erec was satisfied as he heard the shouts of dozens of Empire archers,
high on their masts, falling down to the decks. Others fell over the rail, dropping
into the sea, and finally, there came a lull in the arrows coming their way.

“Again!” Erec yelled, and his men sent another
volley, narrowly avoiding arrows themselves as the Empire regrouped.

Back and forth the two sides went, volley after
volley, men dying on both sides, and Erec’s fleet, in the meanwhile, getting
ever closer, narrowing the gap. He was now about fifty yards away, the arrows
coming down heavily, and he set sail right for the hull of the closest Empire
ship, preparing to ram it. Erec turned and looked back over his shoulder and he
saw the greater Empire fleet beginning to rally, to head their way. He knew he
hadn’t much time. He had to ram this blockade, and their odds did not look good.

Desperate, Erec suddenly had an idea.

“Man the catapults!” Erec yelled. “Arm them
with spears, and set the tips aflame! Now!”

Erec’s command was echoed up and down the ranks
of his fleet, and he watched with satisfaction as men placed flaming spears on
catapults normally reserved for boulders. He wanted to fire, but knew he had to
get closer, within range, to make sure this worked; he would have no second
chance.

“Wait for it!” Erec yelled out, seeing the
jittery faces of all his men, hands resting on the cords holding back the
catapults. He knew they were all as anxious to fire as he, especially as more
arrows showered down.

Finally, when they reached but thirty yards
away, Erec yelled:

“FIRE!”

The Empire fleet realized, too late, what Erec’s
men were doing, and a split second before his men fired, he could see the
terrified expressions of the commanders of their ships, as they scurried frantically
to command their men to move their ships.

Erec watched as hundreds of spears, all aflame,
sailed through the night air, cutting a blazing path, lighting up the black
seas. One by one they landed on the sails, embedding themselves in the canvas,
on the masts, on the wooden decks.

Within moments the Empire ships caught aflame. As
their men scurried to put them out, some fires were dampened—but others spread
wildly. It did some damage—but more importantly, it achieved Erec’s goal: it occupied
the Empire fleet, distracting them, and finally the barrage of arrows stopped.

“FULL SAIL!” Erec yelled.

Erec’s men, on all his ships, raced back to the
sails and oars, and Erec increased speed, taking aim for the closest ship, the
only thing standing between them and freedom, an Empire ship half ablaze, its
men shouting and struggling to put out the fires.

“Single file!” Erec shouted to the other ships.
“Stay close behind me!”

Strom echoed his command and got in line behind
Erec, and Erec watched with satisfaction as his fleet came in close behind him.
He knew it was their only chance. He did not need to run the entire blockade;
he just needed enough space to clear one ship. And then the others could follow
on his heels.

He looked up and his heart pounded as the
blockade came closer and closer, now hardly twenty yards away…then ten…then
five. He knew the impact would be rough.

“BRACE YOURSELVES!” Erec yelled.

Erec grabbed the rail, bracing himself, too, as
the ship bore down on them.

Erec was jolted, the entire ship shaking, as
they smashed into the Empire ship at a sharp angle. Erec’s entire ship rocked,
as did the Empire ship, each rocking back and forth, and for a moment, Erec wondered
if his ship would sink.

But a second later Erec felt movement, and he
knew they had burst through. The Empire ship spun sharply, smashed out of the
way, leaving just enough space to clear between the ships.

Erec, ship to ship with the Empire soldiers, so
close he could look them in the face, knew that he had to strike first. He knew
that if he tried to just sail right through, they would attack.

“CHARGE!” Erec yelled.

He wasted no time. He drew his sword, rushed
forward and leapt from his deck onto the Empire ship beside him, all of his men
letting out a battle cry and following close behind.

Erec led his men as they charged across the deck
of the Empire ship, slashing Empire soldiers who turned his way, too late,
still struggling to put out flames. Slowly, the Empire soldiers realized what
was happening, and they turned their attention back to Erec and his men.

Erec charged through the flaming ship, narrowly
avoiding the fires, as he fought Empire soldiers hand-to-hand. Their swords clanged
in the night, sparks flying, as Erec slashed one large Empire soldier after
another, all of them bigger than he, but none a match for his speed or skill.
One large soldier brought his sword down, Erec blocked, then he swung around
and cut him in two. The man fell, screaming, overboard.

Erec did what he did best, killing one, two,
three soldiers at a time, none able to outfight him. No knight in the entire Ring
had ever been able to best him, and these Empire soldiers, as fine as they
were, were not of his caliber either. Empire soldiers fell by the handful, and Erec
did not slow, racing through the ship from stern to bow, his men behind him, clearing
the decks.

Erec saw with satisfaction that Strom was
leading his own men to leap onto the Empire ship on the other side of the
blockade. Like his big brother, Strom charged fearlessly through the other
Empire ship, felling men left and right, moving like lightning. The Empire was
caught off guard: after all, no Empire commander would ever imagine that these
few ships would dare attack them.

Yet as Empire soldiers rallied they fought back
fiercely, and with their superior armor and weaponry, they managed to kill dozens
of Erec’s and Strom’s men. It was a bloody, fierce, hand-to-hand battle amidst
the flames, and men’s screams filled the night.

Erec saw the rest of the Empire fleet, each
ship packed with soldiers closing in from the corner of his eye and he knew
they were losing precious time. Soon they would be completely surrounded.

Erec knew he had to do something quickly. He
quickly scanned the ship, spotted a huge metal anchor attached to a chain, sitting
on deck, and he had an idea.

“The anchor!” Erec yelled out to Strom. “Destroy
the hull!”

Erec ran to the anchor, grabbed its chain, swung
it high above his head, and then brought it down, smashing the deck, wood
shattering everywhere. A huge hole appeared right in the center of the deck,
and Erec looked over to see Strom beginning to do the same. Erec’s men ran over
and helped, and together, they all swung the chain higher, faster, stronger, smashing
the deck again and again, breaking it to bits. Deeper and deeper the anchor
went, to the lowest holds, until finally, ice-cold water came gushing straight
up, like a geyser.

Erec heard the satisfying sound of the ship
cracking in two, and he felt the massive ship begin to list.

“Back to our ship!” Erec yelled.

Erec’s men all turned and ran across the deck
and leapt back over the rail, onto their ship, right before the Empire ships
began to sink. They took up the oars and continued forging ahead, right beside
the ships on either side of them, which began to sink quickly. Strom, the
damage done, escaped back to his ship, too.