IronStar (29 page)

“I saw six excise ships, Warmaster,
and two more of the same style but with the extra tower amidships. I also saw
four more cargo ships, about the same size, at the back of the fleet. I could
tell by how high they are in the water, they are empty or nearly empty.”

“Thank you, Captain. Would anyone
care to guess why the O’dai send empty cargo ships up our river? And why they
and the Wrth wait five or ten days for them to arrive?” Several speculative
looks were exchanged. Finally Irshe said the thought that had formed in
everyone’s mind.

“The cargo ships are to transport
the Wrth around our walls. They plan to land on the riverbank inside the city,
possibly at our own docks.”

“Captain, how many mounted men
could one of those ships carry, for a short trip on calm water?”

“Perhaps thirty or forty. A few
more, if they really pack them in.”

“No,” said Peetha. “The Wrth will
travel in
fires
, in groups of thirty warriors plus a commander and a
priest, if they possibly can. No commander would want to go into battle
separated from half her
fire
of warriors. If they cannot carry two
complete
fires
, they will carry only one.” Kirrah noted the look of new
respect that crept over some faces, especially those who had had reservations
about bringing along the untested Wrth converts.

“This poses another new danger. If
the O’dai can hold the river, and can transport enough Wrth across to this
side, we could be in real trouble here, people. If it comes to a horserace
between us and a thousand raiders, whose horses will be swiftest?” More looks
were exchanged. Lieutenant Rash’koi spoke up:

“The Wrth horses are smaller than
ours, faster in a short race, but running on open plains, they will tire
sooner. However, if they pace themselves, they can keep going longer than our
mounts, and they would catch up to us before we reach the city.”

“For each archer,” Kirrah said, “we
have five bundles, that’s one hundred bodkin arrows. We also have two bundles
of grenade-arrows and two of the fire arrows, that’s twelve of each. Eight
thousand bodkin, nine hundred sixty grenades and firestarters. Plus forty
mortar rounds. I think we can do this, but we must be very careful. We will
have to destroy the cargo ships at all costs. Nothing the other ships can do is
as dangerous for us as moving Wrth across the river in numbers.

“If shooting starts, I want the
mortars to concentrate their fire first on the transports. Captain Crath’pae,
stay with the mortar crews and direct their fire. Ignore everything else. Once
all the mortar rounds are fired, the tubes are not worth guarding, so grab a
bow and help.

“Irshe, take twenty Border Patrol
and join Peetha’s squad. Peetha, with these twenty and your twenty, your new
job is to intercept any Wrth as they come off a cargo ship, kill them before
they can form up on this bank. Do the job, but don’t waste arrows.

“Rash’koi
-sana'tachk
, and
Peetha when you’re not busy with a landing, I want you to make life unpleasant
for the ships. Remember to concentrate your fire. A spilled oil lamp is just a
nuisance on a ship, but twenty spilled at once is a disaster. Especially if
grenades keep distracting sailors who try to fight the fires.

“One of the other captains, please
take crews, go back up river where the four boats are hidden, and move them
another fifteen
doi’la
up the river. And stay with them. If we need your
services as ferrymen, we will be in a hurry. No foolish bravery, this could
make the difference between escape and death for us all.

“Captain Crath’pae, is there a way
to get the O’dai captains to talk, before we have to fight? A truce-flag?”

“Warmaster, there is the ‘ship’s
banner’ language, colored ribbons that sailors use to send messages. We have a
set on each ship.”

“Is there a signal that means ‘stop
and talk’?”

“Yes, Warmaster. If they bother to.
The O’dai have grown careless lately about naval law and tradition.”

“We’ll give them a chance. Set that
up on the spare ship, drawn right up at the bank where the mooring line ends.
Is there a signal for ‘keep out’?”

“Ahhh, I suppose we could fly
‘stand off’ and Lord Tsano’s colors.”

“That will be clear enough. Fly
that on the ship moored in the center.”

Another half hour passed, the O’dai
ships came close enough that their sails were visible, then the hulls
themselves. Far overhead, a large bird wheeled in the first thermals of the
day. On the north shore pacing the ships, the Wrth horsemen made a column two
abreast at least five kilometers long, wending back across the plain like a
snake.
Or a tso’ckhai
, Kirrah mused, remembering the thirty-six meter
‘grass weasel’ she had killed behind Akaray, on her second day.
Time for a
rematch
.

“Does Kirrah’s
not-sword
lose
its force if you do not keep checking it?”

“What? Irshe. Oh, no, I’m just
nervous. My
not-sword
is well fed. Have I been checking it often?”

“Eight times, since I have
noticed.”

“Oh.”
Damn, doesn’t miss much,
does he?
“How does Irshe
’jasa
remain so calm? Do you not fear the
approach of a battle where you may die?” A thoughtful pause.

“Of course I fear death.” Another
pause, longer, then:

“I know a place… a small pond, one
tree beside it. When the wind is calm, you can see the moons rise and shimmer
on the water. I used to go there often, when I was young. It is very peaceful
for me to think about being there. When I need to be calm, I remember that
place.”

“But you must be alert to danger
when you fight. Do you not find it difficult to come from your …calm place,
into battle?”

“I do not come from it. I bring it
with me, I fight from inside it, it is wrapped around me even in the thickest
part of a fight. It makes things happen slower, I can see two enemies at the
same time.”

“That is very …interesting, Irshe
’jasa
.”
…and a pretty good description of battle-mode training, too – except yours
helps ‘before’ as well as ‘during’.
“We shall speak more of this, if you
will.”

“I would be pleased to show Kirrah
Warmaster the pond I speak of.”
That’s not what I asked, and we both know
it, and what is it, behind those attentive gray eyes just now, my friend?
High overhead, a second large raptor joined the first, wheeling in graceful
counterpoint.

“Places, everyone. It’s show time.
Captain Og’drai, I would appreciate a word from you when you judge the lead
ship has chosen to ignore our command to stop.”

“Yes, Warmaster,” said the second
captain, a short, plump man whose elderly vessel was currently moored mid-river
and flying the dark blue and light blue colors of Lord Tsano, plus four more
fifteen-centimeter wide ribbons, black at the top and white at the bottom, with
various colored bands in between.

There are so many of them
,
Kirrah’s mind kept saying as the flotilla drew near. Each O’dai ship was only
thirty meters long, but with two masts and big square sails, and five, seven -
nine oars down each side, those three rows of four ships made an impressive
sight, a veritable forest of masts and rigging. The rest of the Talamae
scouting party, another sixteen scouts who had been shadowing the O’dai
movements, had ridden in a few minutes earlier and taken places beside the
mortar crews.

“Now, Warmaster!” said the short
Captain, “See, they furl their sails, they will stop.”
Where… oh, that’s
what those fellows were doing up the mast, right - up go all the sails in big
sausages of cloth under the yardarms. Very precisely done, too.
Shortly the
three columns of ships came to a halt in the channel, with the lead ship in the
nearest column standing directly opposite the place where the Talamae boat was
tied up on the shore. Sailors lowered a small dinghy over the stern of the
O’dai craft, and several figures climbed down. In a few strokes, they drew up
half a dozen meters from the Talamae boat tied up at the riverbank. Four
oarsmen and a helmsman, at the service of a gaudily dressed figure in the bow,
wearing plate armor with a half-meter feathered plume on his helmet. Kirrah and
three archers, plus the Captain to translate, walked down to the water’s edge
to meet them. On the far shore, the head of the Wrth column drew up and
stopped, while the main column of riders continued upriver.

“Warmaster, they are not setting
anchor or mooring,” the short mariner beside her whispered. “They hold position
in the river current with oars. They do not act like they plan to wait long.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

“Who seeks parley with the O’dai
twelfth fleet?” boomed the voice of the plumed man, in slightly accented
Talamae.

“Kirrah, Warmaster to the Talamae
nation, seeks parley.”

“A bold name for such a small ‘
warmaster’
.
Speak then, we will not tarry long.”

“Why are you here? This river is
part of Talam. There is no reason for difficulties between us, yet you travel
with our enemies.”

“We have treaty with the Wrth. We
fulfil our obligations. Does not a
warmaster
travel with an army? I see
no army.”

“I have all I need, but I am not
here to make war with you. We hope for peaceful trade with the O’dai. A year
from now, Talameths’cha will be a very good partner for trade. I would know the
name of the Captain I am speaking with.”
Never hurts to overestimate rank…

“A year from now, Talameths’cha
will be empty. You may tell
Lord
Tsano he may find a living in O’dakai,
if he does not wait too long. Our capital can always use another blacksmith.
Tell him Captain Durkalo says so.” Several of the oarsmen and a number of the
crew leaning over the ship’s rail seemed to find this funny.

“Captain Durkalo. Have your allies
the Wrth told you how well they fared against Talameths’cha’s walls? Against
me? Our boat in the center of the river, and the rope mooring it, is as far as
you may proceed. I have ready the means to destroy your fleet. Yet I prefer no
fighting between us. We have much to profit by trade, and your ruler would be
pleased with whomever brings him our friendship and commerce.”

“You know nothing of our ruler,
woman. You are full of questions; now answer one of mine. How can you destroy
my fleet, if you are full of my arrows?” With that he gestured, and his oarsmen
all reached to their feet and raised cocked crossbows. Not the light Wrth
crossbows, Kirrah noticed, but heavier, more powerful weapons. Although it was
a little hard to judge the length of their bolts when they were all pointed straight
her way… And this plumed gentleman standing there with his hand raised, just
like a toy soldier.

“Captain Durkalo, this is your last
chance to live.
Do not
make war with me.” His hand raised a fraction,
preparing to sweep down in a gesture that would release all five bolts. At that
moment from the two raptors wheeling high above came a piercing cry:
Keeeee…raaaaa!
For an instant, the man looked up at the two raptors soaring overhead, and his
crossbowmen were distracted by his distraction.

Kirrah snatched her sidearm free
and fired into the water half a meter short of their boat. An explosion of
spray and splintered wood erupted, flinging scalding water on the occupants and
throwing a wall of steam into the air between them. She and her companions scrambled
back. Even before the mist cleared, three crossbow bolts thudded into the
ground where they had stood seconds before. Her three archers loosed almost in
unison, taking down the other two crossbowmen who were trying urgently to clear
their eyes from the hot spray. The plumed captain struggled to his feet,
shouted orders to the ship twenty-five meters out in the river, and bent to
come up with one of the cocked crossbows. As he struggled to reload the bolt
into its firing groove, Kirrah said, loudly enough to be heard on the ship:

“This
captain
is obviously
not honorable. You may kill him for me.” He stared at her in mingled horror and
disbelief, still trying to get the bolt back into the groove of his crossbow,
and then staggered backwards as three heavy bodkinpoint arrows at point blank
range
whacked
through the breastplate of his armor within a few
centimeters of its center.
Nice grouping
, Kirrah thought.
Looks like
they didn’t penetrate the back, must be heavier armor than the Wrth wear
.
As the man toppled over the far side of the boat, she caught a glimpse of two
of the points protruding a finger’s length from the back plate.
Not bad,
still, heavier armor than the Wrth
.

The archer beside her grunted,
several more bolts from the ship sizzled past them. Something punched Kirrah
low on the side, she felt the bolt break and fall away as it spent itself
against the suit’s tight weave.
That smarts! Time to withdraw
, she
thought. Together the five of them raced back up the bank. One of her archers
was limping with a crossbow bolt in his leg just below the right hip.

“Mortars, fire on that ship, one
volley!” she called, and was rewarded by four very prompt
whump
-sounds
from behind the screen of tents. They reached the scant shelter of a cluster of
bushes and turned to see a column of water erupt off the starboard bow of the
ship, another behind and port, and two shattering explosions near the stern,
one on each side. Pieces of wood flew in all directions and a cloud of
blue-gray smoke lifted to reveal a three-meter gash in the near rail, and a
meter-long hole between the deck and the side of the ship. A few men were
struggling weakly in the water, others were strewn around the deck. Broken
rigging ropes hung in tangles from the aft mast.