The Seer And The Sword (27 page)

Beron’s forehead furrowed with the effort to understand. ‘How’s that, sir?’

‘The allied kings know Dahmis consults a seer.
Through him, she’s helped many of them. Now that she’s refusing to work with the high king, it will be easy to spread rumours that she’s turned against him. Then, when allied lives are lost at Sliviite hands, the fortuneteller can be blamed. We’ll sow the story among the common soldiers that Dahmis’ seer has given information to the Sliviites. You can help me in this, Captain.’

Torina would serve Vesputo without ever knowing it. The only hitch in his plans to collaborate with the Sliviite lords involved the possibility of suspicion landing on him. No one must guess it was Vesputo who told the Sliviites which bay would be least protected. Torina’s abilities with the crystal made her a believable target for the rage and grief that would follow the allied defeat.
I want her to be anathema, respected by no one
.

He held out the messages. ‘See to it the spies are paid what was promised.’

King Dahmis looked at Michal in a nearby chair, then past him through the open door.

‘Come, Dahmis. Brooding and pacing won’t give the messengers wings.’

‘I need Vineda,’ Dahmis answered. ‘There are too many bays to guard!’

‘Why doesn’t she help you?’ his friend asked.

‘She broke with me when I signed alliance with Vesputo. It seems she hates that king.’

‘I’m not fond of him myself.’ Michal smiled wryly.

Loud, clattering footsteps approached. The king hurried forward, met by a breathless guard.

‘My lord, a messenger!’ The guard ushered in a mud-spattered man in brown uniform.

‘My lord!’ The messenger was shuddering with fatigue.

Dahmis guided the soldier to a chair and made him sit. ‘Something to drink?’

‘No, sir.’ The man clutched his chest, catching his breath. Mud from his clothes smeared the king’s furniture.

‘Drink!’ Dahmis handed the spent soldier a glass. The man seized it and gulped.

‘Now. The message? Who sent you?’

‘A navy lookout’s message reached Captain Medron. He sent me.’

‘Medron? He is posted at—’

‘Castle Bay, sir.’

‘Castle Bay?’ Dahmis’ knees weakened. ‘Tell me.’

‘The lookout spotted the Sliviite fleet. Unless the wind changes, they’ll land in hordes by morning of the day after tomorrow.’

‘The Sliviites are headed for Castle Bay?’ Dahmis forced himself to understand the soldier’s meaning.

‘Yes, sir. It must be the main attack. There are so many of them!’

‘That bay is small and remote.’ Dahmis reviewed the disposition of his troops. Many at Bellan Bay in Archeld. Others guarding the coasts of northern Glavenrell and Emmendae, where large bays were numerous. Castle Bay was about a day’s ride from Glaven City. It was sparsely populated and little used, being too small to accommodate ships of any size.

‘Aye. Small. They’ll be invading with longboats – won’t be able to bring in the big vessels.’

‘How many ships?’

‘The lookout counted forty, sir.’

‘Forty ships! I’ve been told they can each hold seven hundred men.’

‘Big.’ The man nodded.

‘Almost thirty thousand men! Even if they leave a crew aboard each, we can never hope to match their numbers.’ Dahmis estimated that no matter how fast soldiers marched, less than a thousand men could gather at Castle Bay in a day and a half. He himself had argued with his generals that the rocky peninsula of Glavenrell was the least likely place for an invasion to arrive. The Sliviite vessels would seek large bays, to maximize their cannon power and give them access to land. Or so he’d believed, and so he’d persuaded his generals.

‘Captain Medron’s men?’ the king pressed.

‘Camped just south of the bay, waiting your orders, sir.’

‘How many?’

‘One hundred, sir.’

Dahmis turned to Michal. ‘How can the enemy have chosen Castle Bay? Our forces are weakest there, and furthest from reinforcements. It’s as if they knew.’

His mind roved. Not many had the general positions of all the troops. The kings. The generals. Unthinkable that any of them, with so much to lose, would relay information to the Sliviites. Fields burned in Glavenrell or Desante would mean widespread famine.
If anything united them all, it was collective resolve to beat the Sliviites.

‘Sir,’ the soldier threw in. ‘It’s said your fortuneteller turned against you and became informer to the Sliviites.’

Dahmis wheeled on him. ‘Impossible.’

‘I only repeat what I heard,’ the man fumbled.

Images of Vineda spiralled and sparked through the king’s mind. He bent a stern look on the soldier. ‘Do not repeat it again,’ he ordered. ‘Now, tell me, do you know how long it will take for the lookout’s news to reach the other troops?’

‘Nothing will be spared to give them messages, my lord, but all are far away from your peninsula.’

The king moved to the door. ‘Michal, we ride to Castle Bay. Thank you for bringing the news, soldier. When you’re rested, follow. We’ll need every available man.’

As Dahmis and his friend hurried through the immaculate halls of Glavenrell’s fortress, the king shouted orders, calling for messages to be sent to every corner of the kingdoms, for his remaining guard to ready themselves instantly for a march, for Bellanes to be given the news.

‘Though God knows we’ll need more than the Band of Bellanes to stem this tide,’ he said.

When the high king rode into Medron’s camp, it was early evening and the air was chilly. He ordered the troops to get some rest. Sitting by the fire next to Michal, he listened as Medron told them all he knew.
The captain confirmed the Sliviite fleet on the horizon.

Head in hands, the king wondered how the few hundred men he had mustered could hold back thousands. He gazed so deeply into his thoughts he was startled when Bellanes and Andris stepped into the firelight.

‘Bellanes. Good to see you, my friend. And you, Andris.’

Bellanes’ lean face looked as if he’d wrestled for days with a terrible foe. He seemed years older and full of sadness.

‘As you see, Bellanes, your prediction was true. You know the battle we face. How can we surround an army that launches from the sea? The wind has dropped and I believe they’ll land by morning, before more troops can journey here. I fear this night will tell our futures.’

‘The only way is to strike where you aren’t expected,’ Bellanes said.

‘We’re expected to be very much as we are – a small force far from reinforcements, arrayed against the biggest gathering of pirates ever seen.’ The king’s voice was hollow with worry.

‘You must destroy their ships, which hold great numbers of fighters.’ Bellanes spoke heavily.

‘My navy is south. It would take days to reach us and is no match for the Sliviite ships.’

‘Castle Bay is famous for making pitch?’ Bellanes seemed not to hear him.

Dahmis turned in bewilderment to Medron. The captain nodded. ‘The people produce pitch that lights hearths from here to Archeld.’

‘How many men can I have?’ Bellanes asked the king.

‘Perhaps a thousand by morning.’

‘I need thirty-four, to combine with my band. Steady, brave men. Strong swimmers.’

‘When do you need them?’

‘Now.’

Castle Bay fishermen and coal-tar workers were roused and sent scurrying to bring coracles and buckets of oozing pitch. Carpenters donated braces and augers. Women collected paraffin-soaked rags.

During all this bustle, Landen stood alone on a beach by the southern rim of Castle Bay, staring out at the dark waving water.

Father, you taught me that taking a life is an unforgivable offence. I have lived as a warrior, because your peace was sacrificed in a war you couldn’t fight. But until tonight, I’ve never killed. Now I plot against the lives of thousands of men, and my plan is so dangerous it will surely end in the death of many of my friends
.

Landen didn’t hear the high king approaching. When Dahmis touched his shoulder, he turned despondently.

‘My friend,’ the king said. ‘You don’t need to go yourself. If you’re killed, there’s no replacement.’

‘There’s no replacement for any of these men,’ Landen answered. ‘And I have no family.’

Dahmis was quiet a moment, and Landen wanted to lean against him. ‘Bellanes,’ the deep tones were softened. ‘It’s still rumoured that you’ve never killed.’

Landen’s chest felt as if it would burst. ‘The rumour is true.’

‘Then let these soldiers undertake your strategy.’

‘I can’t stand by while others take my orders to risk their lives.’

The king put an arm round the young man and steered him to walk along the narrow beach. ‘You never told me who your parents were.’

‘They’re dead,’ Landen mumbled.

Dahmis’ compassionate face soaked up moonlight. ‘But once they lived. Who are you?’

The question seemed taken up by the restless ocean, sent back to Landen in swells of water, rolling towards him from some unknown source beyond the horizon.
Who are you? Who are you?

‘I am what you see before you,’ Landen choked out.

The king sighed. ‘Bellanes, those men on board the Sliviite ships – you didn’t make them train for pirates. You never taught them to maim and kill.’

Landen waited for the king to keep speaking. It seemed his life hung there in the path of the moon.

‘We find ourselves at a juncture in history, wishing for peace, headed for war,’ Dahmis went on. ‘If we allow this invasion, our culture will be destroyed. Even if we escape with our lives, many innocent, unarmed people will be hurt or will die.’

Landen drooped.
Oh, my king. I know this better even than you
.

‘There are slaves on that ship, my lord.’

‘And that is a great sadness. Killing the innocent too.’

‘It’s unbearable!’

‘Yes,’ Dahmis answered. ‘It is. All war is. There’s no escaping it.’

They stood on the sand together, near the lapping waves. Landen saw the moon’s train of silver on the sea.

I was a slave once, Dahmis. Until a child set me free
.

Dahmis raised his eyes to the sky. Clouds were moving in. ‘My friend, though we wish with all the might that is in us, we cannot wish away this war. The time to act is now.’

As Landen looked at the grim face of the high king, he understood that Dahmis longed for peace as much as he did himself.

When night was thickest, Landen and his crew were assembled with their supplies. The small group of soldiers and members of his band huddled in a boathouse near an old, sunken pier of Castle Bay. Torches lit faces determined and wakeful despite the hour. The high king stood quietly against a wall, his presence lending grandeur.

Landen began by asking each man to verify that he could swim well, then outlined the plan.

‘You’ve volunteered for dangerous duty. The risks are high and the chances good that some of you won’t live through this task. Unless we work with perfect precision and absolute silence, our lives are over.’ He looked round.

‘We begin together, all in the large boat. It will carry forty coracles, our supplies and us. We’ll row in a half-circle south of and then past the fleet. The Sliviite ships are anchored in two lines about five miles out.

‘Then you’ll each act alone, taking a coracle, brace, auger, bucket of pitch, flint, tinder and waxed cloth.’ He swallowed. ‘Each man takes one Sliviite ship, approaching under the hull on the side away from shore. If the clouds keep up, the moon will be covered. We’ll carry no lights. Silence and darkness are our only chance to slip by the Sliviite lookouts.’

Avid, resolved faces listened.

‘As soon as you reach your ship, bore two holes with your brace and auger, low to the water. Paint as much of the side of the ship as you can reach with pitch, then fill the holes with the cloth wicks.

‘Right now, men are gathering wood for a bonfire on the beach. In about two hours, the bonfire will be lit. You’ll be on the west side of your ship, facing the ocean, probably unable to see the fire’s light. Listen for the sounds on deck above you, telling you the Sliviites have seen it. Then, strike your flint and set a spark to the wick.’

There was a collective exhale.

‘Now comes the real danger. Although the bonfire will provide distraction for a moment, unless they’re careless, they’ll spot the fire on the other ships even if they miss the fire on their own. Once they alert each other, they’ll look for us with their arrows.’

Wide eyes watched him. ‘As soon as you know your fire has caught, leave your coracle and swim to shore.’

Uneasy silence greeted him. ‘It’s quite a distance but not impossible. The large boat will return to the dock as soon as we leave it. I thought of swimming back to our boat, but that way if we were sighted, we would all be one target.’

Landen tried to give his voice the ring of confidence. ‘Local fishermen say there’s often a rip tide out to sea from the bay in the wee hours. However, to the south it ceases. We’ll swim south until the tide no longer pulls. Each of you will have a log float to rest on. Remember to bring it with you. Swim with all your might across the tide, never against it. Once you’ve escaped the rip, drift south. There’s a beach of sorts a half-mile down from here.’

He could see the men measuring themselves against tide, darkness and danger. He plunged on.

‘The water will be cold. Your skin will adjust. Take off your boots when you first get into the coracles. Peel off heavy clothes before you light the fire. Then dive, and swim for dear life.’

He waited.

‘Uh, Bellanes,’ Andris put in.

‘Andris, you won’t be with us. We all know you’re helpless in the water.’

Tight laughter flared up.

‘Will you be going, then, sir?’ one of Dahmis’ soldiers asked.

Landen clenched a fist. ‘I will.’

There were muted sighs of relief around him.

‘I only meant to ask if the ships would catch fire,’ Andris said, sounding peeved. ‘Will they sink?’

Sweat started on Landen’s forehead. ‘Aye. The pitch will burn hot and hard, and the timbers catch. As the top burns, the keel will sink lower and be flooded from the holes we make.’