The Affinity IV

Recap: Michael Collington, unable to resist the lure of the sword, has once again returned to his other life as Lord Astavar where, having grieved the loss of Magalo and Durabel, he has left Elgypta to sail north, aboard the Kerree, with two new companions.

The Affinity IV

©2008 Ian Hobson

8 – Bolts and Arrows

Even with the broken spar replaced and all sails set, it was clear that we would not outrun the Tirukshian privateer. The ship was at least one-fifth longer than the Kerree and seemed to cut through the waves like a knife, and before midmorning it was within hailing distance off our starboard beam. I counted twenty-four crew members, on her decks and clinging to her shrouds, as her captain, a tall, swarthy man named Skrull, hailed us with a mixture of Tirukshian and Elgyptan, offering us, firstly, his most cordial salutations, and then our lives in exchange for our cargo. Captain Maffrai, knowing that the latter would soon be forgotten if he was foolish enough to surrender, replied with a barrage of foul language and then, taking a crossbow from where he had placed it at his feet, he shot a feathered bolt at his adversary missing him by a hair's breadth.

At this pre-arranged signal, more bolts and arrows were fired by eight or so of the Kerree's crew, all of whom had been ordered to stay hidden until then. And, despite the difficulties of shooting from ship to ship when both were crashing through the waves, three of Skrull's men were hit before arrows and bolts came flying our way, forcing us to take cover.

The crews of both ships exchanged missiles until Captain Maffrai ordered the necessary change of course, which cost us speed but meant that Skrull had to do the same or sail away from us. This cat and mouse game continued for some time, with a constant exchange of bolts and arrows, which cost us two crew members, one killed and one wounded, to at least the same number of theirs. Then, with the sun past its zenith, Skrull took advantage of a sudden drop in wind speed and steered towards our starboard flank.

'Prepare to repel boarders!' Maffrai shouted the order and it was repeated by Doran, his First Mate, as he ran the ship's length, checking that the crew were armed and ready. As more arrows and crossbow bolts were exchanged, the two ships collided, broadside, and their timbers groaned in protest, while the first of many grappling hooks were hurled towards us.

Miglio and I were beside the foremast, and as a grappling hook clattered onto the deck and was immediately dragged back until it snagged on a grating, Miglio, his seasickness forgotten, sprang up and cut the rope with a knife that he had spent most of the day sharpening and honing. An arrow flew past his head as he ran back to where I was sheltering and, though I knew his efforts would make little difference to what was to come, I was pleased to see that he did not lack courage. 'Well done,' I shouted, as he slid the knife back into its sheath and put a hand to his sword hilt. 'But don't be too eager. Just remember all that I've taught you. Mark your man, and watch his eyes.' I had given him Magalo's old soldier's tunic, made from soft leather reinforced with mail, while I had changed into a similar one, complete with steel breastplate.

'I will not let you down, master,' he said, and I believed him. I had trained him well and, just as I expected, he had shown an aptitude for swordplay that should ensure his survival.

Most of the grappling hooks and ropes were now secured and, with the two ships crudely lashed together, the first of the boarders leapt across from the privateer's deck but were immediately knocked off their feet by well-aimed crossbow bolts. I stood then and drew my sword and, after kissing the blade, strode forward as more men dropped down amid the din of battle-cry and complaining ships timbers.

The first to come my way was a small, but murderous-looking sailor, carrying a cutlass in his right hand and a dagger in his left, but he seemed thin and underfed, and his look of menace wilted somewhat as he saw me coming to meet him. He tried to dodge past me, looking for an easier target, but I stepped sideways and, with sword arm outstretched, spun around and struck him backhanded, slitting his throat with tip of my blade. Knowing it was a killing blow, I left him to fall and choke on his own blood, just as another, much larger, man came at me with his sword raised above his head. As his blade fell towards me I blocked it with my own sword, kicked the man in the groin and then, as his head came towards mine, I pivoted and smashed my right elbow into his face, immediately stepping away to clear my sword and hack down into the back of his neck.

Two down; so far this was child's play. Glancing to my right I saw Miglio tackling his first opponent: a young sailor, skinny, but half a head taller. He was armed with a cutlass, but little skill by the look of him because, as I turned to watch, Miglio reversed a two-handed parry and sliced open the lad's chest, making him scream as he staggered backwards. Sensing danger to myself, I turned with sword raised, to find myself facing a tall man wearing skin-tight breeches and a blood-spattered white shirt.

It was Skrull, the privateer captain, and he was armed with a sword, of a similar size and weight to my own, but also with a length of knotted rope which he swung at my head in a move designed to distract me from the sword thrust that followed. I ducked and parried in one movement and, as the rope end swung towards my head a second time, I snatched it from the air with my left hand and tried to heave Skrull's unprotected chest forward onto my own blade. He cursed as he let go of the rope, and then, taking his sword in two hands, he swung it in an arc towards my head. Wearing no armour, he was fast and forceful, but I was not slow to block his move.

Again our swords clashed, and his eyes told me that he was not accustomed to fighting with someone who could match his height and strength. All around us there was the sound of clashing steel, accompanied by grunts and yells of pain as weapons struck home, but whichever side was winning was not my concern, as the two of us circled each other, thrusting and parrying.

'You fight like a woman!' Skull spat the words at me as though they were stones shot from a sling.

'How many have you fought?' I asked, countering his insult and driving him back across the deck that was now becoming slippery with spilled blood. I had manoeuvred him into a position where he was facing his own ship and better able to judge how the battle was going, if he was foolish enough to look. He was, and as he risked a worried glance over my shoulder, I thrust at him and felt the tip of my sword pierce his chest. He let out no cry of pain, but anger flared in his eyes, turning them into pools of molten rage, and he came at me swinging his sword as though I was his most bitter enemy.

Anger is useful sometimes, but not when it clouds your judgement, as was happening to Skrull. Again he swung his sword in a downward arc towards my head, but with a force and speed designed to overcome any blocking move. So, as his sword fell like an axe, I sprang clear and then stepped forward again, placing my booted right foot on the blade as it hit the deck and swinging my own blade above his arms and straight at his throat. I would probably have taken his head off, had he not let go of his sword and leapt backwards, colliding with a wounded sailor escaping the melee, and crashing onto the deck.

Now I risked a glance around me and was glad to see that we were winning the fight. I turned back to face Captain Skrull. He was mine now and would surely surrender, or so I thought but, as he got to his feet, the two ships, still locked together, shuddered as though struck by a huge wave, knocking us both to the deck; and as I looked around I saw that the same had happened to almost everyone on board and that the fighting had all but stopped.

9 – The Kraken

The Kerree's deck began to tilt and the sound of straining timbers became almost deafening; but above that sound I clearly heard a panic-stricken scream. I thought at first that it was Skrull but then saw that the wounded sailor who had collided with him was being lifted clear of the deck and over the side by a huge tentacular arm almost as thick and as long as one of the ship's masts. Again the two ships shuddered, as though hit by a wave, and then a second huge tentacle came up over the side and slammed down onto the deck, fracturing its timbers and tilting the ship further, pulling the port rail below the surface of the sea, and filling the air with a fish-like stink.

Skrull was crawling towards me, slipping in saltwater mixed with blood and, rather than let the sea-monster have him, I scrambled forward to try and drag him clear. But as his hand clasped mine another foul-smelling tentacle came over the side, its tip seeking us out as though it could see or smell us, and it wrapped itself around Skrull's middle, pulling him from my grasp and lifting him into the air. He kicked and struggled and somehow produced a knife which he sunk, several times, into the monstrous appendage, but his reward for this was a terrible death as he was slammed, again and again, onto the deck and his body broken as though it was no more than a bundle of twigs. Horrified, I raised my sword and was ready to hack at the huge tentacle, but the deck rolled under me and I began to slide towards the sea.

'Lord Astavar!' As a rope end hit the deck beside me, I grabbed for it. Doran, the First Mate, had thrown the rope, but with one arm hooked around the starboard rail, he was unable to haul me clear. I sheathed my sword and pulled myself, hand over hand, towards him, while searching the deck for Miglio.

'Where is my servant?' I shouted. 'And your captain?' I added, as I could see neither of them. What I could see, was that the fight between the ships' crews was over, and that surviving sailors from both were clambering, in panic, across the narrow gap between the two vessels, some of them hacking at the ropes that bound the ships together.

'The captain is dead!' Doran shouted back. 'Killed by Skrull before he came after you! Your servant went below for the girl!' He nodded his head towards an open hatchway that was barely clear of the rising seawater. The ship rocked beneath my feet again as the sea monster's tentacles searched for more victims and as the last of the ropes were severed. As I reached the starboard rail and took hold of it, Doran shouted, 'We must abandon ship! Your servant is lost!' And with that, he scrambled up and leapt across the widening gap between the two ships, almost falling into the water. A fellow seaman helped him climb up over the port rail of the privateer, and then each of them held a hand out towards me, expecting me to jump.

'Wait!' I still held the rope with which Doran had rescued me and, ignoring the beckoning hands, I made my way, clumsily, along the side of the ship, secured one end of the rope, and lowered myself across the canted deck towards the hatchway, where I shouted for Miglio and Layana. Under the sea monster's onslaught, the Kerree was clearly in danger of sinking, and an incoming wave washed around my legs and cascaded down the steps where, to my relief, Layana appeared with Miglio behind her. The two of them struggled to climb towards me, but as soon as they were within reach, I hauled them through the hatchway, urging them to take hold of the rope and climb the sloping deck.

'What is that thing?' Layana screamed, as she stared past me with a look of horror on her face. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that the beast was now probing the deck with five of its tentacles. Three of them had found dead or wounded sailors, while another was wrapping itself around the foremast.

'A Kraken!' I replied. 'It seems to be drawn to the smell of blood!'

Layana shot a worried glanced at her brother whose eyes shone with a look of fear mixed with excitement. I had thought him unharmed, but noticed then, the gash in his left leg. 'It is nothing master,' he said, grinning. 'Move, Layana!' He hurried his sister by pulling on the rope and forcing her to climb ahead of him while I, with one hand, loosened the straps that held on my breastplate and shrugged it off before following. But as the two of them reached the starboard rail, the ship rolled slowly onto its side, and its two masts, laden with flapping sails, came crashing down into the sea. Somehow I hung on to the rope while, above me, Layana and Miglio dangled precariously from the rail and, below me, the water raged with air escaping from within the vessel.

'Climb!' I shouted. 'Climb!' I watched as, above my head, Miglio swung his legs up and clambered onto the side of the ship, before reaching down and helping his sister to do the same. I felt the touch of one of the kraken's tentacles then, as it came up from the foaming water and brushed against my ankle. That gave me the impetus that I needed, and I hauled myself up the rope, climbing like an ape, though thankful for the hands that grasped my hair and the collar of my tunic. But no sooner had I scrambled up beside Layana and Miglio, than the kraken's limb was amongst us.

Layana was knocked backwards and tumbled towards the keel and into the sea. Then I saw a flash of steel as Miglio's knife slashed wildly, but, remembering what had happened to Captain Skrull, I found my feet and pushed the boy roughly away. 'Leave it to me! Follow Layana!'

‘I can’t swim!’ he yelled, as he tumbled into the water.

‘Then, now is the time to learn!’ I drew my sword, kissed the blade, and as the tentacle searched for a victim, no doubt attracted by Miglio’s bloody wound, I swung the blade in a downward arc and cut through its breadth in one stroke.

As a flow of slimy blood sprayed down the ship's side, the vessel gave one last shudder and, perhaps only in my imagination, the kraken let out a scream of pain. Ignoring the severed limb that writhed at my feet, I sheathed my sword, dived headlong into the water, and swam for my life while, behind me, the sea gurgled and foamed as the Kerree, in its last death throws, sank below the waves. Weighed down by my sword and mail, I was struggling to keep my head above the surface and, as a wave rolled over me, I felt that I would be sucked under. Images flashed before my eyes then; faces from my past; others that I did not recognise and yet, somehow, I knew them: a young woman, and then a little girl, at first running towards me, and then being pulled away in a whirlwind of autumn leaves. Is this where I meet my death? I wondered. Have the gods finally deserted me?

TO BE CONTINUED