Read Online A Dream of Mortals (Book #15 in the Sorcerer's Ring) by Morgan Rice - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Morgan Rice
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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
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
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