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