The steersman nodded. ‘The line?’
Reuth gestured up the middle. ‘It looks to be opening up.’
The Lady limped along now, but the narrows broadened here, the current slower. The vertical cliffs still allowed no respite for any crippled vessel, but they made headway. Reuth allowed himself a glance to the rear: incredibly, many vessels still followed.
He returned to scanning for the best route ahead. Don’t fail now, he told himself. Not when we must be nearly through. He examined the waters emerging from round each looming rock ahead; some frothed far more than others, suggesting a rougher path. He decided to keep to weaving through the middle to avoid getting pinched against a cliff.
This long drawn out section of the way wore hardest upon him. He was already exhausted, unable to focus as well as he had. He dragged a hand down his face and rubbed his stinging eyes. Then he thought of the oarsmen still pulling below him and shook off the mood. None of them had been spelled through any of this. The Lady simply didn’t have a large enough complement.
‘We might be through,’ he told Gren.
The steersman rolled his massive shoulders to loosen them. ‘We might.’ Then he frowned. ‘I smell smoke.’
Reuth squinted ahead. Smoke? How could there be … He caught coils of black smoke now curling round the rocks ahead. What in the Lady’s name …?
The stern of a tall three-tiered vessel came edging out from behind the looming centre tooth — an enormous galley entirely engulfed in flames.
Shouts of alarm sounded from the crew below.
‘Lad …’ Gren murmured.
Reuth simply stared. A sea battle ahead? A sea battle in the middle of the narrows? But the Lady’s entire crew was given over to the benches. How could they possibly hope to -
‘Lad, choose …’ Gren prompted, louder. ‘Now.’
Reuth shook himself. Choose? Now? He studied the vessel’s aimless spin as it came heading broadside down towards them like a wall of fire. Black smoke billowed, cloaking a portion of the channel.
‘Hard Port!’ he shouted.
Gren thrust the tiller arm over. The Lady’s bow swung towards the port shore of the narrows while the burning vessel, helpless in the current, came directly across their line. Smoke blew across their deck in thick sooty billows that blinded Reuth.
‘Pull!’ Tulan urged, coughing. ‘Keep pulling!’
The hungry roar of flames now overtook the rush and hissing of the waters about them. Gouts of flame penetrated the wall of smoke like bursts of those damned Moranth munitions. A firestorm much taller than the Lady came crackling and thundering, as searingly hot as an enormous kiln, directly past their starboard side. Reuth covered his face. He coughed and gagged in the thick oily smoke. Something hot kissed his hand and he yelped, jumping and waving the hand.
‘Put those fires out!’ he heard Tulan barking. ‘Douse those embers!’
The pall of smoke began to clear. ‘Sail’s caught!’ Storval shouted.
‘Drop it!’ Tulan ordered.
‘Cut the ropes!’ Reuth heard Storval call.
Blinking, Reuth felt more than saw the bundled sail come crashing down, crossbar and all, while flames licked about it. ‘Overboard!’ Tulan bellowed. ‘Now!’
Men grunted and heaved. Wood grated, then a heavy splash announced that the burning bundle had struck the waves.
Reuth started then, remembering his duty, and called out: ‘Back over, Gren.’
The steersman grunted his surprise and slammed the arm across. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured.
Reuth wiped his face and his hands came away black with soot. ‘Is it a sea battle, Gren?’
‘Don’t know, lad.’
‘Because we can’t-’
‘Never mind. You just get us through.’
Reuth gave a quick shamed nod. ‘Yes. Sorry.’
He studied the possible paths ahead. The way appeared to be broadening. He did his best to choose the turns that would send them into a line that would allow the most options. His main concern now was their waning speed. The men were spent, of course, and their headway was flagging. Yet the current was weakening. Portions of this section even ran smooth.
After a few more slow turns they emerged into a full wide channel marred only by a few isolated rearing teeth. It appeared they’d run the Guardian Rocks.
Gren shot Reuth his mad grin.
Tulan came stomping up to the stern. Soot blackened his sodden furs and his beard seemed to have caught fire along one side. He was drawing in great breaths as he laid a hand on Reuth’s shoulder and squeezed. ‘Well done, lad,’ he croaked, his voice almost gone. ‘Well done.’ He turned to peer ahead, drew in a great lungful of air. ‘Now what?’
‘There are a few mentions of a settlement here. Ruse, some write it.’
Tulan grunted. ‘Fair enough. We’ll make for it. We need safe moorage for a refit.’
Gren began untying himself from the tiller arm. ‘You’ve your sea legs now, I think, hey?’
‘I’ve had enough of the sea.’
Gren laughed. ‘There you go. You’ve the way of it now.’
A sailor Tulan had sent up the mast now called out: ‘Our shadows are with us. One close, others distant.’
Reuth glanced behind. Indeed, more vessels were limping out from among the rearing teeth. They were far behind, but it appeared that the lead one was their pirate friend.
The crew continued to row, but at a leisurely pace. The narrows broadened. There was almost enough of a breeze to warrant lowering a sail, if they still had one.
‘Something ahead,’ the lookout shouted.
Reuth shaded his eyes but couldn’t make anything out. Tulan called up: ‘What is it, man?’
‘Hard to tell … ships! Looks like a mass of ships!’
Reuth thought of his worries about a sea battle. Tulan’s brows crimped and a hand went to check for the sword at his hip. ‘See that everyone’s armed,’ he ordered Storval.
‘Aye.’
They closed at a slowing pace. What awaited ahead was a mass of ships, but no fighting. The forest of mismatched galleys, launches, fishing boats and cargo vessels were congregated around a slim side channel. As they neared, it became clear that most had seen heavy fighting. Reuth made out archers crowding almost every deck. ‘Don’t like the look of this,’ he murmured to Gren.
‘We’ll surprise ’em,’ Tulan answered. He leaned over the stern railing. ‘Full speed! Looks like a reception committee.’
‘You heard the man,’ Storval announced. ‘No more easing off! You and you — back to your positions.’
Ahead, a single arrow took flight above the ragtag navy and with that signal the vessels dispersed like a swarm of bees. It looked to Reuth as though they meant to cordon off the entire narrows.
‘Chase speed!’ Tulan bellowed out.
The Lady’s Luck surged ahead, though with not nearly the power and crispness of earlier in the day. It was now a race. Reuth motioned to the opposite cliff face and Gren nodded. He slowly angled the bow aside.
‘Ramming speed!’ Tulan ordered. In answer, the Lady’s Luck hardly accelerated. ‘Row, you wretches!’ the huge man raged. ‘Put some effort into it for a change!’
The fastest of the navy vessels were leading the dash to the opposite cliffs, but it looked to Reuth as if they might just slip past first. He congratulated himself on being of Mare — the greatest seafarers and shipbuilders on the earth.
He turned to Gren with a smile on his lips. ‘We might just-’
‘Get down!’ the steersman cried, and yanked him by an arm.
A rain of arrows came slamming into the Lady’s Luck. Men yelled all up and down the benches. The sweeps clattered and slapped into chaos. Some caught the water to drag. The Lady lost headway as if sliding up a sand bar. Tulan was now bellowing among the oarsmen. A second volley of arrows swept the deck and Gren held Reuth in the cover of the ship’s side.