‘It’s possible no one got away to raise the alarm.’ Kheda looked towards a slew of larger islands rising in low palm-fringed green hummocks. Pale reefs in the channels between them made a turquoise and lapis mosaic of the waters. ‘Maybe the savages killed everyone there.’
‘Hadn’t we better warn that lot dallying on the beach?’ asked Dev.
‘I don’t want to start a panic,’ said Kheda slowly. ‘Let’s see how bad it is before we do anything rash.’ I’d rather kill every last savage and take those islanders the news that the danger they didn’t even know about is gone without threatening their fragile peace.
‘Shouldn’t be long now,’ Dev murmured.
‘Get me some water, will you, please?’ Kheda licked lips dry with thirst and apprehension. He watched Dev make his way back along the ship through the warriors on the side decks.
Earl day’s wanner than the one before. We’ve this last cycle of the Greater Moon to fight through before the rains break and the heat will rise like a stoked furnace between now and then. We must finish this butchery before we have to abandon this campaign because the men in armour are boiling in their own sweat.
As Kheda watched, Shipmaster Shaiam got out of his seat and, after a brief discussion with the helmsman Yere, said something to the young warrior Ridu who was sitting on the top of the ladder leading down to the rowing deck. The word was passed along and the swordsmen on both side decks drew themselves up, alert. Archers had their bows at the ready and every eye was turned outwards. Across the water Kheda heard the purposeful rattle of the troops aboard the Gossamer Shark and the Brittle Crab making ready. He walked back to the stern, meeting the grim determination on the faces of the Chazen warriors with nods of equal resolve.
‘Keep a lookout for those log boats of theirs, Shaiam.’
‘We’ll crush them under the ram and the scum can drown, my lord.’ The shipmaster ran long, dark fingers through the plaits of his beard, crow’s feet around his eyes deepening as he watched the fleeter, narrower Brittle Crab pull ahead of the other two ships. ‘That’s if they run, my lord. I think they’re more likely to be hiding in the cane brakes again.’
‘Then we’ll hem them in and hunt them out again.’ Kheda turned to follow the line of Shaiam’s gaze. ‘Hunting such wily prey in this thick cover has cost us good men already on this campaign, my lord,’ the shipmaster said tentatively. ‘Setting a few fires might send the savages running for the open.’
‘And fire would purify the land their foul feet have trodden.’ Kheda nodded. ‘Unfortunately that cursed dragon seems to relish fire. I’m disinclined to draw its attention this way.’ He managed a wry smile. Not till I’ve learned how we’re to kill it.’
‘Do you truly believe your slave, that there are barbarians who know how to kill these creatures?’ asked Shaiam quietly. He glanced down to the oar deck where Dev was carefully filling a brass ewer from a water cask. ‘Can we trust a barbarian’s word? Magic runs through their lives like rot through wood.’
‘Dev’s been an Archipelagan longer than he was a barbarian.’ Kheda shrugged with well-feigned unconcern. ‘And we’ve seen Aldabreshin wisdom find ways to foil magic in the northern reaches. That saved us last year.’
‘True, my lord,’ Shaiam allowed. Distaste still creased his face.
‘Let’s deal with one problem at a time,’ suggested Kheda. ‘Let’s see what’s become of this village.’
‘My lord.’ Dev climbed up the steep stair to the stern platform, carrying the ewer and a broad-based brass goblet.
‘Thank you.’ Kheda drank gratefully before refilling the goblet and offering it to Shaiam.
‘My lord.’ The shipmaster bowed before quenching his own thirst.
The brassy scream of a horn from the Brittle Crab silenced the chatter from the oarsmen and all activity on the side decks halted. Everyone watched the fast trireme round a headland choked with tangled dark-green vines and edged with jagged grey rocks.
Shaiam shouted orders down to the rowing master, the trireme’s piper translating his commands into shrill whistles. The shipmaster stood by the helmsman’s chair, one hand gripping Yere’s shoulder. The youth’s cheerful face was deadly serious as he glanced from side to side, judging the courses of the other two ships, hands gripping the twin steering oars.
The oarsmen on their triple-tiered seats below leaned over their sweeps and the oars crashed into the water. On the side decks, the swordsmen lined the rails, dulled armour still catching the sun here and there. The archers stood alert on the prow platform, ready to loose a rain of arrows in an instant. The Gossamer Shark was running level with the Mist Dove, white spume foaming up around the mighty ship’s brass-sheathed ram. The two ships swung around, giving a wide berth to the broken waters where the eager current gnawed at a long finger of land.
As Yere pulled on his steering oars and the rowing master shouted his orders to each rank of rowers, the Mist Dove wheeled around. Kheda, Dev and Shaiam turned as one man to get a clear view of the long beach protected by the curve of the headland. It was empty—both of defiant, painted savages and of any sign that there had ever been a settlement there.
‘Shaiam?’ As Kheda voiced his surprise, a querulous horn sounded from the Brittle Crab, seeking instructions.
‘This is where we were told the village had been seen.’ The shipmaster was splitting his attention between watching Yere’s steering and riffling through the pages of his route records.
‘A new village,’ Kheda reminded him. ‘A fresh start for some of those who escaped last year. Perhaps we’ve been misdirected.’
‘Perhaps.’ Shaiam looked at the vacant shore, baffled. ‘We certainly haven’t gone astray,’ he insisted. A second horn sounded from the Gossamer Shark as the heavy trireme took up position guarding the Mist Dove’s seaward flank.
Kheda saw that the warriors on the side decks were similarly bemused, more and more faces turning to the stern expectantly, their hands still resting on their sword hilts. The murmur of speculation among the rowers below grew louder.
‘Shaiam, this can’t be the right beach.’ He tried not to sound too severe.
‘I can’t see how we made a mistake.’ Yere twisted to pull his own book out of a deep pocket in his over-mantle. ‘It was the Lilla Bat that saw it. I know their helmsman—’
‘They said it was just like before,’ Shaiam insisted. ‘A village burning, a stockade for prisoners, wild men clubbing women and children to death!’
Kheda looked at Dev and jerked his head towards the stern post. The two of them retreated as far from Shaiam and Yere as possible.
‘Is there magic at work here?’ Kheda demanded in a low tone, under cover of a vehement argument erupting around the helmsman’s chair as the rowing master and Ridu arrived to demand an explanation. ‘Hiding the wild men?’ Dev looked past the curve of the stern. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Don’t think, be certain!’ snapped Kheda.
Dev scowled before narrowing his eyes. He rubbed his palms lightly together, lips moving soundlessly. ‘It’s—’
He got no further. The trireme shuddered from end to end and the stern reared up out of the water. Soaked by a wave of spray, and with the deck tilting abruptly beneath them, Kheda and Dev both lost their footing. They slid down the planking, Kheda bracing himself behind the shipmaster’s chair. Dev barely managed to grab hold, fingers slipping on the smooth wood. Kheda grabbed at the neck of the barbarian’s hauberk, hauling him up to share the inadequate perch.
Yere clung to his useless steering oars, feet slipping on the deck. Shaiam was hanging on to the helmsman’s seat with one hand, the other maintaining a precarious grip on Yere’s tunic. Ridu and the rowing master were nowhere to be seen. Down in the body of the ship, the rowers were clinging to their oars as the swordsmen fell in amongst them. Other warriors had fallen over the rails to land among the oar blades with yells of shock and pain.