As had become a daily occurrence since the fleet had set sail from Northpoint, I found myself high above the Kraken taking in the world through the eyes of Rian. The sun was slowly setting to the west, bathing the Broken Arm and the sea of the coast in slowly growing shadows. Those didn’t reach my fleet, nor were they the focus of my attention.
That honour belonged to the holdings of Lucian Koros as Rian circle high above The Shrouded Isle, and in particular a hidden sixth location under Koros’ control. Unlike what I had expected, this was not another port by an inland settlement. Located near a small range of mountains in the centre of the land Koros claimed and at a point where two rivers flowed into the sea of the Stepstones, the settlement appeared three to four times the size of Northpoint with better defences and a larger population.
Through several flights over the last day or so, I’d discovered that while there were potentially over five hundred bodies in the settlement, not all were pirates. Perhaps half, based on the work they were doing and the way others treated them, were slaves. Those bodies worked fields, gathered water from the rivers, and other menial jobs to keep the settlement tiding over, and seemed broken down by the actions of Koros and his men.
I wasn’t sure if Koros was in the settlement, but given it had roads leading to three of his five ports – the two major ports also at the end of the rivers that flowed past this inland settlement – it would make sense he would rule from there. With the well-established paths, he could move men reasonably quickly from one side of the island to the other to reinforce a port under attack or increase the men that would sail from said port to attack other pirate lords or raid passing vessels. That ability was further enhanced by the placement of several watchtowers along the paths, ensuring that even if the settlement weren’t able to see each of the connected ports clearly, it would be aware of what was going on via those towers. With all that in mind, I’d spoken with Daemon – via quick messages sent by Rian – about slight alterations to the plan we were going to use against Koros.
The initial plan had been to split our forces equally, with him striking a small supply port nestled in the crook of the island. A port that I now knew was connected to the settlement, and by a short, thinner path to another supply port. At the same time, I was to take the other half of the fleet and attack one of Koros’ three main ports.
This port rested at the very southern tip of the island, allowing the ships based there easy access to any vessel sailing around the Broken Arm. From what I’d seen through Rian’s eyes, that was Koros’ second-largest port; the largest being the most easterly one and thus closest to territory under the control of the Bloodhawk. That included three war galleys under Koros’ control, though those hadn’t yet sailed far from the port, serving more as defensive forces to deter an attack from the Bloodhawk.
The port I was going to attack, once taken, would grant me control over almost all of the Dornish coast, and once my rule was secure, I could see about insisting on toils for vessels travelling through those waters. I wouldn’t demand anything excessive, but just enough so that they could pass through freely and without the threat of harassment.
In theory, the Dornish Lords along the Broken Arm, such as Ser Symon Santagar who ruled from Spottswood, might object to me all but assuming control of their coasts. However, ignoring that I was close to House Martell, none of those houses had made any move to counter Koros or the Grim Prince when the pair had run rampant along the Broken Arm, nor even after Doran’s fleet had driven most of the pirates back and offered escorts to trade vessels sailing through the Stepstones along the Dornish coast.
Doran’s fleet had made Koros more cautious, not least when he’d lost four vessels in an engagement with the Dornish fleet. However, he still kept six galleys in the port I was to take, using them to target long vessels or small fleets of traders that passed by the island.
With six galleys, possibly around four hundred men, and few options for falling back when faced with a threat, I expected the battle to take the port would be difficult, but I was looking forward to it. I longed for the thrill of battle again and hoped the pirates didn’t just roll over and surrender, nor flee northward, toward Koros’ port on the western coast of The Shrouded Isle.
With the reveal of the settlement, I expected them to fight as I was only taking a quarter of the entire fleet with me, the rest sailing with Daemon. Most should stay back, hiding their strength until after the supply port was taken. That would mean Koros received a false report of the strength of men that had taken his port, and thus responded with a force able to take the initial assault wave, but not the entirety of the men under Daemon’s command. Daemon was going to hav…
My thoughts on the coming battles were pushed aside as Rian alerted me to something that had caught his attention. Looking eastward, to the sea that lay between The Shrouded Isle, Bloodstone, and Grey Gallows, I saw five vessels engaged in a skirmish. This was the sixth time since we’d first reached The Whores that Rian had seen combat vessels moving in the sea of the Stepstones. What made this one different enough that I had Rian angle toward it, was that the ships weren’t just skirting around each other, but about to engage in boarding actions.
As Rian glided closer, the winds high above the pirates and ships below, I picked out that two of the vessels, those being chased, bore sigils for Alequo Ryndoon. The trio chasing belonged to the Bloodhawk. One of Ryndoon’s vessels was falling behind the other, slowly being reeled in by the Bloodhawk’s forces.
As the distance between the vessels slowly grew smaller, and Rian glided gracefully toward them, I saw that none of the vessels were deploying scorpions. There was at least one on each vessel, but none of the pirates seemed willing to use a bolt against other pirates. That, perhaps, might be useful as while I had fewer bolts per ship than when I’d set sail for Redwater, extras had been collected from Northpoint – along with more bows, axes, hammers, and blades – so each of my ships held enough for fifty bolts for each scorpion. If I were forced into a serious naval engagement, it would add another option to my arsenal that the pirates would be unwilling to respond with in kind.
Time passed slowly until Ryndoon’s vessel was within range of arrows from the led Bloodhawk vessel. Ryndoon’s men had to remain at their oars, trying to power themselves forward in the hope of escaping their pursuers. Ryndoon’s other vessel continued to pull away, leaving their compatriots to their fate and I watched them go, curious how the battle for the other galley would go.
The Bloodhawk’s other vessels slowly closed as well, arrows from those galleys joining those from the first and raining death upon Ryndoon’s galley. Men close to the railings were pushed overboard, shifting the deadweight in the hope it would help them escape their pursuers, yet the distance between the slowly being whittled-down galley and her pursuers continued to shrink.
As the bow of the lead galley came upon the stern of Ryndoon’s vessel, grappling hooks were tossed over. The men on Ryndoon’s vessel abandoned their oars, grasping whatever weapons they had to prepare to repel boarders. They were going to lose – they knew this, as did the Bloodhawk’s men and myself – yet it seemed they were prepared to fight first. That hinted at some animosity between the two pirate lords these men fought for, which if the case was something I might be able to use to my advantage once I turned my attention to the Bloodhawk.
While the battle raged for the moment between the pirates, my attention was distracted by movement in the sea about a mile from the galleys. Under the surface three dark shapes were slithering toward the battle and while it was hard to be certain as to what species they were, the way their bodies slipped through the water had me certain they were a trio of sharks. The first of many that might be drawn by blood in the water from the battle.
I guided Rian toward the sharks, curious about the creatures. Much like each of my companions, sharks were apex predators; kings of the area they lived in. Yes, there were supposedly far larger creatures in the various seas of the planet – things such as krakens and leviathans – but such creatures were unlikely to travel the relatively shallow waters of the sea in the Stepstones.
I was close to maxing out Skinchanging; or more accurately, reaching level 100 which I assumed was going to be the limit of where I could take the ability. At least without doing something that I felt unlikely to ever discover. As such, based on the fact that the slots for bonded companions had come at levels 25, 50, and 75, I wondered if perhaps I might take a shark as the final companion. Or failing that, learn how they moved through the water if there was ever a need to scout from beneath the waves.
Judging the gender of the sharks was impossible, while gauging their sizes was just as hard without a point of reference, however, it was clear the trio were a family unit of some form. Two were far larger than the third, which moved along a few body lengths behind the adults. Feeling this was an opportunity, I focused my thoughts on the smallest and youngest of the group and slipped from Rian’s mind intent on taking over the mind of the shark.
That plan ran into trouble within an instant as, for a brief moment, I lost sight of the shark I was trying to mentally dominate and the link I was attempting to forge weakened. When I strengthened the link, the mind I crashed against was foreign to me in ways I had little understanding of and far, far more violent.
It reeled back, knowing it was under assault and thrashed – mentally and physically – as it fought against my attempts to assimilate its thoughts into mine. As it did I realised that, while not as complicated as a human mind, the shark’s thoughts were far more ordered and backed by a greater will than I’d destroyed in the two pirates I’d mentally broken.
I pushed forward, bringing all my experience as a skinchanger to bear against the shark’s mind, seeking even the smallest of cracks in its defences to burst through. One such crack was found, and I slammed into it, destroying the animalistic protections of the shark’s mind enough that I was able, for a moment that was both shorter than the time it took to blink, and longer than the passing of a day, experience the world through the senses of the silent seaborne predator.
Sights in shades of blue, green, and yellow filled my vision even as my mind almost shattered at eyes moving independently of each other. An unknown taste on the tip of my tongue drove me wild trying to figure out what it was, and my brain turned inwards, rejecting the insanity of what it was experiencing. Other odd sensations that I couldn’t even find words to describe assaulted my mind, enhancing the primal, ferocious anger that fought to drive me from this foreign domain.
The processes crashing against my thoughts were young, yet it was backed by something ancient. Older than the First Men, and perhaps even dating back to the formation of this world. I pushed back, scratching for every figurative inch I could, yet I knew this was a battle I would lose; the sensations my mind had experienced for the longest second in my life already fading away. There was no reason to continue to fight this battle, yet I continued to do so. Perhaps, just perhaps, I might learn something from this that would help me in the future.
As the ground I’d claimed with my initial unexpected assault of this primal mind rapidly failing, and concerned of the damage being forcibly expelled from the thoughts of a beast might do to me, I pulled back. Not to Rian, fearful that the blowback of this lost contest might hurt him, but all the way to my body, leagues away in my cabin in the Kraken.
Even though I’d lain down before first shifting in Rian, when my eyes opened back in my body, I struggled to orientate myself. The world spun in colours my mind struggled to process properly. Left felt right, right felt left, up was down and down was up. My body lurched, reacting to my thoughts being garbled and I felt as if every nerve in my body was running hot and cold, reporting pain and pleasure all at the same time.
Fighting with myself, as I felt my stomach turn, I pushed myself onto my side, barely getting there before my throat constricted and lurid green bile was expelled from my mouth. Whatever I’d ejected from my body splashed to the ground, drawing a whine from somewhere else in the room, but I dared not look for the source of the new sound. Every inch of my body burnt and ran cold as my mind was overwhelmed with a myriad of sensations and emotions all of which fought for dominance.
I closed my eyes, removing one confused sense in the hope it would allow my thoughts to coalesce into something that didn’t have me feeling as if every fibre of my being were aflame. The slightest shift in my body sent new, ever-rising waves of pain rushing through my body; overwhelming my feeble attempts to gain control over my body. I didn’t know how long I stayed there, my eyes closed, my mouth tainted by vomit, and my body wracked in pain while I fought to realign my mind, however, eventually I felt things slowly, torturously slowly, begin to recover.
Once my head didn’t feel as if someone was continually cracking it open with a mace, I opened my eyes taking in my surroundings. I was still being assaulted by the stench of the bile that now soaked the rug near my bed, but that was at last manageable. Nearby I saw Ymir watching me, his head tilted to one side in concern. Further back, in his cage in which he’d spent almost the entire time since leaving Redwater, Kaa had lifted his head. His tongue flicked out tasting the air and I could sense his confusion about my condition.
“I’m alright,” I said to the pair slowly, my voice hoarse and brittle. “I did something stupid. Now I’m paying for it.” Ymir whined gently, drawing a chuckle from me. However, that quickly turned into a cough wracked with agony. “I know, I know,” I muttered as he whined again and took a tentative step toward me.
I stayed where I was, lying on my side on my bed, for perhaps another minute. While I was able to process my senses, I still had to recover from my failed attempt to dominate the mind of a shark. The experience had been, even for the body-terrorising pain that came afterwards, illuminating.
Seeing the world through the eyes of a seaborne creature was something entirely foreign and yet now that I had seen a brief glimpse of it, I wished to learn more. However, I knew that trying to take over a shark wouldn’t be something I attempted again soon. Not only was its mind far more aggressive and alien than I’d expected, but I felt that brief moment where I’d lost sight of the beast as I’d slipped from Rian’s mind had caused my attempt to fail even before I’d begun my assault.
Next time, and there would be a next time, that I attempted to take over a seaborne creature, it would be within sight of my body and something far less powerful than a shark. Trying to overwhelm the mind of such a beast had been an act of hubris, of arrogance that because I had an eagle, snake, and direwolf bonded to me and had shattered the minds of dozens of gulls, all creatures were little more than playthings for me to use as I wished.
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This lesson, while a painful one – and potentially one that could’ve been far worse – was one I would take on board. I was not all-powerful, and even after the Red Comet came, which I hoped would remove the restrictions on magic in this world, nor would I be.
Slowly, with that revelation discovered and my body no longer assaulted by pain, I lifted myself up. My muscles hurt, fighting against my actions, but I knew that the longer I stayed lying down, the harder it would be to recover fully. I was cautious of where I placed my feet on the rug and breathed a sigh of relief at seeing none of the vomit had landed on, or worse in my boots.
As my feet slid into the boots, Ymir came closer, making sure to approach from my other side to avoid the stained and stinking rub. “Come on,” I said, giving him a gentle scratch behind an ear after I finished lacing my boots. “I need some fresh air,” Ymir whined; his snout pointed at the ruined rug. “Yeah, I’ll get someone to toss that overboard.”
It was a waste to get rid of the rug, but there was nowhere to easily clean it at sea – seawater would simply stain the rug with the stench of salt while the supplies of freshwater onboard were limited – and it wasn’t anything expensive.
Moving toward the door, I stopped and shifted towards Kaa’s cage. The viper hadn’t been outside much since we’d left Northpoint – the crew unnerved by the size of the snake and fearful that it might bite one of them – but it would do him some good to leave the cage. Plus, with him wrapped around my neck and arms, few if any would question why I might seem pale and unsteady on my feet.
Once we made landfall, Kaa would get more room to slither around, while Ymir would enjoy fresh hunting grounds. However, neither of them nor Rian, would be granted the time to wander to their heart’s content. At the first landfall on The Shrouded Isle, time would be a factor in everything I did. Not just with regards to Lucian Koros, but to the other pirate lords in the Stepstones, and other, far more powerful figures further afield.
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I stood at the bow of the Kraken, watching almost disinterestedly in the three galleys that lay ahead of us. The trio had set sail from the port under Koros’ control that I intended to assault personally about a day before my ships would’ve been in sight of the port. Thanks to Rian I’d seen them slip their moorings and depart, seeking to run down a pair of cogs that had travelled from the north, bound for Sunspear.
On closer inspection, I’d seen flags bearing the mark of House Tarth on their foresails, marking who was supporting their voyage. That they were risking a voyage along the coast of Dorne wasn’t unexpected, but their drawing the attention of Koros’ pirates had granted me an opportunity.
Striking directly at the port with half its manpower gone would ensure an easy victory, however, it would leave the three galleys at sea, and thus able to fallback and reinforce another location. Since none of the pirates had been able to sight my fleet before the raiding party had set sail to hunt the Stormlander cogs, I’d decided to attempt and take the ships at sea before assaulting the port.
Knowing the galleys would, once they sighted my fleet, seek to withdraw to their port, I’d let them sail far to the west of my fleet before circling round to strike at them from behind. We’d sailed through the night, tacking with the wind to close on the pirates while they moved stealthily to sneak up on the cogs they were preying upon.
When the sun had risen this morning, the pirates had spotted the Kraken on their stern, and while only two of the escort galleys with me we resailing alongside – the others slightly further back to keep them hidden for as long as possible – it had been enough to set them to break from their attack. They understood they had gone from predator to prey during the night, and with their path home cut off by my forces, sailed hard to escape us, banking toward a section of the Dornish coast that they likely hoped to slip into and hide from me.
Even without Rian at my command to scout from the skies, they weren’t getting away from me, but I was enjoying the thrill of watching them work desperately to escape me. Rian wasn’t watching over this pursuit, instead, he was further north, keeping watch on the port these pirates had sailed from and on Daemon’s fleet as it approached his target.
Daemon was sailing as I’d hoped, his war galleys leading the assault with a galley to either side of the trio of larger warships. The rest of the galleys, along with the Pride of Saltbrook which carried most of our supplies, were further back, hiding in the wake of the larger vessels. He had enough men in sight to guarantee victory if the pirates in the port he was moving to assault, perhaps two hundred at most, decided to stand and fight, but had his true strength far enough away that if those pirates ran, they’d not know of the true size of the force that had taken the port. At least not without leaving scouts in the nearby woods, but Daemon would work to ensure those men were taken out, so Koros remained as unaware as possible of the size of the invading army.
I’d have Rian or a gull scouting overhead once I’d taken the port I was to target, offering as up-to-date intel as I could to Daemon, but how he, Cadye, and Rakakz set up their ambush and then sprung it would be up to the Dornish knight. My focus would be on the ports I intended to assault. Or it would be once the pirates only a handful of lengths head of the Kraken fell to their knees.
The pirates in those galleys were rowing hard, but with damage to their sails – brought forth by me using gulls carrying oil-soaked sections of rope that were alight before the birds left the Kraken – meaning they couldn’t fully draw upon the wind for speed, this was a losing battle for them.
The hand holding my bow tightened as I sensed that we were almost within range of the trailing galley. Wanting to test the distance and judge the wind, I nocked an arrow. I aimed to port, since that was where the wind was blowing from, and loosed the tracking shot.
It soared high, sailing far wide of the pirates, yet as it reached the apex of its arc, its flightpath started to shift. As it fell, it drifted toward the galley, though as it splashed into the sea, it landed several yards to starboard and about twice that behind the galley’s stern.
“Almost, my lord,” Trystane commented. He was standing to my right, my Myrish Eye in his hand so that he could watch the pirates, and now judge how far off my shot had been. “Another few yards to port and perhaps another five or ten yards before you will be in range.” He paused and laughed gently. “It seems someone saw the arrow splash down. There are some panicked movements at their helm.”
“I wonder why,” I offered back with a wide smirk. That drew laughter from Trystane and Edric, who was a yard behind his fellow squire. “Edric,” I said, addressing him as I nocked another arrow, “tell the drummer to increase his speed.”
Edric turned and headed away, carrying my orders without feeling a need to verbally confirm he received them. That was fine as in battle, his needing to confirm them verbally might distract one or both of us and cost us dearly. The drummer was only just down the steps to the main deck, pounding out the beat that kept the men at the oars in time. Those beats would carry to the other vessels, letting their drummers know to increase the speed of their beats as well.
Not all the men were at the oars. Some had to man other stations, such as Miltar at the helm, or handling the sails as we tacked with the wind. Others were nearby me on the foredeck, readying the four scorpions there in case there was a need to convince the pirates to heave-to and surrender.
I hoped they needed such a reminder, and that, even faced with the odds against them, some at least stood and fought. I could feel the battle approaching, my blood pumping heatedly through my veins in anticipation. However, even if any of these men did decide to fight, it would be nothing but a brief skirmish, though that would serve as an appetiser for the battles to come upon The Shrouded Isle.
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“Fuck you, you dumb Westerosi cunt!”
I looked down at the man who’d just shouted that insult at me. The man, like the rest of this galley’s crew, was on his knees, weapons removed, and arms tied behind their backs. Well, this man only had one arm tied up, and that was against his chest. The other arm was nothing more than a stump, from which blood was pouring onto the deck of the galley. What had formerly been attached there was currently Ymir’s latest chew toy.
“Fuck your whore of a mother as well!” I didn’t respond to the men, instead that came from Edric who took offence at the insult toward his aunt. Now, I was raging at the remark, but I wasn’t going to lower myself to this fucker’s level and respond as he wanted.
The man glared at Edric as if daring my squire to clock him again. “What?” He snapped at me, resuming his rage-filled glare. “Have to get boys to fight and beasts to fight for you?”
I sighed and shook my head, annoyed that armless and beaten this man still refused to accept the reality of the situation. A glance to my right showed me Jaeronos moving on the deck of another of the galleys. He’d be doing what I had been planning to do and explaining the situation these pirates found themselves in and the expectation that they signed my charter or were put to death. However, the one-armed man before me had not stopped shouting since he’d lost his arm, preventing me from explaining the choices that lay before him and his crewmates.
“I take it this means you won’t serve me?” I asked calmly, keeping my rage at his comments about my mother out of my voice. The rage was there, but I wasn’t going to give this scum the pleasure of seeing me riled up by his pathetic, but entirely unacceptable, insults.
“After your fucking beast did this!” He swung his arm out, sending blood spilling everywhere around him. The man to his right flinched, getting a squirt of blood in the face even as the one-armed man continued. “Not even if you let me fuck your bitch-whore of a mother for an entire moon!”
Ymir stepped forward, a growl slipping from his jaw even as he continued to chew on the man’s arm. “Easy there,” I said to the direwolf, placing a hand on his head, “this… man had chosen his fate. All that matters now is to determine the manner of it.”
I wanted to pull Red Rain from its sheath and behead this fucker for his comments. However, I knew that was what he wanted. A quick, clean death. No, this fucker was getting something far worse, and just what that was slowly formed into a downright evil concept in my mind.
“What? Not got the balls to defend your family? What sort of weak-arsed cunt are you?!”
“The sort of cunt,” I snarled slightly at the use of the word, “who has already wiped clean the infestation of pirates on Dustspear, Redwater, and most of The Whores, and who’ll now do the same to the Shrouded Isle. Starting with your lover, Lucian Koros.”
“HAH!” The man spat back, blood dripping from his mouth as he did so. “You’ll never take Lucian out. He’s too smart for you.” While there was still venom in his tone, it was clear the man was slowly succumbing to blood loss. Letting him die slowly to his wounds was appealing, but the idea I had in my head was far more interesting and would serve as a warning to the other men about what happened to those who dared anger me.
“Hold him,” I said to my men, and three stepped forward, grasping the men as I moved toward him. I raised one hand, the one around whose wrist a small necklace hung. I caught sight of a few of my men looking at that, either in fear or temptation, but paid them no more thought.
My focus was on the man before me, and as I turned the palm of my now outstretched hand upward, I summoned a ball of fire into it.
“Demon!” The man called out, his eyes like that of many others, widening as the flames rose from nothing above my hand. “False i… Arrgh!” whatever he was about to say was cut off by my commanding the flames to leap toward him.
He tried to move back, succeeding a little as some of the men holding him froze in fear at seeing the flames moving in their direction. Yet, for all his movements, and the failure of my men which I would address after this was handled, he wasn’t able to escape. He tensed in terror as the flames moved toward his ripped shoulder, and I saw a dark stain appear on his trousers, which drew a smirk of amusement from me.
“Stay still or this will hurt worse,” I said as I twisted my hand, shifting the direction of the flames. This man’s life was already forfeit, but at least now he could serve some purpose in ensuring the rest of the pirates before me understood the danger of angering me. They would also, once they had signed the charter, know what fate awaited them if they betrayed me.
It would be better if their support came from loyalty of the heart than love of coin or fear, but I was on a timetable, and with my ranks enlarged, and continuing to swell, with former pirates, I’d take what I could.
“AGH!” The pirate screamed as I commanded the flames to assault his wounded arm. He fought to escape, to get as far from the pain I was inflicting upon him as he could. However, my men ensured he couldn’t, and I kept focusing the flames on the wound.
His screams carried to the other vessels, of that I was sure, but as my flames worked their magic, his struggles and shouts lessened. His head drooped toward the deck after a while, and as the smell of burnt flesh spread to everyone on the deck, I dismissed the flames under my command.
The wound had been cauterised, though the flesh was still smoking. Many were looking on against, some even close to losing the contents of their stomachs. “The first man to be sick will join this one!” I called out, not wanting the newest ship in my fleet soaked in bile and vomit.
With that order given and taken in, I moved toward the man. Once close enough, I knelt and heard the faint, pitiful sobs coming from him. His mind had retreated inward, unable to process the sensations of feeling, hearing, and smelling his flesh being cooked but flames that floated without a source to work from. Perhaps what I’d done, and would soon do, was inhumane, but a man who made his living prying on the suffering of others deserved this and a hundred things far worse as punishment. I would do the same to every pirate I encountered, yet I knew I couldn’t as I needed the manpower.
“Perhaps, in whatever time you have left, you will learn to hold your tongue when confronted by those above you,” I said to him as I stood, making sure my voice carried to the others beside him who would soon sign my charter.
Looking at them, I saw few able to meet my gaze and those that did had lost almost all their fight against their situations. Hells, many of the more recent members of my men seemed pale and uncomfortable with my actions. That might be an issue going forward, but I doubted it as few would have the nerve to challenge me having seen what I’d just done. Still, to be sure the message was heard and understood, I had one more action for the man before to experience. “Bring him.”
I moved toward the stern of the galley, men under my command and pirates on their knees shifting to quickly get out of my way. That fear would only grow in a few minutes once it became clear what the one-armed man’s fate was to be.
Keelhauling was a brutal punishment only reserved for the worst of the worst, which that man was. He deserved a slower and more painful death, but this would have to do as I couldn’t drag this out too long, otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to strike the port I intended to take before Daemon had secured his position.
Still, it was going to be slightly enjoyable to watch the one-armed man panic and struggle to escape his fate once he understood what it was.
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“The port is yours, mi’lord.”
The words came from the man kneeling at my feet. I’d barely reached the sands of the Koros’ port before the men there, knowing they faced death if they fought or fled, had dropped to their knees, and let go of their weapons. This man had been at the front of the lines, suggesting he was the port’s commander, and with three of his galleys at sea – or so he thought – and his men vastly outnumbered, it seemed he had chosen life over death. While logical, that irritated me as I’d looked forward to battle as the one taking the galleys that had set sail from this port two days before had been unsatisfying.
Some men, perhaps two or three dozen based on the numbers kneeling on the sand and pebbles around the dock and my estimates of the port’s manpower, had turned and ran. Those men had headed into the forests near the port and already Jaeronos was readying parties to move after them. However, before they did that I wanted these men secured.
I stepped forward, keeping Red Rain unsheathed in the event of a trick. “Name,” I stated bluntly from under my helm.
The man raised his head, his eyes travelling up the Valyrian steel of my blade and then over my armour until his gaze found my eyes. “Lartel, mi’lord.” There was a faint accent to the man’s Common; Stormlander if I was correct. The lack of proper words for my title, or perceived title at any rate, made it clear he was lowborn, or perhaps pretending to be lowborn on the chance I might dismiss him as competent.
Lartel was the name given to me by those who’d bent the knee at sea for the commander of this port, so at least that checked out. Yet, while I had no hang-ups over the idea of a lowborn commanding a port, something about this entire situation felt off. A feeling shared by Ymir if the way his ears were pulled back and his teeth bared, ready for trouble.
“Is it now?” I asked, lifting my blade so that it touched his chin. “Are you certain of this?” the blade pressed gently against his flesh, the sharpness of the ancient weapon drawing blood with ease.
The man gulped as his eyes shot back to the thin trail of blood that slid down the edge of Red Rain. He opened his mouth slowly, careful to not push his jaw into the blade any further, only to stop when Ymir moved forward growling.
“My friend here,” I placed the arm holding my shield over Ymir’s back, which was hard to do because of the way the shield was secured against my forearm and Ymir’s vast size, as I spoke, “dislikes liars and conmen.”
“I…” the man gulped, increasing the flow of blood down the edge of my blade. “I… I am not, mi’lord.” He lifted his right arm and pointed to my left. “Lart…”
“Fool!”
The shout came from one of the men in a group the man had pointed at. This new man pushed his way to his feet, slamming into the gut of one of my men. The move caught my man unprepared, and before he could recover, this pirate – who I assumed was Lartel – had pulled a dagger from the man’s belt and driven it into the man’s gut. “Kill them all!” He called out as he pulled the weapon free of the flesh it had been embedded in.
At his shout, dozens of other pirates stood, rushing the closest of my men while from behind various buildings, those who’d seemingly run into the forest as my fleet had reached the docks emerged, seeking to take advantage of the chaos. Turning to the true Lartel, I couldn’t help but smile even as my blade slid through the man who’d attempted to deceive me.
A gurgled shout came from the pirate as he fell dead to the ground, but I paid it no heed, focusing on Lartel as he charged toward me, dagger in one hand, cutlass in another. I moved to engage him, my blood pumping in delight.
A giant black shadow rushed past me, surging through the air. As Ymir crashed into two of the pirates at Lartel’s side, the port commander faltered; fear flashed in his eyes at seeing an enraged direwolf and teeth longer than my hand sink into another man’s flesh like a hot knife through butter. Before he could recover, I was upon him, Red Rain slicing through one arm while my shield slammed into his chest.
The dagger-holding hand fell to the ground as he stumbled back, and before he could counter, a grunt came from him. For the first time in over a moon, Red Rain was tasting blood in combat once more. The pirate’s trap had failed, and Lartel and those with him who’d attempted to spring it were meeting death all over the beach, as were many of the others as my men took no chances with those still kneeling.
This incident would be over in a few moments, but at least I now had a prelude for the battles to come on the Shrouded Isle, and blood had been shed at the first port to fall under my banner.
… …