Royal Assassin

“The Rurisk!” Someone in the back ranks gave a cry. All heads turned to the water. There was the Rurisk, rounding the north tooth of Neatbay. In a moment a second sail appeared. Behind us, the mounted warriors raised a shout. But out beyond our ships, anchored in deep water, white as a dead man’s belly and her sails as bloated, floated the white ship. The moment I saw it, an icicle of terror sliced my guts.

“The white ship!” I choked. Fear sent a shudder through me that was almost like pain.

“What?” Burrich asked, startled. It was the first word he had spoken to me that day.

“The white ship!” I repeated, and pointed a hand.

“What? Where? That? That’s a fog bank. Our ships are coming into the harbor over there.”

I looked. He was right. A fog bank, melting in the morning sun even as I watched. My terror receded like the ghost of mocking laughter. But the day seemed suddenly chillier, and the sun that had briefly parted the storm clouds a weak and watery thing. An evil cast lingered on the day, like a bad smell.

“Split your forces and deploy them now,” Burrich said quietly. “We don’t want our ships to meet any resistance as they come into shore. Quickly, now. Fitz. You’re to go with the force that attacks the Red-Ships. Be there when the Rurisk beaches, and let those on board know what we’ve decided. As quickly as those Red-Ships are cleaned out, we shall want all fighters to join us in containing the Outislanders. I wish there was a way to get word to Duke Kelvar of what we’re doing. I suppose he’ll see, soon enough. Well, let’s get going.”

There was some milling about, some conferring between Kerf and Foxglove, but in a surprisingly short time I found myself riding behind Foxglove with a contingent of warriors. I had my sword, but what I really missed was the ax I had become so comfortable with over the summer.

Nothing was as tidy as was planned. We encountered Outislanders in the wreckage of the town, long before we reached the beach. They were moving back toward their ships and were hampered with a coffle of prisoners. We attacked the Raiders. Some stood and fought, and some abandoned their prisoners and ran before our horses. Our troops were soon scattered throughout the still-smoldering buildings and debris scattered streets of Neatbay. Some of our force stayed to cut the ropes on the prisoners and help them as best they could. Foxglove swore at the delay, for the Raiders that had fled would warn the ship guards. Swiftly she split our force, leaving a handful of soldiers to help the battered townsfolk. The smells of dead bodies and rain on charred timbers brought back my memories of Forge with a vividness that almost unmanned me. There were bodies everywhere, far more than we had expected to find. Somewhere I sensed a wolf prowling through the ruins, and took comfort from him.

Foxglove cursed us all with surprising skill, and then organized those she kept with her into a wedge. We swept down on the Red-Ships in time to see one being launched into the retreating tide. There was little we could do about that, but we were in time to prevent a second ship from getting off. We killed those ones with surprising alacrity. There were not many, only a skeleton rowing crew. We even managed to kill them before they could slay most of their captives who lay bound on the thwarts of the ships. We suspected that the ship that got off had been similarly laden. And hence, I surmised to myself, not initially planning to engage the Rurisk or any of the ships that now converged on the one that had eluded us.

But the Red-Ships had been outward bound with hostages. To where? To a ghost ship that only I had glimpsed? Even to think of the white ship brought a shudder over me and a pressure in my head like the beginning of pain. Perhaps they had intended to drown their hostages, or to Forge them, however that was done. I was not in a position to give it great thought then, but I saved the knowledge for Chade. Each of the three remaining beached ships had a contingent of warriors, and they fought as desperately as Burrich had predicted they would. One ship was set afire by an, overzealous archer, but the others were taken intact.

We had secured all the ships by the time the Rurisk was beached. There was time now to lift my head and to look out over Neatbay. No sign of the white ship. Perhaps it had been only a cloud bank. Behind the Rurisk came the Constance, and behind them a flotilla of fishing vessels and even a couple of merchant ships. Most of them had to anchor out in the shallow harbor, but the men aboard them were ferried swiftly ashore. The warship crews waited for their captains to hear word of what went on, but those from the fishing vessels and merchant ships swept past us and headed directly for the besieged Keep.