Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls (38 page)

BOOK: Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls
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‘He can put on speed anytime he wants and we are powerless to stop him. He aims to sail away with her and let us see her last, like that, his prize. His revenge. He is an animal. No, he’s less than that.’ Captain Lethyne Tyne sounded defeated but Rema saw the weakness in Abhor’s plan, for his arrogant pride had presented an opportunity, and hope surged within his heart.

‘All is not lost Captain, just get me within a hundred cubits, I will do the rest. Trust me, we can save her. Sail your ship captain like she was surfing, make her live as only you can do, and you will see.’ And with that Rema leapt nimbly down the steps to the mid deck and moved quickly to the forepeak and stood alone where the bowsprit met the deck, as far forward as he could go and still find a place to balance and shoot. He knew Serenna could see him, for he could see her plainly now.

‘I am coming for you Serenna’
,
he whispered, ‘just watch me...just keep your eyes on me.’

The harbour mouth was quite close now and the swells from the open ocean beyond began to lift the ships, gently at first, but with a noticeable increase as the moments passed. Rema knew that to use his weapon on a pitching deck outside the harbour would be near impossible; even now it was going to test his skills to the limit. He stood like a statue, his eyes fixed on Serenna, and she too stood bravely, and waited for what would be.

 

Commander Bjorkman reached the defence battlements of
Lavas
high above the town not long after the two vessels in the harbour below had all their sails set and were running in line hard toward the ocean.  He was a cunning man, and what he lacked in humour he made up for in brilliance and guile. He would have gladly offered three shots from his machine to Tyne without cost, for he hated Jehru Abhor with a passion matched by few others, but the offer of gold could not be refused, and so he had happily accepted. The bag of nuggets sat quite comfortably in his tunic pocket.

The soldiers on duty saluted smartly and he gave the necessary orders. He was proud of the machine, for it was his own design and he had supervised its construction and in twenty years had not left the mountain, for he guarded it jealously. Sadly it had not been used in anger, but today at last he would see his dream fulfilled.

Cut into the side of the mountain which was
Lavas
, was a huge levelled area of smooth stone which matched the shape of the harbour below. On the outer edge, where  the cliff fell down to the water, in its very centre, was an enormous catapult, constructed from the timber of the huge oak trees hewn from the slopes of the Plenty Mountains. The enormous power from the machine came from two huge cords of plaited rubber which had been brought to Revelyn from lands far to the south over vast oceans where the climate was so hot that the trees wept a sap which had magical properties, for rubber could be deformed and stretched and upon release would spring back to the position from whence it started with great power. The two thick rubber plaits were attached to a leather hammock made from the hides of seven cows, doubled over and stitched together endlessly so that it would bear the missile constructed to fit it. These were perfectly rounded and chipped from the cooled lava deep within the mountain, and each missile weighed exactly the same and would balance a workhorse on a set of scales, for they were massive indeed. The catapult itself was pivoted in a deep hole set in the rock on the cliff’s edge, so that the whole machine could be set to fire in any direction across the harbour.

But the genius behind the commander’s machine lay in the flat levelled stone area which mirrored the harbour below. For set into its polished surface were concentric circular channels centred on the pivot point of the catapult. These channels were used to  locate the huge pulley system which winched the enormous rubber plaits back to whatever extension was determined necessary. And superimposed on all of this was the key to the accuracy of the machine, for carved into the stone surface, over all its area, in letters and numbers was a grid system which enabled the leather hammock bearing its missile to be positioned in the exact length of stretch, and direction, so that its missile would land exactly where the controller wanted it to land; and this had been determined over many months of testing using target ships anchored all over the harbour. After all the testing and construction was complete the controller used a simple wire grid to look down into the harbour, and on locating his target, the machine was winched back to the correct position and the missile launched.

Commander Bjorkman no longer aimed and fired his machine, but he had trained a handpicked team who vied continually for the accolade of being the first amongst them all.

Controller Jervis was the youngest, but the best by quite some margin. He now sat just below the catapult in a seat which attached to the main catapult pivot and which would rotate with the machine so that the controller was always in line with the target. Controllers learnt early in their training to keep their head down, for the huge missile roared out into space less than a broomstick length above their heads, and if you were foolish enough to stand up at the wrong time; well no one had.

A team of soldiers had loaded the first missile and readied two others. Jervis, sitting in the controller’s seat hanging out above the drop off, and viewing the harbour below through his sighting grid, could see the
Ocean Rose
quite clearly. His problem was to judge speed and distance, for it was one thing to hit a stationary target, but a moving ship made it all so much more difficult. But he was good at it and he knew it, and the confidence steadied his nerves. He called out numbers and letters and in response the team on the flat stone surface behind him made adjustments to the direction and the length of stretch of the huge rubber plaits. Jervis had calculated the time it would take for the big ship to reach a particular grid reference and since it was sailing steadily the machine was set, for he knew the exact time the missile would take to travel to that point of the harbour. He had a small but highly accurate glass-sand timer. He turned it upside down at the right moment and the sand started to flow. All he had to do was give the word. He watched the ships moving like tiny snails far below him. This is for real he thought, and then it hit him that he was probably going to kill someone. He felt suddenly sick.

Jheru Abhor caught sight of Rema standing like a statue in the bow of the
Scoria
and laughed out loud, for he knew that no bow made, or arrow fashioned could travel so far and with such force to threaten him. He had won, and Captain Lethyne Tyne would rue the day he had spurned and cut him. The
Scoria
was gaining on his ship but that was the plan. Let them see the wench for it was the last they would ever see her. She would be well trained by her new husband and he another bag of gold richer.

‘You fool Tyne,’ he screamed into the salt laden air. ‘You fool! I told you I would have my revenge. Here it is you fool. And reaching up he whacked Serenna soundly on her backside. She flinched but did not make a sound, for she kept he eyes on Rema, knowing that his skill was beyond anything the two fool sailors holding her legs could imagine. He was her only chance.

Suddenly Abhor realised that the gap between the two ships was closing fast, too fast. He turned and gave an order, and the sheets were pulled in hard on several of the sails he had ordered slackened off, and immediately the ship started to pull away from the
Scoria.

‘Say your farewells wench for this is as close as it will get.’ He laughed cruelly, enjoying the moment immensely.

Rema was willing the
Scoria
on; he was almost close enough now. Up ahead he could see the fishing fleet working the harbour mouth.
Perhaps
that will slow the Ocean Rose
he thought,
anything, anything at all.
He felt the panic rising in his gut, but forced it back down. Suddenly the ship ahead started to pull away, and he almost screamed in frustration. It was perhaps a hundred and fifty cubits, maybe less, but now it was getting further. It was still too far. He saw Abhor laugh and reach up and strike Serenna again.

The perfectly round missile passed over the Scoria with a whoosh about two hundred cubits above the sea, it was travelling faster than a horse could gallop for gravity had it in its grip and the fall from high on the mountain side since Jervis had called ‘release’ had seen it accelerate to a fearsome speed. It passed clear through the upper topsail of the
Ocean Rose
and hit the lookout platform on the forward mast, decapitating the lookout and taking away the top of the mast and all its rigging which crashed in an almighty tangle of splinters and ropes to the deck below, where another unlucky sailor was impaled, dying instantly, with a splinter the thickness of an oar handle passing right through his chest. Immediately the
Ocean Rose
lost speed. Captain Jehru Abhor was so focused on his pursuers that he did not immediately realise what had happened, and still stood holding Serenna’s leg to the stern rail, parading his prize, enjoying his victory, and jeering loud and long at Rema and Tyne and the
Scoira
and all aboard her.

Captain Lethyne Tyne saw the sudden change and the rapid closing between the two ships. He watched as Rema changed into a hunter, for all of a sudden he stood with bow full drawn on legs which moved easily with the motion of the sea, stabilising and steadying himself for his shot.

When it happened it was almost too quick for Tyne to follow. Three arrows in quick succession. Certainly Jehru Abhor knew nothing about it, for the arrow passed through his chest and heart and exited neatly before going on to embed itself deeply in the rear mast trunk. In a blink of an eye a second arrow dispatched the unfortunate sailor who held Serenna’s other leg. This time the arrow must have hit a rib for it skidded along the bone cut a major artery and stayed buried deep within the body.  Both men were dead before they hit the deck. Serena was free from their clutches but remained where she was, holding the rope above her, keeping it taught, for she knew what Rema must do next. A sailor behind by the wheel gave a cry for he had suddenly realised that his captain was dead. He sprang to reach the ship’s captive, but was too late. Rema’s third arrow came scything in above her head and neatly severed the rope holding her aloft. Suddenly unsupported, she tumbled head first over the stern rail and somersaulted into the ocean, with both hands still firmly tied above her head.

On board the
Scoria,
 Rema saw her fall, they all did, and Tyne realised that they were also  about to sail through the fishing fleet as he closed on the slowing
Ocean Rose
.

On board the
Ocean Rose,
panic had set in, as competing voices demanded different actions. High up on the main mast lookout platform sat a miserable Wormwood, for it was he who had betrayed his ship after a terrible beating at the hands of Lethyne Tyne the day before. In anger he had offered his services to Jehru Abhor and assisted in the kidnapping of Serenna, for she had not suspected him, and he had followed her through the township with a band of Abhor’s men well back and waiting his signal. He wanted Tyne and Rema Bowman to pay. He too wanted revenge. Abhor had set him high above the ship as lookout, a job for which he had already proved well suited.

Wormwood was the only one who saw the second missile coming, for he was watching the
Scoria
bear down on them, and looking up for a moment saw high above on the battlements of
Lavas
, the might rubber plaits fly forward as if reaching into the sky, and from their centre a tiny black dot emerged. It flew fast like a falcon falling on its prey. He was fascinated by its journey until suddenly he realised what it was, and what had caused such destruction to the foremast just moments before. His mouth went dry, for it seemed that this thing which tore through the sky towards the crippled ship was aimed at him.  In paralysed fascination he watched it pass over the
Scoira
by the barest margin and cut the main mast off the
Ocean Rose
at the height of a man above the deck.
That’s the mast I’m on,
he thought in terror. The mast went over the side with a terrible crash and tangle of ropes and booms and sails, one of which had wrapped itself around the terrified Wormwood like a shroud, and it took him remorselessly down into the cold waters where he breathed his last, and where no one ever knew what became of him.

Rema cried out once to Scion, ‘Stop the ship!’ but Tyne had already given the orders, knowing that it would take some time to bring her about, and not wanting to run into the mess ahead which was once the Ocean Rose, for a third missile had taken off her stern and she was listing dangerously to starboard, her one remaining mast projecting sadly from the ruin of her deck.

 Rema leaped nimbly to the starboard rail, his eyes never leaving the red hair of Serenna as she surfaced and fought against the deadly pull of her clothing and the rope which held her wrists fast. He saw her flail, trying to take a breath, as she swallowed water, and coughed it out. In one movement he was on the rail, holding the rigging; with one hand he threw off his quiver onto the deck, his bow as well, and then he dived headlong into the ocean to save her. His precious bow bounced once and by the worst of fates sprang after its owner, it clipped the rail, jumped high in the air and arced out, falling without a splash in the water where it sank in an instant. Rema did not know nor would he have cared in that moment for his lungs were struggling to suck in air and it felt as though his heart would stop for the water was so very cold. He struck out for Serenna, catching sight of her now and then, her red hair the best beacon that nature could have ever provided. She sank finally just before he reached her. For a moment he calmed himself, forcing his lung to accept the air he knew he needed, and then using all his power and skills, dived deep after the shadowy figure below him.

BOOK: Revelyn: 1st Chronicles - When the last arrow falls
11.34Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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