Well it has been like a year since I started this story and I am finally going back and editing everything. I thought that I'd post it on here and see if I couldn't get any feedback on it. So read it and post if you see any grammical mistakes because sometimes I go through and miss a few things. Also reply if you like it, it really means a lot to hear commits on a story. Chapter 3 I will update in like 1-2 days. I'm still editing that one and there seems to be a ton worng with it.
CYRUS RESURRECTION
1
THE BEGINNING OF THE WAR
The kingdom of Guardia lay enveloped in an ibis of darkness shrouded out by the rest of the world only being revealed to sleepy workers returning home to their families after a full days work. Small lights flickered from buildings on and off as people knew the day was over and it was time for bed, but one building seemed to light most of the streets. It was a large building, built during the years of the Weapon War against Truce and Porre and it had long served its purpose during those years so long ago. After that the building was abandoned and was given the name “The Northern Ruins.” People never really went there anymore; it was more of just an old building with no purposes. Small children would usually go and play there but after returning home they would be scolded by their parents. It was a dangerous place. It was very, very old and full of memories. It was said that Knights that had fallen there were long torn apart of grief and sorrow and now haunt it. Of course who could believe that nonsense? There are no such things as ghost. No, there are creatures much worst then ghost brewing about in the Kingdom of Guardia and would soon make their presence known.
This was just but a little of Guardia, there were other towns and villages but this one was very peculiar because of its length away from everything like the Castle which spanned far west as did the villages of Truce and Porre. The lands were separated by clear sea water that made the four impossible to reach unless you were ready for a very long trip from boat. It was a vast continent known as Choras with a small town of peaceful people governed by a town mayor. He really didn’t have many obligations or priorities he just had to make sure the town moved along nicely.
It was obvious that peace was among Guardia and its small takes of villages and towns but tonight was very strange. Almost like the world was hiding itself from Guardia. Something was coming. Something big.
* * *
As a boy lay in his soft hay bed; his sleep was disturbed by a gentle, but firm grip on his shoulder. As the boy peered through tired eyes, he saw the face of his father, hovering over him.
“Son, get up quickly,” his father said in fear, indifferent to the fact that it was three hours past midnight. “Hurry! We must leave at once.”
“What’s going on?” The boy asked, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
“Don’t ask questions! We must leave at once. Now hurry and gather your belongings.” The boy’s father sounded panicked. The boy couldn’t remember ever seeing his father this distressed. He rose quickly from his bed eyeing everything around him, but could see nothing. The blackness of the night crept over their small village house like a giant, thick blanket. Then suddenly everything lit up. There were fires outside his window coming closer and closer by the second. “No time, son! We must leave now. Come on!” The father snatched him up quickly and cradled him in his arms as they ran out of the boy’s small bedroom, down the stairs, and out the village house.
The boy peered over his father’s shoulder to see that the fires were not the raging flames from a forest fire. Neither was it from a bonfire that frequented the village center during a festival. The fires were coming from torches that were being carried by… When his eyes found the torchbearers, his heart jumped into his throat.
He saw hordes of strange creatures pouring out of landing boats. The landing boats were launched from several large sailing ships anchored in the harbor to the east. The torches formed streams of lights that reminded the boy of ants bringing food back to their colony. He recognized the outer garments of those torchbearers at the head of the advance. Nobody else wore clothing like this. They were known as Mystics in the kingdom of Guardia. The boy furrowed his brow because, although he was young, he knew that Guardia were at peace with the Mystics.
Not any more.
He never had time to think of why the Mystics would be attacking humans. They swarmed over the village wreaking havoc and bringing chaos to all who weren’t quick enough to escape. The boy watched through tear-blurred eyes and the jolts from his father’s long, quick strides impacting the hard, cold earth. The Mystics showed no mercy as they went through the village killing anyone they found, and setting fire to the houses. Some, the Mystics barred shut, sealing the residents inside before they were set ablaze.
The screams of the villagers deafened the boy’s ears. He buried his face into his father’s chest trying to avoid the heat of all the fires.
From the west came scores of Guardia Knights pouring out landing boats. Men armed with swords, spears, and javelins, passed by galloping cavalry, quickly headed to the now burning villages. Outnumbered, the Knights fought valiantly trying to repel the invaders and extinguish the fires. Knights were falling rapidly to the vicious onslaught of the apparently unstoppable Mystics.
A snake-like form glistened ahead of them as the river materialized from out of the darkness. Over the shore were large amounts of loading ships getting ready to carry all the villagers to the castle, and beyond, safety. For the first time, the father felt a bit of relief, but that relief passed as quick as it had come. The boats faded into a blur and then, darkness. The boy felt his father’s legs give out from underneath him, and they both tumbled hard to the ground. Stars appeared in the boy’s eyes as he tried to get up. Ignoring the pain that shot up his limbs and chest, he limped towards where his father fell a few feet behind him. The boy thought that his father would have gotten up before him and that they would be running already.
He now saw why.
His father had two arrows lodged in his back just below his neck. Blood dripped from the holes and ran out onto the earth. Overwhelmed by the sight of his dying father, the boy clutched his father’s head, trying to keep back the tears that flooded his vision. The noise of the nearby battle deafened his father’s gaps as he choked on his own blood.
He managed to get one last word out: “Run!” His gaze went distant and his head fell into his son’s arms. Choking back tears, the boy clutched his father’s limp body for a moment. A scream from behind jolted him out of his sorrow. The boy lifted his head to see a Mystic charging towards him with an axe raised above its head.
Driven anew by fear, the boy ran as fast as he could to a boat that lay just a few yards ahead him. Pained from the fall and his father’s death, the boy’s legs gave out just short of the boat, and he collapsed to the ground, crying uncontrollably. The Mystic bearing down on him meant nothing to him anymore. The boy would have died there. A nearby Knight saw the sobbing boy with his face in the dirt. He also saw the Mystic who was almost upon the boy, poised to put the boy out of his misery. With a quick movement that showed years of training and experience inherent to the Guardia Knights, he flung his small shield like a boomerang at the Mystic. Just as the Mystic was ready to deliver the fatal strike, the shield caught the Mystic square in the chest and sent it wheeling. This gave the Knight time to close the distance between him and the Mystic. Before the Mystic could recover, the Knight lashed out with his long sword. The swipe was clean and cleaved right into the Mystic’s throat. Green blood gushed out from the gash staining the boy’s trembling face. In all the chaos of the past few moments, neither the boy nor the Knight had a chance to look their attacker in the face.
It was a Hench.
The Knight then realized how fortunate they both were. Henches were the strongest caste of the Mystics. They had large, muscular bodies covered by fine, grey hairs. Their skin was thick like tree bark, and they wielded heavy, deadly weapons. While slow, they are nearly unbeatable in close combat. If the Knight hadn’t caught the Hench off guard, both humans would be dead by now.
There wasn’t anytime to relish their fortune, for three more Mystics, who saw the battle, were charging at the Knight. These were not Henches. They were Imps.
Unlike their larger cousins, Imps have short, stocky figures with large heads capped off by long, pointy ears. Their lightly-built bodies had almost no hair, but their skin had multiple pigments such as lime green and burgundy.
They were armed with small daggers about the length of a grown man’s forearm. They wore light armor consisting of padded leather. Their lightness and agility allowed for them to dart quickly about, reeking havoc on any enemy who was not as quick. But, the Knight didn’t have to be, for these Imps were too enraged to realize that the Knight had a sword twice as long as theirs.
That was all the advantage he needed.
The first of the Imps charged forward screaming and waving his dagger wildly. The Knights calmly took one step to the side and met the Imp with the sharp tip of his sword before the Imp ever had a chance to strike. As quickly as it was in, the sword was out and swinging toward the second Imp, who had been just an arm’s length from his now dead comrade. The extensive length of his long sword easily reached out to carve the Imp cleanly from shoulder to groin. The Knight used the backswing from the carving slice to throw his elbow into the pointy chin of the last Imp. Stunned slightly, the Imp took a couple of steps back, now wary of the Knight’s sword length and his prowess in wielding it.
The Imp never had a chance to consider an alternate attack or to retreat, for a metal object now protruded from the Imp’s torso. A spear from a galloping rider had lodged itself into the exposed backside of the Imp. The Imp gasped once, and then fell. The Knight flipped a quick salute of acknowledgement to the riding Knight as he galloped on into the thick of the invaders.
Turning back to the boy, the Knight sheathed his sword, and scooped up the trembling boy and walked briskly over to the boat. A contention of the Knights had gathered there to protect it should any Mystics try to make their way across to the castle. Reinforcements were coming from more landing boats frequently now.
The boy was still sobbing as the Knight carried him. His tears streamed down the Knights armor, glistening over the polished steel. They reached the bridge, and the Knight lowered him to the ground just in front of the boat, and for the first time, spoke.
“Get on this ship and go to the castle. You’ll be safe there.”
“No!” The boy shrieked. “I want somebody to come with me. I don’t want to be alone.”
The Knight laid an armored hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“In order to become strong you must let go of your fears. Do not cry about his death. You must let go and be fearless. Overcome what has just happened and be strong.” The Knight motioned over the boy’s shoulder. “Head to the castle, I will meet you there shortly.”
The boy’s crying now calmed to a quiet whimper. The Knight was calming in a way that the boy did not understand. The boy shook his head and started too walked on the boat still sobbing. As he walked up the landing gazing at the castle in the distance, the images of that night flashed through his mind like lightning streaking across the sky. Through it all, he never forgot the words of the Knight who saved his life.
* * *
“Boy? Boy! Hey, wake up boy!” The soft words of a little girl awakened him from his deep sleep.
“Ugh.” The boy groaned. “Where am I?” He asked still dazed from the night before.
“At Guardia castle,” the little girl explained rather matter-of-factly. “My Mommy found you lying outside the castle in the forest and brought you in.”
Images of the previous night’s events started materializing in the boy’s mind again. Darkness. The roar of battle in the valley below. Trees. The taste of blood and salt in his mouth. “You were a mess, my Mommy said.” The boy now realized that he was lying in a bed and that she was sitting on the bed beside his, looking at him with wide eyes. He didn’t recognize her, but there were too many things going through his mind for him to care about her, right now. “She said that she saw lots and lots of blood on you. But, it’s okay now because you’re safe in the Castle.”
The boy rubbed his aching eyes, as she continued. “Sometimes, when I’m really sad or scared, I walk over here, and I feel better. I feel really safe.” The little girl said as she got up and huddled over the little boy’s cot.
She was wearing a white dress, had dark brown hair in pigtails, and had a nice smile that made the boy smile too, but it faded quickly as he started to remember things from the night before. “What’s you name?” She asked in a bit of silly way that made the boy smile again.
“Cyrus.” The boy answered wiping the smile from his face.
“My name is Lizy, “the girl volunteered. “But, my parents and friends call me Liz.”
Cyrus smiled at her, but his eyes started to tear up, and he began to cry again.
“What’s wrong?” She asked realizing what Cyrus must be upset about, she tried to comfort him but stopped as he coninued on with a story. “My father, he, he…” He tried to get it out in as calm a voice as possible. “…he died in the raid last night.”
Cyrus wrapped his arms around his knees and buried his face in between his knees, sobbing out of control.
“You’re crying again? What good is boy who cries?” A faint yet familiar voice drew Cyrus’ head up to look and see who had just spoken.
Cyrus looked up and over and saw the face of the man that had saved him the night before: the Knight. He was lying in a cot next to his and was wrapped in many bandages with red stains soaked all throughout them.
Cyrus sat up slowly, his body aching all over. He winced at the pain, but grit his teeth, and stood up slowly. He made his way over to the man, but stopped as he figured out that the stains of red were blood.
“What happened?” Cyrus asked while creeping a little closer to him.
“Nothing happened. And, I sure as hell am not going to cry about it,” the Knight said, shrugging at the pain he was in. “War and battles always have casualties. Let’s just leave it at that.”My name is Tocka. I heard you talking to this girl, and I heard your name. Cyrus, isn’t it?” Cyrus ignored the question and jumped back to the other conversation they never finished.
“Are you going to be alright?” Cyrus asked as he instinctively grasped the Knight’s hand in his own.
“I’ll live. And, I’m proud to have it like that.”
Cyrus dreaded the thought of losing the only person who was still alive that cared for him, although he couldn’t be sure if that’s what the Knight really meant. Before Cyrus could relish the feeling of relief that washed over him, his thought was interrupted.
“What’s going on? Why did the Mystics attack us?” Liz asked the Knight while strolling up beside Cyrus.
“The Mystics are no longer at peace with us. They are now our enemies, and will be this way for a very long time, I think.” The Knight replied. Cyrus could hear the pain of the Knight’s wounds in his voice.
“But why would they betray us? We didn’t do anything, did we?” Liz asked in confusion.
“Do you remember the war against Truce and Porre?” Tocka asked.
“No. Why? What happened?” Liz asked in frustration, not knowing anything about her kingdom’s history.
“The Porre were making strong weapons that no one thought were necessary at the time because we were at peace with everybody,” the Knight related. “Truce didn’t like the idea of the Porre having all these weapons. They wanted Porre to stop making them, and to give them to Guardia Castle. Truce felt they would be safer there. The Porre responded by saying that they would not give up their weapons and would continue to make more. Truce, in turn, started to arm themselves with anything possible to force the Porre from making more of these disastrous weapons.”
Cyrus and Liz sat back down on Cyrus’ cot to listen to Tocka’s story. “Then, a Civil War broke out between Truce and Porre. Eventually, Guardia got involved, and their forces stopped many of the battles before they started, while helping Truce win strategic battles. Porre eventually lost the war and were taken over by Truce. They spent ten years trying to find out what compelled the Porre to start a military buildup of this magnitude. Nothing ever came of it, so they ended the investigation and gave Porre residents back their homes and land. Truce left and headed back north to their land. A few weeks ago, Guardia reopened that investigation and figured it out. An evil wizard, who lives east of here, made a deal with the Porre to make these weapons so that he could take control of Guardia and the other Kingdoms. The Porre’s reward was enormous amounts of money from the wizard. Unfortunately, the Mystics wanted a share of this deal also, which is why all the Mystics suddenly disappeared. Once we figured out that this wizard was responsible, we moved forces over to his castle.”
Tocka paused here, his face racked with regret. “We had no idea what was waiting for our soldiers. He destroyed them all in an ambush under the guise of friendship. Not one man returned from that slaughter.”
Cyrus scratched his head, thoroughly confused. He knew nothing about what Tocka spoke of. Little did Cyrus know how crucial a role in this new war he would have in the months and years ahead.
Side Events: Eventually Tocka healed after much time and began to take care of Cyrus. He housed him, feed him, and loved him. Sometimes Cyrus would even call him dad.
Cyrus and Liz’s friendship began to grow much more as time went by. They would play everyday and even took a swordship class. They wanted to become fighters, or even Knights. Cyrus wanted to become like his dad, (Ahem, Tocka) and Liz took is because Cyrus was taking it. Cyrus aged through his childhood ages and began to take toll on his rough teenage years.
The war also continued on. Many battles took place and still do. Tocka always leads Guardia Forces and always survives. This was a good thing.
2
THE NAVY BATTLE
PART 1
“C’mon Glenn! Cry for help! Cry, like you always do!”
“Aaah! Stop!”
“Ha, ha, what a wimp!”
Bullying was a constant thing that little Glenn had to always over come. Even the littlest of people were treated differently after the raid and nobody cared much for what other people said or wanted. Little Glenn struggled trying to get up from the ground as four boys just a little over Glenn’s age were on top of him punching him. His head swayed back and forth and his green hair wisped through the air with every blow. His clothes were torn from the fight and Glenn could hardly take much more. The Guardia forest grass was stained by blood and spit and Glenn finally gave in and started crying.
“Hey, you!” A sudden voice rang out from over the trees. The boy’s jumped to their feet to see who called out. Suddenly a figure stood before the four boys. His short brown hair and muscular body tone gave his identity right away.
“It’s Cyrus! Run for your lives!” One of the boys hollered out as he ran straight into the trees. The others followed right behind him and soon they were out of sight.
Cyrus walked over to the battered little boy and helped him up off the ground.
“T, thanks Cyrus.” The boy whimpered.
Cyrus looked at Glenn’s bloody lip and black eye then tore a piece of his already torn clothes to whip up the blood of his face.
“Glenn, there are times when people simply grit their teeth.
“But... it hurts when I get hit, they...” Glenn sniffled and stopped his self from speaking anymore. Cyrus shook his head still whipping around Glenn’s neck and scrapped shoulder then stopped, “You’re a marshmallow Glenn...” Glenn stood there looking up at Cyrus then turned away. “Get back home Glenn, you’ve been through a lot today and make sure that you stand up for yourself! Don’t just take beatings, even if you are outnumbered, fight back! Now head home.” Glenn’s crying had calmed and he shook his head acknowledging what Cyrus had just said. He made his way down the forest path and was gone from sight. Cyrus ran up the path a little way’s to find Liz waiting for him.
“Cyrus, hurry up! We’re going to be late again because of you.” Liz yelled, running after him, impatiently.
“I’m sorry.” Cyrus replied while catching his breath. “It’s just that Glenn was getting bullied again.”
“Well, Glenn should really learn to stick up for himself instead of you having to fight for him,” Liz said, “I bet they’ve already started.”
“You know we’re not supposed to spy on the Square Table.” Cyrus said, as he held his hand up to his face.
“So! How else are we going to find out about the battles around here, and if we won them?” Liz asked, still impatiently waiting. Cyrus shook his head and walked past her.
They quickly navigated their way through Guardia Forest, using a path that the two of them had chosen and memorized long ago. At the edge of the forest stood Guardia Gate – a high stone wall with parapets from which flew the banner of Guardia. The Gate was the only thing separating the city and castle from the wild outlands. The gate was quickly opened for them, and the two children made their way in without hesitating.
Beyond the gate, in the distance, stood the Castle of Guardia shining white against the clear, blue sky. Every time Cyrus saw the Castle it took his breath away. He never stopped awing at how beautiful Guardia Castle was. Enormous shields hung from the stone walls. The children’s path was lined with red velvet carpets that navigated their way throughout almost all of the walkways of the castle. In the large hallways hung pictures of heroes, starting with the recent, some of whom, Cyrus recognized. Further down the hallway, the portraits of heroes of long away hung along with that hero’s sword.
Further in yet, Cyrus and Liz walked past the pictures of the kings and queens of Guardia. The oldest and most faded paintings were at the end with the oldest of Guardia’s royalty. At the end of the hall, hung paintings depicting the reigning King and Queen. Every face in the paintings gaze’s seemed to follow you wherever you went. Cyrus never did get used to that. He couldn’t help thinking that all of Guardia’s monarchs were watching him. Even though they were long dead, they still were able to keep a watchful eye on all that passed through the castle.
Guardia Royal Guards, dressed in full and shining armor draped over with a scarlet cloak, stood guard throughout the castle. They never moved, but the children could tell that their every movement was being observed behind the dark slits in the Knights’ helmets. The children went by the same route as they always had done. They looked as if they knew where they were going and that they were supposed to be there, if not a little suspicious. No one challenged them as they walked past the Knights and turned left to go down a small hallway. At the end of the hallway, they made a right turn and went down a short flight of stairs that led to the Knights’ Chambers.
Both Cyrus and Liz tip-toed down the stairs and stopped at the end. They knelt near the floor and peeked around the corner. The large room that the two children snuck into had eight sides. On each wall hung a banner of scarlet with the emblem of a gold sword blade down embroidered on it. In the center of the room was a square, stone table. Around the table sat men, some in their armor but with their helmets removed, while others were dressed merely in their knight’s robes. At the near end of the table to the children, a man dressed in dark metal armor clad with gold overlaid by a cape of bright purple and with a large gold crown on his head stood and addressed the gathering.
“Welcome, my Knights of the Square Table. Have you any news?” The Guardia King’s voice seemed to boom in the children’s ears. The Knights at the table looked at each other as if they were all waiting for someone else to speak. Without letting the silence fester, the King continued. “As you all know, the battle at Cursed Woods was lost. Many Knights gave their lives fighting to defend the border against the invaders. Loses were severe, and the defeat may prove costly for us in this war.” Then the King looked to his right at the table and said to the man clad in bright, nearly white armor, “Lydion, what do you suggest for our next move?”
Lydion looked at the king and nodded. Lydion was the high general of the Guardia army. In matters of the military, he was second only to the king. Lydion rose and addressed the group.
“My intelligence agents have reported that Mystics have gathered a large force in Cursed Woods. They appear to be planning to move towards Porre. We are setting up a perimeter around the Cursed Woods so that we will know if the Mystics try to leave the cover of the Woods. We plan to take every available Knight and invade their camp with a surprise attack. We hope that the speed and strength of our attack, combined with surprise will be enough to break the Mystics. They should scatter out of the woods, where our patrols will pick and finish them off.”
A knight midway down the nearest side of the table to the children took off his helmet, and rubbed his hand through his hair.
“Heh, look! He’s got helmet hair.” Liz snickered. Cyrus rolled his eyes and continued listening on in the conversation.
“Who would lead this battle, General?” The King asked.
“I will your majesty.” Tocka said, standing straight up. “I believe that I will be able to…” Tocka was interrupted by the sound of a boy’s voice.
As soon as Tocka stood up, Cyrus stood up and walked straight towards the table. Liz tried to grab him and pull him back behind the cover of their listening spot. Cyrus easily shrugged her off and kept going until he stood behind Tocka.
“I have an idea.” Cyrus piped up, as if he belonged in this council, despite the fact that he had not only interrupted a Knight addressing the King, but Cyrus wasn’t even supposed to be there.
“We’re going to get in so much trouble.” Liz said to herself.
Tocka recognize the voice, which wasn’t quite deep enough to be that of a full grown man. He wheeled around quickly to face Cyrus.
“Cyrus, you’re not supposed to be here.” Tocka hissed. Tocka tried to push Cyrus back to the doorway without making a scene. Cyrus didn’t resist, but he didn’t have to. The voice of the King stopped them both right where they were.
“Wait,” said the king, “let the boy speak.” Tocka’s hand left Cyrus’ shoulder. Cyrus nervously turned back. “Let’s hear what you have to say.”
“Your majesty,” one of the other Knights rose, “this is a private meeting, and he is just a boy. We can’t possibly learn anything from…” The Knight stopped talking because the King raised his hand for silence.
“Peace, my friend.” The King said in a surprisingly calm tone. “This boy has wisdom that even I cannot explain. It would seem as if he were born with it. Besides,” the King said eyeing Cyrus with a hint of curiosity in his expression, “what harm could come from hearing the opinion of one boy?”
The other Knight and Tocka both took their seats, and the King gestured to Cyrus, as to have Cyrus continue. Cyrus made a quick, respectful bow to the king.
“Thank you your majesty.” Cyrus said, with a quick bow. “It is no secret that the Royal Navy is Guardia’s greatest military asset. Why not use this to our advantage? The navy can sail close enough to the Woods to fire ordinance into the Woods and hit the Mystics where they are encamped. The dangers of Cursed Woods are bad enough. Now imagine a swarm of Mystics who are there, waiting for a counterattack force. Simply trying to overrun them with a large army is to invite a disaster greater than the one you just suffered. You overestimated the ferocity of the Mystics. Don’t give them another opportunity.
You should send Knights to route out the Mystics, but a small, more mobile group would be more effective. Send a complement through the main gate. At the same time, send a similar sized group up through the back route and attack them from both sides. The fire and explosions from the navy’s cannon fire will confuse the Mystics and allow the Knights to catch them off guard.”
Cyrus finished, and waited for a response. He half expected to be dismissed as a little boy just playing with his toy horses.
“How do you know so much about Guardia and Mystic military matters?” A knight from across the table asked Cyrus, sternly.
Before he could come up with an answer, Tocka stood up.
“The boy knows more than you would think. I believe that this isn’t the first council that this boy has eavesdropped in on.”
“I agree.” The king said. He then turned to his left, to the man dressed in fine linen of foam green, with a light tunic of scarlet. He wore no body armor, nor did any man in the Guardia Navy, should they fall overboard.
And, Tychon, the Grand Admiral of the Navy, would be no exception. “Tychon, can this be done?”
“I can have your ships in position and ready in three days.” Tychon responded, glancing at Cyrus.
“Then it is settled,” the King announced, “We will begin the bombardment of the Mystics in the Cursed Woods in three days, followed by the Knight incursion into their camp. Make whatever preparations you need to in the meantime. We will meet again here again on the night of the second day to finalize our plan. That is all.”
The King rose, as did everyone in the room. He then exited the room through a side door towards the back, followed by his guards. After the door closed behind them, the council began to break up. Some Knights sat back down to converse, others exited through various doors.
Cyrus turned to leave, but was stopped when Tocka grabbed his shoulder and turned Cyrus around to face him.
“How do you know about the back route to Cursed Woods? Tocka asked; his voice definitely stern.
“I…I’ve been there before, many times. Liz and I used to go there looking for treasures since we were probably eleven years old. Why?” Cyrus asked in a bit of confusion.
“Because that route is only known to Guardia Knights. It is a secret route that the military uses to quickly move in and out of the Woods. It helps us to be able to defend the castle without having to face the perils of the Woods,” Tocka said, his voice serious. “Who else have you told this route to?” He asked in a staged, angry voice.
“No one, I swear, only Liz and I.” Cyrus said, starting to panic because of the anger in Tocka’s eyes.
“Who has she told?” Tocka asked.
“I don’t know. Nobody I think.” Cyrus said.
“Good, run along home now.” Tocka said after taking a deep breath and sitting down, “I’ll be home in a bit.”
Cyrus looked at him a little confused, then walked out of the room. Liz met him about half way up the stairs.
“You have balls!” she proclaimed right away, “I would have never spoken out like that in front of the whole Knights Council. You’re lucky we have a nice King.”
Cyrus laughed then put his arm around Liz.
“Let’s go down the back route of Cursed Woods,” Cyrus offered.
“What? Are you crazy?!” Liz stopped and pushed his arm off her shoulder. “Why would you want to go back there? Mystics are running all over the place now, you know that!” Liz kept going rather briskly, and then turned back around to look at Cyrus. “Do you know how much trouble we could have gotten in? No one is allowed in the council chamber, let alone when the king is present. You’re lucky the guards didn’t haul us down to the prison right then.”
“Not now!” Cyrus retorted, ignoring her question, “three days from now when the attack starts.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Liz all but yelled, and then she shoved Cyrus towards a wall.
The two friends walked out of the Castle and started down the cobblestone path that led through Guardia Forest.
“Listen to me, Liz.” Cyrus said. “You know how we have always wanted to be in a battle, right?” Liz shook her head and shrugged her shoulders a little bit, but started to listen more closely. “Well,” he continued, “we’re going to sneak onto one of the ships while it’s at anchor. Then once the battle starts we leave the ships, head into the Woods the back way, and have some fun with our Mystic friends.”
“You know, we’re going to need weapons.” Liz said, a smile creeping across her face.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of that,” Cyrus grinned, “So, does that mean you’ll go with me? “He stopped and looked her straight in the eye.
Liz turned to meet his gaze. She smiled.
“You know I could never say no to you. Of course I’ll come with you! I wouldn’t want to miss the action, anyway.” Liz said, actually liking one of Cyrus’s ideas for once.
* * *
The next two days went by just like any other for the two young friends. They wandered around Guardia, stopped by the Inn, played pranks on people, and even let their younger friend Glenn join in the fun with them. They knew that this might be their last day, but they had come to terms with that. This was something that they both wanted to do; something they felt they had to do, even though they knew that Tocka would never approve. It wasn’t because they were a couple of reckless teenagers, Cyrus and Liz really felt a duty to help their kingdom anyway they could, and were already tired of being left out and held back.
Cyrus felt this way ever since that night when his father died. Perhaps if he had been stronger, perhaps if his father had trained him more, he could have been able to do something to help; help save his father, instead of not being able to do anything, expect watch him die.
Night started to stretch its shadows across Guardia. Darkness crept everywhere, and the fires of Guardia Castle were the only source of light.
Glenn returned home already. Cyrus and Liz also started to head home, but they stopped next to the Truce Fountain to look at the stars. The sound of the flowing fountain water was the only noise the two could hear, despite the fact that they were on the eve of a huge battle being carried out.
“Hey Liz,” Cyrus broke the silence, “I’m sorry I got mad at you.” He spoke softer than usual, more contemplative. Liz chuckled then began to speak.
“It’s alright. I know you didn’t mean it.” Liz put her hand on Cyrus’ leg. Cyrus looked at her hand, and then he lifted his head to look her in the eyes.
“Are you sure you want to come with me tomorrow? You don’t have to,” he said with a genuine concern in his voice.
“Oh, come on.” Liz said lightly. “I want to come. Don’t get all soft on me now.”
“I don’t want anything to happen to you. I mean, you’re my best friend, and you’re so beautiful. I don’t want to see you die.” Cyrus said, looking away, barely above a whisper.
“Who says that I’m going to die?” Liz tried to keep her voice light, but it was getting harder, “As long as the most handsome boy in Guardia is with me, I think that I’ll be fine.”
Cyrus turned back and looked at her. He ran his hand up her arm up and back down. He moved his face close to hers. Liz moved her hand towards the back of Cyrus’s head and braced his neck. She moved his face closer to hers, and kissed him. It was a deep and passionate kiss.
For the next hour, they made out in the soft moonlight until they both fell asleep next to the fountain. It was a great night for both of them. For a short time, they were able to forget about what was to come. Their only thoughts were of each other and how they wanted this moment to never end.
* * *
Part 2
The next day was a quiet day, which was unusual for Guardia. Normally, the air would be filled with the songs of birds and the hustle and bustle of the castle and surrounding farming establishments. In between songs, you would be able to hear the sea pounding against the rocky cliffs in the distance. And on top of that, there was almost always at least a gentle breeze rustling through the trees.
Today there were no birds. The sea was as calm as a millpond. There were no people either. All the farmers had moved their livestock inside the castle, and their workers stayed home. And there wasn’t the slightest hint of a breeze.
All was quiet on the eve of battle.
Cyrus woke up to the sound of a navy trumpet call, the kind that was used to send signals in between ships. When Cyrus sat up, he could see galleons and frigates sailing past in the distance.
“Liz! Wake up! Quick!” Cyrus panicked frantically. Liz opened her eyes instantly and shot straight up. The early morning sun reflected off the water, so it took a moment before Liz realized what she was supposed so to be seeing.
“We’re too late!” Liz whined.
They rose from their night resting place quickly and ran down to the beach. Liz lagged behind Cyrus a little a first because she had to button her shirt back up. Cyrus didn’t notice as they ran down to the shore. They stopped just short of the shore break. They surveyed the area ahead of them where the water’s smooth edge met the sand. There was a lot of evidence showing recent activity just above the water’s edge. There were footprints leading in almost every direction, but all ended at the water’s edge. Some deep grooves in the sand where landing craft once were beached were also still clearly visible. Deeper, sharper prints which were from horses and cart animals like donkeys which were trailed by long straight lines which had to be wagon wheels all lead to the water and disappeared. This was one of the sites that Guardia used to load men and equipment onto small landing craft which would then row to the tall ships anchored in deeper water. From there, the supplies would be transferred and the warships would sail on for battle. All this was completed in the darkness of the night before, while the two children slept soundly by the fountain. There were no signs of activity now. The lake showed no evidence of being violated. Only the sand, unmoved by the still air, still hung on to its memories.
“They must have taken the last of their supplies on board here instead of at the docks.” Cyrus said, stating what the two already knew deep inside. “They were all right here and we could have boarded with them.” Cyrus angrily kicked at the sand in frustration. They had missed their best chance of making it onto a ship. With all the bustle of the loading of the ships, they would have easily snuck onto a boat headed for a warship. They could have disguised themselves as soldiers or as navy workers easy enough. Once on board the ship, they could stow aboard the ship and wait until the sea battle began. Once at that point, they would sure be able to see some action. Now, that idea seemed as hopeless as the shadows of the night surviving in the bright, newly rising sun.
“We shouldn’t have stayed up so late.” Liz replied.
Before Cyrus could say anything back, he saw to his right, over Liz’s shoulder, a man. He was dressed all in black, robes covered by a long cloak. His face was hidden behind a dark hood. He looked out over the water, unmoving. At first, Cyrus and Liz didn’t know what to make of him. He just stood there staring off in the same direction.
Liz and Cyrus ran over to where the man stood. He did not move or in anyway acknowledge the two as they came up to him.
Liz looked at Cyrus, and Cyrus looked back at her with a look that said, ‘I don’t know.’ Cyrus took a step closer to the man and was about to say something when the darkly-dressed man finally spoke.
“Tis a horrible day for Guardia.” The voice rasped from beneath the cowl. Cyrus recognized him by his voice as Glenn’s father.
Cyrus did not ever properly meet the man known as father to his friend Glenn. Cyrus only ever saw him when he would walk Glenn back to his house or when he saw Glenn and his father perusing through the marketplace. Glenn’s father never spoke to Cyrus directly, but through the brief conversations he had overheard between him and his father, the way his voice sounded was easily remembered. His aged voice sounded as if the words did not want to come out and were clawing and clambering at the throat and mouth on the way, trying to stay inside. His use of the old Guardia grammar was also unmistakable. This way of speech had all but died off long ago, but some ancient families had still hung on to it, despite the royal family abandoning the old language, and decreeing that all Guardians do the same. Some old habits die hard, Cyrus thought. And he was right. Even though Glenn was the first of his family to split with tradition and talk just like Cyrus and Liz, Cyrus knew that Glenn’s father would speak this way until the day he died.
“What are you doing here, Cailen?” Cyrus wondered.
“I watche’th the Navy hither through here one last time, for they shall not make’th it back.” Cailen said, his words sounding even sadder and with more struggle.
“Why?” Liz asked, her tone matching the thought of Cyrus. Despite what little Cyrus knew about this once great man, he knew as well as anyone the powerhouse of strategy, warfare, and diplomacy that he once was. Although long retired now, Cyrus knew the man to still sweep with the confidence and poise that he heard he once had as a young man.
“Mine eyes have seen it,” Cailen replied. Cyrus was about to ask what it was that the old man had seen, but he stopped short when Cailen continued. “The secret Navy of the Mystics; hidden away where no one wouldst find it.” This made Cyrus’ blood run cold. What secret Navy? The Mystics had no navy, at least nothing compared to Guardia’s. Mystics only used ships for transport and limited engagements. Mystics fought their battles on the solid ground on which they were accustomed to. Now he understood why Cailen would be distressed, but he was even more confused as to how Cailen’s claim could be anywhere close to accurate. “They hath been hiding it, keeping it shrouded whilst they constructed it at a new shipyard. Where?” Cailen seemed to answer Cyrus’ questions before he had a chance to ask them. “I failed to find that information, thus, the King didst believe me.”
If what Cailen said was true, it would be devastating for Guardia. After the defeat in the Cursed Woods, it seemed that the war hung in the balance and could be tipped in either side’s favor with just one battle. Guardia was counting on their naval superiority to win this battle, and from there the war. The plan was to not only overwhelm them with superior force, but to also catch the Mystic force off guard with a surprise maneuver using the Navy in a direct attack. If Guardia’s greatest military asset was to be anticipated, or worse even, defeated by the Mystics, it could mean the end of the war – as Guardia could be soon forced to surrender. The thought made Cyrus’ blood run cold. The idea of Mystics winning the war was unthinkable. And all this had been his idea. The King decided to use the Navy in a full-on attack at Cyrus’ suggestion. But Cyrus didn’t really think about his reputation or pride or anything about himself. He only worried about the well-being of his country’s soldiers. And on one of those ships sailing by them silently, was Tocka.
“If the King won’t believe you, then we should try to warn them.”
“How are we going to do that?” Liz asked, saying something for the first time in a while.
Cyrus’ face wrinkled up in frustration and partly blinded by the ever-brightening reflection of the sun on the smooth water. As he stared out over the water trying to think, Liz’s yell and point brought his attention around to the shore. Hidden by the glare of the sunlight reflected on the water was a small rowboat – the kind used to ferry over a handful of people or a small load of supplies to a larger ship. This small of boat would sometimes be stored on the deck of a warship for use as a landing craft or a lifeboat, if the situation required it. The ship was gently beached upon the sand with its two oars still in their holders resting in the water.
Without any hesitation, Cyrus started running over to the boat. Liz followed quickly behind.
“We should try to warn them. If we can find Tocka, I’m sure he’ll listen to me.” Cyrus said as they got to the boat.
“Are you sure he’ll believe you though?” Liz said as she tip-toed into the water.
“I don’t know, but we have to try.” Cyrus said as he started to push the boat further out into the water. Before he could finish his first push, a strong hand on his shoulder made him jump. He turned around to see Cailen standing right behind him. His tall form had followed them without either of the children realizing it. Cyrus looked up to his face which was now visible for the first time; his dark cowl removed. His face, covered in wrinkles and scars, showed of determination and resolve. His aged-white hair shone brightly in the morning sun. Cyrus met Cailen’s sharp green eyes. Cyrus thought that Cailen was here to stop them. Cyrus knew that one did not just simply row up to a warship in battle readiness, especially not two children. Those ships were sailing for battle. Cailen was going to stop them from making a foolish, child-like mistake. So Cyrus was pretty stunned when instead of pulling Cyrus back from the boat, he quite quickly and effortlessly picked Cyrus up and firmly set him down in the boat.
“Lift the oars out of the water.” Cailen said as he gave the boat a strong push. Cyrus pulled the oars out of the sand and above the water. Then Cailen gave the boat one more hefty push and then he heaved his large frame over the bow of the boat and in. They glided out away from the shore. Cailen moved past Cyrus and sat in the middle to row. Cyrus was still surprised that Cailen was helping them out. Then Cailen reached into his black robes and produced two short swords. He handed one to Cyrus and then turned and handed one to Liz. “If thou art going to do this, then thou shall need’th these,” he said.
He hopped in the small row boat with the two teenagers and handed them both a sword. They were small broad swords with a gold handle and were pretty sharp. They started rowing towards the Navy ships in quite a speed. Cailen’s muscular arms did the job and it didn’t even look like he was breaking a sweat.
The three headed out into the endless water as Cailen rowed the small watercraft. The shore rapidly grew distant as Cailen rowed them towards the nearest passing ship. Since there was no wind, the warships were also traveling by oar. Cailen was rowing their small boat faster than anybody Cyrus had ever seen. At this rate, they should be able to intercept the next ship, or at least get their attention. And it didn’t even look like Cailen was even trying. There was no sweat on his forehead. Nor was there any sign on his face that he was exerting himself at all.
Cailen rowed them at an angle so that they would reach the line that the next ship was sailing in. They were almost at that point when a bell rang from the ship that they were coming across. “Ship dead ahead!” was heard from the deck. A couple of whistles and shouts later, and the oars that were extending from small holes near the waterline of the ship drew out of the water and then started rowing in the opposite direction to slow the ship down.
The ship glided to a quick stop.
“Oars to station keeping,” another order rang out. This time the oars dipped into the water slightly and moved into circular patterns. With no wind still, the motion of the oars kept the large ship almost in the exact same spot, save for the drift caused by the current.
A line was thrown from the ship which Cyrus caught. Cailen made small adjustments with the oars to bring them right along side the tall prow of the warship. Once along side, Cailen put the oars away and took the line and tied it to the front of the boat.
“Ladder down!” a voice from above hollered. Then a portable wooden ladder swung out over the deck and then lowered down to Cailen. The ladder had hangers on the top which secured it to the ship’s deck. The end of the ladder hung just above the waterline between their boat and the ship. Cailen steadied the ladder as Cyrus started to climb it. Liz followed right behind him. Once the two children were up and on the deck, Cailen climbed up the ladder.
When Cailen came up over the edge of the ship, he saw that Cyrus and Liz were being held off to one side by sailors. Their mouths were covered by strips of cloth.
“What is going on?” Cailen asked incredulously. The only response to his question was two pairs of strong arms suddenly grasping him and hauling him to his feet. Cailen, with a strong quick move, threw off both of the strong, heavy sailors with what looked like ease. This brought a swift hit to the back of Cailen’s head with a plank. Cailen staggered slightly but shook it off. He turned to face his assailant and quick as lightning had his hands around the sailor’s neck.
“Hold him down!” one voice cried out. By this time, the other two had recovered and were on Cailen again, wrestling him to the deck. Cailen was still holding his own, but more were coming to help restrain him.
“Everyone at ease, that’s an order!” a sharp, commanding voice came Cyrus’ left. At this point everyone froze, and the commotion stopped. The sailors restraining Cailen released their grip on him and stood at attention. Cailen struggled to his feet and saw to whom the voice belonged. Cyrus realized who it was at the same time, recognizing the voice from somewhere else.
The Grand Admiral of the Navy stepped up from the gangway which led below deck to the Captain’s quarters below deck. Tychon moved into the middle of the deck to survey the situation. His eyes immediately fell on Cyrus. “You?!” he said, moving towards Cyrus quickly. “What are you doing here?”
Cyrus tried to answer, but he still had the cloth strip in his mouth. All that came out was a muffled groan. “Remove that gag, now!” Tychon commanded impatiently. One of the sailors standing behind Cyrus loosed the knot behind Cyrus’ head, and the cloth fell free. “That’s better.” the Admiral said, “Now, what you doing here, boy?” This time, his tone was slightly lighter; less hostile.
“Sir…” Cyrus hesitated at first as he swallowed the saliva that had built up in his mouth due to his inability to swallow with the tight gag. “Sir, we’ve come to warn you.”
“Warn me?!” the Admiral asked, more than slightly taken aback, “Warn me about what?”
“There’s…there’s an ambush. The Mystics are waiting in ambush with a fleet of their own. They must be hiding…”
“Hold.” Tychon said, stopping him with his hand, “A Mystic ambush!? Where did you get this information?” His tone said that he obviously didn’t believe him. “And why is it that you, of all people, are the one to deliver this news?”
“I came here because…” Cyrus started to explain but was cut off.
“This boy is here because of me, Grand Admiral.” Cailen interjected, his voice rasping heavily. Tychon stood up straight and turned to regard the tall, dark man who had just spoken.
“Well then, perhaps you would care to explain why you are trying to board my ship whilst we are sailing for battle? “ There was a hint of anger in his tone now.
“I would very much like to explain, Sir, but we must speak to you privately.” Cailen said reaching to rub the sore area behind his head where he had been hit.
“I should just throw you in the brig right now. I don’t have time for this. Or better yet, maybe I should have you thrown overboard, cut your boat loose, and continue with our orders. I can’t afford anything diverting my men’s attention especially when we are heading into enemy territory.”
“You’re right, Grand Admiral, we don’t have time. That is why you must listen to me now. But, it must be in private. I have a message that must be heard by your ears only, Sir.” Cailen’s voice had gone smooth and very serious.
Tychon studied the eyes of the old man briefly. He made a quick motion to one of his officers.
“Bring him below,” Tychon ordered, “and bring the children as well.” He disappeared down the steps below. Liz and Cyrus were released and were led behind Cailen down the steps. They were escorted by two sailors, one behind and one ahead. At the bottom of the stairs, the leading sailor turned left sharply and walked around the stairs to a door that lead towards the stern of the ship directly beneath the poop deck. The sailor stopped at the door and turned to face the newcomers.
“Leave your weapons with me, no tricks now.” the sailor demanded, holding out his hand.
Cyrus was going to protest, but Cailen had already started to loosen the belt that held his broadsword. He shrugged it off and handed it to the sailor, followed by two daggers and other implements that were sheathed in his belt. Cyrus and Liz both gave up their short swords.
Apparently satisfied, the sailor stepped to the side holding their weapons, and motioned with his head towards the door. “The Admiral is waiting.”
Cailen grasped the brass knob and turned it. The door opened easily. Cailen had to duck slightly to make it in the door without hitting his head. The children followed right behind him.
The admiral’s quarters were quite different from the rest of the ship. Whereas the rest of the ship was quite bare of furnishings and only set with those things that were of essential function, Tychon’s quarters were ornate with all the trappings of an experienced sea commander. The floor was covered by a large thick rug, embroidered with patterns of gold and green. Red curtains pulled back bordered windows of small, opaque glass that made up a good portion of the back and sides of the room allowing light to pour into the room. The light danced on every surface reflected by the water below. There was a large table in the center of the room on which set a navigation chart complete with miniature models of ships used to represent fleet position and strength. There was a modest bed off to one side. The room was filled with many used but unlit candles. Other lanterns hung from the ceiling which Cailen had to avoid hitting with his head as they entered the room and stopped in front of the table. Tychon was standing on the other side of the large, square table, looking out the windows to the ocean. As soon as the door closed behind Liz, Tychon whirled around to face the trio. He leaned forward and rested his hands on the table.
“Right now, let’s have it.” Tychon said quickly, “This had better be good. I have very little patience remaining.”
Cyrus stepped forward, but a hand from Cailen stopped him.
“With all respect, milord, this is definitely not good.” Cailen explained, “As I said before, you are heading into a trap. The Mystics know of your plans to attack with an armada. What’s worse, is that they are planning on ambushing your ships with a fleet of their own.”
“Impossible!” Tychon retorted, as he wheeled about and went back to the windows. “The Mystics have never had a navy of any appreciable size. They are creatures of the land, solely, and even if they were to take to the seas, our experience suggests that they lack the skills and resources necessary to build a tall ship of war.”
“I realize that, Admiral, but things have changed.” Cailen tried to explain. “They have only recently started to build a navy. Mine eyes hath seen their shipyard aleady. ”
“You have seen this?” the Grand Admiral asked.
“Verily, milord,” Cailen replied without hesitation.
“How could the Mystics possibly construct a fleet?”
“This I know not, there is something out of place. I believe that there is somebody helping them, giving them knowledge of ship-building.”
This news brought Tychon around the table to face Cailen.
“Who would be interested in teaching Mystics how to build ships?” he asked.
“This I know not, neither, milord. But it could be anybody, for the Mystics know of your plans to attack them with the Navy on the west side of the Cursed Woods.”
“That cannot be! These orders came directly from the King and only three days ago. The only persons who had knowledge of this attack were those at the council of…” Tychon trailed off as he realized what Cailen was getting at, and what Cyrus had already figured out.
“The only people who knew about this plan were the Knights of the Square Table.” Cyrus finished his thought. Tychon turned to regard the youth.
“That is why I had to speak to you in private.” Cailen continued. “Whoever is helping the Mystics is also supplying them with Guardia’s secret counsels. And that person or persons is in the heart of Guardia.”
“Why didn’t you speak up before now, old man?” Tychon asked angrily.
“I didst try to tell the King, but he wouldst not listen to me; the ravings of an old man, in His Majesty’s opinion.”
“We didn’t want you to fall into their trap and be destroyed.” Cyrus piped up, forgetting his courtesy. “This attack was my idea and…”
“Yes it was, boy. And despite my reservations, here we are.” Tychon interrupted, “You seem to find yourself in the middle of many important things.” Tychon looked Cyrus in the eyes, trying to peer into his soul and possibly get an idea of what strange destiny seemed to put this young one in such a key role whenever there was a crisis.
Tychon stepped back and walked slowly to the windows. During their conversation, the light coming in through the windows had gone from a bright cheerful shade of yellow, to a darker, gloomy grey. Cyrus noticed this as well as the Admiral tried to see through the glass.
“Boy.” Tychon turned and spoke to Cyrus, “This was your idea, and assuming you are right, what should I do next?”
This was surprising. Cyrus never expected the Grand Admiral to ask his opinion. Cyrus hesitated at first. Then he motioned to the chart on the table in between them.
“Turn the fleet around now. I think the Mystic fleet will be waiting for us just beyond this point here. If we turn around now, we can regroup safely further north and closer to our reinforcements.” Cyrus said as he pointed to the spot on the chart. “The Mystic fleet will soon learn that their trap will not be sprung and may just sit there and make another move somewhere else. But, the Mystics wouldn’t have built this fleet just to let it sit. I think they will sail north and invade Guardia and possibly try to make landings close to the castle. If our fleet were moved further north, around the mountains, they could wait there and sail south at the first sign of the Mystic fleet. Then as the Mystics’ ships are at anchor making their landing, our fleet can sweep in and attack the fleet while they are dead in the water. Meanwhile, our ground forces will wait in Guardia forest and attack any Mystics that make it to the shore. At the shore, they will be the most vulnerable. They should be attacked before they can get a foothold on the beach.”
When Cyrus finished, Tychon studied the chart and then Cyrus. Cyrus had no look of dishonesty. Tychon knew in his heart that what Cyrus said was the truth and that it was sound strategy, too sound for a youth of his age, but that would have to be dealt with later.
“Very well,” Tychon said, after a deep breath. “Follow me.”
Tychon rounded the table and headed out the door. Cyrus followed quickly behind with Liz right behind him and Cailen bringing up the rear. Tychon glided up the steps to the deck. A sailor standing at the top of the stairs called out when Tychon reached the top.
“Grand Admiral on deck,” to which everyone near by snapped to attention as the Admiral turned and then climbed the few steps up to the poop deck to where the Captain stood next to the steering wheel with his telescope in hand.
The Captain snapped a quick salute the Admiral as he approached.
“Admiral,” the Captain greeted “The sky has clouded over. They came quickly out of the mountains. Soon after, this thick fog enshrouded us all. I cannot see more than 20 yards at best, Sir.”
Tychon nodded briefly then gave his orders.
“Captain, come about 180 degrees. Sail north for Guardia and drop anchor in the shadow of the mountains. Order the fleet to do the same. We’re headed into a trap, and I’m not about to engage in combat when we can’t even see our own ships.”
“Very good, sir,” the Captain replied without a hint of hesitation. He then took a couple of steps forward to address his first mate standing below on the main deck. “Commander, signal the fleet to come about,” then he turned back to the sailor manning the wheel, “Sailor, bring us about.”
“Aye, aye, sir!” the sailor replied and began to turn the giant wheel to the left so that the ship would turn to starboard and away from the coast. Then there was a serious of whistles as the ship signaled to the nearest ship the new orders.
Then that ship passed it along to the ship behind it in formation and so on until eventually all the ships got the message. Sailors scurried up the nets to the masts to adjust the sails. The tall ship creaked and groaned as she leaned to the side and started to turn.
Cailen stepped up to the Admiral so that he could speak without being heard by everyone nearby.
“Admiral, may we have our weapons back?” Cailen asked. Tychon rubbed his forehead briefly before nodding.
“Quartermaster, see that our guests get their weapons.”
“Aye, sir!” the Quartermaster replied. He called down below, and soon a sailor appeared carrying their weapons. He returned Cailen’s broadsword and dagger belt, and he gave back Cyrus and Liz both their short swords. The quartermaster also gave them each a small wooden shield plated with iron.
“Compass reads due north, sir,” the ship’s navigator signaled to the Captain.
“Very well,” the Captain replied.
Cyrus walked the stern of the ship and looked out over the prow and the endless shroud of grey that made the sea and the wake of the ship disappear behind quickly behind them as if the fog were eating everything behind the ship, but never quite getting close enough to consume the ship and its occupants.
Final adjustments were made to the sails in order to best catch the wind now that they were headed in the opposite direction. The ship started to catch the wind and the ship accelerated, its sails filling once again. Cyrus could feel the breeze on his face and it made his hair rustle a little.
The crew went quiet again after the work of changing the ship’s course was done. All were standing at their posts watching and waiting; keeping a lookout ahead for the other ships that were supposed to be turning around also. Every eye was scanning the thick fog searching for something other than grey.
Something caught Cyrus’ eye. It was just in the spot he was looking at – a flash of bright blue directly behind the ship, over the wake, and just below his eye level. It was a bright, yet muddy blue, blended with grey, as if the blue sky was trying to thrust itself forcibly through the fog. Cyrus thought that it might have been a break in the fog, and the blue sky was visible briefly.
He thought wrong, and soon everyone on the ship knew it.
The blue flash was immediately followed by a distant boom then a shrieking whistle sounded. Then the stern of the ship exploded sending bits of wood and metal everywhere. The blast knocked Cyrus off his feet, and his ears were buzzing.
“Cannon fire!” the Captain yelled, also hitting the deck hard from the force of the explosion.
The whole ship rocked from the cannonball that lodged itself somewhere in the bowels of the ship. Smoke and cries rose up from the passages below including the one that Cyrus had come up just minutes before.
Cyrus, still dazed, started to pick himself up. In the confusion he had lost sight of Liz and Cailen. Cailen was already up again, but crouched down to avoid the fire. Liz was still lying on the deck.
Then, another boom preceded a second explosion in the back of the ship. This time the boom and explosion were closer together.
“Evasive maneuvers,” cried the Captain, “come to port!”
“Aye, sir,” responded the steersman. “Rudder sluggish, sir, probably damaged.”
Now the explosions came one right after another, tearing into the back of the ship, eating it, one bite at a time.
Then the source of the cannon fire was visible through the fog. It cut the fog like a hot knife through butter. It was a light cutter ship, flying the colors of the Mystic Order. The ship was faster than any other ship Cyrus had ever seen. This new design easily caught up with the Admiral’s ship. The Mystic ship began to draw alongside their ship.
“Come about 20 degrees to starboard,” the Captain ordered.
“Aye, sir, 20 degrees,” replied the steersman.
“Prepare for broadside attack!” commanded the Admiral, “All hands to battle stations, prepare for boarding.”
“All cannons ready!” the Captain ordered.
Cyrus had managed to get to his feet. Cailen was helping Liz get to her feet and was hurrying her to the far side of the ship from the Mystic attackers. He waved at Cyrus to follow. The explosions had stopped for the moment, but there was a lot of commotion as the sailors scrambled to prepare for the invaders which they knew were to come. Cailen hoisted Liz and put her in a lifeboat similar in size to the rowboat that they had used to warn the Admiral. Cyrus caught up to Cailen, and before he knew it, he found himself in the boat right next to Liz.
“Stay here and stay out of sight. Keep your head down,” Cailen shouted. He stepped back and pulled out from underneath his cloak his sword. It the largest sword either of them had ever seen. Its blade was almost as wide as Liz and must have been at least a couple of inches taller than Cyrus. “I will come back for you,” he said. Then he turned and walked away disappearing behind the traffic of sailors running to and fro, dodging debris and helping their injured comrades.
The Mystic ship was almost completely aside them and closing the gap between the two sides of the ships. It was relatively quiet as both sides prepared for what was next. The question was who would fire first.
“Hold for my command,” said Tychon.
All the cannons were out and manned. Then came the barrage from the Mystic ships. A dozen cannonballs rained into the side of the ship. The ship creaked and groaned in pain as did many sailors hit by fire and debris.
Now the ships were side by side and running at the same speed only feet apart. The Mystic ship dropped planks that landed on the deck of the Guardia ship. From out of the smoke of the cannons came droves of Mystics. Most of them seemed to be Diablos and Imps. As they were crossing the planks and fighting the sailors on the deck, Nega-ettas were swimming up to the ship and climbing up the side.
Nega-ettas were viscous looking snake like creatures that had the body of a snake, covered with large scales, but had a chest and arms like a human. At the ends of their three-digit hands were long, vicious claws. Their heads looked like a dragon’s with eyes lidless and dark that seemed to have no depth, just empty blackness. They had a large mouth filled with sharp, narrow teeth. Each one carried a long, two-sided spear. They used their long, strong arms and their slithering bodies to climb up the side of the ship and attack the men.
“Fire!” the Grand Admiral yelled.
“Fire, all cannons, fire!” the Captain echoed.
Guardia’s cannon volley erupted from the side of their ship and pummeled the enemy ship. Their attack was deliberately well-timed. Some of the cannonballs hit the Mystics trying to board the ship, knocking their limp bodies backwards. Others tore through their boarding planks and sent their traversers tumbling into the water.
Diablos swung on ropes from their ship and landed on the deck all around the sailors. Their birdlike faces were twisted in anger, their red eyes seeking to kill whatever they can. They faces ended in wide beaks that let out loud, screeching noises as they swung and slashed at the men. Other than their wings, the rest of their bodies were human in form with large muscles covered by spotty patches of feathers.
Cyrus caught sight of Cailen. The Diablos were landing all around, and he fought them off one by one. He was swinging his abnormally large sword with ease as if it were a child’s toy and with deadly efficiency. The Captain and Admiral were holding their own, fighting off the Imps as they came aboard. But, they were losing this battle. The Nega-ettas were cutting down many with vicious swings of their spears. Also, the stream of invaders didn’t seem like it was going to end – they just kept coming. Their ship was continuing to lob cannonballs into their ship which had started to develop a list down towards the enemy’s vessel.
“We’re losing this one!” Liz shouted.
“I know,” Cyrus said ducking behind the side of the lifeboat as another cannon blasted wooden shrapnel into the air. “I should be helping somehow.”
“What can you do?” Liz countered. “They’re bigger and stronger, and there are more of them.”
“I see something.” Cyrus popped his head up, and then rolled over the edge of the boat and landed on the main deck with a thud. “Stay here!”
“Wait,” Liz screamed and she reached after him, but Cyrus was already up and running towards the other side of the ship – the side closest to the enemy.
Cyrus drew out his sword as he ran down the deck towards the aft part of the ship where the Admiral and Captain were fighting. The two were actually fighting back-to-back against several Imps. No matter what direction the Imps attacked from, either of the two was there to counter and repel the invader. If an Imp managed to get too close, it died. There was a circle of broken Imp bodies lying around already which was making it even harder for another Imp to get close enough to the navy officers to strike any kind of blow.
Cailen was also fighting hard. He was alone surrounded also by Mystics. He was an efficient killing machine. The Mystics kept coming at him and he met every single one with a deadly swing of his huge sword. One Mystic was unfortunate enough to meet the full force of one of the slashes. The Hench was caught square in the chest, cutting him nearly halfway through and knocking him back three yards.
Cyrus’ objective was not helping Cailen. He continued past him darting quickly between the larger, slower Mystics. Cyrus kept his eyes ahead to a rope that was wrapped around a net. A Mystic had used it to swing from their ship, but had long since left it and moved elsewhere. The rope was dangling loose, its end knot caught in the net.
But standing right in front of the rope was a Hench. But this Hench was bigger, much bigger than any other Hench. Cailen was too occupied with his assailants to see Cyrus run by him as was Tychon. The Hench was busy knocking sailors about with its huge iron club that had spikes sticking out in all directions. Without hesitating, Cyrus leaped at the large Hench, stabbing it in the leg. The Hench let out a cry of pain and anger. Spotting Cyrus, it tossed a broken sailor’s body at Cyrus. Cyrus managed to duck low enough to avoid being bowled over by it. As soon as Cyrus stood back up, he was met with a deadly punch from the Hench’s off hand. Cyrus was flung back into the side rail of the ship. Stars streaked across his vision, and fire shot through his chest. Cyrus coughed and choked, tasting blood in his mouth. Cyrus fell to the ground engulfed in pain. He rose slowly and, despite limping and limped towards the beast. Fortunately, the Hench’s intelligence did not match its size. The Hench noticed that Cyrus wasn’t killed or at least knocked unconscious by the previous blow and hit him again, but not hard enough to kill Cyrus, more like a human would swat at a pesky fly. This swat sent Cyrus flying into one of the ship’s masts. Pain shot through his face, and blood clouded his vision. He wiped at his eyes and struggled back to his feet and tried to get past the Hench to get at the rope. The Hench grabbed Cyrus this time instead of hitting him. But before the Hench could throw Cyrus, he threw his sword down and sliced its hand. The Hench instinctively dropped Cyrus. Cyrus landed on his feet, and while the Hench was tending to its wounded hand, Cyrus jumped up and held on to the armor covering the Hench’s chest and thrust his sword into its unprotected throat and leapt off. The beast grabbed its throat as blood started to pour from its neck. It slowly choked and fell to the floor already dead.
He finally managed to get to the rope and untangled it from the net. He then took a couple of steps back. After taking a deep breath, which was hard after he had the wind knocked out of him, he swung across the sea over to the Mystic ship. He let go of the rope and landed lightly on the enemy deck. The landing still hurt and sent waves of pain up his legs and through his body.
Almost all the Mystics were busy fighting on the other ship or were towards the front of their own ship. He went down the steps to below deck. He turned past the cannon room and went into the munitions storage room. He found a small barrel of partially full gunpowder. He grabbed it and started to let some out all over the other barrels. Then he made a trail up the stairs and onto the deck. He grabbed a piece of smoldering wood that had been blown off some other part of the ship and used it to light the end of the gunpowder trail. The small flame lit a bit of the powder, and sparks started shooting. Cyrus dropped the wood and moved as fast as his battered legs could move towards where he left the rope that he had used to swing over.
The rope wasn’t there.
He looked around for the rope briefly but saw that the gunpowder trail was already burning down the steps. Cyrus staggered forward to the rail of the ship, swung one leg over the rail and half fell, half threw himself into the water.
No sooner had he hit the water then the Mystic ship erupted in a ball of fire and splinters. Many of the Mystics, who had their backs to their own ship as they were on the Guardia ship, caught the full force of the explosion as iron, wood, and fire shot out in every direction and engulfed them. Their bodies, large and small, were blasted by shrapnel and burned by hot white flames. Those that weren’t knocked down dead by the force of the explosion screamed and clambered at the air. Those who didn’t burn to death on the deck of the Guardia ship fell into the debris-filled water.
