A Joust of Knights. Morgan Rice
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ship alongside his others and Strom leapt from one rail to the other. As he landed on the other ship, he began barking orders, and the men broke into action, all of them jumping, one at a time, off their ship and onto Erec’s.
Erec was concerned as he watched their ships begin to drift apart.
“Man the ropes!” Erec called out to his men. “Use the hooks – hold the ships together!”
His men followed his command, running to the side of the ship, hoisting the grappling hooks and throwing them through the air, hooking them onto the ship beside them and yanking with all their might so that the ships stopped drifting apart. It sped up the process, and dozens of men leapt from one rail to the other, all grabbing their weapons hastily as they abandoned the ship.
Strom supervised, yelling orders, making sure each man left the ship, corralling them all until there was no left on board.
Strom caught Erec’s eye, as Erec watched with approval.
“And what of the ship’s provisions?” Strom yelled out above the din. “And its surplus weaponry?”
Erec shook his head.
“Let it go,” he called back. “Just take up our rear and destroy the ship.”
Erec turned and ran to the bow, leading his fleet as they all followed him and sailed into the bottleneck.
“SINGLE FILE!”
All his ships fell in behind him as the river tapered to its narrowest point. Erec sailed through with his fleet, and as he did, he glanced back and saw the Empire fleet closing in fast, now hardly a hundred yards away. He watched hundreds of Empire troops man their bows and prepare their arrows, setting them on fire. He knew they were nearly in range; there was little time to waste.
“NOW!” Erec yelled to Strom, just as Strom’s ship, the last of the fleet, entered the narrowest point.
Strom, watching and waiting, raised his sword and slashed half the ropes attaching his ship to Erec’s, at the same time jumping ship over to Erec’s side. He cut them just as the abandoned ship sailed into the bottleneck, and it immediately floundered, rudderless.
“TURN IT SIDEWAYS!” Erec commanded his men.
His men all reached out and grabbed the ropes that remained on one side of the ship and yanked as hard as they could, until the ship, groaning in protest, slowly turned its way sideways against the current. Finally, the current carrying it, it lodged itself firmly in the rocks, crammed between the two river banks, its wood groaning and beginning to crack.
“PULL HARDER!” Erec yelled.
They pulled and pulled and Erec hurried over and joined them, all of them groaning as they yanked with all their might. Slowly, they managed to turn the ship, holding it tight as it lodged more and more deeply into the rocks.
As the ship stopped moving, firmly lodged, finally Erec was satisfied.
“CUT THE ROPES!” he yelled, knowing it was now or never, feeling his own ship begin to falter.
Erec’s men slashed the remaining ropes, disentangling his ship – and not a moment too soon.
The abandoned ship began cracking collapsing, its wreckage firmly blocking the river – and a moment later, the sky turned black as a host of flaming Empire arrows descended for Erec’s fleet.
Erec had maneuvered his men out of harm’s way just in time: the arrows all landed on the abandoned ship, falling twenty feet short of Erec’s fleet, and they served only to set the ship aflame, creating yet another obstacle between them and the Empire. Now, the river would be impassable.
“Full sail ahead!” Erec yelled.
His fleet sailed with all they had, catching the wind, distancing themselves from their blockade, and sailing farther and farther north, harmlessly out of the way of the Empire’s arrows. Another volley of arrows came, and these landed in the water, splashing and hissing all around the ship as they hit the water.
As they continued sailing, Erec stood at the bow and watched, and he looked out with satisfaction as he watched the Empire fleet come to a halt before the flaming ship. One of the Empire ships fearlessly tried to ram it – but all it got for its efforts was to catch fire; hundreds of Empire soldiers cried out, engulfed in flames, and jumped overboard – and their flaming ship created an even deeper sea of wreckage. Looking at it, Erec figured the Empire would not be able to get through for several days.
Erec felt a strong hand clasp his shoulder, and he looked over to see Strom standing beside him, smiling.
“One of your more inspired strategies,” he said.
Erec smiled back.
“Well done,” he replied.
Erec turned and looked back upriver, the waters snaking every which way, and he did not take comfort yet. They had won this battle – but who knew what obstacles lay ahead?
Chapter Five
Volusia, wearing her golden robes, stood high up on the dais, looking down at the hundred golden steps she had erected as an ode to herself, stretched out her arms, and reveled in the moment. As far as she could see, the capital’s streets were lined with people, Empire citizens, her soldiers, all of her new worshipers, all bowing down to her, touching their heads to the ground in the breaking dawn light. They all chanted as one, a soft, persistent sound, participating in the morning service which she had created, as her ministers and commanders had instructed them to do: worship her, or face death. She knew that now they worshipped her because they had to – but soon enough, they would do so because it was all they knew.
“Volusia, Volusia, Volusia,” they chanted. “Goddess of the sun and goddess of the stars. Mother of oceans and harbinger of the sun.”
Volusia looked out and admired her new city. Erected everywhere were the golden statues of her, just as she’d instructed her men to build. Every corner of the capital had a statue of her, shining gold; everywhere one looked, there was no choice but to see her, to worship her.
Finally, she was satisfied. Finally, she was the Goddess she knew she was meant to be.
The chanting filled the air, as did the incense, burned at every altar to her. Men and women and children filled the streets, shoulder to shoulder, all bowing down, and she felt she deserved it. It had been a long, hard march to get here, but she had marched all the way to the capital, had managed to take it, to destroy the Empire armies that had opposed her. Now, finally, the capital was hers.
The Empire was hers.
Of course, her advisors thought otherwise, but Volusia did not care much what they thought. She was, she knew, invincible, somewhere between heaven and earth, and no power of this world could destroy her. Not only did she cower in fear – but rather, she knew this was just the beginning. She wanted more power, still. She planned to visit every horn and spike of the Empire and crush all those who opposed her, who would not accept her unilateral power. She would amass a greater and greater army, until every corner of the Empire subjugated itself to her.
Ready to start the day, Volusia slowly descended her dais, taking one golden step after the next. She reached out with her hands, and as they all rushed forward, her palms touched their palms, a throng of worshipers embracing her as their own, a living goddess amongst them. Some worshippers, weeping, fell to their faces as she went, and scores more formed a human bridge at the bottom, eager for her to walk over them. She did, stepping on the soft flesh of their backs.
Finally, she had her flock. And now it was time to go to war.
Volusia stood high on the ramparts surrounding the Empire capital, peering out into the desert sky with a heightened sense of destiny. She saw nothing but headless corpses, all of the men she had killed – and a sky of vultures, screeching, swooping, picking away at their flesh. Outside these walls there was a light breeze, and she could already smell the stench of rotting flesh, heavy in the wind. She smiled wide at the carnage. These men had dared oppose her – and they had paid the price.
“Should we not bury the dead,