Chapter Thirty Thera
CHAPTER THIRTY
Thera
Thera placed the Great Wolf at the head of the fleet as they approached the narrow channel in the northern stretch of the Fire Islands.
In doing so, she had overridden the objections of her Veilwalds and captains.
Skahlvyr Estrynlud in particular had argued that, as guided by the Queen’s Navigator, the Silver Hawk had already partially explored the route through the treacherous archipelago and was therefore best equipped to lead the fleet.
“No Ascarlian ship has ever successfully traversed the Fire Islands,” Thera replied. “Let alone an entire hahl-menda. While I trust the loyalty of my warriors, I ask much of them in this. They must know I have absolute faith in this course. Therefore, it will be my ship that leads.”
Rarely a visitor to these waters, Thera recalled that the most unnerving aspect of one’s first glimpse of the Fire Islands was not the perennial smoke, but the smell.
Mingling rot with a metallic tang, it began to assail her nostrils and throat long before the first grey wisps drifted across the Great Wolf’s bows.
As the smoke thickened and the distant slopes of the mountainous isles loomed above the horizon, Ragnalt called for the sail to be trimmed, lamps lit, and oars unshipped.
Glancing to the stern, Thera saw the lights flicker into life all along the long line of ships that followed.
Every captain had been cautioned to ensure they kept the lights of the ship to their front in sight.
Proceeding in such a formation sat ill at ease with Thera, but Teryk had been unusually adamant on this point.
“The channel appears broad, my queen,” the young navigator informed her. “But the darkness of the water conceals the many dangers below. It’s not just the mountains that spew fire here. Wander too far from the path and you may find your ship boiled to pieces in moments.”
Teryk stood at the prow flanked by his brothers.
The navigator communicated with Althsten at the helm via a series of simple hand gestures.
Raising either hand indicated port or starboard.
A single fist meant commence rowing and two meant stop.
Once enveloped by the smoke billowing from the mountain tops, the entire fleet was now dependent on the judgement of one youth.
Despite the burden of responsibility, Teryk exuded a sense of surety as he guided them ever closer to the promised channel.
When she had quizzed him about the viability of the route, he said simply, “The song is very clear, my queen.”
Her first view of the Fire Islands proper came after an hour of proceeding at steady stroke.
A random gust of wind banished enough of the smoke to reveal waves beating upon a rocky shore a quarter-mile off the starboard bow.
She saw no glowing rivulets threading the flanks of the tall mountain rising from the island’s centre, but did spy vapours emerging from its upper reaches.
She watched the isle pass by until the wind lessened and the smoke closed in once more.
Having been warned by Skahlvyr what to expect upon entering the channel, she wrapped a thick, dampened cloth about her mouth and nose.
It helped mute the smell, at least to a degree, but didn’t quite banish the ticklish urge to cough.
Thera soon found it impossible to gauge the distance travelled with each turn of the glass.
The towering mountains to either side were barely visible, though their tendency to assault the ears with thunderous rumbles was decidedly unnerving.
Thera spent the time on the foredeck, attempting to convey a sense of undimmed confidence in her navigator, but couldn’t contain a start when a bright orange flare lit the smoke off the port rail.
Even through the mask, she felt the stench thicken, the reason becoming clear as they swept closer to the reddish glow.
It appeared a fissure in the flank of a squat mountain had burst, issuing forth a torrent of molten rock.
It pulsed as it cascaded down the slope to disappear in a blast of steam where it met the water.
Beautiful. Turning, Thera found Lynnea regarding the spectacle, blue eyes shining bright above the scarf shielding her face.
“And also dangerous,” Thera replied, voice barely audible through her mask. Such proximity to this display of nature’s raw power made her nervous, but Teryk gave no signal to change course.
Trust him, Lynnea advised, taking Thera’s hand. I not know how he does this, but I can feel his certainty. His connection to the water is as natural as breathing.
Nightfall arrived with what Thera felt to be unwarranted rapidity, even though they had been sailing the channel for hours.
Teryk allowed no halt to their progress, however.
Nor would he rest. “Soon, I shall hear a song from a new sea, my queen,” he said in response to Thera’s comment on his sagging form and exhausted eyes.
He wore no mask and she saw a rare smile on his lips.
“How could I sleep at a time like this?”
At night, the Fire Islands’ dangers were made even more evident by the frequent eruptions lighting their summits or sundering their flanks.
Lynnea continued to gaze upon it all with unabashed delight while Thera strove to maintain a composure she didn’t feel.
No mortal was ever meant to come here, she concluded when a particularly violent eruption shook the ship.
Some miles away, a mountain cast gobbets of lava into the smoke-blackened sky, letting out an angry roar as it did so.
This is a place where only the gods should tread.
Yet, when dawn broke it cast its light upon a channel flanked by green slopes.
The smoke had thinned, revealing a blue sky above the mountain tops.
However, the channel ahead continued its meandering course through a maze of sheer cliffs and inlets.
Teryk’s promised new sea remained some distance off.
“Can we increase speed?” Thera asked her navigator, keen to escape such constricted waters. This eastern side of the isles was evidently less troubled, but she still saw evidence aplenty of the mountains’ wrath in the black veins of cooled lava tracing through the greenery.
“Not yet, my queen.” Teryk said, pointing to a gap between two islands a quarter-mile ahead. “The song warns of a strong current. We’ll need to steer clear lest it push us onto shore.”
As they proceeded at steady stroke, Thera saw how the water in the centre of the channel churned with colliding eddies.
Even skirting the worst of it caused the Great Wolf’s prow to veer off course several times, forcing Althsten to enlist Ragnalt’s help in working the helm.
Moving to the stern, Thera saw how the energetic current had a similar effect on the Silver Hawk and the other ships to her rear.
The line wavered but, fortunately, the skill of Ascarlian seafarers held true.
Some ships were swept perilously close to the rocky shore but none foundered.
A half-mile further on they were required to round a great slab of rock jutting into the channel from the southern shore.
The curve and sharpness of its edge put Thera in mind of her great-grandfather’s stone axe.
The resemblance was sufficiently distracting to prevent her noticing the Nihlvarian ship waiting on the other side until the first arrow whistled through the air.
It thudded into the foredeck a few feet away, provoking an instinctive shout of “Shields!” as the subsequent torrent of shafts rained down.
Thera ran for the stern, catching the shield Ragnalt threw to her and sinking low under its protection.
The veteran crew were equally swift in raising their own shields, though the following few moments were punctuated by grunts and curses as a few steel-heads found flesh.
When the arrow storm abated, Thera raised her gaze above the shield’s rim to see the Nihlvarian ship ploughing towards the Great Wolf at ramming speed.
A twelve-foot long, serrated iron spike protruded from her prow and a thick knot of archers on her foredeck continued to cast out arrows.
Fortunately, the Nihlvarian vessel’s speed and the fractious current succeeded in mostly spoiling their aim.
“Teylhar!” Thera called out but the artisan was already running for the bolt caster.
Within seconds, Teylhar and his well-drilled coterie of engineers had spun the levers that raised the hulking weapon and trained it on the oncoming enemy.
As they did so Ragnalt ordered his oarsmen to reverse stroke and had Althsten heave the tiller to starboard.
Consequently, the Nihlvarian ship was still nigh fifty paces short of her target when Teylhar loosed the first bolt.
It was well aimed, shattering the hull planking to the left of the iron ram.
However, the influx of water was too meagre to cause the ship to founder immediately.
Watching her come on with her speed only slightly reduced, Thera cried out two more commands: “Ship oars and arm yourselves! Althsten, steer hard to port and put us alongside!”
The Great Wolf listed as she swung clear of the Nihlvarian’s ram, the spike scraping splinters and shattering oars as it slid along the starboard rail before the two hulls slammed together.
Jarred from her feet, Thera struggled upright to find Lynnea at her side.
Snaryk crouched nearby, the great dog’s lips quivering and teeth bared in anticipation of the violence to come.
I thought you might need this. Lynnea raised the dreadaxe, Thera taking it with a grateful grin.
“Stay close to him,” she said, nodding to Snaryk.
Turning, she covered the distance to the opposing ship in a few strides and hurled herself across the gap.
She landed among the Nihlvarian archers, their ranks disordered by the collision with the Great Wolf.
Thera cut down two before the rest could react and when they did it was to scramble clear of her path.
Only one lingered, foolishly trying to put an arrow to his bowstring rather than reaching for the blade at his belt.
Thera’s blow sent him tumbling over the prow, cleaved through the chest. A dozen better armed warriors then came at her from the ship’s stern only to be intercepted by Ragnalt and the bulk of the Great Wolf’s crew.
Having closed the gap between the two ships with grappling ropes, they leaped the narrowing divide in a tight mass.
It was over in moments, every Nihlvarian cut down or forced into the water, leaving their vessel a drifting, sinking hulk.
Looking to port, Thera muttered a curse at the realisation that this ambusher hadn’t been alone.
At least a score more ships, each equipped with a long iron spike, sped past to assail her fleet at ramming speed.
She took some gratification at seeing the leading vessels met with a hail of bolts.
The leading craft took three of the heavy projectiles in the forward hull and instantly began to sink.
However, although they suffered damage, the remainder continued their charge.
Realising she now stood in several inches of water, Thera ordered her warriors back to the Great Wolf.
“Cut this thing clear or she’ll drag us down with her!
” she shouted, hauling herself back aboard.
“Althsten, get us turned about. Teylhar, have your device ready…” Her string of orders trailed off when her gaze alighted on the bows.
Lying on the boards with an arrow through his neck and his weeping brothers at his side, was Teryk.
The Queen’s Navigator was slain, and so too any hope that she could lead her fleet through these dread islands.