Chapter 20
Tomas
Night approached and the two warships left their moorings. Tom could see the huge catapults on their decks and watched as his own artillery pieces were made ready for action.
The Gorms had been withdrawn and the girls of the guard were in place to stop any act of treachery by the gun crews. The girls' eyes were trained on the dark-haired young men but their intent seemed more lecherous than threatening.
The big ships were moving forward under the power of oars that projected in three banks from their massive hulls. Thunder said five hundred men were needed to work them, mostly slaves and prisoners of war. The first of the ships reached the shallows and released a tracer round to gauge distance.
Tom watched the flaming ball race overhead then returned his attention to the gun crews. Their sergeant stood beside him. One hand on his sword and the other beneath his cloak, he remained stony faced as the warships began their bombardment.
Flaming projectiles fell all around them but the man's expression did not change. . A warehouse was set ablaze one of the gun crews received a direct hit. Yet, the sergeant remained impassive. Tom admired his steely composure then began to doubt his loyalty.
He raised his mace.
'What are you waiting for?'
'They've not yet reached the markers,' the sergeant replied.
'I told you to fire when they came into range.'
'I give the order when they reach the markers.'
Tom was incensed. 'You'll give the order when I tell you to.' He advanced on the sergeant then stopped when the man opened his cloak.
'I take my orders from General Bollino.'
Tom saw the crossbow pointing at his chest and didn't doubt that its armour-piercing bolt could pass right through him. He looked at the girls of the guard for support but their attention was on the young men. To his relief, the sergeant barked an order.
'Prepare to fire.'
The gun crews sprang into action. Jars of boiling pitch were removed from braziers and loaded onto the catapults.
'Aim at markers five and eight.'
The huge beams swung round. Wooden chocks were knocked away. The beams swung up. The slings at their ends swished and balls of blazing pitch streaked into the sky.
Both warships were hit. Tom felt humiliated. An assault had been launched without his permission. The warships were ablaze and fires were burning all over the island. Dunavon had escaped the worst of the onslaught. Tom had no doubt that his brilliant tactics had saved the town from annihilation.
He surveyed the scene with growing indignation. A great victory was at hand. All that remained was to board the warships and free the captives. He had proved himself as a great warrior and leader of men ... but he was being ignored.
He looked around and suddenly realised he was alone. The gun crews had grabbed their weapons and were running towards the wharves followed by the girls of the guard. Boats were heading out towards the blazing ships.
Tom ran after them and reached the wharves as the last of the boats was about to cast off. Two of his girls were on board. He waved and they ignored him.
'Wait for me!'
They looked up indignantly.
'What are you doing here?'
'I'm your War Master.'
'No you're not ... Adrina is.'
'Since when?'
'Since the Holy Mother said she was.'
Tom jumped in on top of them. The small vessel rocked violently, taking in water, but the girls managed to keep it afloat.
'Get after them!'
He pointed to the armada of small boats converging on the warships. One of the huge vessels had been reached and armed tribesmen were clambering up its sides. The other warship was heading straight at them. Fires burnt on its deck but its oars were still beating.
They rose and fell in unison, throwing up clouds of spray. To his annoyance, the girls made no attempt steer clear. His heart missed a beat. They were about to be fed into a gigantic threshing machine. Tom pulled his helmet over his head as three banks of oars crashed down.
'Stay where you are.'
He shouted and flattened himself against the bottom of the boat. Icy water flooded in and he stayed submerged, holding his breath, until the din died down and the warship came to a standstill.
The spray cleared and he saw the girls climbing the side of the warship. Water dripped from their powerful limbs as they made for the oar ports, daggers between their teeth. Three months earlier, he could have gone after them with ease. Now, a heavy layer of fat weighed him down as he struggled after them.
They had vanished by the time he reached the first of the oar ports and looked inside. Barrels of burning sulphur cast a ghostly blue light over everything. Tribesmen, with wet cloaks around their faces, were dashing about in the acrid fumes, freeing the oarsmen. The girls were in the thick of the action but there was no way he could squeeze in and join them.
He kept going and reached the main deck. A battle was raging. Morgon's men were fighting the tribesmen. Tom clambered over the rail and the fighting suddenly ceased.
'Look who's here.'
Mocking voices greeted him. Tom surveyed the sea of faces. His personal guard was there and so were the clubmen from Gorm. The tribesmen withdrew to one side of the deck and Morgon's men formed up on the other. Tom seized the opportunity.
'Morgon. I challenge you to single combat.'
The commander of the former thirteenth legion left his bodyguard. He looked more like a fugitive than a general.
'Why you want fight me, Tomas?'
'I challenged you before and you refused. You said I was just a Head Master and not your equal. Now I'm your equal. I'm War Master ... just like you.'
Morgon screwed up his face.
'That not what I hear, Tomas. I hear you no longer War Master like I no longer commander of legion.' He dropped his voice and moved closer. 'Tomas, natives want cut you up. They want cut me up too. Best we be friends.'
'You're a coward, Morgon.'
'Tomas. You still little boy. We can fight. But if we fight I no kill you. I just wound you and let natives do rest.'
Morgon took an incendiary grenade from his belt.
'We can make alliance but we not have much time. You decide before natives come and get us ... or this thing go bang.'
The grenade began to splutter.
'Not much time, Tomas.'
Morgan held the grenade above his head.
'You decide.'
Sparks erupted from the grenade.
'What you want I do ... throw at natives or at you?'
The sparks turned blue.
Morgon hesitated then tossed the grenade to Tom.
'Catch!'
The missile exploded and burning sulphur spattered over Tom's padded jerkin. He pulled his helmet down and listened to the taunts of the tribesmen.
'He always wanted to burn bright.'
'He doesn't have much choice now.'
The voices continued to torment him as he fought to put out the flames. The burning sulphur clung to his jerkin and got worse as he tried to put it out.
'He could jump into the water.'
'Then he'd be a drowned offering.'
'What if Morgon gets him with his sword?'
'Then he'd be a bleeding offering.'
They roared with laughter then fell silent when Tom's sword flashed out.
'Don't any of you have a word of praise?'
'Praise?'
'That's right. I came amongst you and I gave myself to you.'
'You gave yourself to our women.'
'I won you a great victory.'
'You made a great name for yourself and our women flocked about you.'
'Is that all?..Is that the best you can do?'
Tom's eyes flitted amongst the tribesmen, looking for support. All he saw was a blur of leering faces. Adrenalin pulsed through his veins. Burning sulphur oozed beneath his breastplate.
'A plague on all your houses.'
'What was that?'
'I'll show you what it is to play the ungrateful sod with me.'
His sword slashed through the ropes securing a stack of munitions. Incendiary bombs rolled out and the scene was transformed. Burning sulphur engulfed the deck. Tom watched as tribesmen jumped overboard and a feeling of peace descended on him.
He was reminded of Samson after his betrayal by Delilah. The biblical hero didn't let his tormentors get away with what they'd done. Samson pulled down the temple and killed the ungrateful sods. He felt a common bond with all heroes.
There had been a succession of them. Great men who performed great deeds and were brutally murdered when they had served their purpose. He advanced on Morgon, determined to play the hero's role to the very end.
'Fight. You bastard.'
'No, Tomas.'
'Draw your sword.'
'No ... that stupid.' Morgon bared his chest. 'We not enemies. Natives enemies. You kill me if you want ... but I no fight you.'
Tom's hand went limp.
'You mean you won't fight?'
'No. Tomas.'
'Sod you.' Tom pulled off his armour. 'I'm not going to stay here and burn. I'm going over the side. You can come too for all I care.'
The icy waters engulfed him. He bobbed to the surface and visions of an earlier life flooded back. In his former realm he'd been subject to this sort training. It all seemed so distant now. But a strong message kept him going. It struck a common bond and had something to do with people you liked and how you mustn't let them down.
Halfway to shore, a dragon boat bore down on him. For the second time that day, he thought he was going to be beaten to death by flaying oars and prepared to dive. Then, at the last moment, the oars dug in and the boat came to a standstill.
Thunder and Adrina were on deck.
She looked down at him.
'Tomas, are you hurt?'
Tom didn't like the way she used his old name.
'Why don't you call me Sky Warrior?'
'That time is passed, Tomas.
Tom was incensed.
'You mean you've joined those bastards who think I'm the Good God?'
'I don't know what you're talking about.'
'Yes, you do.'
Tom grasped an oar.
'I'm talking about those sods who want to drink my blood.'
'Tomas ... that time has passed too.'
Adrina produced an image of the holy family seated on a throne.
'The Good God is reborn. He is the caring, loving father of us all.'
Tom let go the oar and sank back.
'I suppose you were told that by the Holy Mother?'
'Aye, Tomas. In a dream.'
'No, you weren't.'
Tom pulled himself up.
'You got it from that sod Aaroen. I told him what happened in my old realm and the stupid bastard got it wrong.'
As he spoke, a dinghy was lowered from the dragon boat.
'Get in Tomas. There are dry clothes and food for your journey.'
'What journey?'
'You are going to make the passage between realms.'
'I suppose the Holy Mother told you that too?'
'No. Miralda did.'
'You mean that old loony who lives in the marshes?'
'Miralda is a custodian of the ancient wisdom. I once thought ill of her. Now I know she is a very special person. Her suffering and love for others have transported her to a higher plane.'
Tom's heart sank.
His worst fears were realised. Adrina had been sucked in by a corrupt priest and a geriatric nutter. His attempts to inject some sanity into the situation had failed. The natives had merely substituted one bunch of religious fanatics for another. He wondered if he should have taken up Morgon's offer of an alliance.
'Tomas ...'
He heard the big man's voice and saw him clinging to the side of the dinghy.
'Get in boat like princess say. I come too.'
Morgon tried to say more but a javelin cut him short. The point struck him between the shoulder blades and passed right through him. Tom watched as the former commander of the thirteenth legion was hoisted into the dragon boat like a chicken on a spit.
'Sky Warrior.'
He looked up and saw Thunder. The little man had one hand on his sword and the other raised in a warrior's salute.
Tom returned the salute.
'Tomas.'
Adrina leant forward. A torch lit her face and there were tears in her eyes.
'We shall never forget you ...'
Tom returned her wave and pulled himself into the dinghy. The mooring rope was cast off and the outgoing tide carried the small craft into open water.