Assail (Malazan Empire, #6)(108)

This long drawn out section of the way wore hardest upon him. He was already exhausted, unable to focus as well as he had. He dragged a hand down his face and rubbed his stinging eyes. Then he thought of the oarsmen still pulling below him and shook off the mood. None of them had been spelled through any of this. The Lady simply didn’t have a large enough complement.

‘We might be through,’ he told Gren.

The steersman rolled his massive shoulders to loosen them. ‘We might.’ Then he frowned. ‘I smell smoke.’

Reuth squinted ahead. Smoke? How could there be … He caught coils of black smoke now curling round the rocks ahead. What in the Lady’s name …?

The stern of a tall three-tiered vessel came edging out from behind the looming centre tooth – an enormous galley entirely engulfed in flames.

Shouts of alarm sounded from the crew below.

‘Lad …’ Gren murmured.

Reuth simply stared. A sea battle ahead? A sea battle in the middle of the narrows? But the Lady’s entire crew was given over to the benches. How could they possibly hope to —

‘Lad, choose …’ Gren prompted, louder. ‘Now.’

Reuth shook himself. Choose? Now? He studied the vessel’s aimless spin as it came heading broadside down towards them like a wall of fire. Black smoke billowed, cloaking a portion of the channel.

‘Hard Port!’ he shouted.

Gren thrust the tiller arm over. The Lady’s bow swung towards the port shore of the narrows while the burning vessel, helpless in the current, came directly across their line. Smoke blew across their deck in thick sooty billows that blinded Reuth.

‘Pull!’ Tulan urged, coughing. ‘Keep pulling!’

The hungry roar of flames now overtook the rush and hissing of the waters about them. Gouts of flame penetrated the wall of smoke like bursts of those damned Moranth munitions. A firestorm much taller than the Lady came crackling and thundering, as searingly hot as an enormous kiln, directly past their starboard side. Reuth covered his face. He coughed and gagged in the thick oily smoke. Something hot kissed his hand and he yelped, jumping and waving the hand.

‘Put those fires out!’ he heard Tulan barking. ‘Douse those embers!’

The pall of smoke began to clear. ‘Sail’s caught!’ Storval shouted.

‘Drop it!’ Tulan ordered.

‘Cut the ropes!’ Reuth heard Storval call.

Blinking, Reuth felt more than saw the bundled sail come crashing down, crossbar and all, while flames licked about it. ‘Overboard!’ Tulan bellowed. ‘Now!’

Men grunted and heaved. Wood grated, then a heavy splash announced that the burning bundle had struck the waves.

Reuth started then, remembering his duty, and called out: ‘Back over, Gren.’

The steersman grunted his surprise and slammed the arm across. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured.

Reuth wiped his face and his hands came away black with soot. ‘Is it a sea battle, Gren?’

‘Don’t know, lad.’

‘Because we can’t—’

‘Never mind. You just get us through.’

Reuth gave a quick shamed nod. ‘Yes. Sorry.’

He studied the possible paths ahead. The way appeared to be broadening. He did his best to choose the turns that would send them into a line that would allow the most options. His main concern now was their waning speed. The men were spent, of course, and their headway was flagging. Yet the current was weakening. Portions of this section even ran smooth.

After a few more slow turns they emerged into a full wide channel marred only by a few isolated rearing teeth. It appeared they’d run the Guardian Rocks.

Gren shot Reuth his mad grin.

Tulan came stomping up to the stern. Soot blackened his sodden furs and his beard seemed to have caught fire along one side. He was drawing in great breaths as he laid a hand on Reuth’s shoulder and squeezed. ‘Well done, lad,’ he croaked, his voice almost gone. ‘Well done.’ He turned to peer ahead, drew in a great lungful of air. ‘Now what?’

‘There are a few mentions of a settlement here. Ruse, some write it.’

Tulan grunted. ‘Fair enough. We’ll make for it. We need safe moorage for a refit.’

Gren began untying himself from the tiller arm. ‘You’ve your sea legs now, I think, hey?’

‘I’ve had enough of the sea.’

Gren laughed. ‘There you go. You’ve the way of it now.’

A sailor Tulan had sent up the mast now called out: ‘Our shadows are with us. One close, others distant.’

Reuth glanced behind. Indeed, more vessels were limping out from among the rearing teeth. They were far behind, but it appeared that the lead one was their pirate friend.

The crew continued to row, but at a leisurely pace. The narrows broadened. There was almost enough of a breeze to warrant lowering a sail, if they still had one.

‘Something ahead,’ the lookout shouted.

Reuth shaded his eyes but couldn’t make anything out. Tulan called up: ‘What is it, man?’

‘Hard to tell … ships! Looks like a mass of ships!’

Reuth thought of his worries about a sea battle. Tulan’s brows crimped and a hand went to check for the sword at his hip. ‘See that everyone’s armed,’ he ordered Storval.