Elf-Boy's Friends 11
The Troll War, Part II
The War at Sea
by George Gauthier
[The further adventures of characters from the novel 'Elf-Boy and Friends']
Chapter 1. The Petrel
"Hello the ship!" the dark haired youth called from the dock.
A well-set up lad with a fine healthy body, the youth was just under medium height and on the slender side but with wide shoulders and muscled arms. With dark hair trimmed short per naval regulations and with fine-boned features accented by a light sprinkling of freckles his was one of those honest faces seemingly without guile. Strangely his eyes were of different colors, the left one blue and the right brown.
Liam wondered why no one was about. Surely a naval vessel of the Commonwealth like the CS Petrel would not be deserted even while docked, especially at a great naval base like Alster, the home port of the High Seas Fleet.
A voice shouted back from the rigging.
"Hello the dock! Who the devil would you be?"
"My name is Liam. I am reporting for duty. I am your new war wizard."
The boy watched as a spry old salt slid down a rope (a line he reminded himself to call it) to land lightly on deck. Grizzled but obviously hale and hearty the man was barefoot and wore only trews held up by a rope around his waist. There was no indication of the man's rank but he carried himself with authority.
"New and wet behind the ears, by the look of you, not to mention much too pretty for your own good. Can you really be a war wizard?"
"I am afraid so, sir. It may be only eighteen, but I am a journeyman wizard. Look."
Liam pointed to a barrel of salt beef waiting to be loaded aboard and Lifted it from the dock and dropped it on deck with only a slight thump.
Liam noted that the sailor had not used an honorific in addressing him even though Liam was in uniform with his rank insignia on his collar. That lead him to conclude that the man must be more than a simple sailor and likely outranked a junior wizard like himself so it was safer to address him as sir.
"Yes, close up I can see you have wizard's eyes."
"Something you can't see here in bright daylight is that in dimmer light my eyes shine with what we wizards call our moon-glow. It lets us see in the dark or rather in dim light like a cat."
"More power to you,then. So your name is Liam is it? My name is Crawley. I am the sailing master on the Petrel."
"Sailing masters are warrant officers first class and not commissioned officers like the Captain and his line officers. We have never had a journeyman wizard assigned to the Petrel but I do know that they rank one step lower in the naval hierarchy, which is why you wear the insignia of a warrant officer second class."
"So they told me, sir."
"Well I am glad we cleared that up. Now things are pretty informal right now while we are in port and with the crew on leave, but when we sail, you should address me a Chief Crawley or Mister Crawley, or Sir. I will call you Mister Liam or just use your name. Is that understood?"
"Aye aye sir."
"No, no, no. When you answer a question in the affirmative you simply say Yes, Sir. 'Aye, aye, Sir' is for when you express your understanding of an order and your intention to comply with it."
"Sorry sir. I am still very new to this naval lingo. I had just three weeks of orientation in naval terminology, ranks, and customs and courtesies. It still seems very strange to me that a rope is sometimes called a sheet. To a landlubber like me, a sheet is a rectangle of fabric not a type of rope, I mean a line."
"Perfectly understandable, son. Sometimes the ways of the Navy seem strange to landsmen like yourself, but there is usually a good reason for them like keeping our terminology consistent with the merchant marine. Now let's get you settled abaord."
"Where is everybody?"
"On shore leave during our refit. The crew are busy chasing women or boys. The officers are engaged in what they like to think are more gentlemanly pursuits. I and a few of the hands were just inspecting the replacement for the gaff on the mainsail and finishing some other work. On our last patrol we got caught in a blow." he explained.
"Everyone will report back for duty early tomorrow. Except for those we have to send a shore patrol out for and drag back hungover from the stews. Since you are new to all this Liam I need to ask whether you get seasick."
"I don't know, sir I have never been to sea. I did take a riverboat from the capital. Does that count?"
"No. Sailing on a river won't make anyone seasick. It the constant motion from swells at sea that makes landlubbers sick. Some folks never get used to it."
"I have been on horseback all my life. Constant motion there." Liam offered.
The sailing master shook his head. "If your experience had been on camels maybe, horses no."
They went aboard and the sailing master showed Liam where he could stow his gear.
"Things are crowded aboard a ship. You'll have this bottom bunk. You will share this cabin with me and the other two warrant officers aboard, our purser and our surgeon. "
"A surgeon. Why not a Healer?"
"Mister Durban actually is a magical Healer though in him the gift is not particularly strong. On the other hand he is well-trained and experienced in natural medicine. His potions and poultices can fix most of what ails you, and he sets bones. Above all he is a skilled surgeon."
"You see, the crew are mostly young and healthy lads. So a ship's surgeon is most often called to set bones broken when men slip on the deck or fall from the rigging or fix them up after fights when ashore on liberty. Combat wounds are often hideous and require amputation. Mister Durban has all the requisite skills."
"His other great virtue is that he purges the ship."
"Purges it, how?"
"With a mental shout that drives all vermin out of hiding and makes them so frantic to escape that they throw themselves into the sea. It is an aspect of his gift. Now the Petrel is a clean ship, and we won't have taken aboard very many unwanted passengers while in port so briefly. But I have seen what happens with a pirate ship and even worse with a slave ship. The decks literally boil with frantic critters on four legs or six scurrying to the sides and falling and jumping overboard. Now I have a strong stomach, but that was really disgusting."
"And the purser?
"That would be Mister Wyckham. The Purser on a ship is responsible for supplies and victuals, and he is also our paymaster."
"It is just a well that you have come aboard early. You can take a tour of the ship without having everything thrown at you at once amid all the hustle and bustle of getting underway."
The sailing master explained that the Petrel was schooner-rigged with fore-and-aft sails on two masts. The gaff he had just checked on enabled a fore and aft sail to be four sided, rather than triangular and be 25 percent larger. With her narrow hull and schooner rig the Petrel was fast and maneuverable and very good at sailing into the wind.
"You are not afraid of heights, are you Liam?"
"Not that I know of. I really haven't had a chance to find out. Why? Will I be climbing the rigging to set the sails?"
"No. The hands set the sails from the deck. But I would like to use you as a regular lookout and occasionally at night. If your eyes can see in the dark, you can guide us when we have to bring the ship close to shore."
"I'll do my best."
"I am sure you will. As for the rest of your duties, you will work for me to keep me apprised of the weather. With you aboard, I won't have to worry about sudden changes in the weather."
"Except when I am asleep." Liam pointed out.
"Right. Don't use magic to change the weather unless I or the captain or the officer of the deck tells you to. In combat your station is next to me and the captain on the quarterdeck. As our war wizard, you will be expected to make suggestions as to how best to use your powers against the enemy. None of us has ever fought the ship with a wizard aboard."
At Liam's nod Crawley went on to explain that his own duties as sailing master were navigation and setting the sails for the required course and conditions. In port the master was responsible for fitting out the ship and making sure they had all the ship's stores needed for the voyage.
The master also supervised loading the hold to ensure stores were secured and would not come loose and shift in a blow. When directed by the captain, the master gave the hands the order to hoist and lower the anchor and to bring the ship to dock or away from it. The master also helped keep the official log, making the entries on weather and, position.
Crawley reminded Liam that in the Navy, a captaincy was a job title not a rank. Anyone in charge of a ship was its captain, though in rank he might be a lieutenant or a commander. Higher ranks like commodores and admirals were never ship's captains. They commanded squadrons, flotillas, and fleets. The ships that flew their flags were captained by lieutenants or commanders who were referred to in the third person as flag lieutenants or flag commanders and addressed as 'Captain'.
The Petrel carried a crew of sixty plus four officers and four warrants. The officers were always in uniform and conducted themselves with dignity and formality. Among the hands and the warrants, things were more relaxed. Once the ship was out to sea the hands often dispensed with clothing entirely. Uniforms were for when they were in port or readied themselves for battle. No one wore armor since it would drag you to the bottom if you fell in.
The warrant officers were in-between, not so formal as the line officers nor so informal as the hands, hence nearly always in trews and usually shirts as well. Crawley told Liam that when he was up on the crow's perch as a lookout, clothing was optional. On deck Liam should wear trews at least, especially at the beginning of the cruise lest the hands get ideas about him, young, and slender, and pretty as he was. He would not be needing footwear but should go barefoot like everyone except the line officers. Barefoot they were less likely to slip on the smooth deck. The officers used a pumice stone to roughen the soles of their boots for the same reason.
Liam realized that, warrant officer or not, he was just a kid, and quite a comely one at that, not that he was complaining. He might fall a little short of normal masculine standards in height, build, beard, body hair, and voice register, but that was fine by him. He had absolutely no interest in changing his image to look more manly.
Still, with his pretty-boy good looks he had to be careful. Everyone knew what might befall a comely youth on a long sea voyage. So Liam had best establish himself early on as one not to be trifled with, ideally by seizing legitimate opportunities to demonstrate his powers. That would give him credibility and discourage unwanted advances. Not that he couldn't handle things, but an incident would benefit nobody.
Chapter 2. Nathan
"Why aren't you in proper uniform, Warrant Officer Liam?," Captain Dekker asked. "In the Navy we wear blue not Army green."
"I am sorry, sir, this is what they issued me back in the capital."
"Purser, see what you can do to get the boy properly outfitted. I imagine trews would be enough while we are at sea. Bronzed as he is, sunburn will not be a problem."
"Now Liam, you understand that your appointment to this vessel is temporary, made specifically to assist with a big naval operation of which the Petrel is just a small part. I know that you are a war wizard, but you are not aboard to fight the enemy so much as to communicate. This infrasound of the weather wizards will link us to other vessels and to our base here on the northern shore of the Great Inland Freshwater Sea."
"Yes sir, though the farther out we go in search of these raiders and their base, we may have to relay our messages through another ship to reach our base at Alster."
"Understood."
"Now I have never sailed into battle with a wizard aboard. Why don't you brief us on your powers and capabilities."
Liam explained to the assembled officers and warrants that he was strong in Weather Magic and Concealment, pretty good at Water Magic, of middling strength as a Fetcher, and could manage two or three blasts of white fire a day. He could also see in dim light like a cat and physically he was twice as strong as he looked and correspondingly fast. He had no capability for Earth Magic and Firecasting, nor for such exotic gifts as controlling magnetism or throwing lightning. His control of weather let him call lighting but only as an area weapon. He could not direct bolts at specific targets like a ship's mast or the tiller or at the sailor at the wheel.
"How strong are you as a Fetcher."
"Well sir, I cannot lift a brontothere into the sky but I can manage a horse without strain. And I do carry a pair of steel spheres for close combat."
Liam explained about how the spheres were used and controlled with Drew Altair's trademark 'shadow boxing' technique.
His new captain Jan Dekker nodded thoughtfully.
"Thank you Liam for that lucid explication of what we can expect from you. Speak up if you have any suggestions for using your powers. It won't bother me that I did not have the idea myself. As captain, I'll take credit for it anyway."
The captain's mild joke was an indication of his temperament. Captain Dekker had earned a reputation for an even temperment, fair mindedness, competence, and audacity tempered with caution. Everyone agreed he was a good skipper to sail under.
Two weeks later, Liam was finally getting his sea legs. Seasickness had bothered him for only a couple of days. What was harder was getting used to the unsteady deck under his feet. He had slipped and fallen several times, luckily avoiding knocks to the head. His bruises cleared up fast thanks to his enhanced vitality.
The fourth day out a man had fallen overboard and got swept away by the swells before the crew could throw him a line. Nor could they put a boat into the water right away to retrieve him because of the rough seas. Liam looked over to the sailing master and at Crawley's nod invoked his powers to Lift the man out of the water and deposit him safely on deck.
Liam really won their respect for his willingness to take his turn as a lookout seated on the crow's perch at the top of the mast. The first time he went up everyone could see that yes, Liam was afraid of heights, but he was game and climbed up anyway. Used to holding the reins of his teams and with his nearly doubled strength, he had no trouble keeping his grip as he hauled himself up the rope or line to the crow's perch.
After a couple of days of mild terror, Liam got used to the height and to the rhythmic swings of the mast as the ship rocked back and forth with the swells. In a week he found himself looking forward to his watch. There he was sixty feet above the deck, feeling like the master of all he surveyed out to a radius of thirty miles. He sat up there with no visible support but the narrow crow's perch under his rump and the foot rope for his feet. With the wind blowing over and cooling his naked body, this was the next best thing to flying. High up in the air was exactly where a weather wizard out to be. And over the Great Inland Freshwater Sea was where a water wizard ought to be.
And just as Crawley had said, no one thought it was beneath the dignity of warrant officer to stand watch in the rude nude though when he was on deck he wore his blue trews, though they did ride very low on his hips, clinging precariously to his pert rump.
Naturally Liam slept in the nude, and when he arose he bathed on deck every day in full view of everyone, first filling a canvas bucket then hanging it on a hook. A twist and the water drained through a wooden shower head under which he could bathe, with the wastewater running out through the scuppers.
One advantage of sailing a freshwater sea (besides unlimited drinking water) was that the seawater was soft and not hard like the salt water of the outer oceans. It was easy to soap up and rinse off without leaving an icky film. Your skin felt clean.
Liam loved it whenever the ship was brought to a halt to let everyone dive or jump in for a swim. For some naval reason, the order the sailing master gave to the hands for that particular maneuver was "Heave to", though they never heaved anything either to or fro, as far as Liam could tell.
The official reason for the swim breaks was to allow the men to maintain their fitness and to practice rescue swimming. The swims were a welcome break in routine that let everyone blow off steam.
One particularly fine day after a month at sea the Petrel rendezvoused with the rest of the squadron at an anchorage off an uninhabited island. The other three scout ships were there plus the squadron's strike force of five three-masted vessels and cargo ships carrying supplies.
While the purser and some of the hands transferred supplies from the cargo ships, Captain Dekker and Chief Crawley took a longboat over to the flagship to pay their respects and to get the Petrel's new orders. Dekker reported an uneventful voyage though of course the commadore already knew that from Liam's twice daily infrasound reports. They had had good weather too, easily steering around the squalls that Liam had sensed from afar.
The squadron commander, Commodore Van Zant, had also brought along the final member of the Petrel's crew, a midshipmen who had missed their departure through no fault of his own.
When the longboat returned to the schooner, there were three passengers instead of two. As they trio climb back aboard the Petrel, Captain Decker had the bosun summon the officers to the wardroom. Chief Crawley sent a man up to replace Liam on lookout, but did not give the young wizard a chance to duck into their cabin for his trews but waved the boy to go in with him.
"The Captain said for you to just come as you are, Liam. No need to stand on ceremony."
"The first order of business," Captain Dekker said when all were assembled, "is to introduce you to Midshipman Lathrop here. Nathan Lathrop. It wasn't his fault that the river boat he was on ran aground and made him miss our sailing date. You will have to excuse Mister Liam's informal state of dress as he was just called down from the crow's perch."
As the captain made the introductions, starting with his executive officer Lieutenant Dahlgren, pointing to each and stating their names and jobs, everyone nodded politely. Everyone except the midshipman in his blues and the warrant officer in his skin.
Those two just stared at each other, their faces marked with longing.
The one in his blues stood just a shade under Liam's height with the willowy build of an elf though he was fully human. He was boyishly cute, a freckle-faced carrot-topped youngster who looked much too young to be an officer in the Navy of the Commonwealth. Though only seventeen, this was his final cruise as a midshipman before promotion to ensign.
Liam gulped and clenched his fists, trying to control himself, to keep himself from making a complete fool of himself over the beautiful boy standing in front of him. He could hardly believe his eyes. Here was yet another stunning red-head come into his life. Liam opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out but an inarticulate squawk.
Likewise with the midshipman who bit his lower lip and blushed furiously. This Liam was everything he had ever dreamed of in a lover. Though slender, he had a strong upper storey with muscled arms he ached to have wrapped around him. Here was the kind of boy he had always hoped to meet, a boy he could give his heart to.
Captain Dekker looked over to Crawley and rolled his eyes. He cleared his throat to get the attention of the youngsters who were so obviously smitten with one another.
The boys shook off the spell they had cast on each other long enough to mumble proper greetings then stared at the deck, embarrassed by their behavior.
After reviewing the latest orders, the captain dismissed them. As his officers filed out, he took Crawley aside and said. "Talk to them, will you?
"I'll take care of it sir. Though I must say that they make a lovely couple."
"Exactly what they were thinking just now," the captain returned dryly, shaking his head.
Crawley shrugged his shoulders and asked rhetorically: "Teenagers and their instant overwhelming physical attraction, what can you do?"
Ignoring the rhetorical nature of the question, Dekker chose to answer, stating patiently:
"See that it does not get out of hand, Chief Crawley, that is what you can do."
Crawley ushered the two youths to his cabin for a private talk. He had them sit across from him on a lower bunk, Liam's own as it happened.
"There now Liam, you should be comfortable enough sitting on your own bunk."
"The midshipman turned red as he realized that he was in bed with a naked boy whom he ached to make love to. With an older man watching.
He just hoped his body did not betray him. The thin silk of his blues would not conceal any involuntary reaction to his proximity to the naked beauty he longed for. Liam was so close Nathan could feel his body heat.
The midshipman flinched as their legs touched briefly. With his hip pressed against Liam's the midshipman was acutely conscious that the boy next to him was completely naked, and his own thin silks were little more than a second skin over his own body.
Crawley spoke to them assuring that the captain was not upset at a perfectly natural and involuntary reaction from young males. It happens. But the two of them would have to be discreet, not about their obvious liking for each other, but about public displays of affection. No holding hands or kissing in front of the hands, that sort of thing. If they wished to consummate their relationship, they should do so in private. Anything else would be prejudicial to good order and discipline.
It helped that they were effectively equal in rank. It was true that one was a line officer and the other a warrant, but they were very close in precedence and drew the same pay. So their liaison would not violate the rule against fraternization in the ranks.
Crawley offered the warrant officers' cabin as a place for their trysts. They could use it when it would otherwise be vacant, like when he and the other warrant officers were on duty. To warn the other lodgers, the couple should tie a green cord around the latch as a signal that they were inside and needed privacy. No reason they shouldn't try that arrangement out right away since Nathan was not on duty till morning and Liam had been relieved from his watch. Still they should show themselves on deck afterwards with Liam giving the new arrival a tour of the ship.
The two boys nodded and smiled as Crawley closed the door behind him. They hesitated for a moment then threw themselves into a clinch. The blood pounded in their temples and they got light headed with arousal.
"Let's get you out of these silks, Nathan." Liam said, and helped his new friend to disrobe then sat back to see what he had uncovered.
A walking wet dream, that was the only way to described the scrumptious sailor sharing the bunk with him. Nathan was very slender with a smooth musculature. Parts of his skin lighter in tone where the sun had not reached unlike Liam's own body which was bronzed by the sun with the even shade that told all who saw him that here was a boy who was not just naked at the moment but, like a typical young male of the Commonwealth, habitually went about stark naked in public.
They exchanged some basic facts about themselves. Liam spoke of the Western Plains, driving a coach in New Varangia, how he became a war wizard, and even mentioned that he had been a witness to the sensational magical duel that had been in the new-papers not so long ago.
Nathan was a scion of the Lathrops of Cavendash, an old military family that went back six generations, but he himself was considered, only half in jest, as the black sheep of the family for having chosen the Navy. All his forebears had been in the Army. Two had risen to colonel.
"You really don't have a second name, Liam?" Nathan asked.
"I am afraid not. My people are too poor for the luxury of two names. And roaming about the way we nomads do, we don't need extra baggage."
"Ask a silly questionÉ
"Anyway, shall we stretch out in my bunk?" Liam suggested.
"Better put the mattress on the deck. The berth is built right up against the hull and has a bulkhead at each end. That makes it is very confining when you are trying to make love."
"Oh? Can I take it that you are speaking from experience?"
"Well I am not a virgin, if that is what you mean. Here, help me arrange things on the deck and we won't have to worry about falling out of the berth from the roll and pitch of the ship or our own movements. We'll lie with our heads toward the stem and our feet aft "
"You sound so sexy when you speak Navy."
That brought a snort from the midshipman but also a sly smile.
"Then here is a bit of naval lingo for you, Liam. What do you call a private boat that offers goods for sale to the crew of an anchored ship?"
Liam shook his head. He had no idea.
"It's called a bumboat!
"Yeah right. You're having me on. No way I am going to use that term until I hear someone else say it."
"You must have greater faith in me Liam, if we are to be lovers."
After that the boys did what came naturally to two healthy youngsters who were attracted to each other. They kissed and petted and explored each other's bodies. They stroked each other's throbbing manhoods. Then they stretched out for full contact, their bodies on fire from desire, their limbs intertwined as they kissed and nuzzled, and murmured.
"I just love the smell of the sea on a boy." Nathan said.
"Whereas I love the smell of a boy on the sea." Liam gave back.
Nathan scooted down, bent forward and took Liam's rampant cock into his mouth. Nathan quickly showed that he was no virgin. He stimulated Liam's cock with lips and tongue and teeth then swallowed him to the root in one sudden move. Liam gasped as the wet warmth of Nathan's mouth engulfed his cock. Then Nathan began working the cock, raising and lowering his head, sucking and tonguing, while his right hand toyed with Liam's balls and even probed his bum. It wasn't long before Liam shot his gism into the welcoming mouth of the cute midshipman who swallowed it greedily.
Then they traded positions and roles. After a breather and small talk they went at it again, this time with Liam covering Nathan who was down on all fours. Invoking his nomadic heritage, Liam said:
"As I learned as a boy on the Western Plains, this is how a stallion mounts his filly."
"Filly? If you going to use an equine metaphor for me, at least call me a colt. I may be a city boy, but I do know that some stallions cover mates of their own gender."
When they again exchanged positions Nathan told Liam. "The Lathrop clan is famous for its kennels that breed hunting dogs. That is where I learned how a sire covers his bitch."
It was clear that in their sexual relationship they were both tops and bottoms, equal partners.
Whenever he got the chance Liam watched Nathan bathe. Of course he longed to join him, to soap him down and run his hands everywhere on that delectable body of his, but that would have been, as the saying goes, prejudicial to good order and discipline.
And with Nathan aboard those occasional swim breaks were a fun time for the young couple. He and Nathan could openly lay hands on each other's naked bodies without raising eyebrows, since it was just good clean fun, with nothing overtly sexual about it. The could shove and dunk and splash, and engage in all manner of grab ass rambunctiousness typical of youths their age.
One afternoon Liam got around to asking Nathan what his magical gift was.
"Nothing so far, nothing of any significance. I can throw electrum sparks. That's it."
"Electrum sparks? Sparks the color of electrum, a dull yellow, isn't it?"
"No, silly. The name comes from the sparks you can produce with electrum which is semi-precious gemstone, really a fossil tree resin with electrostatic properties [i.e. amber]. Rub a piece on wool and it attracts fluff or dust balls to itself or makes your hair stand on end. Hold it close to someone else and a spark jumps the gap, the same as that spark that jumps from your hand when you reach for a door latch after scuffing your shoes or sandals on a carpet. That kind of spark."
I snap my finger when I throw a spark. The gesture helps me invoke my power, if I can call it that."
"We fetchers use gestures too, like our 'shadow boxing' technique to control our steel spheres."
Like Liam the young midshipman needed to establish himself aboard, but in his case the issue was not to head off untoward advances. He had to earn the respect of sailors who were older and more experienced, to get them to do what he wanted without constantly standing on his authority as an officer. At the Naval Academy they had taught him that the art of leadership was getting men to do what YOU wanted because THEY wanted to do it.
To that end an officer should neither drive his men nor coddle them to gain popularity. An officer who is liked too much can be neither respected nor effective. That was especially true with a fully professional military like the Commonwealth's staffed entirely by volunteers. Only service in the militia was compulsory though that obligation was sweetened with a possible reduction in taxation as the reward for superior performance of a town's militia.
Nathan had absorbed more at home than he had realized about how an officer conducts himself: what to do and what not to do. Like finding fault or putting men on report just to demonstrate your own diligence or importance.
One night when he was officer of the deck Nathan noticed the lookout in the bow was starting to nod off. He walked the length of the deck with heavy footsteps and when that did not work, he slipped the catch on his scabbard and let the cutlass clatter down the ladder to the main deck.
The sailor jerked around. Nathan pretended not to notice that the man had nearly fallen asleep. He merely observed aloud that a tired man might want to walk back and forth a bit to get his blood circulating to keep from nodding off. Falling asleep on watch would be a serious infraction indeed.
On another occasion he noticed that a sailor had tied the wrong knot, distracted by chatter with a mate.
"Seaman Ward. Check that knot would you? You tied a slipped buntline hitch instead of the regular buntline hitch needed for a permanent connection."
"Oh, no sir. I know my knots sir. Ten years in the navy. Those two knots do look alike, but I am sure this is not the slipped version."
"I'll grant that you know your knots, Seaman Ward, likely know them better than I do myself. You know them so well that you tie knots mostly from muscle memory. Just now you were paying too much attention to that joke your mate was telling and not to what your hands were doing."
"I was watching you. That is indeed a slipped buntline hitch. Just pull on the free end. If I am right the knot will come loose. If your are right, it should tighten."
More than a little annoyed but trying not to show it to an officer, Seaman Ward pulled the end of the knot, which came undone. The seaman looked up appalled.
"I am sorry sir. Does this mean I am going on report?"
"No. We'll let it go this time. I won't punish a man for a momentary slip when he was distracted. Not the first time anyway. I am sure you will be more attentive in the future. Am I right, Seaman Ward?
"Yes sir, and thank you sir."
"Carry on!"
Incidents like those established the midshipman's reputation as a solid officer.
Chapter 3. Clear the Decks for Action
Dinners in the wardroom improved for a while with the fresh supplies they had taken on. The captain presided over the evening meal with all the officers and warrants at the table save those on duty above. He looked over to the young war wizard and said:
"Midshipman Lathrop mentioned that you were an eyewitness to the magical duel at the conclave of wizards. I read about it in articles by that young journalist Drew Altair, the one who has made such a name for himself."
"Yes, Drew interviewed Lord Dahlderon, my mentor Sir Willet Hanford, his aide Axel Wilde, the Healers, the representative of the Commonwealth and myself. Axel and I even helped him write his account. Axel transcribed the interviews flawlessly thanks to his gift of eidetic memory. We both read Drew's handwritten draft and suggested a few changes and additions, not as critics or editors but as witnesses to the events."
So you know young Altair."
"We are boyfriends. He shares rooms with me and Axel. We are a threesome, but we have an open arrangement." he added, clearly for the benefit of the young midshipman seated across the table from him.
"Well if we see action on this cruise, as I expect we shall, maybe you can ask your friend to write it up. It's about time the Navy got some good press."
"I'd be happy to. Of course he is busy writing another book just now. I don't even know what it is about. He won't tell anyone. He says its a secret and not just a military secret but a state secret. He says he needs to write everything down while it is still fresh in his mind then lock the draft away till it can be made public. That is what he said. I gather it has something to do with their mission to the Far West, his and the famous twins Jemsen and Karel. They went out there as proteges of Lord Zaldor and Marshall-General Urqaart."
"I should mention that our suite is just down the hall from our good friends the twins."
"You seem remarkably well-connected, Mister Liam. Oh, and thank you for transcribing today's infrasound dispatch about the sacking of the Ashokan Archipelago. You should know gentlemen that those peaceful islands were attacked by trolls, tens of thousands of them, not just a naval force but a folk migration. Where they came from is anyone's guess. Where they are headed is what we are supposed to find out."
"Sir, can our squadron really defeat such a large force?"
"No, Liam but we can shadow them, maybe delay them, and send word ahead to the Admiralty as to where to dispatch the fleet."
"What if they get past us, sir," Nathan asked, "and show up at the mouth of the Long River?"
"I only wish they would. Our forts at the mouth and our war wizards would make short work of them. Before they even got that far they would have to slip past our High Seas Fleet for they could never prevail in a confrontation with so powerful a naval force. And beyond the forts are the ships of our southern river flotilla whose vessels are highly maneuverable and exceedingly well-armed. The ships in the river flotillas don't have to carry supplies you see. Only fighters, weapons, and ammunition."
"No, the trolls are not going to run that triple gantlet and force a passage up the Long River. Not by a long shot."
"So why don't we just wait for them there, sir?" Liam asked.
"You are new to the Navy, so I will explain. First, about four hundred miles of the northern coast are within the boundaries of the Commonwealth. We cannot just let them scourge our shores. More important, we have treaty obligations to the other powers on the Great Inland Freshwater Sea."
"Don't they have navies too?"
"Yes, but with not terribly significant exceptions their navies are really coastal guards, deploying revenue cutters against smugglers and rescue ships and boats. Their warships will defend their littorals, but they do not have the striking power of a deep water navy like ours."
"That is by design. A couple of centuries ago, after we cleared the Great Inland Freshwater Sea of the corsair scourge, we determined never to let another naval challenger arise on its shores. Pirates these days are just crews who have mutinied, taken over their ships, and gone hunting. Back then the five predatory city states along the Corsair Coast had built their entire economies on piracy, slave raids, plunder, and extortion."
"Extortion?"
"The other coastal states paid protection money to the Corsair League for them not to molest their ships. Admittedly the corsairs did discourage predation by third parties, if only to protect their racket."
"That is why the other navies are so modest. The bargain we made was this: no naval buildup on their part in exchange for our pledge to protect them. Admittedly our policy is as much self-serving as it is altruistic. Nevertheless, we can fairly claim that the Commonwealth of the Long River is the benign hegemon of the continent of Valentia."
Their patrol took them south and west on the track of the raiders. A group of islets caught their attention. Could the raiders be using the Scilly Isles as a forward base to scout the approaches to the Commonwealth or nearby lands? Though virtually uninhabited, they were the southernmost extension of the territory claimed by the Commonwealth of the Long River.
The Petrel threaded its way through the channel between the outer islets to the lagoon at the center. Though wide enough for a fleet, its roadstead was empty. The captain decided to drop anchor and give his crew a day's rest. They had earned it.
Crawley waved Liam down from the crow's perch. The nude boy had spent little more than an hour on watch and wondered what was up. He nodded to Nathan who was standing by.
"Captain Dekker wants a party of two to scout the island on our starboard bow. You and Midshipman Lathrop are to check it out."
"Shall I call out the gig to take us ashore, Chief?" Nathan asked.
"No need for that, you can just swim to shore. Take your time and do a thorough job. We won't expect you back for three or four hours."
The two youngsters looked at each other puzzled.
"Get on with it, the both of you. And Mister Lathrop, you can just leave your things on deck till you get back."
"My things?"
"Your uniform, boy, and your weapons. Since you are swimming ashore, you will have to strip first. Well?"
The kids finally got the message. Their mission was really liberty or shore leave, a chance for an extended assignation under the open sky, but with no one else around. Nathan shed his clothes, a goofy grin on his face.
"Thank you Mister Crawley and please thank the captain for both of us, Liam said.
"For what?" Crawley asked. "For giving you another job of work that happens to take you ashore? Be off with you now, the both of you."
The happy youngsters plunged from the rail into the azure waters of the lagoon. The water felt wonderful. Warm and clean it touched their bodies everywhere at once like a lover with a hundred hands. Strong strokes took them to the strand where they splashed ashore, Nathan in the lead. With a wave to the quarterdeck, the duo set off together on their "mission" but careful not to actually hold hands till they were out of sight.
"It's a fine thing you are doing Captain." Crawley remarked.
"I am sure I don't know what you are talking about, Chief." the captain gave back blandly.
"If you say so sir." Crawley replied. the sailing master knew that appearances must be preserved. The captain could hardly admit to acting as matchmaker for two of his officers much less for arranging a tryst.
"Isn't this just wonderful, Nathan, just the two of us with no one else about? Let's stretch our legs and explore the island a bit."
"Fine by me. Though this is the first time I've gone on a scouting mission stark naked and unarmed to boot."
"Not to worry Nathan. Remember, you are in the company of, ahem, a powerful war wizard, virtually a living weapon. I'll bring you back alive all right."
"Admittedly I haven't come fully into my powers. That won't happen for as much as five years. And I need much practice to perfect the skills my mentor taught me. That is why I cannot Levitate for a quick look around. You need Fetching to be as much second nature to you as walking before you try to Lift yourself into the sky."
"Once you do, you can invoke other powers at the same time like Concealment or a Missile Shield. Either you see when you cannot be seen, or you laugh as you send arrows right back at the archers who loosed them at you. Now that is when you have really come into your own as a war wizard."
"I always thought you Fetchers could not Lift yourselves up at all."
"We can't, but we can Lift the sandals we are standing in. My friend Drew discovered that trick last year."
"Your friend Drew, you mean one of the fellows I should be jealous of."
But Nathan said it with a smile.
After a walk of quarter hour or so they found a grassy spot to lie down in and disport themselves. It was great fun making love out in the open instead of in a cramped and stuffy cabin. And they could be as loud as they wanted to be. The lovers engaged in some of their wildest most energetic and acrobatic lovemaking ever, leaving them sweaty, tired, and satiated.
"Now that was fun. Let's rest a bit before we push on. We have to be able to say that we did patrol all the way to the other side of the island."
"Fine by me, Nathan. We'll do this again on the way back."
They had not gone far from their trysting spot when they came upon a cluster of huckleberry bushes. Were they lucky or what! The boys started picking and eating the sweet berries, greedily stuffing them into their mouths till the juice ran down their chins.
Once their first appetite was satisfied they made a game of chucking berries at each other. At one point Nathan launched a handful at Liam's face but they did not fly true swerving suddenly to one side.
"Hey, no powers!" Nathan complained. Liam just laughed it off till Nathan snapped one of his sparks at him and hit his hand.
"Hey! That smarts."
"Let that be a lesson to you. As you can see, I have magical defenses of my own."
"You know, it's too bad we don't have a basket to carry a mess of berries back with us for the men."
"No problem Liam. We'll just tell Cookie. He won't have any trouble finding volunteers to come back here with baskets to pick enough berries for the whole crew."
Just then the bushes parted as five trolls pushed their way into the clearing. They were lightly armed with only long knives as this was just a foraging trip, not a patrol. Still their numbers, weapons, and powerful bodies made them dangerous, especially to two unarmed and nude human youths.
Trolls were not particularly tall, generally standing about six feet, but they were heavy boned and hugely muscled, weighing three hundred pounds or more. They were wide and squat like dwarves only two feet taller. In a sense trolls were to Frost Giants as dwarves were to humans, except they were ugly whereas the dwarves were merely homely. The bodies of trolls were hairy, and their faces had beast-like muzzles, their jaws armed with two pairs of tusks, upper and lower. When grappling with a foe in close combat, they tried to rip out his throat.
The youths could not understand the words the trolls exchanged in their guttural tongue, but they had no trouble understanding their intent. One troll grabbed himself down there and thrust his hips at them lewdly. Another drew a finger across his throat. Clearly what they had in mind for the young humans was first rape then murder.
Seizing the initiative, Liam Fetched one of their long knives right out of its scabbard and into Nathan's hand. He gestured at the troll he had disarmed and yanked the eyes out of his head.
Meanwhile Nathan had engaged a second troll. Ducking a powerful swing, he rolled to one side then popped back to his feet snapping an electrum spark at the troll's face. Startled, the troll did not react in time as Nathan lunged with the borrowed blade and slid it between his ribs.
Two down, three to go.
Nathan snatched up the downed troll's knife with his left hand and faced his next foe. This troll tried an overhand cut which Nathan deflected with crossed blades and a deft half-turn, using the momentum of the troll's swing against him. That let Nathan hold the block ever so briefly with the blade in his left long enough he drove the one in his right hand into the the troll's neck. The edge of the blade severed the jugular arteries, and the troll fell where he stood.
When Nathan turned back to the fight, he saw it was all over.
Liam had upended the last pair of trolls two at a time and smashed their heads on a rock. That left a mess with brains and bone chips and blood splashed everywhere especially after Liam cut the throat of the troll he had blinded.
"You got three to my two, Liam, so you are one up on me."
"Still you did pretty good there, Sparky."
"Sparky?"
"Yep. Sparky. That's my pet name for you from now on. Not in front of the crew, of course, which would be prejudicial to good order and discipline."
Leaving the bodies, the youths followed the track of the trolls to the other side of the island. Liam hid them from view with Concealment as they worked their way close and observed the enemy encampment. Eight long ships were drawn up on the beach. It seems the commander of the enemy squadron was giving his men a chance to rest much like Captain Dekker had or maybe they were waiting for reinforcements.
After noting important details of their numbers, arms, and ships, the two fled back the way they came, careful not to give themselves away to other foraging parties, if any were about. They made it back to the beach shouting a warning to the men who were relaxing on the sands. The boys plunged into the water, swam back to the Petrel, and swarmed up a rope to the quarterdeck to make their report.
"Trolls, Captain. Hundreds of trolls!" Liam said in an excited voice, still breathing hard from his run.
"Catch your breath and calm down Mister Liam. Trolls you said?"
"Yes sir, in a camp on the other side of the island. We ran into a small party of five. Nathan stabbed two of them himself even though they each were nearly three times his mass. Cut them down with their own blades."
"I don't have Nathan's finesse with a blade," Liam admitted, "so I took out the other three with my powers. It was a foraging party so they won't be missed for a while yet."
Dekker turned to Nathan who drew himself to attention even though he was stark naked and made his report in the best Naval Academy style.
"Yes sir. It's trolls all right, a whole squadron of them, eight longships maybe eighty men to a ship. The vessels are open decked and clinker-built, a hundred feet in length but no more than twelve in the beam, with a shallow draft. They are propelled by both oars and a single square sail and have a steering oar to starboard."
"The trolls wear steel helmets and cuirasses [breastplate and backplate fastened together at the shoulder] and are armed with axes, long knives, bows, and round wooden shields. I didn't see any ship to ship armaments."
"A solid professional report. Excellent work, Ensign Lathrop."
Turning to his executive officer he ordered.
"Sound recall and general quarters and clear the decks for action."
The executive officer Lieutenant Dahlgren repeated the orders in a shout. The crew scurried to obey in what looked like chaos but was actually a well-rehearsed naval ballet. The longboat and gig were lowered over the side to float free till they could be recovered after the battle. Sailors brought up fire globes and slings and bow and arrows from stores. Buckets of sand were set out ready to use against fires. Weapons and bucklers were passed out to everyone, even Cookie. The Navy preferred the cutlass to the Army's cavalry saber though both weapons were about the same length and had slightly curved blades.
The sailors also readied their two crew served weapons. Four man teams set up ballistas on the fore deck (the roof of the forecastle) and on the quarterdeck (the roof of the cabins at the rear) behind the wheel. Giant crossbows powered by torsion, ballistas fired six-foot arrows made from ash wood with iron tips. Ballistas shot along a flat trajectory and were noted for their accuracy. Typical targets were men at the wheel and officers.
In less time than he would have believed even though he had watched rehearsals before, Liam saw that the ship was ready for battle. All men were at their battle stations, the anchor had been drawn up and lashed in place. Two men stood at the wheel in case one got killed or wounded during the fight.
As the ship nosed out of its anchorage trying for sea room Liam pointed to a jumble of small boulders at the foot of a cliff.
"Sir, I'd like to bring half a dozen of those aboard to use against their longships. Dropped from a hundred feet, they would plunge right through their hulls, opening them fatally to the sea."
"Make it so, Mister Liam."
Liam piled the small boulders, really only rocks no more than two feet across in a spot out of the way but to which he had a clear line of sight.
Meanwhile, one of the hands brought Liam and Nathan their clothes.
"You are out of uniform, gentlemen," the captain said. "Remedy that, if you will."
"Aye, aye sir," they answered, impressed by their captain's sangfroid.
"Er, Sir, did I hear you address me as 'Ensign'?"
"You did, Ensign Lathrop. It is within my authority to advance your promotion for meritorious service. I will enter it in the log shortly to make it official."
Chapter 4. Sea Battle
The Petrel headed directly away from the islets to give herself some sea room. Then the schooner turned on a course that would swing it wide around to the other side of the island. By the time they got there, they found that the original eight longboats of the trolls had been joined by seven more and had put out to sea. They had not raised their sails but were moving under the power of their oars. They did not move in a formation but all strung out, with faster ships in the lead.
"Stand out to sea, Mister Crawley, if you please. Give us room to maneuver. With the weather gage in our favor we can stand off or engage at will. Nice of them to string themselves out like that. That should make it possible for us to whittle them down one longship at a time. True, we could just turn away and rejoin the squadron, but there's a small army aboard those longships. Easier to burn and drown them out here than to fight them ashore."
"Mister Liam, code a dispatch for immediate transmission. Make to Squadron Leader from CS Petrel, Captain-Lieutenant Jan Dekker commanding. Enemy concentration at the Scilly Isles. 15 longboats with a thousand trolls aboard. Am engaging. End. Send it in the clear. The trolls know we have seen them."
Liam ducked down to his cabin for the pad on which he wrote a series of dashes and dots in groups of three which represented the letters and numbers that spelled out the message. Invoking his weather magic, he thumped the air around him creating the low frequency vibrations called infrasound that would be heard aboard the flagship two hundred miles away.
At first the battle went entirely in favor of the Petrel. With the wind at her back she swooped down on the longships like an eagle swooping down on a clutch of chickens, attacking them one at a time. The tail wind even increased the range of their fire globes which the sailors flung at the enemy vessel followed by incendiary arrows to set fire to four of the longships.
As the Petrel turned for another run at them, a sheet parted, letting the fore mainsail flap uselessly. The crew replaced the line which had been nicked by an arrow and got the Petrel fully underway again but in the meanwhile the lead longships had closed on her, firing arrows at the schooner as each came into range.
Nathan had been right. The trolls had no ship to ship armaments. Their intent was to close with the Petrel and board her.
"Mister Liam, time for your rocks."
Nodding Liam looked over to the pile of boulders and lifted one of them a hundred feet into the air. Positioning it over a longboat he let go. It dropped but just missed and splashed into the sea.
"It's harder that it looks, sir" Liam explained, "against a moving target and from a bad angle like this."
"I am sure you will soon get the hang of it, Mister Liam. Continue, if you please."
That was Captain Dekker, cool, calm, and collected while all hell broke loose around him.
Liam did get the hang of it. In short order he sank another four of the longships and disabled a fifth. By then he was out of rocks.
At least those aboard the Petrel didn't have to worry about magical attacks from their enemies. Like the centaurs, trolls had no magical gifts.
The crews of the ballistas earned their pay that day, repeatedly skewering trolls manning the steering oars and then their replacements and anyone else aboard who looked important, making it hard for the trolls to coordinate their approach.
Liam knew that he could not use weather magic, not while in combat at such close quarters so he called on his water magic, raising a monster wave which crested over two of the longships and swamped them, sending them straight to the bottom with all hands.
"Good work, Mister Liam. That's six you have destroyed."
"Thank you sir. I don't know how much I've got left after doing so much and in such a short time. Raising a monster wave takes more effort this far out to sea. Close to shore, the seabed rises toward the surface so you don't have to raise the water so much as push it towards shore to make it pile up into a wave. Too bad the longships were so strung out or I might have gotten more than just two with a wave that size."
"I'd better sit down for a moment. My head is spinning."
Liam sat with his back to the hull and breathed deep, trying to center himself as Sir Willet had taught him. Meanwhile, he got his steel spheres ready in case the trolls managed to board the Petrel.
Captain Dekker was trying to disengage. His ship had inflicted major damage, destroying half the enemy force. They were getting low on fire globes and arrows for the ballistas anyway, just about out of both in fact.
The Petrel heeled over in a turn only to find her way blocked by seven longships converging from straight ahead, starboard, and port. It was clear that their intent was to grapple with the Petrel and swarm aboard, overwhelming her crew by sheer force of numbers.
Liam got to his feet and looked around appalled. No way seventy men could fight five hundred trolls. Reaching deep for his magic, Liam cut loose with a stream of white fire that sliced the bows off the nearest two longships, those approaching from starboard. They plunged to the bottom.
"Good work, Liam. Can you do anything with those two closing from port?"
Liam shook his head.
"I've given you all I've got captain. I can still manage my steel spheres, but that's it."
"Let me try, Captain." the sailing master said. At the captain's nod he called out
"Take cover! Missile hazard to port!"
"Take cover from what hazard? We are still out of range of their bows."
"Get down you fool," Crawley said as he pushed Liam onto his ass. Liam looked around and realized that everyone else was hunkered down low, putting something solid between them and the two longships approaching from the port side. Obviously they knew what was coming.
Crawley took a last look at the enemy, ducked below the gunwale then invoked his gift. A grey nimbus engulfed him then the air was rent by screeches as the two longships were torn apart, the nails pulled from their planks. Nails, knives, axes, and everything else made of iron or steel, even an anchor and chain flew across the gulf between the Petrel and the longships and crashed into her side or passed over the gunwale and flew across the ship. Then the nimbus faded.
"All clear!" the sailing master yelled.
"Magnetism," he explained to Liam.
Liam popped back up and looked over the side. Nails and blades and all manner of metallic junk were embedded in the ship's hull. An anchor had left an impression in the hull where it had hit then slipped to the bottom. Crawley shook his head.
"We'll have the devil's own time of it, yanking all that iron out of her. If I directed my magic at our hull I'd pull the nails out of our own planks too."
"Thanks, Chief, but right now we have more immediate problems." Dekker told him pointing to the remaining longships.
"I don't suppose you can help with those."
"Sorry sir. I have shot my bolt. Like young Liam here I need time to recoup my strength, should we live so long."
Shrugging Captain Dekker went back to fighting his ship. The trolls were so anxious to get at the Petrel that they got in each other's way fouling their oars. One longship found itself directly in the path of the Petrel. Smiling grimly Dekker ran her down, sailing right over the top of her. There were no survivors.
But there was no stopping the trolls on the two remaining longships. Their huge loses had enraged the trolls beyond caution or reason.
Lieutenant Dahlgren relayed Dekker's next order, shouting: Prepare to repel boarders!"
The lieutenant himself joined the sailors in the well of the ship and had several two-man teams wielding the oars from the longboat and the gig. Meanwhile Nathan took command at the bow, splitting his eight men to hold the two ladders that led from the well of the ship to the "higher ground" of the foredeck.
Also on the foredeck were the four man crew of ballista. They too would take up cutlasses and bucklers when they ran out of ammunition for their ballista. Several men prepared to pick off boarders with lead bullets propelled by slings. The foredeck gave them a good vantage point to pick out targets.
As the longships pulled up along side the trolls flung grappling hooks and hauled the vessels close, then swarmed up the lines onto the higher deck of the schooner. It came down to hand to hand fighting where almost everything favored the powerful trolls.
Everything except that they were not used to fighting aboard a sailing ship. The deck of a schooner like the Petrel was uneven. Trip hazards were all around: deck hatches, companion ways, ventilators, the cradle for the longboat, the capstan to raise the anchor, battens and fire buckets, etc. Her human crew had the advantage of fighting on home ground, so to speak, and they went barefoot. The leather boots of the trolls slipped on the smoothly honed deck.
For all their ferocity, the trolls were raiders, common criminals not professionally trained troops. They fought as individuals not as the sailors did in teams of two. Those wielding oars rushed trolls just as they topped the gunwales, shoving them back to fall into the sea. And the sailors never let the enemy get their whole strength aboard all at once, but whittled them down, one wave at a time.
Many of the trolls never even got aboard, their grappling ropes severed by cutlasses even as they climbed up. They fell into the sea and were pulled under by the weight of their armor. One sailor flung an empty bucket at a troll hitting him in the head. He lost his grip, hit the water, and sank like a stone. Slingers accounted for several more.
Trolls were not the only ones to splash into the waters of the Great Inland Freshwater Sea. Sailors too were pushed, fell, or jumped overboard when sore pressed, but the sailors were unencumbered and knew how to swim. The trolls' own grappling lines let the dunked sailors clamber aboard and rejoin the fight.
The tide of battle eventually turned in favor of the Petrel. Some of the trolls discarded their armor and weapons and jumped into the sea thrashing their way inexpertly toward the last longboat or floating wreckage. Not all of them made it.
Meanwhile the crews of the ballista on the forecastle loosed their last arrow at the trolls. The range was so close they skewered two at a time. The remaining trolls aboard gathered below the forecastle, hoping to take and hold that "high ground" and bargain for their lives.
Facing them were the crew of the ballista and the clutch of sailors lead by Ensign Nathan which had defended the forecastle till then. What changed was that now they faced a concerted attack by nearly all the remaining trolls, save only a rear guard to hold off the sailors in the well of the ship.
At first it seemed they might hold the foredeck. Nathan snapped sparks at the trolls engaging his men distracting them with an electric jolt and a burn impossible to ignore. The sailors took advantage of their momentary distractions to cut them down. Unfortunately, Nathan could not be in two places at once. The trolls forced their way onto the foredeck.
"Sir I know my post is here by your side, butâ "
Dekker interrupted him saying.
"Your post is where I tell you it is. Go Liam. Don't let that ballista fall to the enemy."
They both knew perfectly well that the weapon was out of arrows.
The young wizard spun around and headed for the bow. Under his breath Captain Dekker said what he could not say out loud: "Save him, Liam, save your Nathan."
Liam ran along the gunwale, the upper edge of the hull, his progress aided by yet another sense enhanced by druidic healing magic, the sense of balance. That route avoided the chaos on a deck littered with bodies both living and dead and all manner of weaponry and armor, blood, and brains, and spilled guts.
When he reached the bow of the ship the young wizard found that the fight for the forecastle had grown desperate. The sailors were outnumbered. They had no armor only bucklers [small round shields], and wielded cutlasses against the stout armor, heavy shields, and axes of the trolls. The sailors had tried to hold the ladders leading up to the fore deck but were pushed back. Nathan ordered them to put the ballista between themselves and the trolls. It wasn't much of a breastwork, but it was better than nothing. Meanwhile he kept snapping sparks with one hand, his other wielding his cutlass with good effect. A cutlass was not much different from the cavalry saber he had practiced with at home for years.
The trolls came at them from both sides. Fighters of both races fell to the deck dead or wounded including the newly minted ensign. Clearly winning the trolls surged forward.
Liam arrived just as Nathan disappeared beneath their boots.
"NO!" Liam screamed.
He whirled his spheres at high speed in a short arc back and forth one high one low, normally a defensive maneuver called the Shield. In the close quarters of the fore deck it became an offensive weapon.
Caught up in a killing frenzy beyond all caring Liam scythed his foes down, ignoring the cries for quarter that came from the last few. He was not about to spare trolls who had cut down his Nathan. Not by a long shot.
With all the trolls dead at his feet, Liam's rage abruptly left him, replaced by concern for his lover. He turned to find Surgeon Durban working on him. Nathan's head was pillowed on a coil of rope as the surgeon operated on his patient, tying off the blood vessels where his lower leg had been severed by an axe.
"He lost a lot of blood, but I got to him in time. My healing magic will prevent corruption from setting in. Your Nathan will live, Liam. He is young and strong. He should make a full recovery."
Liam sagged in relief.
"Uh, why is he out like that, sir? Did Nathan get hit on the head too?"
"I did that. I put him under myself. You see, I can use my gift as an anesthetic to render a man unconscious so he doesn't thrash about while I work on him. Surgeons without the gift have to use the juice of the poppy, which depresses a man's whole system, or worse, have men hold their patient down. With my gift I can even work on belly wounds."
"You're a real lifesaver."
"Thanks, Liam. I know I can be a grump, and the sailors criticize my bedside manner, and they are more than half-right, but they have to be alive to grumble, don't they? I take satisfaction from that. With us healers, healing people is not just what we do, it is what we are."
"Good man!" Captain Dekker remarked as he stepped over the dead bodies to their little group.
"Good work men." Dekker told the survivors. "In all this excitement you may not have noticed, but the ship is ours. There is not a troll left alive aboard the Petrel."
He pointed to where a single overloaded and crippled longship was limping back to the island.
Everyone was so tired they couldn't raise even a weak cheer. They just nodded then slumped to the deck.
As the Petrel got underway, she set the remaining pair of longships afire.
It wasn't till the next day that Liam could summon enough magic to send a dispatch to the Squadron commander.
The reply confirmed Dekker's fears. The way the squadron was deployed the trolls could only have approached from the south.
"Gentlemen, this means they are headed for New Varangia."
Dekker pointed to the chart. To the north of the Scilly Isles lay the Barren Coast, an inhospitable and uninhabited land which dropped abruptly to the sea as a line of low cliffs. It had no harbors or navigable rivers. No, the first access inland was by the river which flowed past Flensborg, the capital of the land of the Frost Giants.
"We have been ordered to rejoin the squadron. Our complement will be brought up to strength with temporary transfers from other ships. We will also take aboard two squads of naval infantry the better to counter the boarding tactics of the trolls. I am not sure yet where we will put them all. Sailing master, find room for them. Purser, work out what we will need: victuals, extra hammocks, and so forth. We'll resupply at the rendezvous. Our wounded will be transferred to a hospital ship for transport to base. Young Lathrop will be well cared for, Liam, rest assured of that."
"Yes sir. I understand from the surgeon that after he heals he can be fitted with a prosthetic and eventually return to duty. It was a clean cut made well below the knee, just above the ankle."
"Good. And as a genuine war hero, Nathan should also return to the good graces of his family. Imagine, calling a member of your own family a black sheep just for joining the Navy. That's the Army for you."
Dekker continued:
"I have put Ensign Lathrop in for the Navy Cross for Valor, him and Chief Crawley both. I have nominated you, my friend, for the Shield of the Commonwealth."
"I don't know what to say, sir."
"When the time comes, just thank the Admiral and be sure to laugh at his jokes."
Author's Note
This story is entirely fictional, with no resemblance intended to any person living or dead.
If you have enjoyed this story and others like it, consider making a donation to the Nifty Archive. It is so easy. They take credit cards. Point your browser to http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
This story is one of an occasional series about the further adventures of the characters introduced in the fantasy novel 'Elf-Boy and Friends' and published by Nifty Archive. The chief protagonist of the novel, Dahlderon, elf-boy and druid, will appear in these stories in a supporting rather than starring role. Each story in the sequence stands on its own, with the focus on one or just a few of the original characters.
Readers who like these stories might want to try my two series 'Daphne Boy' and 'Naked Prey' in the Gay/Historical section of the Archive. My 'Jungle Boy' series of Hollywood tales is posted in the Gay/Authoritarian section. The recent series 'Andrew Jackson High' relates the trials and tribulations of five of its gay students. For links to these and other stories, look on the list of Prolific Authors on the Archive.
Comments and feedback welcome.