3301 -- WORDS


The warship was moving silently up the Fernrug river. The occasional cries of the leadsman were the only sounds to mark her passing. The captain stood by the Quartermaster's post, as the river pilot manned the wheel. Both men were staring toward the bow of the old and tired ship; impatiently listening for the leadsman's call.

"Three marks on the port side five to the starboard" came the harshly sung chant of the leadsman. Tossing his line ahead of the ship, he searched the river bottom for the channels the river chose to follow. His cries were followed by the pilot's spinning of the wheel, to stay in the channels and avoid bottoming out on the soft muddy silt that was the river's bottom.

It had been three years since the ship and her crew had left city Crystar to defend the Kingdom from the Alliance. Now their task was nearing its end. The Alliance had crumbled under the weight of Crystar's counter attacks. Tempest had lost most of her warships and her armies became stranded in the Realm.

The queen of Tempest had thought the Realm was nothing more than a loose confederation of states loyal to Crystar and her King, Gadron. The new deposits of gold found in the coastal areas had prompted the Queen to attempt a coup and claim the area and its riches for herself. She didn't think Crystar would be able to raise an army large enough to defeat the alliance between her and the Brentians. The Alliance struck without warning and succeeded in gaining their objective within a few months.

It wasn't the first time she had underestimated Gadron. Soon the Realm came alive with the armies of Crystar. The relationship of the many kingdoms that make up the Realm was much more than simple agreements written on scrolls. It was loyalty to the ideals which Crystar was founded upon. The small kingdoms alone were little threat to anyone. But under the sovereignty of the Crown of Crystar they soon proved their combined power.

Gadron had tried to avoid open conflict. He sent Lord Antio to negotiate a settlement with the Alliance. While Antio was in Tempest, Baltec, Gadron's Warlord prepared for battle. In the ensuing months the army of Crystar swelled with loyalists from the Realm. When Antio returned unable to come to any agreement with the Alliance, Crystar declared war and set into motion the largest army history had ever seen.

While Baltec orchestrated the land battles, Overlord Degar and his highness Prince Dregal, Gadron's son, carried the battle to the high seas. For two and a half years the battles raged, and the grip of the Alliance slowly diminished. Now the Dragons Mist and her crew were finally coming home.

The crew was eager to taste the sweet air of their homes. From the yardarms of the mainmast, hung the trophies of battles won. Twenty-three enemy flags hung in tatters bearing witness to the heroic efforts of the crew.

The men were lying around the deck, daydreaming of the cooked meals, wives, and girlfriends that were only a day or two away. They had departed with their heads filled with the stories of the heroic battles that are often spun over a glass of ale at the local taverns. Now returning they realized the true meaning of the stories and the reason their fathers and uncles recited them so often. It wasn't bragging; it was their way of dealing with the memories that haunted their minds.

While the Leadsman and the Pilot navigated their way up the river the crew had plenty of time on their hands. Some stood by the rail watching the green forests and fields go by, smelling the sweet, sweet odor of home. On the deck, beneath the mainmast, a crewman sat writing his thoughts in a journal:

It has been almost three years since the Dragons Mist set sail from King's Landing, three hard years of fighting and dying, for the men of the western fleet. The war had been kind to most of our crew. Yet, we all carry the scars of battle, and the memories of our friends whom we've sent to the deep, cold sleep of the sea. "Loyal to the Crown," is emblazoned across the gold star burst on the field of purple that snaps in the wind above the main sail. Yet, it was loyalty to the captain and each other that had made the difference in the long and lonesome nights of the war.

We had been assigned the Sapphire sea fleet commanded by Prince Dregal, which had suffered greatly in the battle of Chessin Strait. The one-hundred ships of the fleet had engaged the enemy in the narrow straits off the coast of Tempest. Though victorious, the losses were staggering. Of the original one-hundred ships only seventy were still afloat when we arrived. Our crew was nervous about our new assignment. With losses like those in the straits we would not last long. The Prince was favored by the people back home and his reputation for never turning from a fight had won him great acclaim. Yet, to those of us who had to bear the weight of battle such a reputation is often seen as a death sentence.

When we arrived, Prince Dregal's ship and five others were anchored off an island known as Survivors' Dune. The reefs in the nearby waters had sunken many ships. Those lucky enough to survive such a fate, had to try to make it to land before the sharks found them. It was to Survivors' Island that the current flowed. If they made it they found an island barely able to support life, little fresh water and the only game were the small birds native to the area.

It seemed appropriate that the Prince had made land there. The captain, first mate and I set out in a launch to the Island Princess, the Prince's royal warship. When we pulled alongside we were directed to the beach where the Prince was meeting with the captains of the other ships. On the beach there were a number of crewmen standing around the launches. The captains were gathered around a palm tree. The first mate and I were told by our captain to wait on the beach and he went up to present the orders of commitment to the Prince. It is proper to kneel and swear the allegiance of the crew to the new commander when transferring to his fleet. But when our captain knelt Prince Dregal grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up.

"We are at war, captain, not in the safety of our own waters. If you were not loyal to the crown, I imagine you wouldn't have made it this far," said the Prince loudly. The other captains laughed and gathered around my captain and introduced themselves.

The first mate and I approached the other crewmen who were playing a game with a stone and gold coins. The object of the game was to land a coin on the small stone. If you did the other men had to give you a coin each, if you failed your coin was added to the pot. I watch for a while as the men played and soon found myself involved in the game. The Prince's first mate, Skippy, seemed to be the best player. He also seemed to be making all the rules. I played about three rounds before I gave up. Skippy laughed, at my nervousness over a few gold pieces, and introduced us to the other crew members. I told them that we had been transferred from the Overlord's coast protection fleet and had seen battle three times. Skippy said the Prince's fleet operates a little differently than the others.

"The Prince will never send you into battle," he said accenting the word send. "Just follow him and he'll lead the way."

We had battled off the coast near Businale three times and won two of the three battles. The fleet commander's boats even engaged each other on the perimeter of the battle area during one battle.

Those battles were nothing compared to the next few months. We entered battle at all hours of the day and night, fighting for two or three days at a time. When we lost a ship, that crew was divided among the remaining crews, or they were given a ship we had taken from the enemy.

When the battles raged and all seemed lost, the sight of the Island Princess often made the men fight that much harder. Fleet commander's ships normally sailed outside the battle area, but the Island Princess was always in the heat of the battle. Prince Dregal hanging from the mast ropes sword in hand, with Skippy at the wheel, chasing down an enemy ship.

The stories of his daring made his ship the target of many attempts at boarding in the early months of the war. His men fought hard and died willingly battle after battle. His flag never once yielded; even when outnumbered three to one. Soon the flag of the Island Princess and her fleet became the bane of the kingdom of Tempest and the Alliance.

Once, he even anchored off the coast of Tempest, and rowed into shore to raid the royal farms and orchards, near the city of White Cliff. They made three trips to and from shore bearing fruits, fresh meat and wine, before they set fire to the fields, orchards and granaries. While escaping, they found farm slaves locked in their dungshacks. The Prince and his men held off the local guard, long enough, to allow his fleet to send in launches to bring the slaves to freedom.

It wasn't so bad that he'd stolen some food, but with the food and the slaves he really got the Queen's attention. She sent out her finest ships manned by her personal royal seamen. They tried to catch the Island Princess and the fleet, but could not keep the speed through the straits. The maze of islands and reefs that comprised the route to and from the main harbor favored the lighter ships of Crystar's fleets. The Prince was able to circle around and get behind them going over reefs too near the surface for their ships to follow. When they returned without even engaging any enemy ships, the Queen demanded the heads of the captains. We had been anchored off shore less than half a mile from the mouth of Her Majesty's royal harbor for two days while they searched for us. In fact, we had engaged part of the Southern fleet and defeated it with only minimal losses well within sight of her balcony.

Soon even the armies battling on shore in the realm dreaded our flag, as they knew they would receive no supplies or reinforcement as long as we were off shore. The commander of the army of Brentwood even surrendered to the forces of Lidora when we made a brief appearance near Gredmire during the siege of that city. The funny thing was, the Lidorans were about to surrender the city; when, they received the request for terms from the Brentians. Dregal docked his ship long enough to receive the surrender of the arms along with the surrendered battle flags of the Brentian army. Then he promptly set sail for enemy waters flying those flags upside down beneath the royal flag of Crystar.

"Thirteen marks port side thirteen marks starboard" came the cry as the ship settled into Lake Grundik.

Only twenty miles to King's Landing and home. It seems so long ago now; I can't even picture what mother looks like in my mind. It's somewhat scary to think that after tomorrow I will be a normal person again; no orders to follow, and no more death and dying. I don't regret the time I've spent in service to the Kingdom; I even feel rather honored to have served with the Prince. Although, I can't say I'll miss the war, or the smell of the salt water. I will miss the friends -- no -- the family I have come to care so much about. The smells of the city will be a welcome change and the sounds of the horses and carriages and life in general will somehow make it all worthwhile.

I remember the first time I met Prince Dregal. It was during a battle near the western coast of the realm where I had fallen overboard when we were rammed by an enemy ship. The Dragons Mist turned and engaged the ship, leaving me behind, unaware that I had gone overboard. I was adrift for sixteen hours with the battle continuing all around me. I was finally picked up by the Island Princess, when I was seen hanging on to a piece of wood waving my shirt overhead. By then the battle was over, her crew was dancing and having a party with some of the bounty of wine and ale taken in battle. It didn't seem like a war at all -- more like a group of kids playing and having fun.

Skippy remembered me and introduced me to Dregal. I knelt to show my respect. He laughed and told me that we were all just sailors here -- and there was no room for special courtesies or honors. He asked me to dine with him. I accepted and soon found myself in his private quarters eating the same food as the rest of the crew. It was quite strange to be sitting at a table with a man of his stature. He seemed so young to have lived such a full life. He wasn't at all like I imagined him, just a regular person -- not so unlike me.

He asked me questions about my ship and family. We talked for hours and I found myself getting drunk like the rest of the crew. He asked me about the Overlord, whom I knew from rumor he didn't get along with that well. It is no secret in the fleet that the Island Princess sank the Overlord's personal ship, during an argument, in the early days of the war. Dregal’s father, the King, then divided the Western fleet up, giving half to the Overlord and half to Dregal.

The Overlord decided to try a blockade of the forces who had invaded the realm in an attempt to cut them off, from their supplies and reinforcements. But he spread his fleet too thin and they lost a number of battles and half of his ships. Dregal, on the other hand, decided to attack Tempest in their own waters in the Chessin Straits. He had crushed their supply fleet denying them passage into the open sea. That is when the King ordered a number of ships, the Dragons Mist among them, to reinforce the Prince's fleet. Soon the coastal fleet was disbanded and Dregal took control of the Sapphire sea, and became the Commander of the whole Western Fleet.

The crews of the enemy ships had nicknamed Dregal the Ocean Prince--a name that his crew decided they liked. Rarely did any one refer to him as Prince Dregal after that.

Well, anyway, I don't remember much of the night after that; I really had far to much to drink. The next morning I was transferred back to the Dragons Mist to suffer the ridicule due any sailor who is unlucky enough to fall overboard. It took about a week until the crew found someone else to torment and ceased their constant joking at my expense. Although some of the men of our crew started to refer to me as shark bait, I'm glad it never really stuck. It was bad enough just having fallen overboard; I didn't need to be constantly reminded about it.

"Anchors Cove--port side," came the cry, as the deck came to life and the crew went about preparing to drop anchor for the night. The sailor put away his book and quill and carried out the tasks at hand.

It was a restful night last night. The smells of the inland foliage seemed to caress and soothe the tired souls on board. It was so still and quiet, the only sound I heard was the distant barking of a dog as I faded off to sleep. A sound that none of us had heard in a long, long time.

When I awoke I could smell fresh bacon cooking; it wasn't quite the same as the stale smell of the salted meats we had been eating for the past three years. Apparently the first mate had slipped ashore and brought back some fresh food from a nearby farm. There were people on shore, screaming and cheering, who had come from the country side to offer their support and thanks for a job well done.

The captain went ashore and received the honors of the local people and their magistrate. He also brought back fresh bread and other baked goods brought to us by the local women. I guess they had heard about us from the farmer who supplied our breakfast.

Soon we were off again. Castle Crystar is in sight now and the thoughts of the crew are changing to the happier memories of our long voyage. To hear them talk would lead one to believe we had won the war single-handed. There is the strangest feeling mustering up in the crew, realizing that it will soon be all over, we almost feel sad. Sure we might meet each other again in a tavern or inn someday, but we will never be this close again.

The anticipation of arriving home is buzzing in the air like a magic spell that grows stronger with each passing minute. It is strange to see the men so happy and cheerful. Not that the past three years have been void of fun and laughing, but the measure of good tidings is so strong. Men who could barely stand each other just a few days ago are singing and laughing together like long lost brothers. Even the captain seems more at ease.

It's so different from the first days of our voyage, yet the buzz is similar. We were all so excited to be going to sea to defend our Kingdom. We had imagined ourselves returning as conquerors and heroes. We had no idea what the next three years would be like. We could not have imagined, seeing your best friend fall beside you. Or what it's like to thrust a sword into another man and see the expression on his face as he died. I will long remember those whose eyes met mine in their last few seconds of life. It does not seem fair that we will be arriving back home after leaving so many to the sea.

"King's Landing dead ahead," came the cry as the sailors pushed against the rail to see their loved ones in the crowd.

"Prepare for mooring," the first mate cried as the men moved into their appointed places readying to dock. The ship slid into position at the hands of her captain. The men all went about their last tasks as sailors in service to the crown.

The cheers grew louder and louder as the crowd screamed to their loved ones and friends on the ship. Members of the crew waved or called as they recognized their families and friends. The Flag was lowered and the paymaster set up his table near the gang plank. Each man received a note declaring his earnings for the three years of death and dying he had endured, carrying all of their possessions as well as their scars they stepped back into the life of a citizen.

05/27/2017

Posted on 05/27/2017
Copyright © 2024 Brian Francis