Elsewhere

the keep. For over a month now they dug and chipped their way through the hard, rocky ground in the hopes of creating a weak spot beneath the mighty fortress that would undermine and topple the massive stone walls. Tunneling was a long, time-consuming endeavor; however, in certain cases it could also be a highly effective tactic. The Palmerrio’s progress was predictably slow since the ground beneath the capital city was nearly solid rock; the enormous stone keep could not have been built on a less stable foundation. Up until now the Toranado viewed the tunneling as a fool’s errand. Most believed the ground beneath the city to be solid bedrock, hard enough to keep the Palmerrio digging for years, Cantu included. But they were all wrong. Late last night Queen Ramona reported that the digging was clearly audible through the walls of the keep at its very lowest levels. The tunneling was proceeding much faster than any believed possible. Cantu was worried, worried for his country, worried for his Queen, and worried for his lover, who also happened to be the reigning monarch.

But his greatest worry was not for the safety of Queen Ramona. He was confident she could escape well before the inner keep actually fell; after all she had the Traveler na Gall with her. Plus if that option somehow failed, she had over half the Toranado fleet guarding the harbor of her fair city, ready to whisk her to safety if need be. No, his greatest worry was that Eno would not hold out long enough for their allies, the Massi, to assemble an army large enough to challenge their enemies. It was a daunting task for the young Prince Gwaynn no matter what his skills and popularity. No, Eno must hold the Palmerrio captive for many more months if the young Massi Prince was to have any chance…unless somehow, the Cassinni could be swayed to join the fray against the High King…but for now Gwaynn was their only hope.

Cantu realized however, that it was undoubtedly a vain hope. Even if they somehow managed to gain years for the Massi, their enemies were strong and many, and included the vaunted Temple Knights of the High King. Over the past thousand years, no country, no army, no force in all the Inland Sea had prevailed against the well-trained cavalry knights from the King’s Island. Even with the ten thousand Toranado soldiers already in Massi aiding Prince Gwaynn, Cantu felt they were just delaying the inevitable. Foot soldiers were just so much fodder against a powerful force of cavalry. Unless…unless somehow the Tars of Noble could be persuaded to join the fight against the High King.

Cantu frowned and struck his fist lightly against the wooden bulkhead. They had far too many potential allies sitting on the sidelines for his tastes. Something must be done about that, but he was no diplomat able to convince nations and men to join the cause. Yes, a master diplomat is what they needed if the Tars were going to be convinced to move against the High King.

It was a slim hope, but not completely a fool’s hope, after all, Prince Gwaynn studied on the island of the Tars, studied with the greatest Tar of them all. In a way he was one of their own. Perhaps in the end, the Tars could be persuaded to fight for justice once more.

              The Admiral climbed the ladder from his cabin up to the main deck and out into the early morning darkness, while thoughts and possibilities darted about his brain. They banged and buzzed against his skull like a fly on a windowpane. And like the fly, Cantu feared they were already caught, for even though the window offered the promise of paradise beyond, it was all a cruel illusion and there was truly no escape. Cantu shook his head, trying to dispel these negative thoughts as he finally reached the main deck. It was not good for morale to wander the ship like a sour puss.

              “Sir,” Ensign Billings said, snapping to attention while stifling a yawn. As the youngest officer on the flagship, Billings was forced to endure the black shift, through the deepest, darkest part of the night, but he prided himself on never resting while at his post. Tonight was no different, but such diligence to duty did not temper his relief when his shift finally came to an end and he could go below and crawl into his hammock.

              “All quiet?” Cantu asked, taking a steaming cup of tea from the steward. Billings nodded.

              “All quiet…sir,” he replied.

“Very well,” Cantu said briskly, “I have the deck.” The young lieutenant nodded but remained up top for a few minutes more watching with his Admiral as the sky slowly lightened until finally the first rays of the sun broke over the horizon. The morning was beautiful; the sky was clear, not a single blemish marred the dark blue canvas. But low on the northern horizon, the early light also revealed a multitude of sails. A large fleet of ships was rounding the western point of the Bay of Eno. They were coming fast, pulling all oars. The sheer numbers approaching ruled out the possibility that they were Toranado ships. It also did not bode well that they were arriving from the northwest. The rest of the Toranado fleet was positioned at Cape and to the east.

              Cantu stared at the approaching ships in disbelief for a moment, but then calmly turned to Ensign Billings.

              “Sound the horn,” the Admiral ordered quietly, staring transfixed as more and more ships rounded the point and came into view. “Raise anchors and get us underway. All oars.”

              Moments after the horn sounded the ship was alive with activity. The Admiral’s crew was well trained, the best, and he gave their preparation little attention. Warning horns sounded from other nearby Toranado ships but Cantu ignored them as well; his eyes and mind were completely riveted on the threat racing toward them. In the distance, ship after ship continued to round the point. Cantu held his breath, waiting for the last of them.

              ‘The High King is coming for us,’ he thought, eyes raking the flags flying over the enemy warships as they advanced ever nearer. At first, in the dim light of the early morning, he could make out no colors, but then he recognized the signal flags of the Palmerrio, then those of the High King and finally to his dismay, the flags of the Rhondono. The only positive was that fact that the powerful Cassinni fleet remained blatantly absent. But looking out at the vast armada sailing into Eno harbor, he was little comforted by the fact that the High King did not have the support of all the great families in his war against the Toranado. The fleet now sailing against them was daunting enough. It was also surprising that as yet no Deutzani ships were sighted in the approaching armada. But as the sun completely cleared the hills to the east, he spotted a separate group of warships on the opposite side of the bay, guarding the eastern channel…the Deutzani.

              Cantu frowned. ‘At least we will not have to fight the fleets of all the Families of the Inland Sea,’ he thought wryly, and silently blessed the Cassinni.

              Once the anchors were aboard and they were making head way, Cantu turned and spotted Captain Denard standing just behind him, fastening the last button on his overcoat.

              “Captain,” the Admiral said, “ten degrees starboard. Signal the fleet. Let’s aim for the far channel. We’ll smash our way through the Deutzani if necessary.”

              As the ships slowly turned, Cantu and Denard moved forward to assess the strength of the enemy.

              “We’re outnumbered,” Denard said, a bit surprised even though they were missing nearly a quarter of their own fleet, which was off guarding the harbor at Cape and the flanks of the Toranado army in Massi.

‘The High King must have promised the Rhondono bastards the world,’ Denard thought as the combined enemy fleet grew closer. He was not overly concerned. The Toranado navy was the supreme power on the Inland Sea and even at their reduced strength the Captain felt they were more than a match for any other force on the water.

              “Yes,” Cantu agreed, “but we’re not outnumbered in heavy warships just galleys. The High King may only be here to drive us away from Eno…we shall see in a moment.”

              Signal flags were raised, communicating the Admiral’s intention instantly to the entire fleet and with practiced precision, the mass of oar bearing ships turned as one. They only made a hundred yards however, before the fleets of the High King and the Palmerrio turned in pursuit.

              “So much for just driving us from the bay,” Denard said with a touch of anticipation in his voice. The Captain was not accustomed to running from enemy ships, nor did he want to become comfortable with such actions. If the enemy was turning to fight, so much the better, Denard had complete confidence in his ship, his fleet and his Admiral. In his mind, no one could touch Cantu for tactics at sea.

              “Continue on the present course,” the Admiral said calmly, “half oars…rest half.”

              Denard bark a repeating order and the fleet moved easily out into the bay and toward the coming battle.

              Cantu moved the fleet slowly to the northeast and calmly watched as the enemy fleet pulled all oars in pursuit. As Captain Denard observed, they were outnumbered, but the enemy was short in heavy triremes by about a dozen. Most of the ships in pursuit were of the galley class; light, maneuverable and quick in the water, but lacking the ramming punch of the larger triremes. Although galleys, in sufficient numbers, could be a danger, Cantu