into their midst. Two men fell to their knees, screaming in pain, feathers fluttering from shoulder and arm. Quantos let out a weak croak and then tumbled in a heap, a single shaft transfixing his throat, its bloody point sticking out the back of his neck.
Alodar looked across the decks and saw one of Feston's men fall and then another. The trireme fighters pressed their attack vigorously at those who had boarded. Alodar hesitated a second longer, clutching Cedric's sword. Then, with a full intake of breath, he stepped to Quantos' slumping form and grabbed his banner. Standing over the fallen marine, he waved it aloft. 'For the queen!' he shouted. 'For revenge and victory! Attack!'
Another round of arrows came and two splintered off Alodar's shield. With a fierce yell, he sprang over the bulwark and fell into the midst of the archers who faced them. He dropped the banner, drew his sword and hacked at the head of the one who stood dumbfounded nearby. 'For Quantos,' he yelled.
Then, in a massive wave, the marines responded. They swarmed over the gap and began swinging at the archers, who retreated towards middeck.
The men pressing Feston turned and glanced at the commotion, hesitating in their own attack. Alodar waved his sword overhead and led the marines onto their rear. The others on the royal barge saw the men of the trireme drop back in confusion, trying to protect their suddenly exposed flank. Now sensing victory, Feston's full contingent stormed over the rails. Basil gave the command and his men also followed. The oars of the trireme stopped and the rowers began to pour onto the deck from two hatches to aid their beleaguered comrades.
The deck of the wargalley became a mad swirl of sword and shield, without pattern, as the two forces engaged. Alodar jabbed point first at the man on his right, while hastily raising his shield to the left to ward off an axe swinging down from a seeming giant. The blow numbed his arm, but he instinctively stepped forward to pass beyond the thrust of his foes as his own followers closed to engage them. The man on his left screamed and fell, spouting blood from neck and arm, as Quantos' marines pressed on the attack. The trained fighters drew together and formed a line about Alodar. With him as the center, they began slashing forward to midship.
Alodar's mind slid into the intensity of concentration that Cedric had taught him, fear blotted out, eyes alert for an opening or a surprise thrust, and arm darting out to give pain. He swung his sword in a swift horizontal arc and felt the sharp blade bite into flesh as his adversary raised both arms high to crash downward an instant too late. With a cry already hoarse, he egged on the men who lagged on the left and closed up the right when the roll of the ship or blow of the foeman created a hole in their line. He moved his troop steadily forward, mindless of stinging cuts and slashes. Almost in a daze, he called halt when he recognized that only armbands with Feston's red plume faced them. The wargalley was theirs and Alodar had had a taste of battle.
Alodar leaned against the railing, still clutching Quantos' banner, as he watched the transfer of prisoners from the trireme to the barge. He glanced about the deck to see that the thaumaturgical wax he had used on the more serious wounds was safely stored away. The larger vessel now rode quite low in the water and even listed slightly to the side. A steady procession of divers dropped over the rail, each one adding another nail to fix a makeshift patch over the ragged hole ripped by the wargalley. The fog had lifted with the beginning of a gentle breeze, but it would be many hours more before the repair was tight, the water bailed from the bilge, and the barge again underway.
One by one, the followers of Feston and Basil emerged from the trireme's hold, carrying back what meager plunder there was aboard. Then amidst a general murmur from both decks, a knot of closely linked figures emerged, all save one with arms across their faces, nearly stumbling as they groped forward to the gangplank.
'The sorcerer from the trireme,' Alodar heard Grengor say at his side. 'Only an enchanted vision could have guided that ship undetected in the fog through the surrounding fleet and so unerringly into the barge's side. Had we not more than twice the normal crew, they well might have ripped us from stem to stern before we could have grappled her. The kingdoms to the south sorely press the fair lady on land and nearly cut off her aid as well.''
In the middle of the block of men that stumbled forward, Alodar saw a mane of unruly hair shake free, and then a face contorted with rage, surrounding deep-set and burning eyes. Almost instinctively, Alodar flung his hand in the way of the glare, menacing even at a distance.
'A sorcerer who has been thwarted makes a most dangerous captive,' he said. 'The guard we place around him better be both careful and complete. But his presence reminds me of why I am here. I must go below and seek out the sorcerer of the queen.'
'And your instruction during your absence, master?' Grengor asked. 'Are we to remain on station here in the stern, transfer to the trireme as part of the queen's crew when it takes station with the rest of the fleet, or can we go below, since the watch bells have long since sounded?'
Alodar turned in puzzlement to face the sergeant. He saw a round face set on a stocky form, wide-set green eyes, large and trusting, and a plain mouth between jaws of crushing strength. 'Why do you ask me, Grengor? Why not ask the one who commands in Quantos' place?'
'I beg your pardon, sir,' Grengor said. 'Our band is small, now not even a dozen, but we have fought together for many years under Quantos' banner. In our grief, I?we all feel that none of us has the wit to lead the others. But rather than disperse to follow the banner of one of the lords, we would rather answer to you, wherever you may lead us. Indeed you are no Quantos, but you showed much spirit in what happened today. We have decided among ourselves that this is as he would have had it.'
Alodar's jaw dropped in surprise, but before he could answer, a page wearing the same colors as he bounded up the ladder to the deck.
'Attend to our lady,' the newcomer said. 'She is accompanied by the sorcerer Kelric in her cabin at this moment.'
'On station until I return,' Alodar said hastily. He turned and followed the other page down the ladder, his mind aswirl with what the sergeant had said.
'Alodar, you are safe,' Aeriel cried as he entered her cabin a few minutes later. 'I heard that Quantos was felled and members of his troop as well. I did not know if you were among them.'
'There are losses enough for which to grieve,' Alodar said, 'and we are lucky to be still afloat.' He looked at Kelric, slumped on a small stool in the corner. 'The power of sorcery was great indeed.'
Kelric tipped back his head and laughed. 'Sorcery!' he cackled. 'The power of sorcery. It reads so easy in the sagas. Pressed on land from the west and south, and on the sea, as well. And when all seems blackest, a simple charm saves them all so they may live in contentment thereafter.'
Alodar looked around the plain cabin and saw it was no larger than his own. Aeriel sat on the bunk, dressed in men's breeches and tunic. To her left, on a small chest, was a pile of documents and the quills and seals. There were no other chairs and Alodar stood facing the two, leaning against the wall.
'But a single charm might activate the eye, and then it will be as the sagas say,' he replied.
'It is not so easy,' Kelric said. 'The charm for what you have is most complex. You cannot learn it unless you are proficient and, more importantly, are confident in many a charm of lesser power. Without the basis to build upon, a sorcerer's eye will be forever useless to you.''
'But why is that?' Alodar asked. 'Certainly in thaumaturgy, alchemy, and even magic, each spell is entire unto itself. Even if learned by rote, it has no bearing on the others.'
'The difference, lad,' Kelric said, 'is that each of those arts manipulates the physical objects and forces about us. Sorcery deals instead with a matter much more elusive, our minds. You cannot see or touch the medium with which you work. And the subtle and intricate will be totally missed, unless you become familiar with the rough outlines first.'
'The words are different, but the message is the same as with the other crafts.' Alodar sighed. He shook his head and looked back at Kelric. 'No matter, regardless of the effort, I am ready.'
'Well then, let us start at the beginning,' Kelric said. 'There are five types of charms in sorcery. A charm of prophecy or far-seeing is a cantrip; a charm of illusion is a glamour; a charm of fate is a curse; dominance of one's will by the sorcerer is enchantment; and transfer of consciousness from one animate object to another is ensorcellment. To take effect, charms are recited three times or, as the Rule of Three states, 'thrice spoken, once fulfilled.' '
'I noted at the royal ball that you cast your glamour in that repetitious way. Each word seemed to follow the next in a pattern but somehow with a logic that I could not follow.'
'Yes, the chanting of the charm is all. Great skill and practice are necessary to say all of the words with the proper rhythm and intonation for success. The slightest falter produces hallucinations and head pains that can last
