least ten and estimated three times as many were aboard.
The sound of pounding feet from off to the left made him smile. Here came Tain.
Ghassan made several hand gestures to the men with him and watched as they split into three distinct groups.
“Fire!” came the warning.
Tain suddenly burst into the open in front of the jetty, having run like the wind around the back of three warehouses and arrived, panting, from the correct direction for a runner from the compound. The three men at the brazier readied their weapons. These soldiers were truly alert and prepared.
“Halt!” the leader barked.
Tain came to a stop, dropping his hands to his knees and breathing in deep gasps. After playing up the weariness a little, he straightened.
“Sir… Sarge at’ barracks said he needs ya… Bin attacked at ammo store and… place’s on fire… All pris’ners got out ’n’ all!”
“Shit.”
The officer at the brazier turned to one of his companions.
“Take a dozen men and go help.”
Tain straightened and saluted before doubling over with a very impressive hacking cough.
“And you’d better stay here ‘til you can breathe, lad.”
The young man nodded and shuffled over to a cleat to sit down. As he continued to breathe in deep lungfuls of air, he watched the second in command as he shouted to his men on board. A dozen guards came to the rail, dropped their spears over onto the jetty and then leapt the six feet down and across onto the wooden floor, some of them barely making it. Tain smiled to himself as he noted the random rope snaking away from the cleat upon which he sat and across the jetty. With a deep breath, he leaned back and began, surreptitiously, to move the rope an inch at a time with his foot.
Moments later, the guard detachment was away and marching through the port toward the now-obvious column of flame that marked the location of the ammunition store.
Ghassan made a single gesture with his hand and watched the groups with him burst into silent life. The first ran quietly along behind the piles of crates and barrels until they reached the end wall of the port.
Here the wall rose up behind warehouses, to nowhere near the height of the town walls, but high enough and with a walkway. The guard that patrolled the top would be looking outward if he were paying attention at all. Likely he was now somewhere further inland, gazing toward the rising flames. Inside the perimeter, the first harbour was framed by the port wall and the jetty, the high sides of the Empress reaching up from the dark, glassy surface within.
The first group, silent and swift, crossed the space between the crates and the shore and disappeared into the black water with hardly a splash. Ghassan bit his lip, his heart pounding as he turned to the other two groups. The men at the near end had taken position in the cover of the barrels, close to the end of the jetty and just outside the circle of orange light cast by the brazier.
The third group, only eight men, but hand-picked by their companions for their abilities, remained with Ghassan at the centre.
He’d have liked, given the opportunity, to have gone with one of the main assault groups, but, no… He was in command and it was the job of a captain to direct and guide and from here he could continue to monitor what was going on until they were certain enough of the success of the plan that he could rush in and join them.
He turned his gaze back to the group in the water and watched, anxiously, as they slid through the black until they reached the ship. They disappeared from view at this angle as they moved along the far side of the hull and Ghassan took a deep breath, counting almost silently.
“One… two… three… four… five… six…”
Turning, he gestured with his thumb at the group near the jetty.
“Go!”
With a roar, the main party of pirates rushed out from their cover toward the two men by the brazier who reacted more professionally than Ghassan had expected, bellowing warnings and commands to the men behind and on board. Perhaps the officer had been prepared for something like this? If that was the case then Ghassan had to hope he’d out-thought the man.
As the raiders bore down on the jetty and Ghassan prepared for the next step, he almost laughed as he saw Tain, seated on a cleat, pull a rope by his feet until it tightened. The coils he’d been carefully manoeuvring with his foot straightened at the ankles of the two men by the brazier and, with a squawk, the officer and his companion were swept from their feet, the former landing on his back on the jetty, while the latter disappeared into the water with a splash.
With a wave to the small group beside him, Ghassan climbed to the top of the pile of crates. From their slightly elevated position, they had a better view of what was happening on deck.
The soaking pirates who had swum across and climbed the ship’s side using the well-designed hand holds Samir had had carved for situations just like this finally reached the rail at their side and began to clamber over, just as most of the soldiers on board had rushed over to the jetty side to aid their comrades below.
“Now!”
Beside Ghassan, the men of his third party began to swing their slingshots and bolas and let the missiles fly at any target aboard that presented itself. Several men standing at the jetty-side rail were caught unawares as the small stones pounded them. One man, unfortunate indeed, was the recipient of a thrown bolas that caught him at the knees, tying up his legs just as a small, smooth stone caught him a glancing blow on the forehead. Unconscious even as he fell, the guard toppled over the rail, alongside several of his companions. The men variously fell to the jetty with a thud or disappeared with a splash.
The distraction of the main charge was enough. The men who’d swum across and climbed the far side were now spreading out on the deck and disappearing into the doorways. It would all be over in a few minutes. Then would begin the difficult part: getting away from the dock intact.
With a nod of satisfaction, he noted that the assault group on the jetty had reached the far end, downing or pushing into the water anyone who resisted. Two men on board began to lower the boarding ramp as the others dealt with the remaining defenders.
Turning to his missile troops, Ghassan grinned.
“Alright lads. Let’s fetch the oars and get on board.”
As they dropped down from the higher crates and rushed to collect the piles of long oars from the side of the building where they’d been stacked, Ghassan looked up when someone shouted his name. With a smile, he recognised Ursa and a number of men rushing down the main thoroughfare of the port and making for the Empress.
“Glad you could join us, mister Ursa.”
“Well, sir. You know how hard it is to leave a comfy fireside and come out in the cold.”
Ghassan laughed as the escaped pirates began to swarm across the jetty and up to the ship, preparing to get her underway. Ursa stopped amid the commotion and addressed his commander.
“Hope you’ve got something up your sleeve still? There are four navy vessels in port and they’re all as fast as us. We’re not away free yet…”
Ghassan smiled.
“We’ll see, mister Ursa.”
In which paths diverge
The carriage rattled slowly and uncomfortably along the track toward Pelasia. Despite the fact that this was the closest she had managed to regaining what she had lost, Asima sat brooding and seething in the rickety vehicle. The encounter with that uncanny bitch at the staging post a couple of hours ago had sent her into a deep sense of disgruntlement and every time she tried to calm her mind or sleep, visions of that unholy ragged desert witch and her keen insights insisted themselves once more upon her thoughts.
