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Theor gazed at the looted ruin of a fisher town, the fifteen or more octads of lean dark ships lying at
anchor, the army of giants ashore who swarmed into formation as his own folk approached. Signal drums
were sounding on both sides, through the ocean tumult, rapid thutter from the Nyarran ranks and a
slower bass boom that called to the Ulunt-Khazul. Spearheads flashed high among banners, above the
hordes.
Elkor scowled. "They aren't manning their ships," he said. "They're keeping almost entirely on land."
Norlak's slim hands twisted together. "Can our levies face so many? We counted on dividing the
opposition."
"Once we attack their fleet. . . ." Theor's voice faded. Obviously the Ulunt-Khazul knew better than to
go aboard then.
Elkor made a headshake shrug. "Having come to live in Medalon, they may as well sacrifice the ships,"
he in-terpreted.
"No, that makes no sense," Norlak said. "Even if they are resolved on victory or death, well, they have
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to bring the rest of their people sometime."
"They must count on building more vessels after the con-quest, or using ours," Elkor decided. He paced
restlessly, around and around the foredeck. "This is a blow to our plans," he muttered. "We've committed
so many folk to the fleet that the enemy land force-allowing for them being superior warriors
individually-may very well defeat our troops. Perhaps we should land here and now. . . . No. It would
take too long. They'd be upon us before we straightened the confusion."
He stood a while pondering. A breeze came; he lifted his massive head and announced: "We'll carry on
as planned, get in among their ships, cut down what few enemy people are aboard, and then make our
landing. That way, they'll be taken in the rear while still engaging our ground forces. Umfokaer, have a
forgarman so inform Guard Chief Walfilo. Tell him to hold firm at every cost, for we'll come to his help
quite fast."
The officer saluted and called to the signaler. "We'd best get ready," Norlak said.
"Aye." They began to equip themselves. The ship, the whole fleet crawled with folk doing likewise.
Theor squirmed into the kannik-skin mailcoat that pro-tected his body; the similar jacket for his torso;
the solid plates hung loosely above the vulnerable openings for gills and Vents; the peaked helmet; the
round shield for his left arm; the belt of knives. His right hand hefted an ax. The gear was unexpectedly
heavy, and it was annoying to feel his crest cramped. He tried to convince himself that combat against
invaders was no worse than against an en-raged snouthorn. But he couldn't believe it. The wrongness of
the day, thedisorientation, bit into him. He looked at his male demi-father's face and read only
sternness. Nor-lak's jitters were almost a comfort, making him feel less alone.
Drums crashed. The Ulunt-Khazul infantry formed up and started toward the Nyarrans. Their spears
rippled like a forest in the wind.
Theor plucked his attention away, back seaward. The enemy fleet was still a couple of miles off, but he
could observe details. They were lapstrake craft, shorter and with less beam than his galleys, entirely
decked over. The absence of figureheads gave them a dauntingly businesslike look. But what was that
framework jutting from each prow? And with-out sidewheels or masts or even oar ports, how did they
move?
A few figures bustled about on them, in helmets and horn-plate cuirasses that flung back the light as if
metallic. Several boats were moving out into deeper water. Unlike Nyarran auxiliary craft, round coracles
sculled by a single person, these were narrow, with outriggers and lateen sails. "Where are they going?"
Theor wondered aloud. "What are they about?"
"Nothing good for us," Norlak said.
"Their vessels are not equipped to ram, as we already knew," Elkor said. He had counted originally on
sinking them thus before their crews could grapple fast and board his own ships. "But they may well be
faster than us. Could they intend simply to flee for safety?"
"If so," Theor forced himself to remark, "we can make our landing still the sooner."
"I don't like this," Norlak mumbled. His antennae twitched. "The air stinks with ill-omen."
The Nyarran ships plodded on. There was no more chanting from the wells: only shuffle and creak, the
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cox-swain's count, the thresh of the wheels overside. Males lined the deck above, shifting their weapons
from hand to hand, staring ahead. Theor glanced at the shore. The two armies had changed from a walk
to a jog trot; their banners bobbed against low stawr clouds in the east.
"Ulloala! What's that?" exclaimed Elkor.
Theor whirled about and followed the pointing spear. The enemy sailboats had halted at the edge of a
large sea pas-ture. Their pilots cupped hands about throat pouches and shouted. The call wailed to
Theor through the Orgover thunders and the drumplay ashore. The weed surface broke open, waves
boiled outward, shape after huge black shape rose until the whole strait seemed covered with them.
Norlak reared and gibbered. "Whatare they?"
The muscles bunched around Elkor's jaws. "Ocean beasts. I've never seen or heard of their kind,
but-'Domesticated. So that's what pulls their ships!"
The archbacked forms vibrated tails and flippers and darted toward the Ulunt-Khazul vessels. Sailors
poised on the framework at every bow, harnesses in hand. Someone yelled, aft of Theor; a groan rose
from Nyarr's fleet.
Elkor stood fast and estimated. "About half as long as a galley, those creatures," he said, "and almost as
massive, I'm sure. I don't know what they can do to us, but plainly the enemy is counting on them. That's
why he could afford to concentrate his strength on land." He brought the butt of his spear down on the
planks. "We must assume he knows his own capabilities. I dare no longer meet him at sea. But we can
beach before he's ready to fight. That harnessing must be a slow operation."
"Beach? Here?" Theor protested. "Demi-father, I've fished along Gillen. The drop-off isn't steep enough
at this point. We'll smash our sidewheels in the shallows."
"That can be repaired," Elkor snapped. "Death can't." He scanned the ground. If we make for yonder
spit, Walfilo's band should have passed it by the time we arrive. We'll group while he holds off the
enemy, and join him from be-hind. It's not as good as striking the Ulunt-Khazul rear, but it will have to
do. Send the message, Umfokaer."
"Aye, aye." The officer gestured to the signaler below, who unfurled the flag he carried. The nearest
forgar came down. Umfokaer shouted to "the rider, who rose and repeated the words to his hovering
fellows. They scattered the command over the fleet.
Theor gripped the stempost and stared out at the enemy.
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