Chapter 162: 8-19-1 Sixty Seconds

Giogi, twelve years old.

Thirteen pillars of brilliant light cut down from the sky. Where they came from was a mystery; it was above the clouds, since the ones passed through vanished as though burned up. But it wasn’t a mystery who had called these destructive powers into existence. If anyone were to tell me that the tomboy who used to beat the snot out of me and the boys would eventually turn into the Gods’ chosen Witch Queen, I’d have never believed it.

“Is that the signal?”

“No way…”

“Are there even debris left?”

Around me the soldiers and even knights were struck in disbelief. At least these ones were; we were all the new additions. Here and there were some individuals who took a different reaction.

“Well, I’ll be.”

“We can’t be seen letting her do everything!”

“All right men, brace yourselves!”

These were the same corps who had followed our liege to Zesten. They’d told us to expect something absurd when we first got our orders. Now, I realized exactly what they were talking about.

“Boy, you sure you want to come?”

With a start, I realized I’d been clenching my hands too tightly; my palms weren’t bleeding but they were decorated with two rows of red indents. After unclenching my hands I nodded.

“Aye sir!”

Lord Justin nodded once, “Then prepare; we launch in three minutes.”

I hefted my pack and fell in line to board the fast attack ship.

How did I even get here…?

I was a villager. Sure, every boy my age would probably say they wanted to be a knight, but for me it was actually happening, and it was nothing like my imagination would have suggested!

“All hands, brace! Brace! Brace!” The helmsman gave the signal and the small boat lurched.

My stomach rose up in my chest, threatening to spill out my lunch. With a forced swallowing motion, I fought to keep that down, only to choke and bite my tongue as the tiny wooden coffin impacted the water.

“Ackth!” I called out, but of course nobody was there to listen; I was in the army now.

My knight, Sir Justin, gave me a glance at least, but it wasn’t like he had the time nor the inclination to do anything. Then, before I really had the chance to recover, I was thrown back into my seat as our craft accelerated.

The mechanism powering this was well and truly beyond my understanding, except that it was magic. Perhaps Stahlia would know how it worked; she’d always been clever. Regardless, the drills we had run did very little to prepare me for the actual act. Something about hurtling toward an enemy ship at speeds well beyond what a horse was capable of was causing me to become rather philosophical.

As our slim protection skid through the waves, I began to ponder. My early life was a foggy haze at best. Pretty sure it was like that for everyone. The only thing that really stood out starkly was the first time that tomboy had kicked my ass. Back then, I think I liked her. But as kids do, I hadn’t exactly been able to communicate my feelings proper.

No, what I had done could generously be called “harassment.” Me and the guys had taken every opportunity to bully her, most commonely on account of how she talked and acted. Of course I knew now that her mom mum was simply preparing her for noble society and all that. Hells, I was even finding out now just how useful those manners were in my own life; a knight was a low noble after all.

Everything had finally come to a head one day, when Stahlia had finally had enough. The exact details were hazy, but for a different reason than age; she’d kicked my ass. Mine, and the two others with me. It hadn’t even seemed like she tried all that hard. Well, that woke me up right quick, and I’d wound up making a fool of myself. Right after apologizing, asking her to teach me to fight.

“Brace! Brace! Brace!” The sailor’s sudden warning broke me out of my stupor.

Was this that? My life flashing before my eyes because I was about to die? Maybe. With a sudden jolt and a lurch I was thrown to the side; the small ship to our right was burning. Probably, an attack from our enemies. The fact that they could manage to mount something so soon after seeing the might of the gods was against them was commendable. Or they were just insane.

Behind us, another wave launched. “Amphibious Fast Attack Craft.” That’s what they were called, and apparently, it was Stahlia who named them that. The Might of Man could launch ten waves of ten, five from each side. Each one held twenty men, and they could be used for either going ashore or, as we were doing, boarding actions. Of course, we were the first wave.

“Brace! Helm, bank port!” The sailor shouted again, and I grit my teeth as we jerked to the left. On our right, the water exploded as something struck there.

“Twenty seconds! May the gods favor us today!”

Twenty seconds. I shouldn’t have to do anything, but still…

I gripped my pack tightly. Sir Justin seemed to take note of this, “Here, boy.”

Looking up, I saw the hilt of a short sword being offered to me. Based on the crest, this was Sir Justin’s spare. Tentatively I accepted it, as it would be rude not to.

“You shouldn’t need it, but the level of resistance is… Well, you know how to use it.”

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That was when I realized. In the moments before we reached our destination. I wasn’t the only one who was tense and nervous. All of us were. How could we not be? This was the first time an action like this had ever been executed by our forces. The sailors were intensely focused, not unlike Old Gregory; the smith back in Ris. Meanwhile, the knights and soldiers were all gripping their weapons tightly. Even the ones who had stories of Zesten, who had experience. The eve of battle was something like a great equalizer.

Maybe it was my nerves making me all philosophical.

“Brace for impact!”

I shut my mouth loosely; shutting it tightly would run the risk of breaking my teeth. The iron taste of my blood from when I’d earlier bit my tongue filled my mouth. Our ship hit a wave that was maybe a bit bigger than the others, and we momentarily went airborne. Time seemed to stand still, and then second passed.

Another sharp impact and sudden deceleration heralded the transport arriving at the lead ship in the enemy formation. Some other spell burned a hole in her hull, allowing us to disembark into the guts of the ship. The crew were stunned of course; who would expect to be attacked this way? Perhaps if it was from range, but never with boarders. Boarding implied a desire to seize the ship; why then would you willingly poke holes in it.

That shock played to our advantage though, as we hurriedly disgorge ourselves into the midst of the enemy. It didn’t last of course, but it was enough to swing the first engagement.

“Argh!”

“Take this!”

“Fall back!”

I was surrounded by the cries of dying men and clashing steel. In all, it only took another minute for the enemy to sound the retreat. But even that was enough; we had a foothold in their hold. With a start, I released my hand from the hilt of the sword Sir Justin had given me. Though unused, the blade had taken on a somehow sinister appearance in my eyes.

“Well, her majesty’s intel was correct; they’re all demihumans.” One of the knights said as he cleaned the innards of one enemy off his sword.

“Beastkin. They’re called beastkin.” Sir Justin corrected the man while kneeling to check one of the bodies, “This one’s a dog… And a cat over there.”

Another knight chimed in, “So the tribes are working together?”

“Who’s to say?” Sir Justin stood, “Everyone, report!”

the chatter died, and everyone filtered into three groups. With a start, I realized this ship had been hit by three of our boarding craft. Truly, the occupants of this hold had stood no chance. I moved through the battlefield to my own group where Justin was counting heads.

He exhaled, “Three casualties, no fatalities. Mark, Anthony, Eustice, return to the boarding craft and treat those injuries; the healers will conserve their mana for now.”

The commanders of the other two groups called out their own reports.

“Two casualties, both fatalities.”

“No casualties.”

In total, we had lost two men, and a further three had been rendered temporarily unfit for battle. Considering the tens of dead demihumans littering the floor, we had gotten off amazingly well. Somehow, the knowledge of how one-sided it had been made me queasy.

“They’ll be launching a counterattack soon; they know we can’t be allowed to stay here.”

“Is there no chance they’ll surrender?”

To his contemporary’s question, sir Justin shook his head, “No. Would you surrender to your enemy if they have a history of enslaving your people? Besides, we just butchered thirty-eight of them.”

When exactly he had counted, I didn’t see.

“Take positions near the hatch and stairs. Group two, watch the passage to the bow. Group three, you have the stern.”

After a round of nods the knights moved to take up positions as they’d been ordered. Counting myself, there were nine squires though I was the youngest. We didn’t have a specific combat role. Rather, it fell to us to collect the bodies after our knights had cleared the room. It was sickening work, but served as a right of passage of sorts so I couldn’t complain.

Once they move to the next rooms, we’ll start with that.

It had been impressed on me by the sailors the need to efficiently dispose of the bodies. I knew why from Ris; corpses bread disease. Whenever an animal died, it had to be removed from the barns as soon as possible lest the whole flock fall victim to the rot. That didn’t mean it would be enjoyable.

“Remember, check your corners.” Sir Justin offered his men a meaningless reminder; they were all experienced enough to already know that much, “Move.”

Sir Justin fired a blast of magic from his hand. The hatch above the ladder exploded into a shower of splinters. At the same time, his second destroyed the doors at the base of the stairs. Eight men went down, while the remaining nine went up with Sir Justin. In total, they had spent only sixty seconds in this room.

 

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