The cannons boomed from beneath the belly of The Guardian: causing the entire deck to wobble at each blast as they fired onto the horde armada.
The seasickness in his stomach that Simon had finally fought off through the night was now being replaced by nerves. He feared for Adelaide, and wondered if they had made it there to her in time, having sailed all through the night at top speeds.
Niether himself nor the prince had slept, and he knew the other man also dreaded the slaughter ahead.
The unclean feeling from his actions the day before still had not faded, as killing went against everything he had been raised by. Simons parents had apprenticed him early to the original castle Stablemaster, so that their boy would never have to step foot in a barrack; but despite his father's best efforts, Simon knew more killing would be something he'd have to do today.
The loud blasts of the cannonballs being ejected startled him yet again, it was a noise he doubted he would ever grow accustomed to.
"More speed!" Barked Iolas, glaring at the dark ships ahead of them.
"Angle the ship, concentrate on the smaller vessels first. Spare no ammunition. "
The Royal expertly led the troops.
Simon had to admit, he was impressed. Good or evil, Iolas appeared born for this job.
"Get down!"
The Commodore yells at Simon.
It was getting dangerous up here.
Feeling the need to do something, Simon sprinted over towards the Prince.
"Man the upper deck cannons."
Iolas orders and all the men who weren't below deck operating the cannons, slide down from the sails they were adjusting, and run for the extra cannons, those of which lined the outskirts of the upper deck.
10 of the world's finest humongous black cannons on each side of the ship.
"How can I help? " Simon asked.
The red haired prince glances between the taller blonde and the only unmanned cannon, then back again.
"How's your aim?" He asked.
Before he could really think too much on it, the prince had him basing a cannon.
Iolas loaded the barrel and pressed the fodder while Simon followed his instructions to prepare the fuses.
"Aim for the lower hull, so the ship will take on water once hit. "
Iolas called out, hoping to god the stable boy could handle it.
Simon swiveled the black hunk of metal around.
"The men know this is basically a suicide mission right?" Simon asked. "Yes." He responded, busy with his work, lifting the ball into the barrel. "Do you?" Simon struck the fuse as he questioned.
The prince looks straight Simon as he wipes the grease off his hands and onto his breaches.
"It's better to die for something right?" Then he smirks.
"And she is something, isnt she?"
He said quietly, almost under his breath.
A cheer of victory resonated from The Guardian when the second fleet ship started to take on water, thanks to their heavy firepower; it's enemy crew abandoning ship, diving into the water and swimming for the island.
But the moment of victory was quickly dispersed with the ear splitting sound of a cannon ball crashing into the port hull. The side of the front of the ship. Wood splintering and flying into the sea below.
"Dodge and weave. Release all the sails. We must take on the mothership!" The Prince called up to the Commodore who held the helm, the giant wooden wheel that steered the Guardian.
The nautical skills of these islanders never ceased to impress. They expertly outran the heavier, bulkier ships and close in on the mother ship. The giant monster ship coming closer and closer. it's blood red sails looming like a bad omen.
"Aim for the rudder." Iolas orders the cannon operators at the bow of the ship.
"So they can't turn towards us."
The 6 cannons at the front end all aim for the rudder, the blade on the back of the ship that controls the steering, which sits just below the surface of the water.
Simon closed one eye and took aim, any second now the fuse would burn out. With an almost deafening set of booms the other cannons set off. Some missing the ship by just inches. One hitting the back of the stern. He positioned the cannon and faster than the eye can see a ball launches out, landing just below the surface, but still crippling the rudder.
"Great shot!" Iolad slapped him on the back in congratulations.
"Men, get ready to take the boat, we have just minutes till the rest of the ship's catch up with us."
YOU ARE READING
A Thorn In The Ice
Historical Fiction"I fully expected you to say that I was the sort of Prince whose story would involve going into cahoots with the dragon, rather than slaying it." Iolas smiled, but their was a level of seriousness to his statement. "That is where you are wrong, de...
