Chapter 391: Unstoppable
A vast shadow swept over the sea. In the bay south of Lebennin, ships passed in great numbers.
Their hulls were black, their sails enormous. Upon those sails were painted either a scarlet eye or a star-shaped mark, the first for the Haradrim, the second for the renegades who had broken away from Gondor a thousand years ago.
The fleet filled the horizon and sent the fishermen of the coast fleeing. They ran in panic, abandoning their shabby huts, no longer daring to linger by the shore.
The great black ships did not pause for scattered, starving folk. They had only one destination: Pelargir, once the mighty royal shipyard of Gondor, and still a crucial artery of the realm.
"Did we make it in time?" Gimli squinted hard across the green fields of Lebennin.
It had been four days since they emerged from the Paths of the Dead. Aragorn's company was no longer alone. Behind them had come the Grey Company as well, Rangers in grey cloaks, swift and silent.
"Not in time," Aragorn said, "but not too late."
He climbed a nearby rise in a few long strides and stared into the distance.
"How bad is it?" Boromir shouted from below.
He could see Aragorn standing there, oddly frozen, lips moving as if he were muttering to himself.
"Forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty..."
"What are you doing?" Gimli demanded, unable to help himself, "Playing a counting game?"
"No," Aragorn answered without looking away. "I'm counting the pirates."
"How many are there, fifty men?"
Aragorn shook his head. "Fifty ships. Fifty great ships. The smaller craft are beyond counting."
"Pelargir's garrison is about to break."
"Then what are we waiting for?" Gimli drew a deep breath and tightened his grip on his axe.
He bellowed, "Our turn, then!"
Aragorn stared at the smoke in the distance, at firelight, at battered walls and a coastline on the verge of falling. For once, he agreed with Gimli so completely there was nothing to add.
He lifted his sword and began, "Not a moment to waste. We must…"
"Wait," Legolas said suddenly.
He had stopped dead, gaze fixed to the south.
A ship was coming.
No, not merely a ship. A colossal flagship, a towering behemoth, was running before the wind up the broad river. From it a white beam of light speared straight into the sky, proclaiming that it was no ordinary vessel.
Aragorn recognized it at once.
"That banner, that device. It is the Water City's Practice-class flagship."
He did not bother with any rallying cry. He sprinted down the slope at once, racing for the riverbank. The others hesitated only a heartbeat before charging after him.
The immense vessel cut through the river as if it meant to split it.
On the foremost deck of the Practice-class flagship, a dark figure stood at the prow, a great sword on his shoulder, facing the packed black fleet that choked the harbor ahead. His hair streamed in the wind. He showed no fear at all.
Drawn by the pillar of light, birds wheeled in dense circles around the warm-hued ship, calling sharply as they rode the air. Their bright cries mixed with the slap of waves against the hull, weaving a strange, pleasant music amid war.
Then the daylight seemed to sharpen, as if it had followed the ship in. It tore through the cloud cover, cutting into the harbor's thick smoke and fire.
The Corsairs of Umbar, who were climbing ashore through a gap in the defenses, could not help but look up at the unnatural spectacle.
And then they saw something terrifying.
Boom!
A single, enormous, ear-splitting crash rang out, and the massive ship the pirates had been so proud of shattered in an instant. Their retreat was severed.
But it was not finished.
The giant ship, so tall you could not see its top with one glance, kept driving forward. It crushed through the black fleet, plowing on with irresistible force.
Black sails painted with scarlet eyes vanished one after another beneath the water. Splintered planks flew everywhere. In moments the river was carpeted with wreckage.
"Yeah! Charge! Charge!" Pippin shouted at Levi's side, feeling the brutal vibrations trembling up through the deck. He drew his short sword and whooped at the sight of ship after ship being smashed apart ahead of them.
Only when Levi's flagship slammed into the enemy's flagship did the surge finally stop, and the cheering at the prow fell silent with it.
It was called a clash of flagships, but the difference was obvious. The Practice-class was more than a full measure larger than the enemy's, and behind it the river was already clogged with black debris and pirates flailing in the water.
And farther back, finally arriving, came the Water City's regular warships.
"Perfect," Levi muttered. "One or two more hits and the durability would've given out."
Then he raised his great sword and roared, "Board with me!"
He leapt first onto the enemy flagship, hauling Pippin along as he went. Soldiers surged after him, weapons lifted high.
"Charge!" Pippin yelled. The moment his feet hit the deck, he tore free of Levi and rushed forward, swinging his short sword without hesitation.
His reach might not have favored him in a fight, but Levi at the front, and the Water City's troops behind him in a roaring tide, more than made up for it.
The pirates' courage broke at once under that momentum. By the time they recovered their wits, it was too late to form any meaningful resistance. They collapsed in a swift rout.
At the same time, Pelargir's defenders finally understood what they were seeing. Horns sounded along the battered walls, and the garrison surged out in a counterattack.
The battlefield turned over in a single instant.
"Unbelievable," Boromir breathed on the shore, staring at it all, aching to have been up there with them, boarding and cutting his way through.
"Durin above," Gimli said, mouth hanging open. "How did he do that?"
Aragorn paused, then answered, "Everything Levi builds is like this. Solid, and fragile."
"What does that even mean?" Gimli snapped. "You hear yourself, right? That's a contradiction."
"No, it isn't," Aragorn said, shrugging, and looked toward Halbarad.
Halbarad was silent for a moment, then said, "Spend enough time around Levi, and you'll understand. Sometimes something that looks perfectly intact and incredibly sturdy will crack the moment he swings it a few more times."
"But until it cracks, it is sturdy beyond doubt. That ship is probably the same."
Gimli finally closed his mouth. "Then it had better not break. Cleaning that up will be a nightmare."
Legolas shook his head. "I don't think it matters. It has already smashed enough to give anyone a headache."
Gimli pulled a face and let it go.
Boromir drew his sword. "Enough talking. Let's join them."
"Ah-ha!" Gimli raised his axe, as always the first to answer a companion's call.
So a small, fierce band appeared in the bay. They stormed a black ship, took it against greater numbers, then seized the helm and drove it straight into the worst of the fighting at the harbor, throwing themselves into the main battle.
Unstoppable.