Archers lined up along the side as soldiers with shields moved into position. Naval combat generally consisted of arrows and stones being traded until the ships were close enough to grapple and board, only then did it turn into a melee.
Adrian stood at the helm, looking at the distant enemy fleet. He watched as they split, two ships changed direction, heading toward the shore, while the remaining two sailed directly toward them.
"What's the course of action, milord?" Sir Cordell asked from behind him. Adrian simply looked toward the captain.
The captain, Holden, a grizzled man said to have commanded merchant vessels in the north, had grown well-acquainted with Adrian over time. He noticed the look and spoke. "They mean to pin us. Trap us in between and board."
Adrian looked in the other direction and saw that the closest allied longship was quite a distance away. The other remaining ally seemed to have changed course to intercept the two enemy ships heading for the shore.
In short, it would be just them against two enemy vessels for some time before they could expect reinforcements, if they came at all.
"Captain... do as you must. Do not let the enemy pin us." Adrian said, placing his trust in the man's experience.
The captain nodded and immediately hollered a series of orders.
The waves splashed against the hull as the ship turned to the side to avoid the pincer maneuver. After a few minutes, as the two enemy ships closed in, arrows flew overhead toward the foe. However, the wind, the swaying of the deck, and the distance made it difficult to aim accurately. A few arrows found their mark, but most splashed harmlessly into the water.
The enemy soon responded with slings and arrows of their own.
Compared to Adrian's men, these enemies were more well-versed in sea faring, stones and arrows struck home, forcing Adrian to take cover. He cursed, watching the enemy inevitably close the gap. Their own ship was large and slow without a boost from the wind, while the enemy ships relied not just on the wind, but on the strength of their oarsmen.
"They are meant to catch us." Captain Holden said with a grim face. "I can maneuver so that only one ship hits us first. That should give us enough time to deal with them before the second catches up. Just prepare the men, milord."
Adrian nodded and turned to his knight, who immediately issued orders.
Adrian didn't say much, he didn't need to, nor did he feel he had the experience for this, so he let his knight handle the soldiers onboard. He had brought only fifteen of his own men, the rest, nearly ninety in total, were a split of Lord Sanford's and Lord Hardinge's men.
He checked his gear. He had set aside his plate armor for a chainmail shirt, which was better suited for shipboard combat because of its lighter weight. With his sword and round shield ready, he squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.
Suddenly, the ship shook violently, recoiling from an impact as war cries erupted from the enemy close to their rear. Arrows and stones continued to fly as grappling hooks were tossed onto their deck. Adrian tightened his grip on his hilt before pulling his sword free.
The battle had finally turned into a melee.
--
"Prepare the javelins!" Sir Rory shouted to his men. "Keep your distance as long as possible and signal Sir Chadley's ship to close with us!"
The knight stood at the center of the longship as the men around him made their final preparations while the others continued to row.
"Sir, what about Lord Harrow's ship?" Someone asked from beside him.
Sir Rory looked toward the distance, where an enemy longship had already slammed into Lord Harrow's vessel. A melee had already broken out on the decks. A second enemy ship was rowing hard toward them as well, closing the gap with terrifying speed.
"We cannot take on both enemy ships on our own." He said grimly. "And I suspect that with only four ships, the enemy never intended to attack the shore at all. They were simply baiting us."
"Their true target is us?"
"The ships, more likely." Sir Rory nodded.
Soon, his soldiers had their bows and javelins at the ready, while the rest braced behind their shields.
The volley began, javelins, stones, and arrows whistled through the air, exchanged between the two crews. Sir Rory ducked behind a large shield, feeling a heavy thud as a stone bounced off the wood.
He heard a cry of pain followed by a wet, choking sound as blood sprayed beside him.
The distance between the two ships vanished until they were side by side. Time seemed to move in a heartbeat before their hulls collided with a crunch.
"Kill them all!"
"Gut them!"
--
"Hgn!" Adrian grunted as he slammed his shield into an enemy, pinning the man against the bulwark. He batted the man's weapon hand aside with his blade before plunging the steel into his throat. Blood gushed, and the life faded from the man's eyes.
Adrian shoved the body overboard, watching it disappear into the churn of the waves. He took a fleeting second to scan the chaos. The islanders were swarming the sides, slinging stones at anyone who tried to intercept them. Adrian's ship had a higher deck, which gave his men a height advantage, but the enemy was relentless.
An islander charged him, swinging a war pick with a savage roar. Adrian deflected the initial blow, but the enemy was quick, he shifted his grip, trying to slam the weighted butt of the pick into Adrian's face. Adrian's footwork saved him.
He stepped back, twisting his head just in time as the metal swung past. He counter-slashed at the man's side, their weapons clashing until an arrow suddenly buried itself in the enemy's shoulder. His old, worn gambeson offered little protection, and the man yelped in pain.
Adrian seized the opening and swung. The man twisted, taking the blade in the ribs rather than the neck, stumbling back. Before he could recover, a spear tip swept his feet out from under him, followed by a killing thrust to the throat.
"Dexton… I'm surprised you have room to swing that long spear in this mess." Adrian lightly panted.
Dexton, his helm soaked in blood, offered a grim chuckle. "Well, I ain't keen on getting close to that, milord."
He pointed his spear toward the railing where the fighting was neck-to-neck, a chaotic jumble as the enemies tries to push through the gaps.
Suddenly, a fresh volley of arrows and stones pelted the deck from the opposite side. A dread rose in Adrian's chest. He trudged toward the other railing and saw the second enemy ship closing in fast.
"Shit." Adrian cursed.
"Prepare the fires!" Captain Holden hollered as the sailors scrambled with pitch and torches.
Knowing they were about to be sandwiched, Adrian plunged back into the fray.
In the heat of his battle-lust, he didn't notice the enemy had singled him out.
Recognizing him as a lord, a group of islanders surged toward him, intent on capture.
A hand gripped his helm, wrenching his helm off. An arm wrapped around his throat as he struggled to break free.
"Milord!"
"Over there!"
His men shouted, trying to reach him, but Adrian felt a heavy blow strike his face amongst the chaos. His vision swam, and the world turned into a daze of steel on steel, shouts, and cruel laughter. When he finally recovered his senses, the grip on him loosened. He twisted, planted his boot in his captor's foot, and smashed an elbow into the man's face.
The enemy tumbled backward through the shattered bulwark. But as he fell, he gripped Adrian's arm, dragging him over the side.
Adrin fell with him.
Adrian hit the deck of the enemy longship hard. He was without a helm, his lower body dangling near the waterline until he instinctively scrambled inward. Someone hauled him up, but as he reached his feet, he realized he was standing on the enemy's deck. The islanders surrounded him, their smiles sinister and cruel.
Adrian didn't hesitate. He punched the nearest man in the face and wrenched an axe from his hand.
"Pull away! Pull away! We're done!" Someone shouted on the longship. The enemy had achieved their goal, or at least one of them.
"Like hell!" Adrian growled.
He wasn't entirely alone. The longship was only five meters wide, and more than a dozen meters long and not far from him, more than a couple of soldiers on his side had either fallen or jumped down to join the fray.
"Get down there!" Sir Cordell's voice boomed from the ship above, but a fresh wave of war cries from the other side told Adrian that reinforcements would be delayed, the knight trying his best to carve through and reach his lord.
One of the men surrounding him sneered and kicked at him. Adrian twisted, caught the man's leg, and in one fluid motion, drew a dagger from his waist and stabbed down into the thigh.
"Arrgh!"
A figure leapt from above, crashing onto the deck. It was Dexton, now armed with a war pick and shield.
He hacked his way to Adrian's side.
The longship finally pulled away, rowing hard into the open water.
Adrian, Dexton, and five others were stranded on the enemy deck, facing twenty and more islanders. For a moment, the fighting paused.
The enemies wore looks of clear victory, until Adrian stepped forward and buried his captured axe into the nearest man.
A thought, and his gift of mending healed all the pain in his body, saved for his bruised face. Feeling anew, he squared his shoulders as chaos in the longship erupted.
He could jump into the water or fight his way through, but whatever happens, he wasn't going to be anyone's prisoner today.