The Siege of Farshore (Farshore Chronicles Book 6) by Justin Fike

Author:Justin Fike [Fike, Justin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fallbrandt Press
Published: 2020-11-10T16:00:00+00:00

10

Sansa had spread the word to muffle the oars and keep our voyage as quiet as possible as soon as we were away from the shore, so it took the better part of an hour before the vast shapes of the ocean galleys loomed up out of the night ahead of us. The delay had been more than worth it, however, because I heard no cries of alarm as our crew drew in the sail to allow us to drift alongside the ships on the last of the breeze. We'd piloted our craft towards the largest of the three ships while the skiffs turned off towards the smaller two.

Consortium ships didn't ferry new prisoners to the colony since there was no profit to be made in transporting them, which meant our targets would only be manned by the smallest crew necessary to navigate the crossing and wouldn't boast the same compliment of legionnaires that had made my own crossing a special kind of hell. I doubted that a dozen tired and underpaid sailors would offer up much resistance when we stormed their decks, but it still seemed prudent to seize control of all three ships at once rather than allow the others to organize once the alarm was raised.

A tall Drangian stepped forward at Sansa's signal and tossed a hook over the ship's rail. It bit into the wood with a soft thunk, and he stepped away to allow his boss to be the first to climb up.

"Remember," I said as I laid a hand on Sansa's shoulder as she took hold of the rope.

"No blood or bruises if it can be helped. We're going to have a big enough mess to clean up as it is once this is all over."

She nodded, then leaped into the air to walk up the rope and roll onto the deck. I was right behind her, and together we crouched just outside the orange glow that spilled from the running light at the ship's bow to scan the deck for movement. At first, I thought that the ship's captain hadn't even bothered to post a sentry. Then I caught sight of a white cotton cap down by the stern and the shadowy figure of the night watchman who wore it leaning against the rail as he slept. Sansa chuckled as I pointed him out, and together we crept along the deck while the rest of the crew climbed up to join us.

The sentry was an aging old salt with wrinkled, sun-browned skin and more than his share of gray hairs tucked beneath his cap. He shivered slightly in the cold despite the heavy coat he wore, leaving me to wonder what sins he had committed to see him consigned to such an unpleasant task. I nodded to Sansa, and her knife flashed in the dim light as she pressed its edge to his throat while I clapped a hand over his mouth. He awoke with a start, but I clamped his jaw shut to keep him from crying out.

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