Daggers in the Dark (Book 3 of Hanthalah)

Chapter 18

          They were clumsy vessels those dromons, as I suspected. Some variations of the dromon were designed to harry a retreating enemy, but definitely not those. We rowed leisurely and they were hard at our tails. They were already out of their precious nook.

"Abu Musa!" I bellowed at my quartermaster when the first of the Roman arrows found their way onto our deck. The command echoed onto the other ships in my entourage, and in a split second, we picked up our pace, putting some distance between us and the pursuing Romans.

Speed and mobility, I thought to myself. It was key to Arab success on land as well as sea.

The units to the south and north, those commanded by Abu al-A'war and 'Amr would notice our change in pace. That was our signal. They would be dipping their own oars into the water now and charge headlong against both current and wind. Meanwhile, my twenty ships were met by the thirty we left behind. The Romans must have now realized they were walking into a trap. It was too late. It had been too late the moment they set oar out of their cove.

It would take an eon for their lumbering vessels to turn and race back into the shadow of their guard towers and crags. By then, we would have either cut them off or risk the remaining two commanders crashing into their flanks.

Now all they could do was stand their ground and give themselves a fighting chance in their resplendent war machines. There were two levels of rowers, a hundred and twenty in total. There were oarsmen below decks and a plethora of benches on the main deck. We could use that abundance of oars to cripple them.

The three ships were all adjacent to one another now, hovering over the water and growing farther apart, I noticed.

They were facing fifty ships now. And twice that number was headed their way from either direction. They needed to act fast and sink us. The ships on the left and right were swerving away from their central counterpart in an effort to flank our column and disperse. The distance between each vessel was that of five or six normal ships. I nodded to myself, a plan forming in my head.

I rushed to the deck and called for my son, 'Abd al-Ka'aba, on the ship to our right. We were in the front line, biding our time, delaying so that Abu al-A'war and 'Amr could close the distance.

"Head for the right-most ship!" I bellowed at my son, who was wide-eyed and alert, donned in his usual red turban and all his war gear. "Go steady. When I swerve right, let me pass and cover me!"

He did not know what I had planned but he nodded briskly, and I smiled in pride. I would not let any dark-robed bastards lay a finger on him ever again. I strode back to the stern and explained my plan to Abu Musa. He howled with laughter, spread his arms wide and threw his head back.

"You are a mad bastard, ibn Ka'b! May Jesus watch over your madness!"

I'd prefer the gods and goddesses of war, I thought.

I needed one more ship. I spoke briefly with the officer in charge of the ship to our rear and filled him in on his role in what was to come. He gulped, looking nervous but he repeated his orders clearly to me in a steady voice. The plan was set into motion.

Abu Musa bellowed commands to move us forward and the rowers dipped their oars, jumpstarting us toward the central dromon. In their arrogance, perhaps the Romans would think we were about to ram them headfirst or attempt a boarding.

I snuck glances at 'Abd al-Ka'aba from beneath my shield as we were showered with arrows from archers on deck and on two elevated platforms. Some of my boys were struck down by arrows let loose from other ships; it was the advantage of having those two damned forts on a ship. They could multitask. I felt my rage fill me, bursting through my body, and it consumed me. The loss of men strengthened my resolve and I bellowed in anger beneath my shield as a dozen more arrows pounded against the wood relentlessly. There were arrow shafts sticking through the wooden board of the shield, mere inches away from my face.