Yet Gwendolyn sailed in a vulnerable position, vastly outnumbered by the dozens of large, well-armed ships of the Upper Isles. While Gwendolyn’s fighting force was superior, there was clearly no way they could defeat them at sea in a head-on match.
“Not exactly the welcome you expected, is it, sister?” Kendrick asked, looking out with a warrior’s visage, remaining calm as he studied the scene with a professional warrior’s eye.
“I told you that Tirus was not to be trusted,” Godfrey added.
Gwen shook her head.
“None of that matters now,” she said. “We create our own welcomes in this world.”
Her voice was cold, hardened, the voice of her father—and all her men looked to her with a clear respect.
“But surely, my lady,” Aberthol said, “we cannot just attack this vast fleet.”
“We bear the element of surprise,” Gwendolyn said. “They are not expecting an attack from the rear, from the open sea. They won’t be looking for us. By the time they react, we could already have taken out a good portion of their fleet.”
“And then what?” Aberthol pressed. “Once they catch on, once they turn and face us, they will crush us at sea.”
Gwendolyn realized he was right. She needed a plan, a crafty plan, something to be executed in haste. She could not risk a head-on confrontation.
She scanned the horizon, studied the topography, the jetties jutting out into the sea, the U-shaped basin in which her brother was trapped; she drew on all of her reading of history, of military strategy and tactics, of all her scholarship of a thousand famous battles—and suddenly, she had an idea.
Her eyes lit up with excitement as she realized it was crazy enough that it just might work. What was it her father had told her? For a commander to win, his plan must be two-thirds logic and one-third madness .
“They’re trapping our men in a narrow bay, in a U-shaped passage, between those jetties,” Gwendolyn said. “Yet that can work to their disadvantage too. When you trap others, you are also trapped yourself.”
They all looked at her, confused.
Godfrey furrowed his brow.
“I do not understand, my lady.”
Gwen pointed to the jetties.
“We can trap them,” she added
Her men blinked, still not comprehending.
“The ropes,” she said hastily, turning to Kendrick. “The spiked ropes. The ones in the hold. How long are they?”
“The ones used for harbor warfare?” Kendrick asked. “At least a hundred yards, my lady.”
She nodded as she recalled the ropes she had once seen her father use, endlessly long, with spikes tied to them every few feet, sharp as a sword. She had once seen her father spread the ropes in a harbor, and had watched as the enemy ships sailed over them, and crumbled into pieces.
“Exactly,” she said. “Those.”
Kendrick shook his head.
“It is a good idea for a condensed fleet,” Kendrick said. “But it would never work here. This is open water, not shallow water. Remember, we’ll attack them from the sea. The water won’t be shallow enough to damage the holds of the ships. Those ropes are placed on a shallow ocean floor.”
Gwen shook her head, the idea crystallizing in her mind.
“You don’t understand,” she said. “Those ropes can be used other ways, too. We needn’t drop the ropes on the ocean floor—we can sail close and make the ropes taut in the water, and as they pursue, it will destroy them.”
Kendrick stared back, puzzled.
“But how, my lady? How will you get the ropes taut?”
“We shall attack from their rear and set their fleet on fire,” she explained. “As they turn to confront this, we will already have the ropes in place. We will launch small boats first, one on either end of the harbor, one led by you, the other by Godfrey. Each will carry one end of the rope, and will tie them to the rocks, to one end of each jetty. You will make them taut, and keep them just below the surface of the water. Tirus’s men will be looking at us when they attack—not below the surface for any trap in the water. They will sail into our spikes!”
Kendrick peered out at the horizon, studying the topography, hands on his hips. Slowly, he nodded.
“Is a bold idea,” he concluded.
“It is madness!” Aberthol said. “I can think of a hundred things that can go wrong!.”
Gwendolyn stepped up and smiled, a fearless commander in her prime:
“And that is exactly why we’re going to do it,” she said.
* * *
Gwen stood at the bow, her heart pounding, looking out as her half dozen ships sailed beside her, all of them, at her command, keeping as quiet as could be. Not a sound could be heard save for the howling of the wind and the distant shouts of her men, of Reece and the others, trapped in the bay, fighting for their lives.
Gwendolyn watched with satisfaction as the two small boats, each holding a dozen men, one led by Kendrick, the other by Godfrey, rowed quickly, each holding one end of the rope. Inside their boats were the boldest warriors who had volunteered on the risky mission, among them several Legion—Elden, O’Connor, and Conven, along with several of the new recruits. Steffen wanted to volunteer, but Gwendolyn selfishly kept him here, by her side.
Her fleet approached at full sail, the wind picking up, gaining momentum as they sailed closer and closer to the rear of Tirus’s fleet. Gwen held her breath, hoping no one in Tirus’s fleet turned around and spotted them.
Gwen waited impatiently, clutching Guwayne, as she watched her boats getting into position. They rowed as hard and as quietly as they could, their oars slapping the water, until finally, Kendrick and Godfrey’s boats each took their position at the end of each jetty, but yards away from the enemy ships. Immediately, they set about tying each end of the rope to the huge boulders at the end of each jetty. As they did, the rope became taut, briefly rising above the surface, until they slackened it to allow it to be hidden below.
“Bows, prepare!” Gwen commanded to her men onboard.
A host of her men raised their bows, flaming arrows at the ready, awaiting her command.
“Aim for the top sails!” she called out. “As high as you can!”
They sailed closer, and closer, the tension so thick she could cut it with a knife. She had just one shot at this, and she wanted it to be perfect.