Atissa
Atissa tried not to look behind her. She had seen the blood coming from Iristos’ neck and there had been a lot.
An arrow buried itself into the wood where she had kneeled only moments ago. Judging the angle, she shifted her position accordingly.
There wasn’t much space and the more the boat turned the harder it was to cover her companions. The bundle she used as a shield consisted of two blankets wrapped around some of their provisions. It wouldn’t withstand the arrow of an Assanaten war bow at range.
Right now, their pursuers had to angle their shots in a high arc to cover the distance, hoping to slow them down. They succeeded.
“Cover me!” Mark pushed past her.
Startled, Atissa’s head whipped around to look behind her. She immediately wished she hadn’t.
There was blood everywhere. Iristos’ hands and the side of his face were drenched in red. His tunic was soaked. But his eyes were the worst part. He was staring up at her, pleading wordlessly. Atissa could see his fear.
“Hey, I said cover me!” Mark shouted.
Mark had taken up the oars and worked to get them moving again. She hurried to take a position behind him, holding the improvised shield over him.
She was grateful for the distraction, but guilt gnawed at her. What else could she do?
“Will Iristos live?” she asked.
“I did what I could with what we have. He needs a… healer. And fast.”
Atissa didn’t look back. She couldn’t bring herself to. She had known Iristos all her life and she couldn’t watch him die.
Mark had brought them back on course and started to move both oars at an even pace. The panic of the moment seemed to have given him another boost of strength. Still, they were too slow.
Glancing around her bundle, Atissa could see the Assanaten boats closing the distance. Two bowmen stood in the bow of the leading boat, releasing arrows at a measured pace.
I need to get in front of Mark to cover him, Atissa thought. Her arms were getting tired from holding the bundle over his head.
“Can you return fire?” Mark asked.
Atissa shook her head. “Not at this distance. Their war bows are far bigger and stronger than mine. I must wait till they’re closer.”
“They might have killed us all by then.” It had just been a murmur but loud enough for her to hear it.
At that moment, Atissa felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning her head her eyes went wide. Hermistos stood behind her.
When had he gotten up? And how?
He wavered, his legs almost giving in below him. But he kept standing. Leaning heavily on Atissa for a moment, he straightened himself.
“What…what’re you doing?” Atissa asked.
“Helping out,” Hermostos said as if that explained everything. “To my great surprise.” His words came out a little forced as if he had to mobilize extra strength to speak. “Master Mark, would you drop one oar a moment so Atissa and I can step in front of you?”
“Why?” Mark asked, continuing to row. “What are you doing?” There was no patience in his voice. Just tiredness and angry determination.
“Following your words from before by trying to move the odds,” Hermistos said.
“How?”
Hermistos sighed tiredly. “If you haven’t tried something crazy you haven’t tried everything yet, yes?”
Atissa looked back and forth between the two men. Mark didn’t turn around. He rowed, leaning into every pull.
Then he stopped. He pushed the handle of the right oar down to make room for them to climb over the seat. “Quickly! And try not to shake the boat too much.”
Atissa hurried to step over the seat and turned to help Hermistos follow behind her. He bit his teeth together and clambered over the obstacle, leaning on Mark’s shoulder for support. Once he was passed, the older man started to move the oars again.
“What now?” he asked.
Atissa wanted to pick up her bundle again. She had feared an arrow hitting her or one of her companions the whole time.
Hermistos waved her to stop. “Pick up your bow and stand in front of the master.”
Atissa hesitated. What could she accomplish with her hunting bow and a dozen arrows?
“Do you think your bundle of rags will stop bronze-tipped arrows at this range? Trust me and do as I say!” The was a force radiating from Hermistos that hadn’t been there before. It was a natural authority that demanded compliance. It stood in stark contrast to the picture of the sickly-looking young man she had just helped to climb over the bench.
“Do it,” Mark said. “It is time for desperate measures.”
Atissa dropped the bundle and picked up her bow and quiver. Hermistos took the quiver from her. “String your bow. I will help you with this.”
Atissa looked at him. Stop hesitating all the time, she thought, kicking herself mentally. There was no room for her fears.
She took a string from her belt pouch and ran through the motions she had performed countless times before. While she worked, she could feel Hermistos fastening the quiver on her belt. Once the bow was strung, she checked the quiver's position with her hand. It was sitting perfectly.
“I helped my sister with that when she was little,” Hermistos said. “She’s a huntress just like you. But much less nice and patient.” He sighed.
Atissa had a dozen questions, realizing once more how little they knew about Hermistos. Mark had always asked about other things. He didn’t seem to care about the young man’s story at all.
She pushed the thoughts aside. It was time to hunt. She took position in front of Mark, covering him with her body. I can’t believe none of us has been hit yet, she thought, pulling an arrow from her quiver.
An Assanaten arrow past her head two hands to her left, making her duck reflexively. Then she felt Hermistios’ hand on her site pushing her lightly.
“They aren’t going to hit you,” he said. “Trust me.”
Atissa couldn’t say why but she did. She straightened. The slight pressure of Hermistos’ hand somehow took away some of the fear of the arrows flying by her.
The arrows passed close. Very close. The Assanaten boats were coming into her range now. This of course meant that the war bows had an even easier time bridging the distance.
More and more arrows hit the boat. Many got stuck in the wood.
Atissa ignored them. Knocking the arrow, she focused on the leading boat. The movement of the men. The rhythm of the oars.
She calmed her breathing.
“If you can, target the rowers on the left of the leading boat,” Mark said from behind her. “Your left.”
“Yes,” Hermistos said, after hesitating for a heartbeat. “Worth a try.” There was the smallest hint of amusement in his voice.
What were they seeing? Atissa’s eyes searched for the Assanaten oarsmen. The bowmen in front partially covered her view. She had to use the movement of the oars to gauge the oarsmen’s position.
Studying the movement of the oars on the left she noticed the second boat following a couple of paces behind and immediately understood what Mark had seen.
She drew the string back. From her left hand holding the bow to her right pulling the string almost to her ear, her body formed one straight line. She leaned back aiming upwards and released the first arrow.
Atissa didn’t wait for the result. While the arrow began its journey, her hand immediately brought up the next. Her experience let her gauge the trajectory and she corrected her stance and angle without waiting for the first’s impact. She released the second arrow. The third left her bow just as the first hit the front boat slightly above the waterline.
The bowmen must have seen her. Well trained, they didn’t flinch for cover but continued to release arrow after arrow at her. To Atissa’s, and probably their own astonishment, their arrows continued to miss her.
Atissa’s second arrow went over their heads, and they ignored it. The third one came in lower and made one of them duck slightly. It didn’t slow down their pace.
Screams and curses arose. Atissa couldn’t see the impact but there was movement on the left side of the boat. She quickly sent a fourth and a fifth into that corner.
She must have hit something because the front oar dropped and didn’t come up again, hanging limp in the water. As the two oars on the right continued to move the boat immediately started to turn.
Somebody must have given an order because the oarsmen on the right lifted their oars out of the water. From the slow pace of their reaction, Atissa could see their inexperience.
As the leading boat exposed its side, she brought her bow up once more. This time she targeted the oarsmen on the now exposed right.
Used to the distance now, her first two arrows missed their target but hit other men. The third hit the oarsman sitting in front in the side of his neck. His hand fumbled at the shaft for a moment before his upper body sagged forward.
“Good work,” Hermistos said, squeezing her.
A feeling of elation spread through Atissa.
The leading boat was in chaos, with men shouting at each other, trying to restore order. One man pushed the dying oarsman overboard while others struggled to position their shields in the very confined space.
They were not alone in their frustration.
The crew of the second boat had to hurry to avoid a collision as the drifting first boat cut across their course. For the first time since the beginning of this stage of the chase the distance between pursuer and pursued increased again.
“Shall I keep shooting?” Atissa asked. “I still have half my arrows left.”
“Can’t you use theirs too?” Mark asked.
She shook her head. “Their arrows are longer and heavier. I’ll use them if I have to but only as a last resort.”
Looking back, the feeling of elation quickly dwindled. It was replaced by the solemn realization that her success wouldn’t mean anything in the end. They wouldn’t get away. As soon as the second boat was able to move around the first, the chase would resume to its inevitable conclusion. They couldn’t get away. And the Assanaten would be on guard now.
“We’re not going to make it out of this.” She turned around to look down at Mark. “Are we?”
He glanced up at her, never stopping to work the oars. “I row, you shoot. We do that until we can come up with something better.”
Or they catch us. She didn’t say it out loud.
Marshaling her determination, she turned back to her task. The second boat was quickly passing the first. The crew would start to bring the nose around any moment.
She brought up her bow and started to target the oarsmen again.
The Assanaten had grown wise to the trick and covered their comrades with shields. After losing three arrows without success, Atissa changed her approach. With her next arrow, she aimed for a shield bearer's face. Her shot went low and hit the warrior in the shoulder.
The wounded man screamed and dropped backward. Atissa used the opportunity to send an arrow for the now uncovered oarsman, but to no avail. Another warrior caught the arrow on his shield.
“They adapted,” Mark said grimly.
The second boat had passed the first enough to turn in their direction again. Her short window of targeting the oarsmen on the side closed. And she was almost out of arrows.
“I wasn’t able to hit their oarsmen,” Atissa said. “I didn’t slow them down at all.” The high from her earlier success had disappeared completely and the quiet despair returned.
“That’s not true,” Mark said from behind her. “First you forced them to row around the other boat. Then you forced them to stand up and cover each other with shields, thereby getting in each other’s way.” He paused. “You definitely slowed them down.”
Atissa was surprised. “Thanks’.”
Mark sighed tiredly. “I’m not trying to be nice. I’m telling you why you’re wrong.”
Atissa smiled. Even in this desperate situation, she could distinguish Mark’s strangeness – and she appreciated it.
Through the hand on her side, she felt Hermistos weight shifting. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him sagging forward. Dropping her bow she managed to catch him before he fell.
He was heavy, taller than her by more than a head’s length and she was struggling to bear his weight.
“Hey, careful,” Mark said, complaining about the sudden movement that made the boat shake.
Atissa struggled to keep them both from falling.
“Looks like you’re a wise man master Mark,” he said in a low voice. “I only regret that I won’t witness the end of this adventure.” His body relaxed and he slowly dropped to the deck. Atissa could only make sure that his head didn’t hit the hardwood.
Without opening his eyes, he smiled up at her in contentment. “My family would so hate to see us now.”
Then his head rolled to the side.
Holding himself up for so long, and whatever else he had done, had drained his limited strength.
“Is he dead?” Mark asked.
Holding her finger under Hermistos' nose, Atissa shook her head. “Unconscious.”
“At least he seems to be happy,” Mark said dryly.
The exhaustion and the pressure of their situation brought out a side of him he usually controlled with bronze discipline. Feeling it herself, Atissa could appreciate that rawness.
She straightened to look for her bundle shield. It would give the sleeping man at least some protection once the arrows started flying again.
She stopped and her eyes went wide.
“He’s right,” she whispered.
“Hm?”
Atissa didn’t answer. Instead, she pointed over Mark’s shoulder.
Ahead of them at the end of the second lake, a large boat had appeared.
A gally, Atissa thought excitedly. It had to be one. She’d never seen one before, but it looked like it had been described to her.
With a mast as high as a tree and longer than Ipras’ main house it looked enormous. On each side, a row of long oars was pushing it forward.
And it was heading straight for them.
Atissa
Atissa tried not to look behind her. She had seen the blood coming from Iristos’ neck and there had been a lot.
An arrow buried itself into the wood where she had kneeled only moments ago. Judging the angle, she shifted her position accordingly.
There wasn’t much space and the more the boat turned the harder it was to cover her companions. The bundle she used as a shield consisted of two blankets wrapped around some of their provisions. It wouldn’t withstand the arrow of an Assanaten war bow at range.
Right now, their pursuers had to angle their shots in a high arc to cover the distance, hoping to slow them down. They succeeded.
“Cover me!” Mark pushed past her.
Startled, Atissa’s head whipped around to look behind her. She immediately wished she hadn’t.
There was blood everywhere. Iristos’ hands and the side of his face were drenched in red. His tunic was soaked. But his eyes were the worst part. He was staring up at her, pleading wordlessly. Atissa could see his fear.
“Hey, I said cover me!” Mark shouted.
Mark had taken up the oars and worked to get them moving again. She hurried to take a position behind him, holding the improvised shield over him.
She was grateful for the distraction, but guilt gnawed at her. What else could she do?
“Will Iristos live?” she asked.
“I did what I could with what we have. He needs a… healer. And fast.”
Atissa didn’t look back. She couldn’t bring herself to. She had known Iristos all her life and she couldn’t watch him die.
Mark had brought them back on course and started to move both oars at an even pace. The panic of the moment seemed to have given him another boost of strength. Still, they were too slow.
Glancing around her bundle, Atissa could see the Assanaten boats closing the distance. Two bowmen stood in the bow of the leading boat, releasing arrows at a measured pace.
I need to get in front of Mark to cover him, Atissa thought. Her arms were getting tired from holding the bundle over his head.
“Can you return fire?” Mark asked.
Atissa shook her head. “Not at this distance. Their war bows are far bigger and stronger than mine. I must wait till they’re closer.”
“They might have killed us all by then.” It had just been a murmur but loud enough for her to hear it.
At that moment, Atissa felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning her head her eyes went wide. Hermistos stood behind her.
When had he gotten up? And how?
He wavered, his legs almost giving in below him. But he kept standing. Leaning heavily on Atissa for a moment, he straightened himself.
“What…what’re you doing?” Atissa asked.
“Helping out,” Hermostos said as if that explained everything. “To my great surprise.” His words came out a little forced as if he had to mobilize extra strength to speak. “Master Mark, would you drop one oar a moment so Atissa and I can step in front of you?”
“Why?” Mark asked, continuing to row. “What are you doing?” There was no patience in his voice. Just tiredness and angry determination.
“Following your words from before by trying to move the odds,” Hermistos said.
“How?”
Hermistos sighed tiredly. “If you haven’t tried something crazy you haven’t tried everything yet, yes?”
Atissa looked back and forth between the two men. Mark didn’t turn around. He rowed, leaning into every pull.
Then he stopped. He pushed the handle of the right oar down to make room for them to climb over the seat. “Quickly! And try not to shake the boat too much.”
Atissa hurried to step over the seat and turned to help Hermistos follow behind her. He bit his teeth together and clambered over the obstacle, leaning on Mark’s shoulder for support. Once he was passed, the older man started to move the oars again.
“What now?” he asked.
Atissa wanted to pick up her bundle again. She had feared an arrow hitting her or one of her companions the whole time.
Hermistos waved her to stop. “Pick up your bow and stand in front of the master.”
Atissa hesitated. What could she accomplish with her hunting bow and a dozen arrows?
“Do you think your bundle of rags will stop bronze-tipped arrows at this range? Trust me and do as I say!” The was a force radiating from Hermistos that hadn’t been there before. It was a natural authority that demanded compliance. It stood in stark contrast to the picture of the sickly-looking young man she had just helped to climb over the bench.
“Do it,” Mark said. “It is time for desperate measures.”
Atissa dropped the bundle and picked up her bow and quiver. Hermistos took the quiver from her. “String your bow. I will help you with this.”
Atissa looked at him. Stop hesitating all the time, she thought, kicking herself mentally. There was no room for her fears.
She took a string from her belt pouch and ran through the motions she had performed countless times before. While she worked, she could feel Hermistos fastening the quiver on her belt. Once the bow was strung, she checked the quiver's position with her hand. It was sitting perfectly.
“I helped my sister with that when she was little,” Hermistos said. “She’s a huntress just like you. But much less nice and patient.” He sighed.
Atissa had a dozen questions, realizing once more how little they knew about Hermistos. Mark had always asked about other things. He didn’t seem to care about the young man’s story at all.
She pushed the thoughts aside. It was time to hunt. She took position in front of Mark, covering him with her body. I can’t believe none of us has been hit yet, she thought, pulling an arrow from her quiver.
An Assanaten arrow past her head two hands to her left, making her duck reflexively. Then she felt Hermistios’ hand on her site pushing her lightly.
“They aren’t going to hit you,” he said. “Trust me.”
Atissa couldn’t say why but she did. She straightened. The slight pressure of Hermistos’ hand somehow took away some of the fear of the arrows flying by her.
The arrows passed close. Very close. The Assanaten boats were coming into her range now. This of course meant that the war bows had an even easier time bridging the distance.
More and more arrows hit the boat. Many got stuck in the wood.
Atissa ignored them. Knocking the arrow, she focused on the leading boat. The movement of the men. The rhythm of the oars.
She calmed her breathing.
“If you can, target the rowers on the left of the leading boat,” Mark said from behind her. “Your left.”
“Yes,” Hermistos said, after hesitating for a heartbeat. “Worth a try.” There was the smallest hint of amusement in his voice.
What were they seeing? Atissa’s eyes searched for the Assanaten oarsmen. The bowmen in front partially covered her view. She had to use the movement of the oars to gauge the oarsmen’s position.
Studying the movement of the oars on the left she noticed the second boat following a couple of paces behind and immediately understood what Mark had seen.
She drew the string back. From her left hand holding the bow to her right pulling the string almost to her ear, her body formed one straight line. She leaned back aiming upwards and released the first arrow.
Atissa didn’t wait for the result. While the arrow began its journey, her hand immediately brought up the next. Her experience let her gauge the trajectory and she corrected her stance and angle without waiting for the first’s impact. She released the second arrow. The third left her bow just as the first hit the front boat slightly above the waterline.
The bowmen must have seen her. Well trained, they didn’t flinch for cover but continued to release arrow after arrow at her. To Atissa’s, and probably their own astonishment, their arrows continued to miss her.
Atissa’s second arrow went over their heads, and they ignored it. The third one came in lower and made one of them duck slightly. It didn’t slow down their pace.
Screams and curses arose. Atissa couldn’t see the impact but there was movement on the left side of the boat. She quickly sent a fourth and a fifth into that corner.
She must have hit something because the front oar dropped and didn’t come up again, hanging limp in the water. As the two oars on the right continued to move the boat immediately started to turn.
Somebody must have given an order because the oarsmen on the right lifted their oars out of the water. From the slow pace of their reaction, Atissa could see their inexperience.
As the leading boat exposed its side, she brought her bow up once more. This time she targeted the oarsmen on the now exposed right.
Used to the distance now, her first two arrows missed their target but hit other men. The third hit the oarsman sitting in front in the side of his neck. His hand fumbled at the shaft for a moment before his upper body sagged forward.
“Good work,” Hermistos said, squeezing her.
A feeling of elation spread through Atissa.
The leading boat was in chaos, with men shouting at each other, trying to restore order. One man pushed the dying oarsman overboard while others struggled to position their shields in the very confined space.
They were not alone in their frustration.
The crew of the second boat had to hurry to avoid a collision as the drifting first boat cut across their course. For the first time since the beginning of this stage of the chase the distance between pursuer and pursued increased again.
“Shall I keep shooting?” Atissa asked. “I still have half my arrows left.”
“Can’t you use theirs too?” Mark asked.
She shook her head. “Their arrows are longer and heavier. I’ll use them if I have to but only as a last resort.”
Looking back, the feeling of elation quickly dwindled. It was replaced by the solemn realization that her success wouldn’t mean anything in the end. They wouldn’t get away. As soon as the second boat was able to move around the first, the chase would resume to its inevitable conclusion. They couldn’t get away. And the Assanaten would be on guard now.
“We’re not going to make it out of this.” She turned around to look down at Mark. “Are we?”
He glanced up at her, never stopping to work the oars. “I row, you shoot. We do that until we can come up with something better.”
Or they catch us. She didn’t say it out loud.
Marshaling her determination, she turned back to her task. The second boat was quickly passing the first. The crew would start to bring the nose around any moment.
She brought up her bow and started to target the oarsmen again.
The Assanaten had grown wise to the trick and covered their comrades with shields. After losing three arrows without success, Atissa changed her approach. With her next arrow, she aimed for a shield bearer's face. Her shot went low and hit the warrior in the shoulder.
The wounded man screamed and dropped backward. Atissa used the opportunity to send an arrow for the now uncovered oarsman, but to no avail. Another warrior caught the arrow on his shield.
“They adapted,” Mark said grimly.
The second boat had passed the first enough to turn in their direction again. Her short window of targeting the oarsmen on the side closed. And she was almost out of arrows.
“I wasn’t able to hit their oarsmen,” Atissa said. “I didn’t slow them down at all.” The high from her earlier success had disappeared completely and the quiet despair returned.
“That’s not true,” Mark said from behind her. “First you forced them to row around the other boat. Then you forced them to stand up and cover each other with shields, thereby getting in each other’s way.” He paused. “You definitely slowed them down.”
Atissa was surprised. “Thanks’.”
Mark sighed tiredly. “I’m not trying to be nice. I’m telling you why you’re wrong.”
Atissa smiled. Even in this desperate situation, she could distinguish Mark’s strangeness – and she appreciated it.
Through the hand on her side, she felt Hermistos weight shifting. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw him sagging forward. Dropping her bow she managed to catch him before he fell.
He was heavy, taller than her by more than a head’s length and she was struggling to bear his weight.
“Hey, careful,” Mark said, complaining about the sudden movement that made the boat shake.
Atissa struggled to keep them both from falling.
“Looks like you’re a wise man master Mark,” he said in a low voice. “I only regret that I won’t witness the end of this adventure.” His body relaxed and he slowly dropped to the deck. Atissa could only make sure that his head didn’t hit the hardwood.
Without opening his eyes, he smiled up at her in contentment. “My family would so hate to see us now.”
Then his head rolled to the side.
Holding himself up for so long, and whatever else he had done, had drained his limited strength.
“Is he dead?” Mark asked.
Holding her finger under Hermistos' nose, Atissa shook her head. “Unconscious.”
“At least he seems to be happy,” Mark said dryly.
The exhaustion and the pressure of their situation brought out a side of him he usually controlled with bronze discipline. Feeling it herself, Atissa could appreciate that rawness.
She straightened to look for her bundle shield. It would give the sleeping man at least some protection once the arrows started flying again.
She stopped and her eyes went wide.
“He’s right,” she whispered.
“Hm?”
Atissa didn’t answer. Instead, she pointed over Mark’s shoulder.
Ahead of them at the end of the second lake, a large boat had appeared.
A gally, Atissa thought excitedly. It had to be one. She’d never seen one before, but it looked like it had been described to her.
With a mast as high as a tree and longer than Ipras’ main house it looked enormous. On each side, a row of long oars was pushing it forward.
And it was heading straight for them.
