The Velaryon fleet that Sharako Lohar had chased for half the day finally spotted the Triarchy remnants fleeing in panic across the beach, Logar's men hot on their heels. When they saw Sharako split off more ships to reinforce the island, the Seahorse fleet swung about at once and charged straight into the Triarchy formation.
Malentin Velaryon might be a bastard, but he was no fool. He seized the gift of an open flank with ruthless speed.
On the island, Logar and his crew had already chased the broken enemy all the way to the water's edge. The Triarchy soldiers scrambled desperately up the gangplanks, frantic to reach the safety of their main fleet.
Logar had been ready to call a halt — his men were exhausted after hours of savage fighting — but when he glanced out to sea and saw the Velaryon sails turning hard, charging the Triarchy head-on, he bared his teeth in a savage grin. "Finally! The Seahorse bastards grew a brain!"
He spun around and roared, "Everyone to the ships! We hit them from behind with the Velaryons — trap these bastards between us and send them straight to the Drowned God!"
Morale was sky-high. The enemy had just been routed and their nerve was shattered. If they didn't press the advantage now, they never would.
The pirates who had burst out of the camp answered with a thunderous roar. Ignoring aching muscles and bleeding wounds, they sprinted back to their beached warships, raised sails, and followed Logar's flagship out into open water.
"Seven fucking hells!" Sharako Lohar snarled as the Velaryon fleet closed fast, arrows raining down from their decks while his own detached force was being slaughtered on the beach by Logar's charging pirates. His face turned the color of old iron.
He had thought the island rabble would crumble. Instead they had proven a tougher nut than expected. And now the Velaryon fleet he had chased halfway across the Narrow Sea had the balls to turn and fight?
"Attack!" Daemon Velaryon shouted from the deck of the flagship.
The Velaryon ships first unleashed a storm of arrows. Bowmen crouched low, loosing black shafts that whistled across the waves and slammed into Triarchy decks. Screams rose everywhere.
Then the rowers dug in hard. Warships surged forward, bronze rams gleaming coldly as they smashed into enemy hulls.
CRASH!
One Triarchy galley's side planks exploded inward in a shower of splinters. Seawater poured through the gaping wound. Broken oars flew like matchsticks.
Grappling crews hurled iron hooks on long ropes. Winches groaned as the two ships were dragged together.
Velaryon soldiers charged across swaying gangplanks, shields locked, swords flashing. The deck fight turned into brutal, close-quarters slaughter.
Years of dominating the Narrow Sea had made the Velaryon crews deadly. In a single clash they showed exactly why they were feared.
The lead Triarchy warship buckled first. Its soldiers were driven back step by bloody step until many simply leaped overboard, thrashing in the waves and screaming for help.
"Damn it!" Sharako Lohar's stomach twisted. Those damaged ships belonged to Lys. If he lost them here, he would never be able to explain it to the Lysene magisters.
He shot a glance at Logar's smaller fleet sweeping in from the flank — fast, nimble, already carving up his scattered light ships. Sharako knew the tide had turned. He bared his teeth and bellowed:
"Withdraw! Full retreat! Back to Bloodstone!"
Even now he believed he had walked into a clever Velaryon trap.
Woo—woo—
The retreat horns wailed across the water. Sharako's fleet swung about in panic and fled toward Bloodstone.
Logar's pirate ships gave chase. They quickly overhauled several stragglers.
Pirates swarmed aboard howling like wolves, swords and axes rising and falling without mercy. Bodies were tossed overboard one after another, blood streaming from the decks into the sea and blooming dark red across the blue water.
When Femon and the others prepared to keep pursuing, Logar raised his hand. "Enough! The brothers have been fighting since the camp — they're spent. Let the cowards run."
He knew Sharako's main fleet was still largely intact. The Triarchy commander had only pulled back because he feared a larger Velaryon ambush. Chasing too far now could turn victory into disaster.
"Yes, Captain!" Though disappointed, Femon and the others obeyed without question.
After weeks of Logar's rewards and iron discipline, these pirates had shed their old chaotic ways. They were becoming a real force.
They still had a long way to go before they could call themselves a true army, but for Logar it was already a huge step forward. Given enough time, he would forge these cutthroats into a disciplined sellsword company that obeyed every order.
The ships regrouped and turned back toward the island.
The battle had not crippled the Triarchy fleet, but for Logar and his men it was a solid, hard-won victory. They had defeated a larger landing force with far fewer men, reclaimed their base, and finally planted a real foothold on the Stepstones.
From now on, even if the enemy returned in strength, they could fight from behind solid defenses.
Logar had barely stepped ashore when several Velaryon ships approached. Malentin Velaryon and his nephew Daemon came ashore to meet him.
"Captain Logar, I'm relieved to see you still in one piece," Malentin said, wrinkling his nose at the barren island. Only when he noticed Logar and his pirates covered head to toe in blood did he finally look at them properly. "Fortunately House Velaryon's fleet is strong enough to drive the Triarchy back…"
Logar's men glared openly. This bastard had fled the moment the enemy appeared, using them as bait, and now he showed up to claim credit. The nerve!
A flash of anger crossed Logar's eyes too, but he knew this wasn't the time to settle scores.
"Thanks to House Velaryon, Lord Malentin," he answered coolly, as if the earlier abandonment had never happened.
"Enough pleasantries," Malentin wrapped his cloak tighter against the biting wind and spoke with arrogant confidence. "Since we've won, you can stay here and build your base. I'll leave two ships and fifty men to assist you. My family will also send supply vessels on a regular schedule."
"Only fifty?" Logar's brows drew together. They were now in open war with the Triarchy. The base needed walls strengthened, defenses built — fifty men were barely enough to dig latrines.
Malentin seemed to realize he was being stingy, yet still spoke grandly. "Captain Logar, House Velaryon has faith in your strength. Honestly, fifty men feels generous. Besides, our fleet must maintain the blockade across the Narrow Sea and hunt supply ships headed for Bloodstone and Grey Gallows. We have no spare men to leave behind."
Logar said nothing more. He gave the arrogant lord one long, cold look and answered flatly, "In that case, I hope our future cooperation goes smoothly."
Malentin offered no further words. He soon sailed away with the main fleet, leaving behind two supply-laden warships and a company of fifty Velaryon soldiers.
"My lord, we are at your command." The leader of the detachment was a young man roughly Logar's own age. He wore good chainmail, stood straight as a spear, and carried himself with calm discipline.
"From now on I'll split your men up and assign them to different tasks. Can you accept that?" Logar asked directly, wasting no time on courtesies.
"Of course," the young man replied without a trace of resentment. "Lord Malentin ordered us to assist you fully against the enemy. I will follow your orders."
Logar was surprised. Most men would resent being placed under a sellsword captain, especially one fresh from the pirate life. Yet this youth showed no anger at all.
"What's your name?" Logar asked, meeting the man's steady gaze.
"Alyn, my lord." The young man lifted his chin, eyes clear and resolute. "My name is Alyn."
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