A Dream of Mortals (Book #15 in the Sorcerer's Ring) Read Free Page A

captive
but alive. She had been so sure they had all been killed at sea, and was
flooded with relief.
    Yet she was also filled with foreboding: if all
these great warriors had been taken prisoner, she thought, what chance did any
of them ever have of making it out of here alive?

CHAPTER THREE
     
     
    Erec sat on the wooden deck of his own ship,
his back against a pole, his hands bound behind him, and looked out with dismay
at the sight before him. The remaining ships of his fleet were spread out
before him in the calm ocean waters, all held captive in the night, blockaded by
the fleet of a thousand Empire ships. They were all anchored in place, lit up beneath
the two full moons, his ships flying the banners of his homeland and Empire
ships flying the black-and-gold banners of the Empire. It was a disheartening
sight. He had surrendered to spare his men from a certain death—and yet now they
were at the mercy of the Empire, common prisoners with no way out.
    Erec could see the Empire soldiers occupying each
of his ships, as they occupied his, a dozen Empire soldiers standing guard per
ship, staring lackadaisically at the ocean. On the decks of his ships Erec
could see a hundred men on each, all lined up, bound with their wrists behind their
back. On each ship they outnumbered the Empire guards, but clearly the Empire guards
were not concerned. With all the men bound, they did not really need any men to watch over them, much less a dozen. Erec’s men had surrendered, and clearly,
with their fleet blockaded, there was nowhere for them to go.
    As Erec looked out at the sight before him, he was
racked with guilt. He had never surrendered before in his life, and to have to
do so now pained him to no end. He had to remind himself he was a commander
now, not a mere foot soldier, and he had a responsibility to all of his men. As
outnumbered as they’d been, he could not have allowed them to all be killed.
Clearly, they’d walked into a trap, thanks to Krov, and fighting at that moment
would have been futile. His father had taught him that the first law of being a
commander was to know when to fight and when to lay down your arms and choose
to fight another day, another way. It was bravado and pride, he’d said, that
led to most men’s deaths. It was sound advice, but hard advice to follow.
    “I myself would have fought,” came a voice
beside him, sounding like the voice of his conscience.
    Erec looked over to see his brother, Strom,
bound to a post beside him, looking as unflappable and confident as ever,
despite the circumstances.
    Erec frowned.
    “You would have fought, and all of our men
would be dead,” Erec replied.
    Strom shrugged.
    “We will go down either way, my brother,” he
replied. “The Empire has nothing but cruelty. At least, my way, we would have
gone down with glory. Now we will be killed by these men, but it won’t be on our
feet—it will be on our backs, their swords at our throats.”
    “Or worse,” said one of Erec’s commanders, bound
to a post beside Strom, “we will be taken as slaves and never live as free men
again. Is this what we followed you for?”
    “You don’t know any of that,” Erec said. “No
one knows what the Empire will do. At least we are alive. At least we have a
chance. The other way would have guaranteed death.”
    Strom looked at Erec with disappointment.
    “It is not a decision our father would have
made.”
    Erec reddened.
    “You don’t know what our father would have done.”
    “Don’t I?” Strom countered. “I lived with him,
grew up with him on the Isles all my life, while you cavorted about the Ring.
You barely knew him. And I say our father would have fought.”
    Erec shook his head.
    “These are easy words for a soldier,” he countered.
“If you were a commander, your words might be quite different. I knew enough
about our father to know that he would have saved his men, at any cost. He was
not rash, and not impetuous. He was proud, but not