Ashes drifted through the air. Esben’s horse let out a worried whiny as the small troop of soldiers rode into the desolate village. Smoke still curled from the broken-down houses, and piles of rubble clogged the street.
Artham reined in his own horse next to Esben, his face drawn and pale. “What’s the plan?”
“Um . . . I was hoping you would have one.”
“You’re going to be the king!”
“You’re older!”
“Hush!” Artham cast a glance around. “The captain’s coming over.”
Both boys fell silent as the captain rode to their side.
“My princes, the scouts report no sign of pirates near the villages, but there are campfires along the shoreline. Our educated guess is that they are feasting and celebrating with their spoils.”
Esben swallowed hard. “I see.” His mind raced. “Is there a way for me to get a look at the camp?”
The captain frowned. “I’m not sure that is advisable, Your Highness. You are, after all, our next king and our leader.”
“Yeah, but I can’t lead unless I see the camp. Artham can come with me.”
From the captain’s expression, that didn’t reassure him in the least. Artham didn’t appear particularly assured either, which irked Esben. They were good at sneaking around. They did it all the time, and they would be completely fine. In Esben’s opinion, what Artham needed was a hefty dose of confidence.
“Is there a way for us to get a look at this camp?” Esben repeated.
The captain hesitated. “Very well. Follow me.”
He gave instructions for the rest of the company to wait in the village, then lead the boys down a winding dirt path along the hill. Soon they were in sight of the beaches. Fires burned and they could hear a mixture of laughing, belching, and revelry from below.
The ocean breeze brought with it the scent of roasted flabbits, which immediately made Esben desperately hungry. He could practically taste the juicy meat . . . but he couldn’t keep thinking about food, or his stomach would start rumbling and he’d give them all away.
With the captain at their sides, the boys deftly crept through the tall, waving grass to get a closer look. There were hundreds of tents, and an armada of ships. If the entire Annieran navy were summoned it would outnumber them, but part of the navy was patrolling the seas near the Green Hollows while others escorted merchant ships to Skree, the Woes, and the Jungles of Plontst.
Basically, Esben thought dryly, We’re in boatloads of trouble.
“There’s got to be hundreds of pirates down there,” Artham muttered. “They’ll outnumber us ten to one.”
Esben shrugged absently, thinking hard. “It could be worse.”
The look his brother shot at him told Esben that Artham now thought he’d gone crazy.
“Well, it could be worse. It could be fifty to one.”
Artham huffed. “It could be a whole lot better, too!”
“My princes, we cannot stay here much longer,” the captain warned them. “We may be spotted. I would not be able to protect you, and we all might be captured and killed.”
“We’re aware,” Artham said, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like we don’t understand how much danger we’re in.”
“Capture . . .” Esben sat straight up as an idea struck him. “Capture! That’s it!”
“What?”
“I need to be captured.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Artham said flatly. “No.”
“Okay, hear me out. We need to buy time to gather more troops, right? I can buy us time.”
“Who’ll gather the troops if you’re captured?”
“You.”
“Ahem, no way on Aerwiar am I letting you get captured on your own. What kind of Throne Warden would I be? Aunt Illia would be horrified.”
“She’ll be horrified by the whole plan,” Esben pointed out.
“Clearly, we should scrap it!”
“Just listen! They don’t have to know who we are. But someone needs to get into the camp to assess the strengths and weaknesses. We don’t have to get captured. All we’ve got to do is distract them long enough for our troops to sneak in and take out the captain, or drive them back to the sea.”
“If I may, my princes,” the captain said quietly. “Perhaps a band of soldiers could sneak into the camp?”
“They could, but wouldn’t we be less noticeable?”
“Personally,” Artham said. “I think we should leave this to the professionals.”
Esben glared at him. “Come on. The soldiers will never get past the sentries without being seen.”
“Alright, fine.” Artham rolled his eyes. “Let’s get back to our camp, and fill in all the holes of your plan. Then we’ll see if it’s actually feasible.”
“Papa always says that a little risk could mean victory.”
“Yeah, but he was talking about a strategic risk.”
“Fair point.” Esben shrugged. “Let’s go discuss it then.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying the whole time!”
“Was not.”
“Yes, it was!”
Esben shook his head as they crept back through the tall grass to the winding dirt path beyond. Soon, they were safely away.
Chapter III