In Defence of the Keep
Copyright© 2025 by James Girvan
Chapter 14: Wood, blood, and empty boxes
Action/Adventure Sex Story: Chapter 14: Wood, blood, and empty boxes - Laird Nathanial was once a Hero of Chaos and Crossroads but tonight is under attack in his family’s Keep by his brother and a small army of mercenaries. No longer welcome on Crossroads after breaking the rules of chivalrous combat, he hatches a plan to both defend his lands and travel back to Crossroads. Can he survive in either world?
Caution: This Action/Adventure Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Heterosexual
Since it was near evening when we left Black Harbour Jacques made a big show about leaving before sunset, calling out something rude to the harbour master about not getting gouged. He turned us West (back the way we had come from) and sailed that direction until nightfall. After thot, we came about and rowed back East for hours and hours.
“We’ll be outta sight of ‘dem in harbour, if’n any asks, dey’ll be told we wen’ de’ odder way.” The captain muttered. I could only hope and row.
Captain called us to ship oars about four or five hours after sundown. “Get s’m rest. T’morrah may be busy.” We rested, Ellen’s head on my lap again but without the expectation of nighttime play. She had been rowing some also, changing out with our Damsel to give the other men a break. My stamina in the oar-seat a mystery to the other rowers.
I heard some suspicious slurping, and I was hoping the Hero was keeping it out of her twat. The portals at the Bank worked for everything except metal and pregnant women; and I had no desire to be kept here because of a horny Hero. “Mouth or ass! Keep it out of her slit at least!” I called out to the darkness.
Ellen slithered her way up me to whisper in my ear. “Ass?” She said with a question, “from what I heard of Billy, he would tear her a new one...” she giggled and bent down to suck me off in the darkness. At that point I lost track of whatever the others in the boat were doing, nor did I care.
I missed sunrise, tired as I was, and was woken when nudged by Ellen. “Watered wine?” She asked, holding me a cup. What a girl.
The wind had freshened overnight and was from the port side. We put our two strongest rowers (Ben and I) starboard, and Jacques dragged the sail across at an angle to the breeze. Apparently it would help us out a bit.
The sun was directly overhead when I heard Jacques swear and point almost directly ahead. I had been rowing and had therefore been looking behind us, so anything ahead of us was purely a mystery to me. “Pro’ly another trader...” he said without much conviction. “Ship oars, take a rest and have sum’tin to eat.” He grunted. I agreed, but remanded the offer of food. If there was a fight to be had, then being rested was best but a gut wound was worse if the belly was full.
It is hard to tell just how far you can see on the water, but it is damn far. Their boat was coming directly at us, but their sail was down and they were rowing. We sort of drifted, being pushed by the sail towards them (a bit) and across to starboard. This could only help if they were trouble, as they would be tired from rowing for the last few hours while we would be fresher. I noticed as we drifted off of our initial straight path, the other boat tracked us.
Not a sign of an innocent trader.
We had two short bows, and I assigned them to Tom and myself. Quizzing our Damsel, I found that she had been given no weapon training either on Crossroads or here. That was not unusual, in fact I can only think of one Damsel I ever met who could fight, and she was what father called a brawler; fighting without weapons (usually suicide when fighting someone with_ a weapon though). Surprised the hell out of me when we were back on Crossroads. A beautiful leg-sweep put me on my back and she had my trousers open and herself impaled on me faster than I had ever imagined possible.
“Can we use the big logs to our advantage?” I asked the captain.
“Can’na think how, if they was chasing us Mebbe we could cut one loose and it’s get in d’er way.” He replied, glum again.
“Hey, you said that they would throw hooks ... will those hooks catch the log, since it is high and on the side of the boat?” I asked, grasping for a delay tactic.
“Mebbe, bu’ thar’ll be three or more of ‘em. Odds in’na good d’at all three sink in d’log.”
“Alright, but it is an option. We steer the boat so that it is side-on to the enemy, then shoot from behind the log for protection. When they throw hooks, if all the hooks latch onto the log, then we pound them in tight with a mallet or an oar then let the log go. Maybe we can either pull away under oars and make be turn around and shoot at them some more?” I said, getting into the swing of things with planning. It helped in a battle if you could choose the way at which the two groups came together (we could; sort-of) and it really helped knowing how the enemy would approach (which initially was with arrows of their own, and the hooks).
I passed this plan around to those in the boat while we waited, we practiced the event a few times, and even cleared as much out of the boat as we could. To give the hooks less to grab on to. (Looking back, this was a bit of an error, since the bundles of wool might have made the hooks padded, and not catch the boat at all)
The two boats crept together as I limbered and then braced the two little bows. We had a dozen arrows for each of them, but they weren’t all that good. Hitting someone from the deck of a moving ship at any real distance would be mostly luck. The three crossbows worked over Mshorter distances, so would have an advantage. The smaller one had five quarrels, and the larger two had six each. Given the rate at which they could be loaded and fired, I would bet the bows would be out of arrows before the crossbows were out of quarrels.
Our crew was warned to look for (and dodge) the flying hooks, and not try to cut the chain, just pound them into the big log if they could and to keep their head down while doing it. Anyone standing proud above the big log on the side of the boat would be a target for their archers.
We could hear a general shouting well before we could make out any clear words. I had Jacques peek over the log and confirm that it was Eric’s boat. I had loaded up one of the worst quarrels into the most powerful of the two big crossbows and given him the go-ahead to take a potshot at them if he felt like it.
Jacques must have seen what he expected, and in a second I heard the heavy ‘thud’ of the crossbow discharging. He later told me he was aiming for Eric in the front of the boat, but forgot to take into account that the boats were moving. Anyways, that and the crappy nature of the quarrel conspired together beautifully and it turned out he absolutely nailed one of the crew to the mast, we could hear some screaming for a while, then silence. (Eric had killed the guy just to shut him up, and in doing so managed to strike fear into the hearts of the rest of his men.)
We tried to get a headcount, but it just wasn’t possible as by that time they were taking potshots of their own against us, so keeping your head above the big log for a long time was a losing proposition.
The two boats turned side-on to each other and like magic, three hooks came flying from their boat onto ours.
Whoever threw the hook at my end of the boat must have been wickedly strong. The whole line sailed completely over Sprite and caught on the far rail as it was hauled back. Though I had just told them not to try it, I slashed at the rope attached to the end of the chain, severing it immediately as it bent over the big log. Glancing toward the stern of the boat, I could see that nobody had got caught-up in the hooks, and that those two were caught in the big log as expected. A surprise fourth hook sailed over my head and Jacques and I just managed to avoid it as it whipped towards us, sinking into the log also.
Our crossbows had been active at this time, and I chanced popping up with my bow for a shot. I ducked down after releasing my arrow so I couldn’t see what actually happened, but the yelling in their boat increased significantly.
Jacques and Billy had been tasked with releasing the log once the hooks were embedded and stoped flying, and I could see them both frantically sawing away at the binding ropes. Our crossbows thudded once again, and I had just popped up and selected a stunned looking man pulling a rope for an arrow when Billy called out “Coming free, everyone down!” I loosed my arrow and dropped to the deck as Sprite lurched when the big log rolled off the side.
The boat rocked back and forth a bit before it ended up leaning hard to the starboard side once the port log was lost. It gave is a bit more room on our side to hide behind and shoot from, but the footing was a lot more precarious too.
“Head count!” I yelled. We had worked this out before, I meant that I wanted a hand sign for the number of arrows or quarrels my archer and crossbowman had left. The heavy crossbows had two and three left, the light one had two, and Tom had three arrows left. I gave the closed-fist sign, meaning ceasefire. Glancing up over the now empty rail I could see confusion on the other boat. A quick headcount totalled ten men, with four looking dead and dragged to the Center of the boat at the mast. Ducking back down, I heard a solid ‘Thunk’ of a quarrel (I thought) hitting the side of the boat and looked down to see the tip of iron sticking through the wood right next to my thigh. I quickly reached over the rail and felt the shaft, it was thick and short. I broke it off and brought it in to look at the fletching. Oh shit, it was made well. Let’s hope he is running low of ammunition then.
Knocking an arrow, I stuck my head up and looked for a target, then dropped back down and slithered further aft before popping up again and loosing an arrow. One of their sailors was still standing up and pulling in the log for some stupid reason, and by the yell I heard after dropping down, I either hit him or scared the shit out of him.
Rupert had been thinking again. Without any direction, he had stuffed his hat with wool, mounted it in an oar and was raising it just above the rail a bit to try to draw fire. I could hear their crossbows trying to kill our ‘idiot’ that couldn’t keep his head down. The third time he tried it, three crossbows thudded and one of them pierced the hat which flew off the oar and fell overboard. Our own crossbows popped up at this point and fired, hitting two more men on their boat.
Jacques had been using the tiller oar and one on the starboard side to keep us side-on to Eric’s boat. This had the added impact of moving us closer to their boat also, which made it easier to hit our targets, but the same could still be said for them. The shooting had been paused for a few moments and I called another headcount. The result was disappointing, one arrow or quarrel for everyone but me, and I only had two.
There were eight of us, and about the same of them at this point. Unfortunately two of ours were not fighters, and a third was an unknown. I glanced up again and saw that the two boats were less than a dozen feet away from each other with the big log in between us still. A crossbow thudded again and I nearly lost my head as the quarrel cut my scalp before I had even registered the shot. Gritting it out, I loaded another arrow and popped up to shoot the bastard. That guy had already put his head dorm to reload, but his friend was just raising his crossbowman as I drew, that fellow got an arrow in the neck for my first confirmed kill of the day.
“Jacques!” I called over to the captain and signalled him closer with my hand. “Can you throw that hook over and grab their boat?” I gestured to the one I had cut at the beginning of the battle.
“Na’ but I could use my own. It don’ have chain tho.” He said hoarsely, and I noticed just how tired he looked.
“Any chance you could just tie some more line onto the one with chain?” I asked exasperated.
“Oh, aye!” He grunted and shuffled off to get some.
“What I want is the two boats to come together at this end only, the big log is still between the boats and that should hold them apart enough so that there is only the one point where I can cross. I whispered, then slithered away to let everyone else know what was happening. I stressed that they were to save their last shot for any fighter on their boat who stood, but hadn’t yet engaged me. I was crossing over once the boats touched. Looked at Tom who surprisingly had found a second arrow somehow and gave him a thumbs up.
Jacques must have managed to hook the other boat, since there was all sorts of yelling and even the twang of a crossbow. Our captain was lying on his back, feet up on the rail, red faced and hauling in rope for all he was worth. I checked my two swords, knocked an arrow and picked up a big bundle of his wool in my free hand. The two boats finally bumped up against each other and I quickly raised the wool bundle up and tossed it across, hoping to draw fire. I then snatched up the bow with my one remaining arrow and scrambled across the rail.
Anyone with a bow of their own was my first target, if I had a choice. The first man I came across was frantically trying to reload a crossbow. He was so close that I let my right hand off the bowstring and reached under for my short sword. It came out in a down-hand grip, and that was good enough for a slash to the open side of his neck. I hit mostly muscle, due to the angle but there was enough blood that he was probably out of action for good. I tucked the sword under my arm and brought my hand back to the bowstring for a shot at the only other guy with a crossbow I could see. It was a gut shot and honestly I was lucky at that, my stance not optimal while holding my sword up.
My bow was dropped as soon as I let the arrow go and both swords were drawn as a stepped up to two more men, a look of horror on their faces.
You come across men like this all the time. Any group of hotheads will have a certain amount of them. These are men who can be easily goaded into helping with anything nasty, and join in with the group fully believing that with all those numbers that they are invincible.
These guys fall easily, usually to slashed or stabbed in their backs as they turn and try to run, discovering their cowardice when first actually under real threat.
Two down, neck strikes again and these ones were immediately killed. Six left. A crossbow thudded from Sprite, maybe two, a scream ahead and maybe only five left.
My next opponent was Eric, Must have been since Jacques had called him a ‘Giant Bastard’. I couldn’t tell his family lineage just from looking at him but he was the biggest guy left here. He had a sword in his right hand and a wood club in the left, he also has an arrow or quarrel stuck in his armour. It was made of leather and I was conscious that it was much heavier than mine. His other men were basically cowering behind him, all centred behind the mast and the pile of dead already there. They had swords and daggers out and I was aware that I could not circle him at all, really limiting my already limited movement. Uncle and I had practiced things like this before but I was willing to bet that this guy hadn’t.
His first strike looked like a sacrificial thrust, if I had rated him a general, crappy swordsman I might have gone for a simple disarm. I feinted for it anyways and watched as the small club whistled right through where my wrist would have been if I had gone for it fully. My long sword whipped back with more speed than most would expect, not having any experience fighting a man with light but strong weapons like these.
The tip caught an exposed joint on the back of the elbow, and he was bleeding now. It might take time to see if I had damaged it much though.
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