The small boats moved in close to the armada of behemoths. Premer Doralin watched with morbid curiosity as to what they would attempt to do. His jaw dropped and his eyebrows rose as the first harpoon was fired. The large ship that had been hit suddenly veered to port. Even as he was trying to understand what was happening, several other small boats sent harpoons flying into the large Motangan ships. The soldiers on the first ship hit started jumping overboard by the hundreds. Premer Doralin watched in awe as the floundering ship started to sink lower in the water. Several following ships slowed and started picking up the crewmen from the first ship. When the large ships slowed, they became easier targets for the Sakovans. The premer’s veins began to bulge and his hands curled into fists of rage.

“You require a mage?” asked the man in the black hood as he stopped next to Doralin.

“Send messages to the ships to our south,” demanded the premer. “No ship is to slow down for survivors. All small vessels are to be sunk immediately. Do it quickly. Thousands of lives depend upon it.”

The mage wove an air tunnel and began spreading the premer’s orders. Catapults from some of the ships tried to target the small boats, but the Sakovan crafts were agile, and the catapults had little effect on the enemy. Several more large ships were hit as Motangan archers raced to the rails. The screams and shouts of soldiers jumping from the sinking ships raged through the air. Doralin subconsciously bashed his fist against the rail.

The Motangan archers had better luck than the catapults. A rain of arrows flew into the sea, spearing the Sakovan boats that were within range. Doralin nodded with satisfaction as he saw several small boats floating with dead crews. Still, several more huge Motangan ships started sinking.