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ship, had just reported that the peaks of the Wytung Mountains had been sighted on the horizon. The premer immediately walked to the bow so that he would be able to see the peaks as they appeared. He was eagerly awaiting his first view of the mainland when the lookout shouted again.
    Doralin gazed upward to see the lookout pointing to the south. The premer turned and gazed to port. Scores of huge ships bobbed atop the water, but he saw nothing amiss. He shielded his eyes from the sun and still could see nothing alarming. He turned and grabbed an officer who was walking by.
    “Find out what the lookout is shouting about,” commanded the premer.
    As the officer ran off, Doralin returned to gazing at the ships on his left flank. It was an awesome sight to behold as the huge ships rose and fell on the small swells. His mind drifted to the coming invasion, and he tried to picture the foreign city and what it would look like. The premer was deep in thought when the officer returned.
    “The lookout has seen the sails of smaller boats,” reported the officer. “He thinks that they might be fishing vessels, but there are a lot of them. He thought you should be informed. Are they to be attacked?”
    “Fishing boats?” frowned the premer. “We should not waste our time with them. I want this fleet together when we attack Alamar.”
    The officer nodded and left.  The premer faced forward again and returned his thoughts to the coming invasion. The fishing boats made his mind think of a peaceful city unaware of the coming storm, thousands of people going about their daily chores. He was well aware from the intelligence reports that the Sakovan armies were preparing for a fight, but he wondered if the citizenry had even been told of the coming mayhem.
    The lookout shouted once more, and Premer Doralin gazed skyward. Again the lookout pointed to the south, but the man was obviously more frantic this time. Doralin turned to his left and raised his hand to block the sun. He could see the sails of the smaller vessels now as they came closer to his armada.
    “Fools,” commented a voice as it came up alongside the premer. “Those small boats will be crushed if they get in the way of these huge ships.”
    “Any sailor should know that, General Valatosa,” nodded the premer as he acknowledged the man next to him. “Can these Sakovans really be that stupid that they would put such small craft in front of this armada? I don’t think so. I think we are witnessing something a bit more nefarious than anything we expected. Summon a mage. Be quick about it.”
    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.