Fiery Landings

• Harry Jenkins, Grade 6, Sunnybank Hills State School
• Short Story
• 2016

Excellence Award in the 'Top Secret 2016' competition

Out of the caliginous distance, emerged a grandiose longboat; its slender body providing an imposing sight. Its stupendous square sail was rich crimson like blood. A good forty or so oars protruded from the ligneous ship, circling in and out of the water in unison while propelling the colossal beast along the formidable seas. But most striking of all was the immense figure of a lion. The silhouette of the golden mane gleamed from the moonlight above, gradually becoming engulfed by the sombre clouds gathering in the dark skies. The lion’s jaws were wide open, roaring silently to himself. He had a malevolent look to his wizened face and his malicious fiery eyes glinted with might and power; power over the nations that lay before his feet.

Clad in cumbersome armour, hundreds of heavily armed men took their stand at the prow of the ship, at their ready for something glorious and magnificent to come; something that would determine everyone’s and the world’s fate. Some grunted in confidence of their skill and prowess in war and swung their axes around carelessly. And others, perhaps quite the opposite, had their weapons firmly buried in their sheaths, while they trembled and shuddered at the memory of death they had seen countless times.

The captain of the majestic ship, sighed as he adjusted his hefty helmet, bearing lots of weight down on his head. He contemplated his grand army. He was a composed and benign leader. Although he could get a bit bumptious at times, he was a good and trustworthy person; someone you could rely on.

The longboat soared across the ocean, graceful like a bird. The fearsome ship was followed by one other identical ship, then another. Soon enough, there were hundreds of ships, sailing at a rapid pace towards the newly born land, enshrouded in mysterious occult.

“Land ho!” shouted one of the crew, perched in the crow’s nest. It was a perfect vantage point to scan the vast seas.
The soldiers whooped and cheered until the captain cut them off in a terse manner.
“We have no time to rejoice. We have to earn it by facing our foes and crushing them under our mighty power!” his curt baritone voice pierced the midnight sky.
At that, the soldiers unsheathed their swords and axes and yelled out their many war cries.

The ships edged towards the shore, the nebulous mist making the land too vague and obscure to seek. The atmosphere in the dingy ships was that of a determined and grim one. They were ready for the battle of their life.

Abruptly, arrows of fire rained down on them. The conflagration spread quickly, combusting ships and men. There were ear-splitting shrieks and shrills, as the longboats became live infernos. The sea was mantled in gore, with corpses and splinters everywhere. Smoke was billowing from the longboats. The scent of death was strong. The macabre landings were a ghastly scene – it was a total failure.

“Push on!!!”