Water Battle

Avet stood solemnly on a hill along the northern bank. From his commanding height, he focused intently on the enemy ahead. Beside him stood dozens of drummers, conch-blowers, and standard-bearers tasked with relaying orders, awaiting the commander's command.

This was a narrow ford on the Lerma River. Even in the rainy season, when river water rose, its widest stretch was only five or six hundred meters across, while its narrowest was less than three hundred.

The Tarasco launched their crossing simultaneously across a stretch of more than ten li. Hundreds and thousands of Canoes, laden with warriors gripping Spears in both hands, shot across the water like arrows, surging northward in a vast tide and arriving almost in an instant.

At the commander's order, deep drums rolled across the Great River. The Mexica Canoe fleet surged forth as well. The paddlers drove their speed to the limit, and after only a few breaths of calm, the two fleets smashed fiercely together.

Xolotl felt the world pause for an instant. Then thunder erupted on every side.

He saw two large vessels collide head-on, their advance halted with a thunderous crash. Their hulls rocked violently, spun in place, then slammed together once more. Before the boats could steady themselves, Sailors and Militia on both sides roared, brandishing weapons as they leaped onto enemy decks and tangled in savage combat.

A Mexica Militia soldier raised his small shield diagonally in his left hand, blocking an incoming Stone Spear. His right hand immediately thrust out an Obsidian short blade, driving it into the enemy before him through the waist and abdomen, then twisting hard clockwise. The Tarasco sailor screamed miserably, fell backward into the water, and the spot where he fell swiftly turned red. The Militia soldier had only begun to smile when his chest suddenly went cold, followed by a burst of agonizing pain. His strength vanished in an instant. When he lowered his head one last time, all he could see was a spear buried nearly a foot deep.

The Tarasco spearman across from him cheered with a savage expression, drawing the attention of someone nearby. He tried to pull out his spear, but it would not budge. His thrust had been too forceful and too deep; it was caught against a rib. Just as he prepared to try again, a Stone Axe came whistling in from behind and to the side, smashing viciously into the vital spot on his neck.

The spearman's scream was only half uttered when the Stone Axe came down again. Then a thick bare foot kicked him in the chest, sending his head-lolling corpse into the rushing river, where all trace of his existence vanished in the blink of an eye.

Between the large vessels, they fought board to board. But when a large vessel met a small one, it was a different kind of crushing.

The youth watched more than a dozen paddlers exert themselves at once. The Mexica vessel shot forward like a hunting cheetah, lunging straight at several small boats opposite it. One small boat failed to evade in time and was struck squarely along its side by the large vessel. The small boat was tilted up at an angle, heaved violently into the air, and finally rolled over completely. Several people aboard cried out as they fell into the water. Before they could even spread their limbs to swim, several Stone Spears stabbed down at them, piercing their skulls like skewering melons.

Another small boat hurriedly turned aside, spinning as it barely escaped, only to whirl around and collide with the large vessel. At once, more than a dozen warriors on the large vessel charged over with shouts. More than a dozen weapons struck against only a handful of men, stabbing the people aboard the small boat into bloody Gourds.

The repeated collisions finally robbed the large vessel of its speed, leaving it briefly adrift on the water. More than a dozen small boats around it seized the chance and swarmed in like a Wolf Pack, encircling the large vessel. Militia poured aboard from every direction, their Spears stabbing again and again. Wet, tearing sounds sank deep into flesh, and blood immediately flooded the deck.

The battle on the water was especially brutal. Warriors interwove and grappled with one another, weapons striking from all directions, while the footing beneath them was always swaying and slick. Once someone fell into the water, it often meant death.

While keeping part of his attention on the fierce naval battle, Xolotl swiftly completed the ritual invoking the blessing of the God of War. After praying to the Guardian Deity Huitzilopochtli, the Mexica Warriors finally found the confidence to fight the "evil spirit cultists" of foreign gods.

Only then did the youth carefully examine the vessels on the Great River. Whether Mexica People or Tarasco, everyone here used only sail-less Canoes powered by paddles.

A Canoe was made from the entire trunk of a single tree as its keel. The trunk was hollowed out into a hull, then its bow, stern, edges, and sides were shaped and refined. In this era, Mesoamerica's shipbuilding technology was limited. There were no methods for reinforcing ships with iron nails or joining together keels. Only a vessel made from one great tree would neither leak nor fall apart.

Thus, however long and thick the trunk was determined how long and wide the vessel would be. Tall, broad birches and Fir Trees were often the first choice for Canoes. Fortunately, Mesoamerica was thick with forests at this time. Great trees hundreds or even thousands of years old stood everywhere, and material for Canoes was plentiful.

The Canoes on the battlefield could be divided into large and small types. Large Canoes were the core of naval warfare, requiring an entire great tree and complicated processes to build. They were at least fifteen meters long and three or four meters wide, allowing four people to sit abreast. With a great tree as the keel, the hull was sturdy and could be widened further on either side—for example, by attaching broad rafts—to gain greater carrying capacity. Of course, a Canoe lay close to the water and had little height to speak of, so Flagships often added raised platforms for the commander to observe the situation. Many round Shield Tribes were fastened by rope along both sides of the hull, protecting paddlers and warriors while also guarding against Stone Throwers and arrows.

To drive a large Canoe effectively required at least ten paddlers. Beyond the paddlers, a large vessel could usually carry thirty warriors while leaving enough room for them to swing their weapons. Large Canoes were also used to transport bulky goods. The Sacrificial Disk from Xilotepec had been carried back to the Mexica capital aboard one.

Small Canoes were the most numerous, like an army of ants, and were much simpler to make. They were generally no more than eight meters long and no more than one and a half meters wide, enough for two people abreast. Only two paddlers were needed to propel one effectively, and sometimes one person was enough. It could carry six warriors, or an equivalent volume of supplies. This was also the transport vessel most commonly used by fishermen and merchants.

Xolotl knew that the eastern Nahua and Maya People had another kind of "great vessel" that traveled along the coast. Such great vessels required a certain level of skill and rare giant trees. They were thirty meters long and three to four meters wide. There was no helping it—the width of a Canoe was strictly limited by the width of the tree.

These great vessels, capable of sailing upon the sea, used both paddles and sails. A mast and a large rectangular sail were installed at their center. The sails were made from animal hides, Cotton cloth, or even woven hemp mats. With sails as a source of power, the vessel needed as few as sixteen paddlers.

The Nahua and Maya People sailed these great vessels across the boundless Great Lake, trading precious Spices, gemstones, Feathers, and Divine Smoke. The Maya People had even sailed to distant great islands, trading Tobacco and Cotton with Taino tribes. Those were the Caribbean islands, primitive yet long densely inhabited.

Xolotl shook his head and stopped thinking further. Silently, he estimated the number of Tarasco vessels.

Avet had told him that this time, the Mexica fleet had mobilized on a large scale. A total of two hundred large vessels and six hundred small vessels had come as reinforcements from Lake Texcoco. However, the vessels did not carry a full complement of naval troops. Half their space had been used for provisions, so the entire fleet corps numbered around eight thousand men.

The Tarasco across the river had roughly one hundred large vessels and eight hundred small vessels, all fully loaded. Their total force numbered around eleven thousand, including five thousand Spear Militia who had boarded the boats. Though the Tarasco were a people of the lakes, their core region around Lake Patzcuaro was not connected to the Lerma River, so they could not assemble enough large vessels.

In river warfare, large ships defeated small ships, and more ships defeated fewer ships—especially when there were no bows, Stone Throwers, or Cannons. The youth had considered the classic tactic of attacking with fire, and Avet had briefly been tempted as well. But after searching around, the two regretfully discovered that they could not gather much fuel oil here on short notice. Animal fats were scarce, plant oils expensive, and high-yield oil crops had not yet reached the Americas.

When would they be able to go to Texas or Venezuela and dig for petroleum? Greek Fire was a formidable weapon in naval warfare, though its exact formula was still unknown. Xolotl felt both longing and self-mockery.

California seemed to have plenty of petroleum too, and its climate was warm and pleasant—better than the north ravaged by Cold Waves and the south thick with rainforest miasma. As long as shipbuilding technology allowed it, colonizing California would be a good choice.

Besides fire attacks and ranged weapons, the age of oar-and-sail vessels could also mount rams at the bow. The fierce impact of a large vessel could easily tear apart a small one. However, the Mexica lacked sufficient metal, while the Tarasco had presumably never thought of it.

Thus, the naval battle on the Great River became a cruel melee of boarding actions. Warriors on both sides fought bloody battles to the death. From time to time, Militia screamed as they fell into the water, and a pale red layer quickly spread across the river's surface.

In merely half an hour, each side had suffered a thousand dead and wounded. On land, the Militia would likely have collapsed long ago. But the chaotic and savage naval battle increased both sides' endurance. Either everyone aboard a vessel died, or everyone aboard survived; the surviving fleet troops still retained enough morale.

"The situation seems unfavorable." The youth rapidly calculated the rate of casualties on both sides. Numbers did not lie.

Avet frowned. Relying on the advantage of their large vessels, the Mexica fleet had gained quite a bit in the initial collisions. But once large-scale boarding battles began, their disadvantage in numbers became apparent.

"The Tarasco spearmen have killed many of our Militia. If we keep wearing each other down, we will lose first." The commander swiftly confirmed the state of the battle.

"Should we send the Warriors or Militia aboard?" the youth suggested.

"There is no need to wear each other down with them on the water. The casualty ratio is far too poor. Let their spearmen come ashore first, then swallow them in one bite."

As he spoke, Avet clenched his fist confidently, as if he had seized the enemies on the river in his palm.

He immediately gave the order. Piercing conch calls rang across both banks of the Great River. The Mexica vessels began to withdraw, slowly breaking contact. The ten thousand direct-command Warriors behind the commander also readied their weapons, prepared to fight at any moment.

The Tarasco fleet did not pursue. Crossing the river remained their foremost task. The paddlers accelerated, swiftly unloading great masses of Spear Militia onto the shallows along the riverbank, then racing back to the southern bank to transport the next unit.

Nearly five thousand spearmen quickly assembled into squads, forming more than a dozen circular formations. They would trade their lives for time as they waited for the next wave of reinforcements.

On the nearby hills, the Mexica Warriors had long since gripped their Shield Tribes and clubs in excitement, ready to welcome a thoroughly satisfying slaughter.