"Are you sure about this, Captain General? Is splitting our forces even a good idea against Kalipulako?" Delcano said as he tried to get a better look at Opon Matan's shore using his captain's telescope. He was having a problem with the darkness that hid their stealth attack and the swaying of their long boats didn't help either. "I fear that this might not work for us," he whispered.

  Captain General Magalhaes smiled behind a curtain of black beard. He was not like most of the captains he knew. A lower ranked officer questioning a captain's decision would've been insulting. A disrespectful act in front of the other crew was not tolerated. A seed of doubt might grew from it. The man should've been flogged for opining. In other fleets, if the leader's pride was hurt things would've spiraled to something more sinister. They would've sentenced the low ranking officer to death for a petty case of insubordination. He would be made an example, such was their ways. But not Magalhaes. He thrived on challenges, on puzzles, and on questions only few could answer. He saw it as a way to prove his capability, his worth as a leader.

  "Definitely," Magalhaes answered. "I have never been more sure. You see, a two pronged attack will devastate the datu's forces. Or at least cripple it. We could then finish the job if we want to using Concepcion. But of course we'll have to offer him a choice. After all, it's the gentleman's way, Delcano."

  Some of the rowers sniggered.

  "But letting Barboza lead the other force seemed off," Delcano said. "Couple that with Mortez on his side and we have a disaster in the making." The pilot bit his lip. "Apologies, I did not mean to malign the two–"

  Magalhaes nodded. Delcano was Barboza's pilot, his own second-in- command, but Delcano couldn't help to protest against Barboza. The man couldn't help telling the truth. This was why Magalhaes assigned him as Barboza's pilot. To create balance. To hold back the rabid dog that was Barboza. To leash him. But things are now different.

  "Is it too risky, my Lord?," added Pigafetta with his customary Italian tone. One of the rowers replaced him and took the oar. Pigafetta wiped his sweat off. Then, he massaged his weary arms. "I mean, putting all our cards here may backfire against us."

  "Ah, you are both right." Magalhaes adjusted his gauntlet and his mouth made a shape of another smile. "But I know him too well, chronicler. Barboza will keep his course. After all, he knows what's at stake. He also knows he will be rewarded."

  "I hope you do," the Italian said under his breath. "For all our sake. I really hope, captain."

  Magalhaes placed both hands on his waist. He'd been poisoned, mutinied, and shot by an arrow and through all that Barboza stood beside him. He knew he was right about the rabid dog and it was about time to unleash the bastard amongst its prey.

  "He'll do what I asked him to do." Magalhaes finally said. "I wager my life on it.".

  Delcano nodded. "Pardon me for my previous opinion earlier. Barboza, for all his faults, is a capable man. I might disagree with his ways but in truth, I have also benefited from them."

  "He's exactly what we need for now, young men. There is no perfect tool but that man is as close to it." Magalhaes assured them. "For now, I need you to trust me."

  Delcano expressed his agreement earnestly. But Magalhaes wasn't sure if the man agreed on the fact that Barboza was a beast. Or on his own opinion, that the beast would follow all his orders.

  "Will the regent's men help us too?" Pigafetta said as he sat beside Delcano.

  "No, fighting is too brutal for his taste," Magalhaes answered. "But Zullah and his son volunteered to guide us. I sent them to Barboza so, he could help them navigate through the islands." We'll have to prove ourselves first, the captain thought.

  Only then will they be on our side. On my hands, Magalhaes corrected. He turned to the rowers. "We need to go faster. Signal the other boats to hasten. We have a schedule to follow."

  The sun hadn't rose in the sky yet but the calm waters that face the pristine shores of Opon Matan was already crowded. Twelve long boats led Magalhaes' assault against the natives. And looming behind them was the ship Victoria, cannons loaded and ready, all pointing straight at the shores of Opon Matan.

  "Wait," Delcano said as he adjusted the telescope in his eye, "I see something. Movement–"

  Datud Butod's scouts came out of the bushes and in to the white sandy shores of Opon Matan. The other warrior serfs soon followed them, popping up like wild mushrooms in to the open, armed to the teeth.

  "Good." Datu Butod sighed. "No one's here yet."

  "We'll have to space the men evenly to cover the whole beach," Datu Sandawili said. "My men will cover the cliffs so we could see the Magalos' fleet before they can see us."

  It was still dark and not even a single star was on the horizon to light their way. But the warriors carried on even with the growing sense of dread weighing heavy on their shoulders. They've fought the Magalos before. But they still feared their brutal foes.

  The cold winds and the calm crash of the waves did not help their nerves. For it all sounded like an eerie lullaby from the darkest depths of oblivion.

  Sandawili felt her heart beat faster as every second went by. Waiting and doing nothing was a torture in itself. She tried to think of happier things to distract her mind. But the past battles against the dreaded Magalos raiders came flooding back to her. It came with all the sorrow she bottled in her chest. And it crushed her. She stopped in her tracks, letting her men settle in their formations. She breath a heavy sigh. She had to fight on.

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  She held her emotion in the wayside. She wasn't like his father or his brother. They fought to die. They were selfish to leave her behind, especially in times like this. But she'll never be like them. Simply because she was goddamn Sandawili, the Black Spear of Opon Matan. The only person to best her in battle was Pulaco. And he cheated against her just to win. Everybody knows that.

  The thought made her smile. Nothing was going to stop her. Nothing and no one. She held her secret terror at bay as she led her men closer to the beach. She tightened her grip on the spear his brother left her. The same spear that was passed on to every datu in their village.

  The weight and balance of the blackened spear grounded her thoughts for a passing second. This was just another opportunity to prove herself in front of those who doubted her. She gritted her teeth. I'll live through this like any other battle, she tried to convince herself.

  "You look worried," Datu Butod said. He wasn't looking good himself. Drenched in sweat, the rotund chief looked as though he was going to puke his breakfast. "Never seen you like this before. You look more agitated."

  "Haha. Look who's talking. You look like a boar about to be roasted."

  "No. Really... Are you okay?"

  Sandawili shrugged her shoulders. "It's nothing. I'm just thinking about how it all came to this." She lied.

  "Huh?" Butod said, "what do you mean?"

  "We've been fighting for too long against everyone and everything that threatened our lands. Aren't you sick of it?" She looked her fellow datu in the eye.

  Butod dropped his shoulders. "You know what, I'm just gonna tell this straight. I'm ball's deep scared and crazy sick every damn time we face odds we don't even know." He shook his head. "I don't know how you do it. Aren't you afraid to die? Aren't you scared?" Butod asked, his jowls quivering.

  It's easy to forget that Butod wasn't as fine a warrior as he was a diplomat and leader, thought Sandawili. The man was a brillant ruler, fair and just to all his tribesmen. She would even argue that Butod was far wiser than Salip Pulaco or Sri Piang in the affairs of the datu-ship and politics.

  Datu Butod's eyebrow furrowed. "Hey, speak up."

  "Yeah," she whispered back "I do get scared too."

  "Really?"

  "Every damn time." Her lips curled to a smile. "I ain't Pulaco, you know..."

  Butod paused and burst into laughter, surprising the trailing warriors behind them. "Well, that's for sure. I think you're better. The man's got no sense of humor."

  "Better?" She shrugged. "Ah, depends on who you ask." She smiled. "If you asked me, for sure I'll agree."

  "Well, if they asked me I'm sure to tell them the truth. I on the other hand...well, as you can see-"

  "Don't be too hard on yourself."

  Butod nodded. "Huh, I just hope I last long enough to fight those devils. You know what I mean... And if things go south I'd want to die honorably too. Like a proper bagani."

  "A proper hero? A proper hero is a dead hero, " she said. But Butod did not take the joke lighlty. She knew she had to change the topic. Death wasn't good talk.

  She raised her blackened spear. "They won't last until noon time if I catch them with the edge of my spear. So don't worry, Butod. You'll be safe as long as you're on my side."

  Datu Sandawili held her spear higher, inspecting it one last time. Its black blade made it distinct compared to the others in her rank. She smiled just thinking about the nasty surprise she had in store for their enemies.

  "Gah, you sound more like you enjoy this shit," Datu Butod said as he weighed between using his club or his kampilan.

  Sandawili looked around. "Where's the headhunter? Did he ran back to Pulaco's side?"

  "Heard one of my men say he and Pulaco's serfs were distributing flat bows to any able man at arms reach. Wait, there he is." He pointed at the opening between the lush bushes behind them.

  Lam approached the two datu of Opon Matan and gave them a curt bow. "All your men are armed and ready."

  "Very good, young man!" Datu Butod said. "I see that you're already fit to fight." He eyed Lam's sword. "That's one big ass sword you have there." He added, a mirthless smile plastered on his face.

  Lam smiled back. The chieftain was a nervous wreck, the waylander thought. But he looked like he was ready to fight. Lam stood between the two datus, trying to choose the right word to say. He decided to say it straight.

  He faced Datu Butod and looked him in the eye. "Your highness, I would like to fight in the front ranks amongst your men. I would like to defend this land with both of you. It would be an honor if you give me thus favor."

  Datu Butod turned to Datu Sandawili and back to Lam. "Well, I'm not one to refuse and who are you kidding? With that sword of yours on my side every enemy would give us a wide berth."

  The datu laughed so hard his face turned red. "What say you, Sand?"

  Datu Sandawili took her eyes away from the vague silhouette of a ship and the boats that approached their shores. "You're quite welcome, Lam."

  "I promise to not disappoint you," Lam said.

  "Bahhh, don't you say that. Promise you won't risk yourself and be a hero, nobody likes a hero, especially if its a dead one. Get that?" Datu Butod laughed again.

  "And that goes for all of you!" He turned to the rest of his men. "We've got families to return to. Women to love and well... children to make. So, don't be a git." His warrior serfs laughed. "Now, go find your places we've got a battle to fight."

  Datu Sandawili took a pouch from her side and handed it to Lam. "Slather that on the blade. Make sure you don't touch it with your bare skin."

  Lam opened it. It was a small Chi'n made porcelain vial. He opened it and the pungent smell of something long dead assaulted his nose. "Is this what I think it is?"

  "Udto's the proper name. It's a concentrated mix from Manang Sabtano's apothecary. Half a drop would send a buffalo back to the mud. So, stop smelling the damn thing, will you?"

  Lam poured a drop of poison the size of a tear on his blade and returned the vial to Datu Sandawili. Then, they waited and waited until the sun had rose higher in the horizon and in that moment they saw their enemies.

  A ship big enough to hold a dozen balangays on its belly. It sails dwarfed anything they have seen before. It sliced the waters in front of it like a bastard sword. It would've been magnificent if it wasn't there to spread death and destruction. A dozen long boats crowded in front it, all full of warriors dressed in steel.

  "The rocks won't let that ship close in on us," Datu Sandawili said as she studied their enemy. "They'll have to anchor it but the boats will be a handful."

  "They don't look like they're Magalos. Look at the sails." Butod paused. "I'll be damned. Are the Chi'ns collaborating with the Sultan's minions?"

  "It doesn't matter who they are, now." Datu Sandawili said with steel on her voice. "We're here to protect our homes. And will goddamn do it any way we can." She turned to address one of his captains and told the man to signal their archers to spread out.

  "They're not planning to stop," Datu Butod said. "Look at them they're rowing faster."

  The boats that surrounded the lone enemy ship were now racing through the waters like hungry piranhas out for blood.

  "There definitely not the talking type," Datu Sandawili said. "Let's give them a close shave."She raised her black-bladed spear for all to see and all the archers notched a flat bolt on their well-oiled weapons.

  "Shoot when I give the signal." Her words were relayed by the serf captains to everyone within earshot.

  A tense second passed by and everyone held their breath. Their unknown invaders were storming their shores without hesitation and it was going to be a bloody day. Datu Butod yelled a curse towards their enemy and the other warriors joined him with their war cries. Others struck there shields with the flat of their swords.

  It was the best they could do to raise their heads in a sea of fear and doubt. But unbeknownst to them, it would not be enough...