99. Intentions

99. Intentions

When asked to perform this escort for Antarus, I’d wondered why the Emerald wasn’t involved. I’d assumed the ship was either carrying out some other important mission or was simply too far away to make the return in the timeframe required.

So when I saw their sails on the horizon, I didn’t think too much of it. Their loyalty was to king Jovan, after all, and if they were a bit late did that really matter?

It was a rather naïve thought. All the other parties present had more sense, and the tension – which had been steadily bleeding away as talks progressed apace – suddenly ratcheted up again. I pulled Arnnaith aside to explain things to me.

“I don’t have any more information than you,” he qualified. “But judging by the fact the Antaran’s weren’t expecting them, they weren’t supposed to be here. That’s bad. Worse because they’ve got communication mages on board all their major ships now, so for them to not have been notified the Emerald was coming is improbable, potentially even layered with false reports. Finally, the Emerald is a joint project. Antarus owns half and has Admiral Michaels in overall command, but the other half is Oorkom.”

“And Oorkom might not have given their blessing for this little peace agreement?” I said, finally putting the pieces together.

“No way. You know exactly how the naval theater is going, but I’ve gathered that Oorkom is winning their land battles with Makam support. They’ve occupied southern Nilfheim and are burning towards the capitol. In their eyes, the war just needs to go on a little longer and they win exactly what they’ve wanted from the outset.”

I’d also heard of the state of affairs in Nilfheim, but Oorkom was in for a rude awakening if they thought they could plow through the rest of Nilfheim. Rousing the dwarves was going to come back to haunt them.

“So the Emerald showing up unannounced doesn’t just signal bad communications, but maybe conflicting loyalties.”

“To the Antarans, yes. To the Madu, a massively powerful warship showing up when you’re already outnumbered just sounds like a good old double-cross.”

“Bloody stars,” I cursed. My job of facilitating the peace of this meeting was almost done, too. I peered through my spyglass at the sails on the horizon while considering what to do, and watched as two smaller sets of sails escorted the massive ship. It seems even the mighty didn’t run the seas alone these days.

“Welp,” I said with false cheer. “Politics is over!”

Arnnaith groaned behind me and rubbed his eyes while Rhistel shot him a suddenly victorious grin. “He almost made it! I had faith in him!” the boy cried.

“I had faith in him too,” Rhistel said.

“I’ll pay you when we get back to the ship,” Arnnaith grumbled.

I shot them a look but the fact they were complaining about the outcome of their bets on me showed they were including me in the game as much as making me the object of it, so it could slide for morale purposes. Not like I’d ever had a chance at stymying such bets, anyway.

I marched up to the forecastle where it seems talks had chilled a bit. Neither group of bodyguards wished to allow me past, but they were eyeing each other more than me and weren’t doing anything besides interposing themselves. When I circumnavigated them with an application of feather fall and water whip to the rigging to go over their heads, their weapons were instantly in hand but no one wished to be the first to let fly.

My stunt could have gone very badly if they had, but the Emerald inbound meant things were going to get dicey soon no matter what I did. I should have been allowed through in the first place. At least, my Captain way of thinking said so. Apparently rulers disagreed.

Both the king and the matriarch broke off their discussion to glare at me when I approached, which I returned with a false smile and equally false apology.

“Sorry for the interruption, but there’s an immediate discussion to be had as peace talks wrap up.”

“The additional ships on the horizon?” the matriarch posed.

“Exactly.” I turned to Jovan. “Did you send for the Emerald?”

“I did not!”

Welp, there went the most likely route that this could be chalked up to a misunderstanding. “Would you swear an oath to that?”

He adopted a look of patented impatience. “While the unsophisticated might seek to use magical oaths as proof and bindings in all things, it’s much more complicated with one ruler – let alone two and a host of diplomats! – and I’ve already stated as much to her ladyship here before you interrupted!”

Translation: I was a lowly country bumpkin to think that would work and I was embarrassing him by my very presence.

“Your highness, matriarch – I will ensure the neutrality of this area because that’s what the two of you asked me to do. So you two wrap up the wheeling and dealing that will let thousands of people agree to not kill each other and I will counter the Emerald while you do that.”

“Counter!?” Jovan blurted in surprise.

“If the Emerald was not invited,” I said pointedly to him. “Then they can’t be allowed to interfere.”

“Conflict would negate the value of these agreements,” the matriarch said.

“Only if you fought. That’s why you both enlisted me, isn’t it? Because I’m the one who’s proved willing to fight each of you? The deterrent against the armed protection we all needed to get here?” I gestured at the naval might gathered around us. Strength of arms was needed to fend off the ocean, but coming to negotiations with a fleet at your back was a rough way to handle peace talks, so here I was … the nightmare of fleets.

I could fool myself into thinking I’d been asked here as protection from monsters, but now that things were starting to go pear-shaped and the cards were being laid on the table it seemed readily apparent what my true purpose was.

“Admiral Michaels … likely won’t be happy to see you.” Jovan said.

“He’d be even less happy if I sent the Captain under me. Sending a Madu ship is potentially a great way to start a fight, and sending one of your ships could just be collusion from the humans, am I wrong?” The matriarch shook her head.

“Do you really think you can ‘counter’ the Emerald?”Jovan said with a tone of skepticism backed by just a tinge of hope that made me think he really hadn’t arranged for the ship to show up.

“The three most powerful ships on the ocean are all nearly within sight of each other.” I replied. “Do we all want to find out today which is really number one?”

There was nothing more my prescence could accomplish on board the Protection. Their own guards and diplomats could glare and keep each other in line without me loitering at the fringes. Where I was truly useful was aboard my ship.

I withdrew the communications device from my bag. It was one of the items we’d received from Antarus in exchange for conducting this escort. It was a beautifully enchanted set of equipment, with a simple switch each device could switch between four paired devices, communicating with all of them at once or one individually. Mine was the ‘master device’ with each of the others ‘slaved’ to mine so I could eavesdrop on them at will even if they were trying to talk behind my back.

That sort of consideration was typical of nobility, but it made us all suspicious there could be another ‘master’ somewhere eavesdropping on us all. Not wanting to get too dependent on such a device – incredibly useful as it was – I maintained typical signaling procedures, an open checkbook for communication methods we could source elsewhere, and adopted means of hindering anyone who could be listening in.

“Come pick us up,” I directed Gnar and Travis, who was at the helm of the Tempest.

In orcish.

The orcs had picked up the human tongue by necessity, and while human throats were not accustomed to orcish consonants some had transferred by osmosis (especially swear words – the orcs had some good ones). I could speak it fluently now and enough orcs were around that it could be readily translated if someone – like Jack – was still learning.

The best part was I’d never heard of another human taking the time to learn. I was sure there were human Linguists who could, but the for the navy to get such a person, make the translations, and relay it to back … yeah, I was less concerned about eavesdroppers.

The Tempest swooped under the Protection and the three of us dropped to its decks while in motion, turning and waving to the observers looking through the portholes in the hull of the vessel next to their improvised sub-aquatic defenses.

“The talks go well?” Gnar asked as soon as our feet hit the deck.

“The talks are still ongoing,” I explained. “We’re turning to intercept some uninvited guests.”

Gnar’s grin turned savage. “That’s a good way to wrap up negotiations!”

I took the Raven with me on this possible confrontation, despite that it left the Madu fleet at roughly three to one odds against the Antarans and all of them vulnerable to sea monsters. The fact was that for all my bravado in front of Jovan, I knew the Emerald would eclipse either of my ships. Both together was a contention, but not alone. Throw in the two escorts the Emerald had and it would be a real challenge if it came down to a fight.

I didn’t want to lose anyone else.

While we set our course, I pulled Redmund aside. The lad was growing – or at least maturing, it seemed that when I summoned crew from death the bodies I created for them didn’t age normally, I’d have to experiment with creating new bodies to see if they changed with age or if Redmund would be forever stuck in the body of a child.

For all that he looked the same as the day he’d died, it was readily apparent that he’d been learning. He was both more knowledgeable and confident than he’d been as a first-time cabin boy. He’d seen battle if not fought himself yet. He understood about as well as the others that he’d really been dead but wasn’t anymore.

I didn’t think that he understood what it meant that he was cursed. He knew it, but he didn’t understand it. Not the way the others did, who’d looked into the eyes and locked blades with those who intended to kill them because of the curse they bore.

“Red, you know what we’re doing?”

“Going to ward off the Emerald from interfering in the talks, Cap’n!”

“Drop the ‘Captain’ for a minute, Red. I’m going to ask you something I probably shouldn’t, and I want you to be able to talk with me as Domenic and not your superior officer, got it?”

He nodded as gravely as he could. My mind flashed back to the first time I’d told him not to call me or Blake ‘sir’. Blake was dead now, and the ornery cuss’s spirit hadn’t loitered around the ship that had been so foreign to him.

“Red, your uncle Michaels is in charge of the Emerald.”

“I know.”

“You know that if he’s trying to stop the peace talks, we’re going to fight him, right?”

He nodded again, but it was more hesitant this time. “But surely it won’t come to that?”

“I hope not, which is why I’m going to try and gamble a bit. I want to bring you with me to talk to your uncle.” A younger Redmund might have been excited to see his family again, but he understood there was a hesitancy to my bringing him along. I explained. “Your uncle thinks you’re dead. I hear that he became very bitter over your loss. I hope that seeing you alive again might help things, show that we’re trying to be who we say we are.”

“Buuuuut …”

“But it might just do the opposite.” I said. “My father hated me because of my curse. I don’t know how your uncle will react.”

“Your father hated you before you were cursed.”

Ouch. Though the lad had a point, and the uncertainty of it all was why Hali hadn’t been able to advise either way. She wouldn’t be coming, because the news of her trial as a traitor would doubtlessly overwhelm the few weeks of professional rapport she’d shared with Michaels while they escorted the princess.

Escorted the princess be future queen of a nation currently elbow-deep in the burning lands of their neighbor … sometimes I wondered about the righteousness of my first ‘last stand’.

“Your uncle may welcome you with open arms and we can start fresh, but I wanted to forewarn you and give you the option of saying ‘no’ to going.”

“I’m going!” Redmund said, nodding confidently.

Then the die was cast.

The Tempest surfaced two miles out from the Emerald to give them plenty of warning and time to see the flags we flew. Men clearly scurried about and armed themselves at the sight of us, but the ship didn’t alter course or adopt a more aggressive posture. I’d take that as a win.

I once again considered the formation of my party, and discovered to my dismay that I had collected far too many outcasts and misfits to present a front that had no risk of offense. All of the non-humans were out for obvious reasons, and the humans were nearly all former convicts or slavers.

They were a remarkably well behaved and cohesive crew given the circumstances, but on paper or at first glance ‘disreputable’ was a fair term.

I wound up pulling the medico with the highest Charisma from Gnar’s forces along with Nichols – my liaison with Antarus and the only ‘good’ option I could find as a naval officer in relatively good standing – before all three of us and Redmund were buffed with every defensive or movement-enhancing spell Marcus and his new apprentices could pull together. Spreading the protections out wasn’t as safe as layering them all on a single person, but hopefully none of them would be needed anyway.

Then we were invited aboard the Emerald.

‘Invited’ was a strong term, but they didn’t wish to step foot on the Tempest and seemed to grudgingly accept that shouting our business would get us nowhere, though it was clear they’d considered it. Our party of four stepped aboard, Redmund hanging behind us at my direction.

I’d never stepped foot on board the Emerald before. If it wasn’t such a tense affair the sailor in me would be giddy at the thought!

The ship was nearly 600 feet in length with a beam of just under 100 feet across. The reason it was spotted so soon by lookouts were the 18,000 square feet of sails that could be hoisted across its six masts. All of that would have just been a liability though, an overextended flaw to demonstrate the hubris of humanity were it not for the enchantments carved throughout the entirety of the ship.

Popular knowledge said that those were durability enchantments, keeping the hull strong and impervious to all but the mightiest blows – akin to the perk I’d enjoyed aboard the Internment. I suspected now that while true, they would have absolutely built in additional enchantments to the ship while they built her from the ground up. Why? Because my Domain was blocked at the hull of the ship.

My Domain, which had been inviolable at sea apart from a few legendary exceptions, was blocked. No way durability enchantments managed that.

While these thoughts swirled in my head and I transitioned from trivia and observations of the warship to being directly on her decks under the shade of her sails. My awe at the beautiful ship was tempered by the rather cold reception we were receiving.

“Admiral Thurgood,” I greeted with a polite inclination of the head. “Thank you for welcoming us on board.” I declined to jump straight to introductions, because I didn’t want to jump to introducing Redmund. He didn’t introduce his aides either.

Thurgood was a swarthy man with hard eyes, broad shoulders and large hands. Trade out his dress uniform for rags and he’d fit in a rowers seat perfectly. And maybe he had started out that way, he didn’t speak with the diction of a person raised in nobility.

“We are naturally interested in whatever business you have intercepting us from that skirmish on the horizon.” He said with a thick accent.

“No skirmish, Admiral.” I said, looking about the decks for Michaels. I’d rather spill the news of peace talks with him present than just this man from Oorkom. “And while I don’t have a man from your own navy present, I do have one from his majesty king Jovan,” I gestured at Nichols, who saluted. “And I would encourage you to put your communication mages in contact with the king’s men to hear his word for yourself.”

“Our long-distance comms men are currently … ‘holding a procedural silence’ as it were.”

Confused, I twitched my lips in an attempt at a smile. “I know new procedures are techniques are being developed by the day, but surely the sight of the H.M.S. Margraveon the horizon is reason to rethink whatever reason you have for keeping them quiet?”

He leaned forward on his toes to deliver his response. “No.” He leaned back and seemed rather content with that monosyllabic reply.

I was getting peeved at his obvious obstinacy. Curse me for a diplomat, but I was trying to do this politely!

“May I … ask why your course seems intent on intercepting the group on the horizon?”

Thurgood was a shift of balance away from repeating his ‘no’ and me losing my attempts at manners when Admiral Michaels strode onto the deck from where he’d been listening in a ladderwell. “The reason, Domenic Seaborn, is that somehow our navies have been losing ships at an alarming rate. This all started after our implementation of the communications network, and we are understandably leery of mages eavesdropping where they don’t belong. That is one reason.”

I was almost glad to see him, just as an initial contrast to Thurgood, but that attitude quickly went away when he came out swinging like that. He was obviously implying I was somehow listening to mages who were communicating with each other via air magic. I didn’t even think that was possible – it wasn’t as if when two air mages did a sending to each other the spell wasn’t heard by everyone between them, I had no clue how to intercept it – but they weren’t going to believe my innocence if I dragged the argument out and beat them with logic. They’d just get sour.

“Does the Emerald have anything to fear from someone knowing where they’re going?” I asked.

“Traps are dangerous to anyone,” Thurgood riposted, without digging in on pride of what the Emerald was capable of. Michaels nodded but added his own piece.

“That does segue nicely with another concern we have; traitorous leanings in our cause.”

Stars I was glad I’d left Hali behind. I could picture a glare in her direction while he said that.

“You’ll have to look for your own traitors within your own ranks,” I said testily. “I’ve no interest or dealings with those matters.”

Both admirals looked to have replies ready on their lips when Nichols stepped in and saved me from the deteriorating conversation. “Sirs,” he interjected, saluting crisply again. “Commander Nichols. I have been assigned as a liaison by his majesty’s assignment to Captain Seaborn here. I can indeed vouch for the validity of his assignment. I trust that it will also come as no surprise to anyone here,” he glanced at me, “To say that I was also tasked with keeping an eye on Mr. Seaborn’s activities. He has fulfilled his duties as a deterrent to the hyper-aggressive monsters most admirably.”

Following his endorsement, the two admirals shared an unimpressed look. I could practically see the text between them: ‘shall we start here in our search for traitors?’

Nichols seemed to understand it too, and rushed onwards. “If I may, admiral,” he singled out the one actually in his chain of command. “Communicating with the flagship truly will clear all this up. You’ll find no traitors to the cause here.”

“And what cause is that?” Thurgood demanded.

“The strength and glory of Antarus and Oorkom,” Nichols responded with only a slight stutter.

“Is that what the fleet over there is doing?” Thurgood pressed, cowing the commander into confused silence. “Pursuing strength and glory? They’ve been sitting there a long time!”

“They’re convening peace talks with Nilfheim.” I stated. There, it was out in the open. Not like Jovan would say something different if we did convince them to contact him.

Thurgood shot a triumphant look to Michaels, who had a wearied expression. “So he really is caving in?” he said softly.

“Your king,” I said, stressing the words. “Is finding ways to protect his people when the seas are rising against the nation.” Oh stars, it was time to gamble and hope I rolled sixes. I gestured Redmund forward, and he stepped out from behind the medico and stood by my side. “Hasn’t the sea claimed enough lives?”

Thurgood’s eyes narrowed, but he lacked the context to understand what was happening. Michaels, though, looked like he’d been gut punched.

Apparently he really hadn’t noticed Redmund. I’d begun to think his ‘delayed arrival’ had been him taking a few moments to overcome that surprise. He wouldn’t be feigning this reaction if he had, though. His mouth gaped, his ramrod stiff posture was broken, and one hand unconsciously lifted in a grasping motion towards Redmund.

The lad’s eyes welled with tears. “Uncle,” he said. If he’d stepped forward to embrace him I’d have encouraged it.

Something in Michaels’ expression kept him by my side though, and a moment later he was straightening with affronted dignity, his grasping hand closing into a fist. His eyes bored into mine.

“You … dare?”

Wrong, wrong, wrong! The gamble failed!

“You dare to make one of your constructs with his face?” he demanded.

“He is your nephew,” I said. “Ask him whatever your nephew would have known. I … please, I beg you … as a rejected son …” I met his eyes with a demand of my own. “Don’t.”

With the same sense of inevitable despair as seeing a ship roll and sink, Michaels ignored my plea. In a few words he cut out young Redmund’s heart.

“You get that abomination off my ship and send it to bottom, you hear me? No, better yet …” His face firmed and the anger he wore openly was shoved behind a hard mask. “You can take it with you. Mr Thurgood?”

“Aye?”

“Having considered your offer and the ramifications, I accept his imperial majesty’s commission.”

Status changes flashed as Thurgood smiled broadly. “Aye … Admiral!” Then in a bellow that carried to the entire ship: “Let the dawn flag fly!” He was hailed by a chorus of cheers, and a number of confused looks. Some of those confused were immediately apprehended by their former companions.

“Back,” I said to my group as I parceled out the changes I was seeing, already submerging the Tempest. Thurgood was no longer an admiral, but a Captain. Michaels had not only kept his admiralship, he’d gained a level. And the flag of the ship – formerly showing both Antarus and Oorkom – had changed to Makam.

“Over the side,” I ordered. “Back to the …” My tongue froze along with my uncoiling muscles, my center of balance held askew as I started to swivel and run.

I was caught in time.

No, temporal spells were still the stuff of legend. I could think. I could feel my off-balance body slowly starting to fall as gravity asserted itself. I could see Michaels assessing us while elites rushed from below decks.

I wasn’t caught in time, just a focused slowing spell.

I had a means of countering spells.

Belt of Spell Stealing

Spell slots: 1/2

All of us stumbled free, my sea legs barely keeping me upright. Eyes flaring, Michaels barked an order I didn’t understand.

The nearby hatch popped open and a hand stretched out. A bolt of darkness zapped from the hand to my chest.

Belt of Spell Stealing

Spell slots: 2/2

I tried to send the dark bolt right back at the caster, but to my astonishment found that I couldn’t come close to paying the mana cost. Either the caster was a highly leveled assassin with benefits that reduced the spell cost, or there was a coterie of mages just below that were assisting him with casting it.

That spell would have killed me out of hand – no question about cursed mitigation, armor or defensive buffs. Dead.

I turned and made a flying tackle over the side, grabbing Redmund in one arm and knocking Nichols over the gunwale with the other.

My medico moved too slowly. Before I’d hit the water he was removed from my crew list, his presence disappearing from my mind.

Bloody, burning seas …

I checked that Redmund was okay, than gathered Nichols from where he was stunned from landing badly, in danger of drowning, and sculled back towards the Tempest with the best speed I could manage. Having to add him to my crew to bring his report back to Jovan would not go over well. A glance showed no archers at the gunwale, but I heard shouting: “have that witch get that array started! Man the throwers!”

A shiver went through me at the thought of how things were about to go down now that the Emerald had changed sides. Looking in my Domain showed chaotic changes and fighting aboard each of the escort ships – it seems like the conspiracy had been widespread but more deeply rooted aboard the Emerald itself.

I was going to have to submerge deep, warn Jovan through his mage on board, then circle and attack from …

The Tempest stopped submerging. I felt it like a kick to my authority, an infringement on my Domain.

“No, no … I thought they gave up on this magic?”

Not since the Broken Isles had anyone employed the ritualistic magic that kept my ships from submerging. After they’d failed to capture me I’d thought it had been discarded as one of the many things they’d tried and moved past. Michaels knew a good tactic when he saw one, it seemed.

I pulled Nichols above the Tempest’s deck, it was only a few feet below us. He’d just need to hold his breath while I brought him to one of the atmospheric holds.

The sense of control over my ship’s depth was punched, and my head rocked back in tandem. The Tempest shot up under us, forcing seawater away as it bobbed to the surface like a cork.

No, no, no! There was cheering from the deck of the Emerald. Gnar was stepping forward, adapting and yelling “Grab your gear! Prepare to be fired upon!” I stood and glared at Michaels. He paused long enough between orders to glare right back. The ballistae – rows upon rows of ballistae – were being loaded and aimed, waiting just for the order to fire.

I flipped Michaels off. He filled his lungs to give the order to fire.

I made the largest casting of Gust that I’d ever tried. Excess mana that didn’t fill the spell form bled off, needlessly wasted, but I managed to fill every sail with a shocking amount of wind that jerked the ship forward, knocking even some of my crew off their feet with our instant speed.

Michaels’ command to fire echoed through the air and fingers twitched on releases, sending a hail of bolts towards our ship. They’d been aiming to strafe our decks, so with that target being suddenly yanked aside many missed the ship entirely, most embedded themselves aft of their intended trajectory. Few found any kind of mark.

But a few did, and immediately raised agonizing cries of pain. Each of the bolts were blessed weapons, and where we enjoyed mitigation to nearly all types of damage it was made up for in that one great weakness.

No fatalities, I told myself. None yet. Get out of here, save them that way.

“They’ll be turning their onagers on us,” I raised my voice for Gnar to hear. “And that ballista!” We were ducking in front of their bow, out of range of the broadside volley. They had onager catapults on the main deck that we were still in danger of, but the major risk was the single, supersized ballista on the Emerald’s prow. ‘Scorpion ballistae’ was the term for the small, ship sized artillery pieces used in these battles. The true ballista mounted on the forecastle of the Emerald was its chasing weapon, and it was ubiquitous in its function for throwing spears at monsters and tethers at smaller ships that sought to flee the juggernaut.

I vividly remembered a steel bolt and chain spearing into the deck of the Death’s Consort, an army of undead zombies sent down it to kill us all.

I shook the memory from my head and recentered myself. I was frazzled. Michaels’ sudden actions and violence had startled me; on account of their viciousness if nothing else. He’d been planning to attack before I stepped foot on board.

It wasn’t time to duke it out – that was the Emerald’s specialty. But we could give her a few surprises, bloody her nose, and get clear.

Surprise number one incoming…

Jack was circling behind the ships as we’d planned. He hadn’t been caught in the initial surge of arcane magic that forced the Tempest upwards, but as the Tempest moved forward the Emerald was forced to expand their hex to keep us caught. That caught the Raven, but not before they got one volley off on an escort ship.

It came up directly behind the Emerald, to shouts of fear. I loved the Tempest, but she was a training sword – a ship that enabled my crew, protected them, and fostered their growth. The Dark Raven was a reaping scythe.

Forcing her up so quickly pushed the Raven’s sphere of influence over nearly half the Emerald. With that influence came the Nightmare effect.

Nightmare: The Captain of this ethereal vessel has spent hours undergoing escalating fear effects. Now all who dare to face him must pass the same tribulation.

All enemies within the ship’s sphere of influence must make a Wisdom save or suffer an escalating fear debuff.

It did not seem that high Wisdom was one of the standard of enlistment amongst the Emerald’s crew.

To add to the terror, Jack immediately unleashed with a broadside of Bolts of Armor Piercing, the exact same munitions he’d used when he’d shredded the crew of the Wind Runner.

If the command staff had been in their aft quarters just then, the battle would have been over. As it was, his surprise attack killed many and caused additional stacks of fear to be heaped upon the poor souls under the effect of Nightmare.

Jack and I were both limited in our options, though. The battle with the sirens and the kraken had depleted our stores of munitions – particularly bolts of the high-destruction variety. The armor piercing were left because they hadn’t been as useful in those fights, as well as a number of freezing enchantments. He’d used the freezing bolts in his first volley on the escort before being forced to rise – a tactical choice to freeze the ship’s rudder in place for a limited time.

He'd taken one escort out of the fight and sent the Emerald into disarray. Let it never be said he wasn’t good at his job!

Being the primary damage dealer came with attention. While the prow ballista continued to zero on me, the onagers rotated on their turnstiles to launch their payload aft.

I activated Escort. When those heavy rounds smashed into the deck of the Raven, it was the Tempest’s durability that was shocked. The Dark Raven stayed there like a specter of death, scarcely damaged, firing again and again to ensure the aft end of the ship from the quarterdeck helm down through the officers cabins to the rudder remained a death zone, bereft of heroes willing to perform ship’s duties when artillery bolts flitted through the bulkheads.

While observing the battle and Jack’s flaying, I prepared the Tempest for the incoming projectile as best I knew how. “Marcus, try and deflect the bolt with ice, even partially! Gnar, make sure we have plenty of axes outfitted so we can chop the spear free!”

I’d wondered why the ballista took so much time to fire – they were doing ranging calculations without giving a ranging shot. To that end, they did their math well. They were aiming to send a four foot barbed steel rod across several hundred yards, and they were aiming at our mast. Sink it in the mast, and we either sacrifice the mast to remove the bolt, or accept that we were fish on a hook.

Marcus stood there, looking at the ballista like he’d faced down giant artillery before. With a loud TUNG the ballista fired. Marcus threw up an ice shield that intercepted the bolt and instantly shattered.

But it knocked the bolt off course.

It was to my great relief that the bolt sank into my cabin. Other captains might fear for their wealth or possessions, but I had nothing of great worth there. The most valuable thing I had were charts, most highly accurate as they were made myself, and while they would no doubt be highly valued by any Captain worth his salt they had less importance to me. I gladly ordered my men to enter and hack the bolt free as quickly as possible.

When half a dozen warriors were chopping at the wood of my ship to free the bolt, the Emerald followed up on their attack: with a flash and a cracking boom lightning shot from a mage at their prow, sending my warriors into sizzling convulsions. They were hardy warriors, but such a strike took between half to two-thirds of their health.

With a shock, the slack on the chain tightened. The Emerald, beast that she was, felt a bounce through her decks. The Tempest went from making good speed to nearly a dead stop. If not for the enchantments on that bolt the force alone would have surely ripped it free from our wood. As it was, we were still hooked.

“Next team, get to chopping!” I ordered. Warriors stepped over or on their wounded companions, carrying on the needed work.

I stepped aft myself, interposing myself between the warriors and the enemy mage while chugging a mana potion. I took a calming breath. Calm. Grounded.

I’d yet to have an occasion for this kind of magic, but no practice like life-or-death.

What felt like a lifetime ago I’d stood in the crow’s nest during a storm while a dragon played with lightning overhead. With my affinity for air magic I’d seen the flow of energy, and in my cockiness attempted to move the flow myself. For my efforts I’d been smote from the top of the mast and given a reminder in the form of lightning scars on my body.

I’d grown a lot since then. I’d had a lot of lessons.

The enemy mage cast a spell, and I saw the flow of air snapping into place which the lightning would follow, a moment before it did. I grabbed that flow and cast myself.

A streak of lightning flowed to me. Like a snake charmer grabbing a flying serpent and passing it to his partner, I took control of the flow and sent it straight back twice as strong!

Time seemed to slow in perfect clarity as my bolt arced back to the caster. I idly wished that I could see their face when it came back to bite them.

Then the mage opened up another pattern, the flow once again redirected.

Urk! That was supposed to land! We weren’t supposed to start juggling it back and forth! The lightning became more unruly and difficult to manage each time, and we had to pay an escalating mana cost with each attempt.

As I prepared to catch it again my mind twitched between two options: send it harmlessly off to into the sky? Or send it right back and try to beat the mage at his own game, gambling that I had more mana? He was likely a professional with abilities to reduce the cost. But then, I’d started full, and he had already cast lightning once. Neither of us could manage to take another potion in this intricate, split-second dance.

I had a trick card.

So this mage was going to eat it.

I grabbed the lightning when he predictably sent it right back. His job was to smite me, and he’d get no mercy for playing it safe. It was several times stronger than when I’d first redirected it, but still I managed to send it back.

I hoped that the enemy mage wouldn’t be able to handle another circuit, but didn’t count on it. I spent all the rest of my mana in Mana Absorption.

The spell I’d learned from feeling the gathering mana of raising ships – along with some tips from the old orc necromancer – used mana thread to extend around you and absorb ambient mana before reeling it back into your mana pool. Conditions of use were having some mana to invest initially, and being in an area that could sustain it. I’d just created a dead zone around me and couldn’t do the same thing over again, not until the wind and waves circulated mana into the area again.

But the spell was instantaneous. It was a risk of distraction, but my pool went from 20% to over 80%.

And I’d need all of it because the mage had managed to send it to me a third time.

At this point the spell was orders of magnitude stronger than the initial casting, at it was also … unwieldy. Unstable. I’d never thought I would have considered normal lightning ‘stable’ but by comparing it to this there was a clear difference.

I created the flow needed to send it back one final time. It cost me nearly every drop of my recently gained mana, but I cajoled it into being. The lightning was still resistant to being manhandled longer, and it burned me as it followed the path I’d designed. In through the left hand, down to the stomach and around the heart, out the right hand and through the air back to the one who first brought you into the world …

With a tremendous, rolling BOOOOM the lightning struck the mage and detonated. The force of the strike not only slew him on the spot, it created a crater of devastation on the prow.

On the prow, right next to the supersized ballista.

It was with a heady sense of glee that I recognized not only my success at dueling an air mage and winning, but seriously damaging that piece of engineering that had injured two of my ships. What’s more, the chain spanning the two ships went slack.

“Hold chopping!” I called. Or at least I tried to. It sounded more like a slurred “Mo ah eh!” as my lips refused, and my attempted spin around to tell my crew to save the bolt and chain turned into a sideways tumble.

One of my men was immediately at my side, pulling me up by the arm with a strength that made my arm feel like it was about to fall off. I hissed in pain.

My crew, practical and intelligent as they were, continued to chop the bolt free. Once done, they thankfully set to pulling up the slack chain.

“Health potion, Captain?” someone asked me. I paid attention and noticed it was Mirash. There was a reason people asked you that question, so I checked and saw that my health was down some. I accepted. Reaching for it, my hand didn’t grasp it firmly enough and I dropped it.

Mirash caught it before it hit the deck. “Pardon me, Cap.” He uncorked it, shoved the opening in my mouth and closed my lips around it. I nearly choked before swallowing reflexively. Mirash stepped back and let the bottle drop. I groaned as I felt the HP returning.

It seemed that for as – literally – lightning fast my processing and reflexes had been a moment ago, I was paying the price now with a backlash of thick-headed slowness. I wasn’t a fan.

“Good work,” I told Mirash, slowly enunciating the words and still slurring them. He nodded. “Tell … Gnar he’s in command. Help me … main deck.”

One of the orcish marines stepped over to help me stay standing while Mirash bolted to relay my orders.

Gnar hadn’t questioned Mirash and immediately took command, ordering a wide circle. We were coming up on the second Emerald’s two escorts, and safely out of range of the juggernaut’s broadsides. We’d swing in with the ship continually blocking the Emerald from getting a shot off and assisting.

The goal was to disable the second escort and flee. The Emerald was currently in disarray; what with the coup, the damage to her prow and stern, and the Nightmare effect on half the ship. The negotiators would clearly see what was going on and chose to react how they will. We might have bloodied the Emerald’s nose a bit, but they’d given us a good kick in the rear themselves. Jack sitting right at their stern and unloading the rest of his munitions was what kept them in disarray, but it allowed for several onagers to repeatedly land hits on a sitting target. He was leaning on the Escort perk to transfer that damage to the Tempest.

I approved of the strategy, but it wasn’t what anyone would consider a ‘long term battle plan’. Even now the Emerald was getting sorted out. With her protective enchantments, my lightning strike had wound up doing more durability damage than all of the Raven’s volleys (a downside of armor piercing ammunition that specifically sacrificed doing durability damage).

Gnar took one look at me when I arrived on deck and grunted. “That’s why you passed the horn.  Drese! Another when you have a moment!”

Drese was doing field surgery, carefully working to extract blessed bolts from a handful of crewmembers without doing more damage. If anyone had simply ripped the bolts out, they would have died from additional damage before blood loss even had a chance. Drese looked up mid-suture and analyzed me with a squinted gaze before calmly going back to his stitches.

“You’re stable, Captain. Use your replenishing waters spell when you have the opportunity.”

I briefly weighed saving my mana against fixing up my body. Then I took a good look at myself. While my HP had been mostly restored, the Captain’s outfit that I’d been wearing since the diplomatic event – the same outfit I’d once commissioned back in Tulisang – was utterly destroyed. The sleeves on the coat and shirt were blown out and burned, the path of destruction clearly following the path of the lightning on its final pass. The tips of my fingers were blackened, and blisters ran on my skin, along each arm and in a V down my torso. I was amazed I didn’t feel more pain. I knew that was a clue that I wasn’t okay.

And I couldn’t trust that my thought process was weariness and not something worse. Time to follow the doctor’s orders.

My mana had scarcely recovered, but it was enough be a seed for casting Mana Absorption again. We’d been making way and had left the last dead zone I’d created long behind. With mana in my pool again, I cast Replenishing Waters, the deeper magic ocean spell emptying my pool to the last point. It restored my HP to full, but even better it healed the burns and damaged nerves throughout my body. My head cleared up too, so I’d still been suffering from some sort of trauma there too.

I sighed in relief and began taking off my trashed gear and replacing it with light armor. When I was down to my skivvies I took note of my scars: namely my lack of new ones. My spell had healed the damage without leaving residual scarring. I still had the old lightning patterns running up the back of my hands and arms, the fern-like designs merging around my neck. Those scars were from my previous smiting, but if I was lucky people would forget about that and attribute them to this victory instead.

As if.

Arnnaith assisted me in getting dressed, and roped a quiet Redmund into helping too. Light armor wasn’t as intensive as medium or heavy armor as far as needing assistance goes, but I appreciated the help and saw that Redmund needed to be doing something to move past his recent rejection by his uncle.

I can relate, Redmund, and we’ll talk about it. Later. When enemies aren’t within sight.

I wanted to ask for a debrief, but there was little Gnar could tell me at the moment that I couldn’t find for myself in our status page or my prompts.

Tempest (Cursed)

Ship Class

Galleon

Captain

Seaborn

Ship Durability

18,734/60,000

Ship level

8

Cursed Status:

Escort

Mentorship

Deckplate Promotion

Last Stand

Ship alterations:

Speed

Maneuverability

Handling

Durability

Modifications:

Repairs

Effects

Our durability had been tanked by over 20,000 points. That wasn’t all because of that harpoon to our rear, oh no. That was because of the Raven taking a beating over there. An interesting thing about those points; since they were gone without correlating damage to the Tempest, the ship would naturally be weaker. If I tried to strain her in a storm right now, she’d crack more boards, I might even crack a mast that wouldn’t have broken elsewise.

But if she was given a chance to recover without inflicting more damage, those points would be a lot easier to recover than normal. Typical repairs that would have only restored a handful of durability would instead make several times that, as the ship recovered into her natural state.

It was a hidden perk of Escort that really justified its use all the time with a partner ship. The disadvantage, of course, being that the old galleon was much easier to sink now.

I didn’t know what would happen if the Tempest ran out of durability tanking hits for another ship. Our current theory was she’d cease being a ‘ship’ and crumble into pieces.

I naturally wished to avoid that.

I was relieved to see that our casualties remained limited to one: the medico I’d brought to the Emerald. All others had so far avoided damage or had death staved off by Drese.

Looking through my prompts, I gained some insight into my last exchange.

29,140 XP gained for slaying Human Mage.

I think that was the most XP I’d ever gotten for a single solo kill, even counting my kills of professional pirates as a low-leveled nobody. My current level wasn’t that high, but to have gotten such a multiplier my opponent must have been early 30’s, or perhaps had a specialized profession that tipped the scales.

I wanted to say I’d gotten lucky, but I’d worked hard to tip those scales, burn it!

Congratulations! You have wrangled a nascent lightning elemental! For this feat, you have been granted the title: Thunderous Performance. Increased handling and decreased mana cost for electric spells.

Okay, I’d gotten lucky.

Elementals were no joke. The fact the other mage and I had nearly created one with our escalating exchange was … incredible. Worrisome. With the way the lightning had gotten exponentially stronger with each change of hands, by the time it had landed back on the air mage it may no longer have been a ‘nascent’ elemental.

Was it one when he’d launched it at me? If he could manage to send an elemental at me, I could understand his confidence that it would be the final strike. If it wasn’t, that meant he’d returned a strong-but-still-normal lightning bolt to me and gotten hit with a lightning elemental in return.

That thought was terrifying. If I’d understood that was the game I was playing I would have let the bolt discharge at the horizon without a second thought.

When the lads had finished helping me arm up, I donned my helmet and returned to the helm. Gnar looked me over. “You good?” he asked me quietly.

“All good.”

“Then I stand relieved,” he said with a salute.

I returned it. “Continue with the attack.”

“Aye aye,” he said and continued on with what he’d been doing.

We were closing with the second escort ship. Jack was making his first attempt at disengaging, but he had to fight and jockey for speed and position – staying out of the Emerald’s broadside if possible. He didn’t have anyone to drop a Gust into his sails.

We hit the second escort, get out, leave the Emerald to question her life choices while facing down a (hopefully) combined Antaran/Madu fleet.

“Our current loadout?” I asked.

“Ice bolts in the ballistae,” he replied. “And the mass round on the onager.”

I saw Sadeo fiddling with the aim on the onager in question. We didn’t often use the devices, because we were normally fighting battles quite differently. In this case, the logic was to try and create some chaos before turning the ship and firing a broadside.

It would work, but the plan had some flaws. Namely: positioning. We were keeping the escort between us and the Emerald, but that would only work on approach. When we were past we’d be in line with a volley from the Emerald, and I doubted Michaels would waste the opportunity.

Weathering one volley with preparation was fine. The trouble was, I highly doubted a single pass and strafe with frost bolts would do the kind of damage we needed.

I checked with Sadeo to get his assessment, and he concurred. He’d wanted to use some of our remaining specialty bolts, but not when they’d be needed more against the Emerald. I made a quick call, informed Sadeo, and ran back to Gnar.

He looked at me like I was crazy when I told him. Then he got thoughtful. “If it wasn’t on the sea, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Guess I still have some fear of being stranded in this emptiness. I’ll prepare the lads.”

I disseminated my plan a bit further, then relieved Travis at the helm. He was a good hand, the best seaman on board besides myself. But I wanted my hand at the helm personally when we executed this.

We closed the distance. Sadeo fired his shot. I watched with a bit of nostalgia as the Enchanted Round of Mass made its last flight. We’d carried that around forever, deploying and recovering it from battles with Davy Jones and giant sea creatures. There’d be no recovery plan for it this time: the ship we struck would carry it with her now, assuming she didn’t go to the bottom.

It cracked into and through the main deck, no doubt causing some havoc but the ship was prepared for worse. They launched a volley, bolts enchanted with fire with half aimed at our sails, the other half arcing over our bow to try and land amongst our crew. The quality of their artillerists was substandard – at least compared to the company of ships this escort found themselves in. I still needed to cast a water shield to fend off a lucky shot, but no one was seriously injured and chuckles resumed as the fire bolts guttered out. My ships were hardly dry kindling.

They launched another volley, this time of poison bolts, all targeted for the main deck. Forewarned is forearmed, and everyone on deck had some shield or dodge skill to avoid damage.

At this point they expected us to turn and fire our own broadside into them. They were waiting for it; it would be their chance to fire right back. We didn’t turn, and their confusion no doubt turned to panic that resulted in a scattering of shots cresting over our prow as men lost their nerves and control of their trigger fingers.

We rammed them.

Deep water ships are not designed for ramming, that is the province of the triremes used in the isles for inter-island war. You didn’t bring ramming ships out here. If you tried and damaged your own too badly, you’d never make it within sight of land again. The last thing the escort expected was for us to make a seemingly suicidal assault.

But sinking wasn’t a concern of mine (I was the only Captain on the seas who could say so). In fact, it would bring me no greater joy than to have my ship below the waves right now. So if I wasn’t concerned about damage that might prevent me from seeing land again, the question was: why not?

My concern was our lowered durability, but we still had wiggle room for this maneuver. I turned the ship only slightly oblique before impact, hitting them just forward of their beam in their starboard bow. The shock of the impact knocked me against the helm, and knocked several of my crew over despite being braced. Someone fell from the rigging and laded badly on deck, but despite a broken ankle waved off any help.

The wood of both ships crunched and caved – the escorts more than ours. I idly wished for a sheathe of metal on the ship like the dwarves’ design, but those were useless musings now.

The escort ship fared far worse, and no sooner were they starting to regain their feet than my marines flooded their deck. They cleared the way to the forward mast easily, where a team of four took up stations and immediately began chopping, ignoring the rest of the battle. That battle belonged to their companions, whose job was to sweep the deck as quickly as possible and establish a defensive perimeter while the chopping crew finished.

I saw a trio of elites preparing to receive our charge and – trying not to flinch – cast Lightning.

It felt … so easy. Nearly eager to do as I asked.

The strike allowed my crew to easily move forward and dispatch them. As a matter of fact, with the initial shock and surprise, my crew was easily sweeping the deck. They hadn’t been prepared for a boarding action: just an artillery exchange.

Once we had control of the main deck, Gnar ordered the hatches and holds barred and buried to prevent those below from launching a counter attack. I yelled for them to cut lines and disable the sails.

And then they took defensive positions and waited for the chopping crew – who’d scarcely started – to finish. More than one joke about hurrying up was made.

I moved forward to have a quick shouted conference with Gnar.

“Return after disabling the sails?” he asked.

“No, spare materials from the Emerald could replace these. I want them to leave this ship behind.”

He glanced around and mouthed the word: Loot?

Hmm. They had more fighters below, and I’m sure the only reason their artillerists hadn’t made any attempts to whittle at us was not wanting to provoke further invasion. I had no desire for a drawn out battle through every deck, where they could make all the traps they wished.

“The Captain’s cabin,” I said. “Valuables if he has them, but intelligence first and foremost.”

Gnar nodded and picked a small team to storm the cabin in question. There likely was coinage there, but when my crew spoke of loot these days gold and silver was almost an afterthought. What they really wanted to loot was the larder, which Gerald could turn into dishes that would make us think we were in a palace.

They rushed the cabin and the only resistance they encountered was of the young female variety. She was restrained and pulled out for my review. I ordered that she be restrained with care and put under guard, to be left unharmed on the deck when we left.

I wasn’t here to launch an inquiry; an hour ago this ship belonged to Antarus, my erstwhile employers. Whether she had an involvement in the flip to Makam wasn’t a concern of mine. Neither did I care if she was the Captain’s daughter or a princess being escorted.

No need to repeat my story.

Gnar came out carrying a drawer stuffed with papers, and Mirash had a blanket rolled up with other goods. Probably booze. I’d have to watch for that.

The chopping team finished their job as the mast groaned and fell over the port side, dragging the ship that way. If they’d gotten it wrong and landed the mast on the Tempest,I’d have been livid.

We withdrew. The swells had already done the work over the last few minutes of breaking the Tempestfree of its entanglement with the escort. My crew filed back on to my ship in good order and left a confused woman on a blood-spattered deck unharmed.

I continued to use the escort as cover when we trimmed the sails and pulled away out of range of the Emerald. Some artillerists from the escort took shots at us as we left, but Sadeo took some careful shots with the few ballista we had on the fantail to discourage that.

We pulled away. The Raven pulled away. The Emerald stayed where she was, her durability still at six times the combined durability of my two ships, but between two incapacitated escorts and without the maneuverability to catch us.

“Now,” I said under my breath. “I just have to go explain this mess to the king that just lost his countries’ most valuable asset …”

Authors Note:

This chapter includes some plot points I've had in mind and tried to set up from the very beginning.  Let me know what you think!  (There's also some stuff that I changed/added as I was powering through the scene, as the sequence didn't really make sense earlier.)  (I still don't know how I feel about the Raven just camping there ...)