89. (It's a Chapter!)

89. 

“Drop sails, prepare for ascent,” I ordered, my word quickly being passed along and signaled to those on the spars awaiting that command. Normally I could raise my voice to a level clearly heard anywhere aboard except during storms, and even then my voice could fight the wind to be heard. Here, in the stillness of the darkest depths of the sea, I whispered. I whispered and not a single person asked for me to speak up.

We had company.

I suppose it was too much to hope for that our presence would go unnoticed by the denizens of this territory. I’d already gotten lucky that I hadn’t had to evict anything from the corpse of the Raven. Our luck hadn’t held, though. I’d pushed the boundaries of reasonable time, wanting to have all Jack’s former crew vetted and recruited before we sailed. And I wanted the Raven to be capable of some basic maneuvers on our way up rather than simply ascending like a bloated fish through my ability, and replacing rigging had delayed us and one thing led to another …

And now there was a monster circling us, eyeing us.

Name

Dragonfish

Level

76

Health

32,000

Mana

22,500

Stamina

13,000

The stats of the creature didn’t do it justice. When I say that it circled us, I mean it encircled us. It made a lazy loop, never closer than a hundred yards from either the Ravenor Internment – which I’d brought close together – yet its mouth nearly closed in on its tail.

And what a mouth it was! The body of the creature was long and lithe like an eel, the head of the creature seemingly overly large. Yet it did justice to its name; a single one of the huge needle-like teeth could spit a third of my crew, and there were plenty of them on prominent display.

So no one thought me overly cautious by keeping my voice down.

Sadeo had hesitated when he’d seen that enormous toothy mouth but had still offered to open fire on the creature. The optimistic kitsune even said it like he believed there was a chance: not a final charge like Gnar had readied himself for. I’d forbidden it. Picking a fight with anything even related to dragons was foolish.

There were many things on the sea that outclassed us, and even more here in the depth. This creature was obviously one. Forget how much health it had: you had to pierce its defenses before you could inflict damage. You had to survive its own attacks in order to fight at all. Maybe – just for the sake of argument – maybe its scales didn’t count as armor. Maybe it didn’t have any special attacks that we couldn’t withstand. Maybe its name was a misnomer and we had nothing to fear. Maybe we could butcher it up like chum.

We’d then have to run away from whatever creatures down here that would be interested in the chum of level 76 creature.

“Steady,” I said, my ability pulling both my ships straight upwards from the dragonfish’s circle. The Ravenwas much faster and more responsive than the Interment, even injured. I had to slow her down to keep pace. Travis was doing a commendable job at the helm of the hulk, both for managing her and not soiling himself when the monster had first poked its glassy eyes in on what we were doing.

“Steady,” I said, this time just to myself. It was a hope that the thing would stay there and watch us ascend, but no such luck. Its head lifted and it continued to circle, this time in a spiral along with us.

“It won’t follow us out of the depths,” Rhistel said. “It’s not suited to the environment.”

We hoped that, anyway. There were lots of things coming from the depths these days that adapted very quickly.

We ascended a hundred yards. I had to order an adjustment to the sails so we wouldn’t pull away from the Internment. Perhaps that set the dragonfish off. Its mouth dropped open wide and it shot out a beam of pressurized water that cut through a section of sailcloth and the last four feet of the spar for the mainsails.

“Hold!” I said, raising my voice enough to be heard by those who were definitely itching to retaliate. The sailors in the rigging were thankfully unharmed, those close to the jet simply pushing away and swimming through the water while they regained their wits.

My father had a version of that spell. He couldn’t have casually cut through timber from hundreds of feet away, though. Seeing the raw power and magnitude was insightful, but it was better to get away than study magic by being attacked.

“We’re still ascending,” I said.

“It’s testing us,” Gnar growled.

“Baiting,” Rhistel corrected. “It’s an old creature who’s never seen anything like us before. It wants to know if we’ll do battle.”

Gnar glanced at the elf but said nothing, trusting his insight. Rhistel had already tried to communicate with the creature when it first appeared but while it might have the strength or endurance of dragons it didn’t have their intelligence. It was a creature of instinctive drives, not rational thought. Rhistel could have some influence on such creatures, but not when he was so vastly out-leveled.

The dragonfish continued its slow spiral. It was difficult to tell what its eyes were looking at during any given moment. A hundred yards higher it used its attack again, this time against the Internment. The jet scored the hull, but besides hunkering down the crew did nothing. We kept ascending.

It followed us for two more agonizing minutes before it turned and swam away. Gone were its lazy movements, its body moved like a flicked whip, an ability making the water seem to part in front of it for greater speed. A blink of an eye and it was gone.

A few seconds later a Domain flared, shoving at my own. I couldn’t say whether it belonged to the dragonfish or something else.

I signaled Travis and he let the rest of his sails drop, but the hulk couldn’t make much better speed and it was with agonizing slowness that we crossed the boundary between the deep sea and my territory. I felt better then, but not exactly safe.

Breaching the surface seemed to be the cue to everyone that we could breathe again. I thanked the men for their courage and had Jack set them to their tasks to keep them busy. Most were shrugging off the encounter already, monsters and danger not exactly foreign concepts, but idle hands never did anyone any good.

The dragonfish’s attack hadn’t crippled my ship, but the chunk of spar and sailcloth now laying on my deck did make her look as ragged as she was. Unfortunately we had no spares; we’d already salvaged what we could and borrowed from the Internment. I could cannibalize the hulk further, but I saw little reason for that when even in her current state the Raven could out-sail the Internment.

I had a love/hate relationship with that unwieldy hulk, its magical life-saving durability just barely compensating for the ineptitude of the designers who thought to put it out to sea.

“Captain,” Jack said to me in a quiet, private voice. “We are charting the same course that these repairs need to be made as soon as possible, right?”

I didn’t answer immediately, as I had been aiming to go directly to the presumed resting place of the Wind Runner. I knew he was right, though. The thought of more delays simply rankled.

I turned and beckoned him to follow. We closed ourselves in while we discussed our options over nautical charts, contrasting predictions of weather with potential safe harbors.

It was practice for us. More than that, it was an education session. Jack tried to wrap his mind around the potential of a submersible ship but as soon as we were on the surface he reverted to ingrained ways of thinking. Yes, I knew that seasonal winds blew against us going that route but it didn’t matter when the currents of the ocean were moving differently and we could catch those. No, old pirate haunts might be safe but then they might be wiped from the map by now – nor did I trust such a place not to blab about our presence.

To his credit Jack learned quickly, he simply had a lot to conceptualize. He also listened well, though some might misinterpret the fire he displayed in his statements as argumentative, I recognized that he was merely decisive. Coupled with his willingness to listen and learn, it was not a problem. It was an asset.

We charted a course to Tralni, an island stopover used by ships preparing to cross the passive. There was a human outpost there, but no developed city. Its location was good for ships that needed shelter in the middle of the Passive, affording an opportunity to get fresh water and maybe some supplies. Being in the midst of the Passive was also a recipe for danger, though, as you couldn’t move out of the way of the slow but mighty storms. Every attempt I’d heard of to colonize the island had failed. I’d only heard of two attempts, but they’d been rather spectacular failures.

It was the nearest place to us, but the most attractive thing about it was the potential to get treated lumber and sailcloth without having to fear the navy overly much. They would need a significant force to have a chance at overwhelming us, and right now nations would be cautious to send such might to the middle of the ocean. There were more pressing threats encroaching on every shore after all.

I briefed my officers and they accepted without complaint, having always trusted the nautical matters to my experience. I then made the announcement to the crew, and had Jack assume command while I conversed with Drese on the quarterdeck.

I had a good picture of what was going to happen, and I wasn’t wrong. Jack tore into the crew like an unexpected squall! People weren’t moving fast enough and he unlocked the secret sailor’s chest of curses to convey just how paltry their actions were and what they might as well be doing instead.

In less than an hour I had Willard Thorpe approach me directly and ask for minute of my time.

“Do you hear this?” he asked me, Jack giving out a well-timed explosive burst as he did.

I cocked my head and listened. “Since there’s nothing remarkable about the breeze, I take it you have issues with Mr. Jack’s vocabulary.”

“He’s treating every one of your crew like they’re barnacles!”

I gave Will a level look. “Yet we are all still quite aware that every soul here is part of my crew. If you take exception to Mr. Jack’s pointers, I suggest you act above reproach.”

Will’s head jerked back like I’d slapped him, but he said an automatic ‘yes sir.’

Introducing Jack into an established crew was going to create friction, but I needed him to be doing exactly what he was. The truth was that everyone could be performing better, even if they were already experienced. I wasn’t above reproaching sub-standard performance, but not the way a first mate could address it. To be the first mate was to set yourself up as the villain in the minds of those under you more often than not. That would change as efficiency improved and they earned compliments instead of tongue-lashings, the hard-earned favor of the first mate would become something to covet. But Jack would use that as a tool, just as we would use my favor or displeasure.

The difference was that he would be a screen between the deckhands and me. A Captain could alternately harp on and praise his crew like a first mate. I’d seen it done, and been a loyal hand. However, with a larger crew in particular, it helped to have a higher power than the one in your face all the time.

Jack was verbally abusing them now, but he’d stand up on their behalf when we were behind closed doors. I expected nothing less from him. As part of this arrangement, he would give me his full support in front of the crew. I would do the same for him; even when it meant would-be-adventurers slunk off my quarterdeck with their tail between their legs because they had to endure him.

Drese gave me a raised eyebrow when I returned to our conversation. I shrugged.

“Did you and Jack really plan this whole act out in the time since you raised him?”

“We hardly had to. This ‘act’ is part of naval tradition – to one extreme or another. I was pushing for Rhistel to do what he’s doing but couldn’t teach it to him. Now that I have someone who knows the role so well, it’s easy to slip into my part.”

“You’re making them hate him so they love you more? They’ll feel betrayed when they realize.”

“I’m not setting him up as a scapegoat. They forget now, but I’ve cussed them all out myself on more than one occasion, I just wasn’t as personal about it.”

“You expect that when you go down there they won’t be hanging on your every word? Tell them Jack’s right and it’s the command against them. Tell them he’s wrong and they won’t ever want to listen to a thing he says.”

I smirked. “One privilege of being in command – I don’t have to follow binary options someone gives me.”

I could see both his skepticism and his interest, but he was still Drese, formal as ever, and instead returned our conversation to our magical practice and my nearly completed spells.

But when it came time for me to make my appearance, he was watching along with everyone else. The air on board was tense, many of the crew sullen. I enjoyed it. I’d seen this play out before and knew what happened next. I’d been watching my ship’s interface and had the numbers.

I stepped down the ladder from the quarterdeck. By the time my boot heel struck the dark planks of the main deck I indeed had every eye on me. I took a moment to mark where everyone was, analyzed their stamina levels, and caught the fighters who’d avoided the whole drama now peeking up from the artillery deck through my Domain.

“The Dark Raven’s efficiency has improved by 32% this afternoon. Well done, all of you! Mr. Jack, please signal the Internment and bring us in alongside her. You all have earned whatever masterpiece Gerald has in store!”

There were no cheers, only stunned silence. That is, for the half-second before Jack began barking commands again. A couple of the men I noticed scoffing or shaking their heads ruefully, understanding the whole thing.

A 32% increase over a couple hours was absolutely incredible, but it was true. The numbers were a bit inflated because we’d been unfamiliar with the ship and getting over that hurdle, but Jack got us over it and pushed along in a fraction of the time it would have taken with routine practice.

Drese was waiting for me once more, having the advantage of being outside of those participating yet inside my confidences. “You didn’t speak to them about Jack. You merely showed them his value.”

“They all knew there was a reason for everything, they just wanted an easier route. People do that.”

“I heard speculation in Nilfheim that you leadership level was inflated; that you had the stats but lacked the understanding. Perhaps you did lack experience, but I have no doubt you understand the principles.” He inclined his head to me, surprising me. I copied the gesture of respect from a master mage.

Gerald had prepared a fine meal, and those who had suffered Jack’s tongue the worst shared what had happened with those on the Internment who had been none the wiser. Tomorrow I would mix up the crew; those who had today been pushed would soon be the ones Jack was pointing to as an example for the others.

I whisked Jack away from the ears who wanted to talk about him into the officer’s mess. It was a very different pond, with none of the people there subject to his authority or wowed by his nautical expertise. I actually had to make a point to include him in the discussion as our otherwise tightly knit group instinctively crowded him out.

Hali didn’t help matters. She was far more in tune with group dynamics than I was, yet instead of throwing Jack a lifeline seemed to subtly poke at him. It wasn’t to the point of being divisive, as she promised, but it was a reminder that she hadn’t forgiven him for his part in ruining her life.

As we sailed I rotated all of the sailors through Jack’s care except Travis, who needed to remain in command of the Internment and maintain the image of not being dressed-down. Besides, Travis had the seamanship experience and I wouldn’t be surprised if he could go toe-to-toe with Jack in a cussing match.

I alternated sailing on the surface and beneath the sea. Both were good practice, but the surface put more stress on our damaged keel. Jack also had to familiarize himself with underwater sailing, so I made sure to step in whenever we submerged so he could see how it was done. The first mate could make mistakes if he owned up to them, but having a subordinate correct you on something you didn’t know wasn’t ideal.

Because of this hidden half of the time method of travel we didn’t see the other ship until we popped up to regroup at the end of the day. At that point she was only a few miles away.

I immediately brought the Raven back down but left the Internment on the surface. “That vessel had a Makam flag.”

“And that means violence?” Rhistel asked, his opinion on whether that was good unclear. He had reason to hate Makam – at this very moment they were warring with his ancestral lands – but I think he feared a repeat of the Death’s Consort more.

“Violence will depend on them. At a glance, they look like they’ve fended off some monsters which is good work. If they have some nonsense orders about sinking us, though, then we’ll get the rope and timber we need from their shipwreck.”

This was a repetition of my earlier stance our objectives, but it seemed to put some at ease that getting a new ship hadn’t changed that.

“We’re keeping the Raven secret?” Jack asked. “They likely spotted something.”

“Not a secret,” I said. “In reserve. I want to run an idea past Gnar and Arnnaith.”

“This feels like a farce,” Mirash muttered in orcish. Gnar punched his shoulder.

“It’s showmanship! You like to skulk around in combat too much.”

Mirash bared his teeth. “Hasn’t the Captain shown you in several duels why overwhelming strength isn’t the answer?”

Gnar merely guffawed. “He’d be the first to say he want’s overwhelming strength on his side! It’s why he picked me!” Mirash turned away muttering, but Gnar didn’t let it end there and instead punched his shoulder again. “And I picked you for your skill in skulking. So stop whining!”

It was a touching scene, and almost a distraction from the harness and ropes that they were getting themselves into.

“Would you call this another practice run or a combat test?” I asked my lieutenant.

He turned and pointed at Tarball, who gleefully said “That depends on whether they attack us when we get up there!”

I snorted. So they’d been over this themselves. I wasn’t the only one curious to see if Arnnaith’s crazy idea was simple enough to be effective.

Boarding ships from the sea was a terrifying surprise attack, but it wasn’t overwhelming. If a boarding hook popped out of the sea and grappled the gunwale, there was a likely chance that someone would be ready for a fight by the time the boarder climbed up the rope. It hadn’t happened to us yet, but it was a glaring weakness in Gnar’s drills where the defenders knew what was coming. Rather than wait to adapt to prepared defenders, Arnnaith had thought of a solution.

The issue was getting the first members of the boarding party up quickly to establish a bulkhead for the rest of the group. After seeing me shoot out of the water thanks to my swimming skills alone, the half-elf lad started drafting plans. Not even I could leap out of the water like that wearing heavy armor – much less someone with half my swimming ability – but we could propel them out.

A boarding hook was thrown, as usual. Only this hook had a pulley from a black-and-tackle system. On one end, a warrior in a rope harness. Put a weight on the other, and you could pull the warrior from the water and up the side of the ship to the gunwale in about as much time as it took to shout ‘we’re being boarded!’

Arnnaith had been stumped for a while on the weight, judging it impractical to carry any sort of stone ballast into position. When he’d brought it up to Gnar, however, the orc had an easy fix.

Every one of my cursed crew could switch from adrift to anchored at the drop of a hat. That meant they could go from weightless to a strong downward force on command.

There were many things Gnar discussed with me that made me skeptical. This had nearly made me drool.

Gnar barked the order, and six special boarding hooks were readied. They were thrown in sync, and five of them found purchase. A supervisor on each line immediately gave the signal to the four waiting ‘ballast boys’ clinging to the other end of the system and down they went.

Up went the warriors, pulled until a knot tied in front of their harness hit the pulley. They’d cut the harness from the line, pulling themselves over the gunwale to defend the line from the others that were even then beginning to climb up it.

It was a beautiful synchronization. I was proud.

My part was different. I could make a show, so why not do so? I got enough depth to gain some speed by burning stamina and shot out of the water, my momentum carrying me over the gunwale but I managed to slap it as I passed to adjust myself in the air and stick the landing.

It would have been embarrassing if I’d slipped and fell on my face instead.

Tarball was in the middle of his speech about staying calm and how there was no need for violence when I appeared. The crew had been armed, but they’d all been looking out over the other side of the ship where the Internment sat blithely ignoring any attempts at communication in front of the setting sun and our rapid deployment indeed caught them on the back foot.

I pulled my tricorne hat from my bag and put it on, followed by my coat settling on my wet clothes. “Good evening gentlemen. I see that Captain Willoughby is listed as in command of this vessel. I would like to speak with him.”

Author’s Note:

Hello and apologies for the stunted release schedule. I hope that you will take this chapter as something of a peace offering and ‘thank-you’ for sticking around. (Though I’ll admit I’m amazed at how many of you guys HAVE stuck around!)