Vengeance (Pt. 1)
The
ship rocked as the ballista bolt slammed into the bow. Water sprayed up and
washed the deck as the prow slammed into the banking waves. The attacking craft was
barely visible off the starboard bow, but Captain Doran knew only one vessel
that had that range. The Acdrenc Stefna,
an elven frigate captained by Councillor Aldrid
Shorthelm of Illeth Moran. What that ship was doing so far south, Doran wasn’t
sure. But it meant trouble. Big trouble.
He
called down from the helm, “Mr James, how are we struck?”
Mr
James, a burly man with a heavy jaw, shouted back, “Barely a scratch, cap’n,
just stuck in the planks is all. Nary a drop of brine shall bother us!”
“Good,”
roared the captain, “Then would you care to tell me why our ballistae aren't loaded?”
“On
it, cap’n!”
“Damn
right you are man, the Tempest shan't be leaving without giving a good account of herself!”
As
the next Elven bolt screamed by, skimming across the water on the port-side as
is bounced like a skimmed rock before disappearing in a shower of foam, the
Captain patted the ship’s wheel and murmured, “Hear that girl? You are going to
show those elves how we do business in the Kormouth Navy.”
The
sky was clear, though the sea was becoming increasingly rough. The Tempest crested another wave and tipped
forwards. Doran, a veteran sailor of some twenty years, gaped in shock as he
looked down into a green trough almost one hundred feet deep. He roared at the
top of his lungs, ‘Grab a hold of something boys!” and himself took a firm hold
of the wheel.
The
timbers of the ship creaked in an eerie moment of silence, before gravity
caught up with the ship. Then, like a plummeting bird, the Tempest plunged into the trough, her timbers protesting audibly at
the immense force her prow was under. The ship struck the bottom of the trough
in a cascade of foam and water, and more than a few whoops and screams from the
sailors.
Drenched
and glowering, Mr James appeared next to his captain and growled, “The sea ain't got no business being like this on a clear day such as it is.”
“Aye,
Mr James, you’re right. There is a witch aboard the Acdrenc Stefna, no mistake. Tell your boys to fire as soon as they
get a sight on the bitch, and go and wake Baldric.” Mr James saluted and
hurried down from the helm, bellowing orders and then disappearing below decks.
Seeing
a way to get closer to the Elven vessel without being spotted Doran spun the
wheel, turning the vessel north, and used the wind funnelling along the trough to
send her racing along the green depths. As the Tempest sped along, he gazed up at the greeny-blue walls of water
that flanked his ship. No nature could explain such a thing, only magic
tampering with the order of things.
He
saw something dark moving along the bank to his starboard and his jaw dropped.
The
Acdrenc Stefna exploded from the
crest of the wave and soared overhead. The gilded carvings that ran the length
of the sleek Elven ship shimmered and glistened as water cascaded from them.
The four triangular sails, all pale blue and trimmed in gold, were stretched
taught, and seemed to haul the vessel through the air.
There
was a loud boom as the ship slammed into the other bank of water, falling short
of its mark. Instead of leaping the trough like a salmon in a stream, as was surely
intended, the Elven ship crashed into the bank of water about twenty feet too
low. Doran grinned mirthlessly as the Elves screamed. He lifted the gold locket
about his neck and kissed it, and then yelled his order, “Straight into her
underbelly boys, she’s like a pig to slaughter!"
His
men set to with ruthless efficiency, aiming their ballistae high and firing
without any further encouragement. The sound of shattering and rending timbers
made Doran whince, but he held his gaze as the Elven vessel fell back, sliding
backwards down into the trough. He laughed as the Acdrenc Stefna’s rudder snapped from the force.
His
laughter died in his throat, however, as the force of the waters spun the Stefna about and sent her racing towards
the Tempest. Doran yelled for his men
to hold on tight, and saw Mr James reappear with Baldric.
Baldric,
and lean man of middling years and a grey mane of hair, took one look at the
oncoming ship and raised a hand. Despite the shriek of straining timbers, and
the roar of the sea, his voice carried through it all as he cried out:
FERIT
VIS, PROTEGAT VAS NOSTRUM!
Blue
energy exploded from his hand, steaming towards the Stefna. As it struck, it tore away the gilding and the planking as
though it was so much chaff in the wind. There was a high-pitched cry of rage
from the other ship, and a flash of red.
There
was a thump so intense that Doran fell to his knees, clutching at his ringing
ears. He looked up in time to see a flash of white light where the red and blue
energies met, and then felt the explosion.
*
The
waves washed up torn canvas, netting, and planking onto the pebbled beach.
Occasionally, the shattered body of an elf or a man would join the beached
flotsam and jetsam. One of these bodies, clad in a torn green uniform with a
captain’s epaulettes on the shoulders, groaned and moved.
Doran
could feel his life ebbing away, feel a numb hotness where a shattered spar had
torn through him, and a sharper pain where his leg had been smashed. He reached
into his jacket and pulled out his locket.
The
locket itself was a simple golden affair, elliptical in shape. Elegant
filigree, worn now by years of being opened and closed, hinted at letters that
were now too far worn to be legible. Fumbling, Doran managed to open the
locket, and gazed at the painting within. It was a portrait of an elegant
woman, with long brown hair. The hair was pulled back behind one ear, showing
to greater advantage her long, slender neck and the ruby earrings that she
wore. She appeared to gaze out of the picture, cheeky green eyes twinkling, and
her lips parted in a smile filled with radiant joy.
Doran
smiled as he slipped away, and murmured a name, “Renee.”
Stay tuned for the next instalment of Vengeance.
No comments:
Post a Comment