The crew turned promptly to leave and carry out their captain’s orders, but a familiar and ominous sound caused everyone to freeze in their tracks.
“Cannon fire,” Eve breathed, throwing a concerned look to her first mate. “All hands, battlestations! Take the prisoner to the deck with us so we can keep an eye on her.”
Everyone filed outside, reflexively ducking as another shot sounded and whizzed over their heads. A flurry of activity swept over the deck as the women took their posts, save for two crew who remained flanking Dalia and joined the gathered officers.
“Report, Renee!” Eve looked up to the crewwoman perched in the crow’s nest.
“We’ve got an enemy ship off the port aft!” Renee called down. “Looks to be Geralinean Navy!”
Taking the spyglass Briar handed to her, Eve peered toward the horizon at the shape coming into view, nodding in confirmation. “Pantera-class frigate, bow modified for speed…name on the bow is the Thresher.”
“That’s Sven Ullmer’s ship,” Dalia murmured, warranting a raised-eyebrow glance from Eve.
“Why is she firing from so far out?” Briar wondered, peering in confusion at the distant ship. “And the shots are sailing over us? The firing angle on their guns must be ridiculously high!”
“It’s not meant to sink us,” Eve surmised. “He’s probably hoping to knock out our mast with a lucky shot so he can disable us, boarding and confiscating our hard-earned treasure that much quicker, all in the King’s name. And they call us pirates.”
“He’ll catch us anyway in this paltry tailwind,” Marie, the helmsman, looked up from her post in disgust at the barely fluttering sails on the main mast. “This fossil can’t compete with ships of the line.”
Eve took another look through the spyglass, and indeed, the approaching ship looked slightly closer this time, the sound of her weapons now loud enough to softly rattle the deck boards beneath their feet.
“I recognize that cannon sound,” Amelia chimed in, ear cocked to the side. “They’re still using powder refined with the Neilson-Jones process.”
“What do you mean, ‘still’? What else would they be using?” Eve inquired.
“The Dwarven supply barge we raided last month had samples of powder refined using a new process,” Amelia explained. “According to some of their notes, they were using it for clearing mining tunnels, but I’ve been experimenting with it these past few weeks and there’s a noticeable improvement in cannon fire distance. We should be able to out-range them with what I have left of the samples.”
“No,” Dalia shook her head. “I know Sven. If he’s under threat, he’ll lash out. I doubt this ship has enough firepower to take down a frigate in a firefight and once they get close enough, they’ll demolish you, no matter how loaded with treasure your hold is.”
Amelia scowled at their captive. “No one asked you, coward. Save your breath for when I toss you overboard.”
“Ms. Stron’Kir is right,” Eve countered. “Right now, Sven’s mind is set on a recovery operation, and if he’s this eager, it only means he’s much easier to panic if something goes wrong. We just have to make sure we panic him in the right way…”
The captain trailed off for a moment as a lantern hanging at the entrance to the crew quarters caught her eye. The gears turned in her mind for a few more seconds before she smiled and continued. “Bring me some flint and steel from the armory, then get all hands to the hold. I have a plan.”
—
“We’re at about 700 meters from the target and closing,” the navigator of the Thresher announced. “We should be right on top of them in the next 10 minutes.”
Commodore Sven Ullmer nodded at the report, returning to his spyglass. “No doubt about it now, it’s the Dragon’s Curse. The only payout worth more than the bounty on Evelyn Silvern’s head is the piles of loot she’s sure to have stowed in her ship’s hold.”
“Excellent,” standing next to him on the deck, Sven’s first mate, the elf Ardwyl, smiled as he took a moment to wipe the spray of seawater from his spectacles. “The crew will be happy to take full advantage of the new salvage laws…which were thanks to Ms. Silvern’s recent exploits if I’m not mistaken.”
“Yes, the king has taken some drastic measures to secure his shores,” Sven nodded. “I’m sure he will also be pleased to finally be rid of this menace once and for all.”
“500 meters,” came another report from the navigator.
Still gazing through his spyglass, Sven frowned, causing a slight twitch of his thick mustache. “She’s still at full-mast…hasn’t come about to defend herself. She can’t be thinking she can still outrun me, so what is—“
He suddenly tensed as an orange glimmer began to rise from behind the deck railings of the pursued ship—and above it, an intensifying cloud of smoke. “Shit,” the Commodore cursed, pulling away from his spyglass and collapsing it with a brisk snap.
“Sir, there’s a fire on their main deck!” Sven’s lookout shouted from the crow’s perch.
“I’m not blind, Pierson!” he barked back before turning quickly to Ardwyl. “Get the crew to tie mooring ropes to the stuns’l booms. We’ll keep our distance while boarding to avoid it spreading to us.”
The elf stared at him incredulously. “You mean, you still intend to…”
“We are not losing that cargo to the sea!” Sven cut him off. Carry out my order! And find that hydromancer. Maybe she’ll finally be of some use after all.”
His crew scrambling around him, Sven continued to eye the pirate craft as it neared, the blaze still spreading across it. “Damn you Evelyn, are you really that petty?” he muttered. Moments later, his concentration was broken by a soft clearing of the throat at his side. He turned to see a short, light brown-haired young woman in a dark blue robe looking up at him expectantly.
“You wished to see me, Commodore?” she asked, her voice barely heard over the churning waves and the commotion from the crew.
“Yes, er, Veera, was it?” he inquired, his attention still half focused on his quarry.
“Veena,” she corrected, even softer than before.
“Whatever,” he scoffed, pointing where his gaze was locked. “I need you to put out the fire on that other ship.”
Veena followed his gesture, her eyes widening at the sight of the flames. “Oh…uh…” she stammered, taken off guard.
“Is there a problem? Speak up!” Sven pressed harshly, not used to having his normally thin patience tested.
“Well…” she began, gathering herself, “when I joined the crew as part of the Elder Council’s initiative, it was to study a means of improving propulsion through small, incremental manipulations of current. To douse that fire, I would need to manifest a significant wave, which could be hazardous to both ships given the enormous volume of water already in the vicinity of—“
“Can you do it or not!?” he interrupted, not bothering to conceal his annoyance.
Veena froze, but thankfully only for a fraction of a second. “Yes,” she answered simply, though she managed to shoot him a quick glare.
“Then get to it, before we get in position,” he commanded, then addressed the rest of his crew. “All hands, board the ship on my order! Check the hold first to make sure the fire hasn’t spread there! I want their cargo secured as quickly as possible!”
Veena slowly raised her hands up to eye-level with palms facing down, then narrowed her eyes which pulsed twice with a soft blue glow. Behind the frame of the Dragon’s Curse,a mound of seawater suddenly rose to a height halfway up its mast. The wave crested and crashed over the deck, causing the entire ship to sway violently from the impact but instantly quashing the fire. With its remaining momentum, it smacked against the side of the Thresher, staggering several of its crew from the resulting lurch before subsiding entirely. Her task successful, Veena sighed in relief as Sven grunted in acceptance next to her.
“Hmph, adequate,” he remarked under his breath before raising his voice. “Forward!”
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