A Mareian finds a thousand uses for a boat—and, on occasion, the same ship sees them all. – Old Mareian proverb
KURT
Kurt bit back bile as the ship heaved again. He thought river boats were bad, but this ocean-going was so much worse. How did sailors do this for months at a time? He gripped the railing as the Silk Trader rode another swell. Looking around, Kurt cursed at sailors walking with ease around him.
“Pleasant day for sailing,” Captain Marnel boomed as he walked up to Kurt. The tall, burly man was one of the hairiest humans Kurt ever laid eyes on. Thick black hair seemed to merge seamlessly with a beard that would have done a dwarf proud. Even his arms looked like they were covered with a black pelt.
“How can you say that?” Kurt grunted.
“Lisandra Bay is always so calm this time of year,” the captain said.
“This is calm?” Kurt managed to reply while keeping his guts from rebelling. Captain Marnel let out a hearty laugh. The man laughed like he wanted the God of Iron to hear.
“Don’t worry, Hero Volker, we’ll have you across the bay to whatever that is in no time,” Captain Marnel said, pointing at the rising wooden tower. The tower dominated the hills to the east of the city. Despite the tower’s crude construction, the Purists managed to get it up to fifty feet and were still building. It could be an observation tower, but the location didn’t make sense. It wouldn’t be able to see far enough into Lisandra. And why were they building four?
Sailing across Lisandra Bay was much faster than trying to sneak through the city. Smoke from fires hung over Lisandra like a miasma. The booms of cannons and muskets drifted out over the water. At least Rin was back behind the Aponte Wall. Kurt was so relieved when he felt his son’s pulses moving through the city. When Kurt looked back, the captain was gone and one of the junior officers was standing in his place. The boy looked little more than fifteen years old. From the easy gait, Kurt wondered if the boy was born on a ship.
“Hero Volker, the captain asks you join him on the quarterdeck,” the officer said. The boy looked little more than fifteen years old. From the easy gait, Kurt wondered if the boy was born on a ship.
“Where’s the quarterdeck?” Kurt asked. Sailors used too many strange terms. Kurt wondered if how they talked shouldn’t be considered another language. The look on the boy’s face clearly said he didn’t understand how anyone would not know where the quarterdeck was on a ship. He pointed at the raised section at the back of the ship. Kurt suppressed the temptation to pat the boy on the head before trudging along the deck and up the stairs.
The ship was maybe five hundred yards from the east end of Lisandra Bay. The captain was looking at something on the coast with his spyglass. Whatever it was, it made the captain lose his characteristic smile. That alone sent a chill down Kurt’s spine. Wordlessly, the captain handed his spyglass to Kurt and pointed at a pair of figures standing on the edge of the bay. Kurt brought the spyglass to his eye. Kurt recognized one as an Acolyte, but he couldn’t remember the man’s name. He was the one who was that traitorous Lord Kalen’s associate before disappearing. Amar Haltis. The other elf was dressed in the brown shirt and trousers of a Purist soldier.
“Why are they just standing like that?” the captain asked.
“I doubt it’s anything good,” Kurt answered. His combat instincts screamed something was wrong with the pair, but for the life of him, Kurt couldn’t figure out what.
“The reverend says the bones are worried,” the captain said, as if Kurt would know what that meant. The captain took the spyglass back from Kurt and looked at the Acolyte again. After a moment, he thrust the spyglass at Kurt.
“I don’t like the idea of putting you ashore near those two, Hero Volker,” Captain Marnell said. The captain shouted in rapid-fire Mareian to his crew. Kurt understood most of the words, but he had no idea how they fit together to form coherent orders. What did tacks have to do with sails? What did a heel have to do with ships? The crew clambered up the ship’s tall masts and ran about the deck. In a few minutes, the ship slowly turned away from the edge of the bay. The captain was aiming at a more southerly point to land Kurt.
“Sweet Protector!” the ship’s first mate swore. Kurt snatched another sailor’s spyglass to see what happened. The Purist soldier was laying in red-tinged sand. The Acolyte pointed a bloody dagger at the ship. A dull thump shook the ship. Hundreds of splinters rained down on Kurt and the crew. Heavier wood shards struck him like fists, but none penetrated his armor. From the screams, some of the ship’s crew weren’t as fortunate. Kurt stood up and surveyed the damage. Two of the heavy beams were on the deck. Sailors were being dragged from under the wreckage. Blood splattered the deck. Kurt looked up at the center mast and saw the highest sails missing.
Captain Marnell barked orders over the screams. Something about going to a star on board and running guns. The dark-haired first officer saluted with his uninjured arm and rushed into the bowels of the ship.
“What are you doing?” Kurt asked.
“You didn’t see that?” Captain Marnell asked, his bushy eyebrows scrunched in confusion.
“See what?” Kurt asked.
“Purple lightning from that tower! It hit the main mast” Captain Marnell answered. Kurt was sure he would remember seeing something like that. Then again, something tore the beams off the main mast.
“What are you going to do?”
“I can’t run from lightning,” Captain Marnell answered, and gave Kurt a predatory grin, “In that case, the only thing to do is fight!” Cheers rose up from the crew as the captain yelled the last part.
“Fight? At this range?” Kurt asked.
“I might have a dozen or so ten-kilo guns belowdecks,” the captain said, before quickly adding, “Strictly for defense against pirates. They range out a good thousand meters or so.” Kurt tried to do the math in his head but was quickly frustrated. Why did humans have to use such screwy measurements? Why couldn’t they use perfectly good Imperial measurements? Was a kilo the same as a pound? Kurt couldn’t remember.
The bowsprit exploded. Not as many splinters, but thick ropes lashed out in all directions. The captain gritted his teeth as more of his sailors screamed in pain or wouldn’t scream ever again. Kurt was deafened as the Silk Trader opened fire. Kurt gripped a railing as the ship shook from the thunderous roar. The entire side of the ship was encased in thick black-gray smoke. As the ship sailed away from the smoke cloud, Kurt raised the spyglass. There were several large, ragged holes in the wooden tower. Dozens of Purists lay around the tower unmoving, while more ran around with bloody wounds. If this was what a Republican merchant ship could do, what would one of their naval vessels do?
The last thing Kurt heard was a booming explosion before the deck heaved under him and threw him into the water. Kurt thrashed to get his armor off before it dragged him to the bottom of the bay. Stars exploded in his eyes as something heavy and hard hit him on the head. He looked over to see part of the mast floating next to him. There was blood smeared on the wood. Was it his? What happened to the ship? He rolled over to where he thought the ship should be. The dwarf glimpsed the Silk Trader burning furiously before the blackness consumed him.
