“Aye, he’s in his quarters,” Kennick nodded, and hurried back up to take the wheel from a crewman he had left steering Seacutter. Dormael strode painfully to the door of the captain’s cabin and knocked three times. Mikael yelled to enter, and Dormael obliged, striding into the room and shutting the door behind him.
Mikael’s cabin was sparse at best, but luxurious when compared to the rest of the living quarters aboard this ship. He had an actual bed, though with a thin mattress and thinner bedding of a simple brown. There was a large round table in the room, and on it was spread a map of the Sea of Storms and surrounding lands. Mikael had made tiny notes in many places, and there were marks here and there from where he had used his compass and protractor to plot courses across it. There were random trinkets from different lands hanging about the cabin; some sort of tribal headdress in one corner, a strange square bladed sword on a stand hung on the back wall, and along the wall to the left of the door was a painting of a beautiful girl dressed in Moravian festival silks. The girl reminded Dormael of a Solstice festival he had attended once in Moravia and the dancing scantily-clad beauties that spun and stomped across the festival grounds. He shook himself from his reverie and paid his attention to Mikael, who was seated at the table pouring over his map.
“Galanians, you say? The devils! My guess is they’ve been patrolling these waters, though I wonder what the Cambrellian Navy knows about it, or if there have been skirmishes,” Mikael mused after Dormael told him what he had seen.
“They had to have known where we were going, there are only two serviceable ports out of Cambrell, and they already chased us out of one. The colonel or Dargorin or whomever is in charge of this search would have known that we Sevenlanders wouldn’t have crossed into Dannon without good cause,” Dormael offered.
“We must get closer to this storm if we’re to avoid getting ravaged by those ballistae,” Mikael said, rubbing his chin in a gesture not unlike the one D’Jenn often did, “but I’m reluctant to turn full north into the storm. Seacutter will be slow with the wind at our faces, and all the galleon will have to do is come round from the east to get within range of us. Can you protect us from the weapons, Blessed?”
“Not entirely, not in these rough waters,” Dormael replied, feeling slightly inadequate.
“Then Hells, we need those rough seas to keep her from getting a clean shot on us, but if we turn south now under full sail and then turn west once we pass the galleon, we may be able to outrun her. What say you?”
“Turn her south, captain. There is one thing that I can do to try and protect us from those giant crossbows. It will be hard, but I can give it a shot,” Dormael said determinably.
“And what is that?”
“Try and bring the storm to us.”
****
About an hour later, Seacutter was under full sail and headed south, the storm winds pushing her as best they could. It was a beautiful but fearful sight, Dormael thought; gray skies and lighting streaked rainstorms at their backs, and the heavily armed galleon ahead. They were close enough now to make out the Galanian flag, and the galleon had turned west on a course to intercept them. Seacutter was fast, though, and Mikael seemed confident that the Galanians would be unable to cut them off. Dormael put all his faith into Mikael’s notion.
“Are you ready, Dormael?” D’Jenn’s voice spoke beside him. They stood atop the stern castle, both armed with their instruments of choice. Dormael grasped his beautifully made guitar, and D’Jenn had taken his goatskin Doomba drum from its leather case.
“Yes, coz, I’m ready. I hope that this doesn’t drain us completely. We’re going to need energy if we get caught in a fight.”
“Indeed, but I think that this will work, if we do it right,” D’Jenn said confidently, “You take the lead, Dormael. You were always better at this wild sort of magic than I was.”
“Alright, then let us begin,” Dormael said solemnly, and he sat cross legged upon the deck with his guitar across his leg, hands poised to strike up a tune. Opening his Kai, he drew upon the magic, and felt D’Jenn’s signature song inside of the void. He added his own to it, and the harmony amplified their power. Reaching out with their combined energies, Dormael’s senses flew off into the storm.
It was magnificent. There was so much raw power flowing through the gale; he felt the rain as individual droplets of laden energy, he tasted the electricity flowing from the ground and from the clouds above, the static that met in the middle to arc as bright blue lightning, he felt the winds, the timeless flowing of air from one corner of the world to another meeting here and eddying as if they were a pool of swirling water. Reaching deeper, he floated into the heart of the storm and touched the different elements that were creating it; the wind above and the water below. He spread his mind throughout the storm; he was the storm.
Throom
Sensing that the time was nigh, D’Jenn had begun a primal, haunting beat with his bare hands across the goatskin head of his drum. The beats drifted into Dormael’s being, into the storm’s being, and the air pulsed with it.
Throom.
Dormael’s hands began to strum out a lively but evil sounding melody, seemingly of their own accord. A taunting, almost cackling melody that wove into the magic, wove into the storm. The notes seemed to float off his guitar into the winds behind them.
Throom-throom-thrum-throom.
The clouds pulsed with the drumbeats and the air hummed with the melody, and when it seemed that the air would burst with the power that was invading it, a new sound began that could be heard over the gale and music alike. Dormael’s tenor and D’Jenn’s baritone voices sang out in a wordless minor over the music. Their voices were like fire over water, flowing out into the air and humming with a power that none aboard Seacutter had ever heard before.
Throom.
The gray clouds behind them blackened to a deathly darkness that would strike fear into the heart of any seafaring man. Slowly, pulsing with the music, the clouds above them reached out, spreading southward as the storm grew in size. They spread like fingers from a giant palm in the sky, and they headed right for the galleon. Seacutter fell into shadow as the growing storm overtook her, and Dormael could feel distantly the ship underneath him began to rock more violently. He could hear Mikael’s voice barking orders to his men, but his was a voice heard like it was underwater. Dormael’s awareness was spread out among the clouds and the rain and the lightning.
Throom-throom-thrum-throom.
Rain fell upon the deck and the noise was almost deafening. Dormael could feel, more than hear, the cries of fear coming from the men aboard the Galanian galleon, their eyes turned to the sky and their fingers pointing off into the gale, shouting that the Gods had cursed them. He could only smile inwardly at the spectacle. With a bit of flair, he poured a little magic into the clouds, and a few bolts of lightning struck the water between the two ships. Like arcs of bright blue fire they flashed once, twice, three times into the gray ocean and left small sprays of water behind.
Throom-throom-thrum-throom.
With that, the two wizards released their hold on the magic. Dormael opened his eyes, tired but not exhausted, and took D’Jenn’s offered hand to help him stand. The wound on his leg was giving more trouble in the cold than he would like, but there was nothing to be done for it.
“Gods!” Mikael exclaimed over the noise of the falling rain, “I’ve never seen such a thing in all my days. Indeed, you two are quite powerful.”
“We appreciate the compliments,” D’Jenn said back, “but in truth it was a simple thing. Dormael here just reached into the storm and stirred it up a little, if you will.”
“You say that as if he went for afternoon tea,” Mikael jibbed.
“Ha! Tea doesn’t sound like a bad idea, captain,” Dormael laughed, clapping the astounded Orrisan on the back, “Now let us see how the Galanians like a little toss and tumble, eh?”
“Indeed,” Mikael agreed, and with that he hurried down the s
teps to the deck and began barking more orders to his men. The sails were full to bursting, and Seacutter creaked in protest as the rough seas tossed her about, but she sailed, and she sailed true. Mikael’s men moved as if with one mind, tying up lines and turning capstans, sailors to the bone every one. Dormael watched for a moment with awe at the teamwork they displayed, and then realized that he was holding his guitar out in the driving rain. Grumbling quietly, he followed D’Jenn below decks to stow his instrument.
They met Shawna in the hallway, suited in her leather armor and with her twin swords sheathed across her backside as was her way of wearing them. She looked a little pale, but no worse for wear. Over her leather outfit she wore a fur-lined cloak with the hood drawn over her head to protect her from the driving rain outside. She smiled at them as they came down and pressed against the wall to allow them to pass her.
“Feeling any better, Shawna?” D’Jenn asked curtly.
“Well enough,” she replied.
“Good, can’t have you emptying your lunch over the rail while we’re being chased by the Galanians, eh?” D’Jenn joked at her, and Shawna giggled a silvery laugh in return.
“If they get close enough,” she said, “it will be their guts that I’m emptying.”
“Better theirs than mine,” D’Jenn shot back and they all shared a quick laugh as the two Sevenlanders squeezed past the girl down the hallway. As they passed, Shawna gave Dormael another quirky smile, and he felt unnerved all over again. He would have to tell D’Jenn about it when they had time, but now probably wasn’t the best time for gossip. He followed his cousin into their cabin and stowed the instruments. Bethany was waiting for them on D’Jenn’s bunk.
“I felt what you were doing,” she said excitedly.
“Did you pay attention little one?” Dormael asked, scooping the little girl up into his arm after he had put down his guitar.
“I couldn’t really tell much,” she replied, wrinkling her tiny brow, “I could just feel the…the…”
“The storm?” D’Jenn offered, and Bethany nodded quickly in reply.
“Well good,” Dormael said, “now then, here’s what I want you to do. You stay in here and don’t come out until one of us comes for you.”
“But I want to see,” Bethany pleaded, her color-changing eyes growing large and her expression one of pleading.
“I know little one, but I’m worried that something will happen to you. No, its best that you stay in here, but there is something that I want you to do,” Dormael instructed, and her expression changed at once from anguish to excitement in the way that only children are capable of. “I want you to touch your magic and listen to what we do, if we do anything. Don’t try to use it, mind, but just listen and pay attention to the way D’Jenn’s magic and my magic sounds. Do you understand what I mean?”
“Yes,” Bethany nodded, a smile creeping onto her face once again.
“Do you think that’s wise, cousin?” D’Jenn asked him cautiously.
“You and I did it all the time when we were her age,” Dormael argued, “I think it will be alright.”
“Yes, but we weren’t supposed to do it. There are reasons that you and I weren’t aware of then, if you remember correctly. If she interferes, even on accident, things could go awry very quickly,” D’Jenn said.
“That’s why she’s just going to listen, and not interfere; right, little one?” Dormael reiterated, turning his gaze on the little girl once more.
“Yes, just listen,” she agreed.
“Alright, if you say so,” D’Jenn agreed reluctantly, “But just remember that I objected.”
“Yes, and if things do somehow go wrong, you’ll ‘I-told-you-so’ me to death,” Dormael replied.
“Exactly.”
“Well then, let’s get our things and head above decks. Remember, dear, just listen,” Dormael said again.
“Just listen,” Bethany agreed, and with that the two wizards started grabbing up their weapons. Dormael reached into the corner of the room and took his quarterstaff from the wall. D’Jenn strapped on his steel gauntlet and hefted his morningstar to slip it into the loop in his belt. After they had gathered their things and pulled their heavy Sevenlander cloaks around themselves, they hurried out into the hall and up the narrow stairs that led onto the deck.
As they came back into the darkness of the storm, Seacutter was cresting another large swell in the churning ocean. The froth sprayed out from both sides of the bow as the sleek ship sliced through the waves and began to dip forward again, riding down the backside of the swell. The rain was pelting the deck with a vengeance and it created a loud whispering noise as rain often does, but Mikael’s men moved on with their tasks, impervious to the effects of it. Shawna stood on the port side of the deck next to the railing, watching the Galanian ship struggling to come within range of Seacutter.
She was staying aright in the water, and was now less than a mile off to the port side, but Dormael began to see now what Mikael was talking about when he said that she would be unable to cut off his sleek and fast ship. The galleon wasn’t really floundering in the waves; she was actually sailing quite nicely, but she still struggled to stay upright at times. The waves from the driving winds of the storm were pushing her to the south, and causing her to list slightly to her own port side. Many times Dormael watched the galleon turn slightly southward to avoid being capsized by those swells, and each time she did so the Seacutter gained a little advantage on her.
What was worse, the heavy storm winds were filling the galleon’s sails completely, and Dormael began to wonder when the captain of the fighting ship would furl them to avoid capsizing or losing one of his masts. Seacutter also had her sails up full, but with the wind at her back she crested the waves and rode through the rough seas as if she was flying over them. Dormael began to have faith that they could outrun the galleon after all.
They came to the port side to stand next to Shawna, who stood with her hands on the railing gazing off at the galleon. D’Jenn stood next to her, and Dormael pointedly stood next to D’Jenn, placing him in between himself and the young lady. He hoped that she didn’t notice.
“The Galanians don’t seem to be quite as adept at sailing as the Orrisans are,” Shawna shouted over the noise of the driving rain.
“Few are,” D’Jenn agreed, “The Sherans obviously are the best, but our countrymen give them a run for their money. Rumor has it that the Kerrallians are quite the sailors as well.”
“Even so, it is going to be a close race,” Dormael commented, and they all fell silent to watch what was happening. It was tense, watching the galleon turn toward them, gain a little, then turn south to avoid listing too far to port, and lose a little in the process. Each time it seemed like Seacutter pulled a little bit ahead of the galleon, but it was hard to tell. There were times when Dormael thought that they were soon going to be in for the battle, and then the galleon would turn again and Seacutter would pull away.
Suddenly the wind picked up with force, and a loud creaking noise could be heard over the constant swish of the rain. Turning to see what was happening Dormael spotted a few men moving quickly to grab hold of a line that seemed to be pulled so tight it would break. Dread entered his heart.
“Furl the mainsail! Get to it you bastards, before we lose her completely!” Kennick’s loud booming voice roared from the stern castle, and more men moved to obey him. They rushed along the rails grabbing ropes and untying them quickly, they climbed the netting that led to the crow’s nest and began climbing along the pole that held the mainsail out against the wind. The three companions backed away from the railing and tried their best to stay out of the sailor’s way. Soon, they had the mainsail down and tied to the mast securely, but with the loss of its pushing force Seacutter slowed to just better than half of what she had previously been cruising. The galleon was gaining on them.
“Gods above! Ready the oars, men! Grab your weapons and stand to! For your lives, you bastards!” Kennick’s voice
boomed again, and men rushed to obey him. “Blessed, now’s the time when we’re going to need you most!”
“Just keep her headed south, good Kennick,” Dormael yelled back, “We’ll see what we can do to make them regret giving chase.”
“Post the guard; ready your bows! Oarsmen, pull!” Kennick called, and suddenly men appeared from below decks with crossbows at the ready, each with a short pin at their waste, and a few with curved cutlasses on their belts as well. Oars blossomed from the sides of the ship from somewhere below, and a drumbeat began. With a sharp cry of “Heave!” from many mouths below them, the oars began to pull Seacutter slowly through the water.
The galleon came up along the port side, trying to ram Seacutter, but the winds pushed her farther to the south and it was obvious that she would miss the sleek smuggler’s ship. Instead, Dormael watched the galleon try and turn south and then east, to come around the starboard side. He had an idea, but he needed to get to higher ground to do it. He gazed up at the crow’s nest.
“I need to get up there!” He exclaimed to D’Jenn, pointing at the bucket atop the mainmast.
“Eindor’s Eye, your leg, cousin! There’s no way you’ll be able to make that climb,” D’Jenn shouted at him through the din of the storm.
“I’ll make it; you two just do what you can to keep them from boarding us. I’m going to take care of those ballistae for good.” D’Jenn nodded, a bit exasperated, and Shawna looked openly worried. He tossed his staff to D’Jenn, as he would be unable to carry it on the climb. He winked at Shawna in spite of himself and turned toward the rigging nets that led up the main mast.
He grasped the wet rope tightly as he scaled it, and his leg cried out in pain each time he put it down on the slippery netting. He was slow going at first, but the sight of the galleon coming back toward them on the starboard side ushered him along. It took him a few minutes, but after the arduous assent he was hefting himself over the side of the bucket and grasping the railing there to steady himself. His leg was throbbing in time with his heartbeat.
The Sentient Fire (The Seven Signs) Page 34