The Legends of Vandor: Anthology Volume 1 (The Legends of Vandor Anthologies)

by DJ Morand

  “Avast ye me hearties!” He bellowed the words as his crew stepped out on to the main deck. “We’ve got t’praetorium picaroons in t’wind. Take up ye arms an’ get ready t’dance for T’Sea Queen, our booty calls.” He knew it would be the better half of a day before they were able to catch up with the Praetorium vessel, but once the Praetorium sailors caught sight of them, they’d run. He hoped to have his men ready for the chase before the imperial vessel caught better wind.

  “Hands aloft t’ease sails, mateys. T’sea goddess is breathing astern and we’ve t’wind on our side. Har har!”

  The crew responded with a loud har har in response as The Sea Queen sailed towards its target.

  * * *

  The Maelsea: Year 1610 AO

  17 Ienfer: Sepal - 8th Hour of Eralda

  The Sea Queen

  Two hours later the sun was beginning to set. The sea spray had splashed up on the deck of the ship, making the prow of the vessel slippery. Captain Seafang stood, with his legs apart, resting his feet on either side of the narrow point of the prow. He held the rigging line above his head with his left hand. In his right he held a traditional spyglass. He took the device from his eye and turned back to the crew.

  “Trim t’topsail and put us one degree to t’north,” he said, bellowing over the sound of the wind. “Keep us on t’wind, don’t let her fall off.”

  “Aye Captain!” Gribbons called from the steering wheel.

  “Mr. Crane,” the captain said. “Climb t’the spreaders and trim t’main topsail.” He didn’t wait for the confirmation from Mr. Crane before continuing his orders. “Crow? Where in t’unholy sea is Crow?”

  “Here captain!” Crow said from halfway up the shroud to the crow’s nest.

  “Get your skinny arse t’the top of the crow’s nest and get me bearings,” Captain Seafang said.

  “Aye,” Crow replied.

  The captain nodded and put his eye back to his spyglass. The Praetorian ship had unfurled her sails. Seafang knew that meant they’d caught sight of The Sea Queen. He was determined to catch the treasure barge before she could navigate back into safer waters. The Maelsea was a cruel mistress and the harbinger of Thalassa. The captain was not worried about the goddess of the sea though. He had made his pact long before setting sail. Seafang knew he was the only man alive who could navigate the Maelsea as he could.

  “Crow!” Captain Seafang bellowed.

  “Four points north, by two east. That sow is heaving to east,” Crow said, calling down from the nest.

  “One point t’east, another three points t;north.” Seafang closed the spyglass and slipped it into his belt.

  Gripping the rigging, Seafang leaned forward and stretched out a hand. The ship moved at speed and the water churned below them. Seafang extended his hand and ran it through the swell created by The Sea Queen’s passing. He felt the temperature of the water as it passed between his fingers. It was cool, but warmer than it had been a week ago. The spring season was upon them.

  “Make haste.” Seafang called to his crew. “Two hours t’nightfall an’ Eradri’ll be leaving further. Keep the lanterns doused. We’re coming on them in cover of t’darkness.”

  Captain Seafang pulled himself up and danced across the prow back to the main deck. The crew busied themselves tying rigging and preparing for an assault. The Captain knew it would still be the middle of the evening before they caught the Praetorian vessel, but he let the men prepare. Few of them would survive the fight, that was always the way of it. If they took the ship without too much in the way of battle, they might allow the enemy crew to join theirs, should they prove amicable.

  “But not too amicable,” Seafang said to himself.

  * * *

  The Maelsea: Year 1610 AO

  17 Ienfer: Sepal - 4th Hour of Feralda

  The Sea Queen

  Clouds began to roll in near the midpoint of the night. Captain Seafang grinned.

  Thalassa be praised, he thought.

  Seafang stood up from the upturned bucket he’d been sitting on. Kicking the bucket, Seafang rested a hand on his sword hilt. The cutlass shone in the dimming moonlight, catching the last rays as Eradri and Iendri disappeared behind the clouds. The bucket tumbled and clattered to the side, waking the few sailors nearby.

  “Crow!”

  “Aye Captain,” Crow said.

  “Bearings now,” Seafang said, his voice croaking. He smacked his lips and held out a hand towards one of the other sailors. “Ale.”

  The sailor handed his flask to the Captain. He took the flask and took a deep draw from it. Seafang sighed contentedly and re-corked the flask. He tucked it into his belt, and the sailor whose flask it was, frowned. Seafang knew that none of the crew would question him about it now, and they would likely forget by the time battle began. Still, he made a mental note to return the item to the sailor albeit free of drink.

  “Listen up ye scallywags,” Seafang said, letting his voice take on a mysterious tone. “It’will be but another twist of t’hourglass afore we’re within range of t’Praetorian sow. We’ll roll out t’ballistae in half a twist. Keep t’lanterns doused, use their hoods when ye need light. For all t’gods’ sake don’t ye dare let t’Praetorians see ye. About now, they’ll be thinking they lost us in the night. Give them no cause t’think otherwise. Man up crew and be at t’ready.”

  Seafang turned around and faced the front of the ship. He watched the Praetorian vessel cut through the sea, and he imagined his boots on her captain’s neck. A small smile played across his features.

  * * *

  The Maelsea: Year 1610 AO

  17 Ienfer: Sepal - 9th Hour of Feralda

  The Sea Queen

  The evening gave way to the early light of dawn. The sea was still black, but the captain of The Sea Queen did not care so long as they were successful in their endeavor. The Praetorian ship was in full view now, even given the cloudy morning. Eradri and Iendri were still visible silhouettes behind the morning’s haze, giving what little light they had in partnership with the rising sun. Captain Seafang breathed in a deep breath, reveling in the fresh salty air.

  The captain stood behind the helm. The Praetorian ship’s aft hull grew larger as The Sea Queen steadily approached. The first hail of arrows came and fell just short of the pirate vessel’s prow.

  “Keep us in t’wind,” Seafang said, leaning in to whisper to the helmsman.

  The young man nodded and adjusted his steer slightly to port. Seafang felt the wind catch the sails, and he grinned. He put a hand on the young man’s shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.

  “That’s the way of it lad.” The captain reached across his abdomen and drew his saber. The blade came free of its sheath with a metallic ring. He raised the sword in the air and spoke at the top of his voice. “Alright ye scallywags, watch for t’arrows. We’ll be on them like a pack of dogs on a three-legged cat as soon as your mother can turn a trick. T’bastards won’t know what hit them.”

  A chorus of ayes and a few grumbles issued from the crew as they moved to take up shields and hunker down on the deck. The Sea Queen ripped through the Praetorian ship’s wake and lost a few yards. Which turned out to be fortuitous for the captain. An arrow thudded into the deck directly in front of him. The feathered shaft swayed slightly from the impact. Seafang growled and stomped on the arrow from a sideways angle. The shaft broke into two with an audible snap.

  “Is that t’best ye got?” He howled at the treasure ship. “Avast ye!”

  The captain waited for another volley of arrows, but none came. He realized then that they were closing too fast and the Praetorian ship was coming about. Seafang’s eyes widened. He could feel his jaw slacken a bit, and he snapped it shut.

  “Hard to port!” Captain Seafang turned around spitting the words at the helmsman. “T’bastards are trying t’cripple t’wind. Hard to port!”

  “Aye sir, hard to port,” the helmsman said. Corded strands of muscle flexed and stretched as the helmsman yan
ked on the helm.

  Captain Seafang turned and stared hard at the Praetorian ship. It was easily twice the size of The Sea Queen, but he figured it would have much the same crew. The Praetorians were rich and cherished their riches, it would be unlike them to give enough space to crew. He figured half the needed crew, which would match the thirty souls on his ship; not counting himself.

  “Hoist colors, let them know who they are dealing with,” Seafang said.

  “Hoist colors.” Several cries issued from the crew as the red flag with a skull and crossed swords in white was raised from the mainmast.

  “Crow!” Seafang bellowed to the lookout. “Blast it Crow, where in t’gods’ name are ye?”

  Crow, the wiry and dark haired man stepped up beside Seafang, his jaw twitching in irritation. “I’m here cap’n.”

  “Gods damn ye Crow, get your scrawny arse up that pole and get me bearings.”

  “Aye aye cap’n,” The man said, turning a dark look away from the Captain.

  Crow scrambled up the mainmast to the crow’s nest. Arrows flew out from the Praetorian ship. They whizzed through the air, making a screeching sound as they did. Crow grabbed a rigging line and swung out wide from the mast as several of the arrows thudded into the place where he’d been. He continued the momentum of his swing and swam through the air like a bird until he twisted, landed sure-footed in the nest.

  Captain Seafang watched Crow fly, and he remembered why he’d taken to calling the man so. He continued to watch as Crow took out a lens and peered at the Praetorian vessel.

  “A point north, by two points northwest.” Crow called down to the captain.

  Seafang looked at the helmsman, who appeared to be waiting on the captain. “What’re ye waiting for? One point north by two northwest.” The Sea Queen lurched as she turned out of the wind. Captain Seafang growled. “Don’t broach my ship helm. Beat to quarters, draw t’ballistae and ready t’hooks.”

  The captain watched as the enemy’s ship came about. He could see her broadside as clear as day. They were still apart, but his crew had managed to bring The Sea Queen all the way around the other vessel.

  “Steady as she goes,” Seafang said to the helmsman. “Bring us in close enough t’see their bottlescrews.”

  The Praetorian ship had lost the wind, being the heavier of the two vessels it lost its momentum first. Small bursts of wind were enough to keep The Sea Queen moving, but it was a slow process. Slow enough that the Praetorian crews began firing arrows again. Several thudded against the broadsides, but a few managed to connect with shields or with sailors.

  “Steady,” Captain Seafang said. He waited until they were almost even with the enemy vessel. “Now! Loose the ballistae.”

  * * *

  The Maelsea: Year 1610 AO

  17 Ienfer: Sepal - 10th Hour of Feralda

  Praetorate’s Pride

  The Praetorian helmsman watched in horror as the enormous ballistae missiles flew through the air. He had tried to maneuver the ship away from the approaching pirates, but they were too agile. He hated this ship, with its pretentious captain and his holier than thou perceptions. Words like selected by the emperor and pride of the praetorium rankled with him. However, they were a part of the captain’s regular vocabulary. It was all well and good to be a part of something larger. It was another thing entirely to take it to fanaticism.

  “Bear arms,” the captain said. “Beat to quarters, heave to men.”

  The orders did not include the helmsman, Junthar Varst, his duty would always be to the helm. Junthar was not a young man, by any means, but he was strong and able-bodied. Near his thirtieth year, he had fended off countless pirates and creatures of the sea. He recognized when a crew was outmatched. Senior to even the captain, Junthar had the most experience, but he was not a leader.

  Arrows the size of trees slammed into the broadside of The Praetorate’s Pride. The impact knocked each of the sailors, to a man, to the deck. The ship rocked violently and the wheel of the helm slipped from Junthar’s grasp. The ship groaned in protest as the ropes attached to the ballistae arrows grew taught. Men fell overboard as both of the seafaring vessels clung to each other. Junthar could hear the cries of the enemy they were so close.

  “Heave to maties,” a gruff and aged voice said. “Haul her in t’us. Don’t let t’lines slack.”

  For a moment Junthar wanted to say something to his shipmates. A farewell, a warning, he didn’t know. He felt compelled to act, but before he could he remembered the helm. The wheel was spinning rapidly as the sea toyed with the rudder. He imagined tides of ocean sweeping below decks through the holes that must have been made by the ballistae. He rushed to the wheel and grasped hold of it. The gods must have been with him because it did not thrash him about. Instead, Junthar took hold of the wheel and held it steady. He could feel the pull of the sea and the ropes, and he knew his hold would not last.

  “Beat to quarters you dumb bastard,” the captain said. He stood over Junthar, who was still trying to hold the helm. “They’ve already loosed their hooks, they’re coming for a fight. Bear arms for the Praetorium, for the glory of the Midland Empire.”

  The captain turned and raised his rapier in the air. He charged. Junthar stood and released the helm. He stared at the charging captain as the man swung his blade at one of the pirates leaping onto the deck. The pirate took a slash on the arm and danced to the side. Drawing a dagger and a short blade he squared off with the captain. Junthar saw it coming before the captain did. The pirate lunged, purposefully over-extending his sword arm. Junthar watched as the captain swung down hard to block the blade, exposing his body to the pirate’s dagger. Obliged, the pirate drove his dagger into the captain’s chest and neck several times. His face sneered and laughed as the captain gasped.

  Junthar reached for his sword. He drew it and entered the fray.

  * * *

  The Maelsea: Year 1610 AO

  17 Ienfer: Sepal - 10th Hour of Feralda

  Praetorate’s Pride

  Crow was the first to board the Praetorian ship. He danced across the deck and leapt at the first Praetorian he saw. Seafang watched as the small man dispatched the captain of the vessel as if the man were no more than a lamb to the slaughter.

  Fool, Seafang thought. He’ll rouse the crew. Sooner or later I’ll have t’see him hanged, pity.

  Captain Seafang growled under his breath and leapt from The Sea Queen to the Praetorian ship in a single bound. It was an impressive feat for a man of his size and age. His crew cheered as he did so and some attempted to emulate him. Some succeeded, others fell in the rough water between the ships. Seafang let his saber slam down on some poor soul’s shoulder. The boy cried out in agony and collapsed to the deck. He dropped his weapon and clutched at his wound.

  A tall man, in his mid to early thirties rushed at Seafang. He had more skill than the captain of this ship had, and he held his own against several of Seafang’s crew. The man dashed and ducked. His rapier was an extension of his arm. Seafang was impressed.

  “Move aside lads,” Seafang said. “This one is mine.”

  The pirates stepped back tentatively, keeping their guard up as they withdrew, leaving Seafang and this helmsman facing off.

  “You’ve got some skill sailor,” Seafang said. “What’s your name?”

  “Lieutenant First Class Junthar Varst of his Emperor’s Praetorium,” the man said. “Might I have your name as well?”

  “Captain Vargus Seafang of T’Sea Queen,” Seafang said. Junthar raised an eyebrow, and his sword dipped slightly. “Ah, so ye’ve heard of me. Call your men off and perhaps we can have a parlay.”

  * * *

  The Maelsea: Year 1610 AO

  18 Ienfer: Rytal - 1st Hour of Eralda

  Praetorate’s Pride

  Junthar didn’t know what to say. He had heard of the Pirate Lord of the Maelsea, but he never suspected he would be face to face with him. The Pirate Lord stood, imposing and fearsome. Junthar swallowed hard. Look
ing past the pirates, he could see his shipmates losing the battle, several had already been subdued. The captain lay sprawled out on the deck, bleeding.

  “Parlay,” Junthar said, his voice barely a whisper.

  “Eh? What’s that?” Seafang grinned.

  “Parlay,” Junthar said again.

  “Parlay it is then.”

  Seafang put his fingers to his mouth and whistled. The pirate crew stopped fighting, allowing the wounded to retreat behind Junthar. The Lieutenant First Class nodded at the men as they laid down their arms.

  “I’ll hear your terms pirate,” Junthar said.

  “Aye, ye’ll hear them.”

  * * *

  The Maelsea: Year 1610 AO

  18 Ienfer: Rytal - 1st Hour of Eralda

  Praetorate’s Pride

  Seafang could respect a man who looked after his own. This Junthar might prove useful in turning the rest of the crew. He knew he had to choose his words carefully. Sheathing his sword, Seafang took a step towards Junthar. He sized the man up, looking him in the eyes. Junthar never looked away. Seafang smiled again.

  “Ye’ve got spirit,” Seafang said. “My terms are this, first ...”

  Seafang felt a sharp pain behind him and warm liquid spreading across his lower back. Stumbling forward he latched onto Junthar. His eyes opened wide. Seafang coughed, blood spat from his lips.

  “First ...” Seafang coughed again. He forced his mouth shut, his teeth pressed together. As he tumbled to his knees. “Help me up.”

  Junthar looked at Seafang then looked at the wiry man standing behind him.

  “In case you had not guessed,” Crow said. “This is a mutiny. Vargas Seafang, you are no longer captain of The Sea Queen. Which reminds me, I am changing the name to Sea Serpent fitting, don’t you think?”

  Seafang coughed again. He twisted on his heels and landed on his bottom. “Well lad, ye got t’be pulling me leg now.” Seafang smiled, his teeth covered in blood gave him a grim appearance. “I didn’t think ye had t’guts t’do anything like this, well played Crow.”