Accidental Champion Boxed Set

by Jamie Davis

  He looked her way for the first time, flashing his pointed teeth in a large grin. His face was covered with blue tattoos, tiny dots forming a complex pattern on either side of his broad, flat nose and circling either eye.

  “You don’t look like the other goblins I’ve seen. Are you from a different tribe?”

  The cook turned and spat on the floor. “I ain’t no goblin. I’m a grendling, from the north. We’re not bound to the land, with no sea legs or longing for the sea. We’re not like our goblin cousins to the south.”

  “Oh, yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Perhaps we can start over. Do you have a name, Mr. Grendling?”

  He cackled at the name she’d used for him and waggled a taloned finger in her direction. “Mr. Grendling. That’s a good one. Perhaps you should just call me Cookie or just Cook. That’s what the others aboard call me. I don’t think you could pronounce my real name.”

  “Alright, Cook, in that case, you may call me Cari.”

  She poured a little more tea from the kettle to top off her cup.

  “Thanks again for the ginger tea. I’ll look forward to whatever it is you’re making me and the captain for dinner.”

  Cookie waved a hand in answer, then took down another covered bowl and pulled out a small root of some kind from which he scraped shavings into the pot with a paring knife.

  Cari left him there, grumbling over his work. She decided it would be best to get some rest before dinner. The bout of seasickness had taken a lot out of her, and she hoped the nap would refresh her.

  She continued sipping at her tea as she returned to her cabin, happy she was on her way to catching up with her friends once again.

  Chapter 23

  Each day at sea, Cari found she needed the ginger tea less and less, allowing her to spend more time on deck. She started lending assistance where she could, always at the direction of Mr. Bowcott, who followed her progress on the tasks he assigned with a steely gaze and sharp criticism if she did something wrong.

  “There is no room for halfway or almost on board a vessel at sea. That can mean the difference between survival or being lost at sea with all hands, especially during a storm or sea battle.”

  Cari took the criticism as a challenge to do better, working even harder at her tasks until she could tie off lines or coil hawsers as well as any crew member, man or woman. The hard work paid off on the sixth day at sea when she heard a chime, and a new message appeared in her vision.

  Skill learned — Seamanship.

  In the evenings, after their dinners together, Cari inquired about how the captain navigated across the open ocean. Where she came from, satellite communications made knowing your location anywhere on the planet a simple task. Here, she had no idea how they could know anything about where they were.

  Captain McShea offered to answer her questions about navigation, along with the disposition of different parts of the Empire he’d visited on his travels aboard a merchantman. He started off showing her his collection of charts, noting areas with dangerous shoals and regions most likely to be inhabited by raiders, the pirates of the seas around the Empire. She noted how he’d left handwritten comments on them to remind him of important things to remember when navigating through those waters.

  Cari pointed to the area labeled in the captain’s hand with the single word “Raiders.” She realized they were skirting around it on the way to Tandon.

  “Why do all the raiders seem to congregate in this area, Captain?”

  “Two reasons in my estimation. First, it is farthest from the closest imperial naval base, and second, there is an island chain off to the south which most of the raiders call home. In the time of my youth, they used to be a people who valued trade and traveled far and wide all along the coast. They were fine seamen. That changed about twenty years ago when most of them started taking up piracy as a profession over merchant trading.”

  He continued, “It is why we don’t sail directly to Tandon in a straight line but curve around, taking a great deal more time to get there. To sail directly through would be suicide for a small ship like mine. I don’t even think a naval vessel would try the transit unless it was part of a flotilla. I still don’t know why the imperial navy doesn’t make it a priority. I guess they’re too busy with the war to the east.”

  “It must be harder to navigate when you have to make all those turns to avoid the raider territory.”

  “That is why I take readings with my sextant in the morning, at noon, and at the evening bell every day. It helps me locate my position on the chart with greater accuracy. Here, let me show you how it works.”

  Cari watched as the captain demonstrated how he figured out his position, using the navigational tools he had at his disposal. By relying on his compass, sextant, and charts, Captain McShea said he could gauge his ship’s location with great precision. He used a large chart under a plate of clear glass in his cabin to follow his position, marking each day’s progress with a line drawn on the glass using a soot-blackened wax pencil.

  On the third day of teaching her his charting techniques, he allowed her to take the morning readings under his watchful eye and make the notation of their overnight progress. As she drew the line on the glass, she thought about how the use of what she considered basic math had practical applications she’d never dreamed of in Fantasma. She might have paid more attention to trigonometry if her teacher had explained how ships used math to chart their course.

  That revelation set off a new chime in her head, and a flashing menu popped up. When she checked the notification, she saw she’d gained another skill on this journey.

  Skill learned — Navigation.

  As soon as the new skill was added to her stats, Cari glanced at the chart spread on the table. Now, she saw a range of possible course corrections displayed on the glass next to her course markings. As she focused on each, she noted potential adjustments for things like currents, shifts in the winds, and total sail surface area. Cari suspected the broad variations could be refined more as she leveled up the new skill.

  Captain McShea seemed pleased with her progress, and the next morning, he handed the sextant to her and told her to take the readings on her own and report the ship’s position to him on the chart, along with the distance from their destination, when she’d finished her calculations.

  Cari smiled, beaming with pride, and headed up to the quarterdeck to “shoot the sun,” as the captain had called it. She was making the final adjustments before taking her reading when a voice from the lookout drifted down to the deck.

  “Sail ho. Ten degrees off the port bow.”

  Cari turned and looked to port from her position at the rail. Mr. Bowcott stepped up next to her with the ship’s main spyglass raised to his eye. When he was finished, he cursed under his breath and handed the glass to her.

  “Percy, fetch the captain if you would, and then tell the quartermaster to unlock the armory.”

  The boy raced off below, and Cari put the long spyglass to her eye and leaned over to steady her hip on the rail. The approaching ship leapt into view. She could see it cutting through the sea in their direction, a black-and-red checkered flag flying from its foremast.

  “Raiders?” Cari asked the first mate.

  “Aye, they’re flying the flag for all to see, which is pretty brazen, if you ask me. It’s a good-sized ship, too. If she’s got the number of cannon to match her size, we’re in trouble for sure. If not, we might be able to fight them off. They’ll not expect us to have guns, too. Given their position in the wind, we’ll never outrun them. They’ve got the angle on us to cut us off. We’ll have to trade a few broadsides before we can cut past them.”

  Cari handed the spyglass back to Mr. Bowcott and ran for her cabin. She stopped long enough to place the sextant back in its case in the captain’s cabin next to the chart locker.

  After returning to her room, she opened the cabinets and pulled out her things. She slipped the sword belt over her head, settling the blade and s
cabbard at her right hip. She secured her dagger through her belt on the left side and then headed back to the quarterdeck, where the captain now stood amidst a flurry of activity from the crew.

  “Keep that cannon port closed!” Captain McShea bellowed. “Let’s not show our hand too fast.”

  A group of the crew around one of the guns saluted and replaced the removable section of the ship’s rail to keep the cannon hidden. Each of the guns, two on each side, had a crew of three or four prepping it for action.

  Mr. Bowcott walked toward the captain with a large wooden case in his arms. He set it down on the deck and opened it.

  “Cutlasses and boarding axes are being handed out to the crew now. I brought these for the quarterdeck crew.”

  Cari peered over his shoulder to see flintlock pistols arrayed in a rack inside the wooden case. The lid also featured a built-in rack, containing a row of thin paper tubes tied with string at both ends. They were about the size of her forefinger. There was also a small horn with a wooden butt and a removable cork stopper attached via a string at the small end. That must contain gunpowder, she thought.

  “Good work, Mr. Bowcott,” the captain said. “Hand them out to the crew up here with us. I’ll take two for myself.”

  The first mate selected two of the pistols and began loading them, using two of the paper tubes.

  “I can help load those for you, Mr. Bowcott,” Cari said, kneeling down next to him on the deck. She was curious about the process. This was the first time she’d had an opportunity to handle firearms here in Fantasma.

  “Have you handled one of these before?”

  “No, but I learn fast. Show me and I’ll get them loaded for you.”

  “Alright, watch closely while I load the captain’s brace of pistols.”

  The first mate picked up one of the paper tubes and demonstrated how to tear open the top of the tube with his teeth. He explained that each tube contained a pre-measured amount of gunpowder and a lead ball. Cari then took one of the other pistols from the box and followed along while he loaded the second of the captain’s two pistols.

  “Good, you’ve got it. Finish the rest of them and hand them out to the helmsman and the others up here on the quarterdeck. Save one for me. I’ll get it later. I’ve got to get down to the main deck and supervise the loading of the cannons. We haven’t drilled on them nearly as much as I’d like.”

  Cari set to work while the first mate left to deal with his other responsibilities. There were ten pistols in all inside the case. It didn’t take her long to finish the task. When she finished, Cari wished she had a canteen or some other beverage to wash the acrid taste of gunpowder from her mouth after tearing open all the cartridges with her teeth.

  After lifting the heavy box, Cari presented it to each person around her, starting with the captain. He seemed startled to see her there with the pistols, but he reached in and took the first two in the double row. He shot a glance down at her swords and up at her determined face. After a moment of thought, the captain nodded.

  “Stay back and out of the way until we’re close. If they manage to board us, fight as if your life depended on it. You don’t want to be taken prisoner.”

  “I understand, Captain.”

  “Good.” He forced a smile on his face. “We’ll get through this in one piece. Just keep your head down.”

  Cari nodded and, with the pistols, moved around to the rest of the crew on the quarterdeck. There were three firearms left when she had finished. She set aside the one for Mr. Bowcott and shoved the final two into her belt.

  Standing there with her hands on her hips, wearing her wide-brimmed, plumed hat and bristling with weapons, Cari figured she cut quite the figure. She let a smile play across her face, despite the deadly danger the crew of the small merchant vessel faced.

  The raider ship was close enough to discern without a spyglass now. She could see men climbing the rigging as the ship put on more sail to catch the Bonnie Beth. Others clustered along the rail and pointed in the direction of their intended prey.

  All of the raiders were armed, carrying everything from cutlasses to wicked-looking battle axes. It was going to be a dire fight indeed when they caught up to the merchantman.

  The chase was a foregone conclusion. Cari had learned enough of navigation and seamanship to comprehend the angle and judge the wind. It would take perhaps half an hour or so, but soon, they would be floating alongside, preparing to board.

  For now, all she and her crewmates could do was wait. A chill raced down Cari’s spine as she stood at the stern rail, watching the raider closing from behind. It wouldn’t be long now.

  Chapter 24

  Cari was in no way prepared for the carnage she witnessed from the first cannon broadside on the raider ship. Two of the shots knocked out one of the two guns on the port side, blasting apart the rail and killing the entire four-person gun crew.

  Holes were blown in the rail in other areas, killing the members of the Bonnie Beth’s crew sheltering behind it. Two feet away from her, the helmsman was decapitated by a cannonball flying across the quarterdeck. His headless body collapsed to the deck in a spray of blood, the ship’s wheel spinning freely, causing the vessel to start turning in the direction of the raider.

  Seeing what was happening before anyone else, Cari darted toward the wheel and grabbed at the spokes as they spun by, halting the turn. Pulling with all her might, Cari brought the ship back around on course to hold them away from the raider ship. Judging by the angle and the sudden shift in their direction while the wheel had spun with abandon, she realized it might be too late.

  Another broadside, this time firing balls connected by an iron chain that caused them to spin through the air, took out whole sections of rigging and ropes holding the masts and sails above the deck. The foremast tilted as the mainstays were cut. The weight of the wind in the sails was too much for it. The mast snapped in half and came crashing down to the deck, crushing several crew members beneath it.

  The second broadside was followed by a dozen thrown grappling hooks as the Bonnie Beth slowed from the loss of sail. Most of the ropes and grapnels connected, clawing at the wood of the smaller merchant ship, the tines digging in as the ropes attached were pulled taut.

  The raiders hauled on the ropes, pulling the two ships closer and closer.

  Mr. Bowcott called down to the main deck for men armed with axes to cut the ropes as fast as they landed, but there were too many to cut before the raiders tugged the ships together.

  The captain spotted her by the wheel as she tried to turn the ship against the inexorable pull from the grappling lines.

  “Tie off the wheel, Miss Dix, and ready yourself for boarding. Here they come.”

  A shouted cheer sounded from the raider ship as the two ships ground together with a crash. Raiders, men and women alike, started leaping across to the Bonnie Beth, yelling their battle cries.

  The leaders of the charge were met at the rail and pushed back, some of them plunging into the sea below. Others followed, though, and soon the main deck swarmed with a mass of men and women, all fighting for their lives.

  A group of raiders raced up the ladders to the quarterdeck. The first two up the ladder fell back as the captain fired his pistols into their faces. Those following snarled with rage and swarmed up to engage the captain, the bosun, and the two other crew members assigned there with them.

  Two charged past them to where Cari stood by the helm.

  She drew her sword and dagger and crouched to meet them.

  Her sword whipped up, the speed enhancements she’d added back in Morton Creek bringing a vicious smile to her face.

  The first raider tried in vain to bring his cutlass up to parry the lightning-fast blow. He shouted a gurgling cry as his throat was slashed open.

  1,200 experience points awarded.

  The second man had to jump backward to avoid the first as he fell over, clutching his neck. This gave Cari the opportunity to lunge forward and try
to catch him unawares.

  The raider parried the attack and leapt over his fallen shipmate to take the attack to her with his shorter cutlass blade.

  Cari retreated to give herself some room, parrying the first cutlass slash with her dagger. The heavy cutlass blade pressed her arm back against her chest, bringing the raider so close she caught the fetid stench of his breath passing through his clenched, discolored teeth.

  She couldn’t bring her sword to bear with him this close, and he tried to grab her wrist to pin her other arm in place.

  Cari brought up her knee as hard as she could, driving the man’s balls up into him so hard he screamed like a young girl.

  He didn’t break away from her, though, and when she tried the knee again, he pivoted and took the strike on the hip.

  He twisted the cutlass and slid it downward, pulling it away from her dagger and slashing open a long cut in her arm.

  Health damage: Health -10

  Hissing at the pain, Cari stomped down with her boot’s heel on the raider’s instep and crushed the bones in his foot. He hobbled backwards, favoring the broken bones in his injured foot. She brought the sword around once again, using its enhanced blade speed to drive past his defenses.

  The raider managed desperate parries of the first and second attacks, but that left him open to an upward slash from her dagger. It passed up beneath his sternum and drove into his heart. He shouted a pained gasp and fell to the deck.

  1,200 experience points awarded.

  An explosion from just below on the main deck picked her up and threw her all the way to the stern. Cari landed hard, her ears ringing. She sat up, seeing double for a few seconds. Everyone on the quarterdeck was down, raider and merchant sailors alike.

  Captain McShea’s sightless eyes stared back at her, his chest stained with blood around the two-foot splinter of wood protruding from it.