Jewel of the Surf

by B. C. Johnson

  “Oh that’s alright,” the healer waved her hand dismissively, but then suddenly gasped with excitement. “We should go get you a new one! Oh, you’d look so pretty in a navy blue imperial with a little fringe along the…”

  “Don’t push your luck,” April interrupted.

  Haven giggled softly and put the finishing touches on April's bandage replacements. She put the sling away; the female rogue not needing it any longer. “All done!” She chimed.

  April stood and stretched out her arm. It felt good to be able to move it again. She looked down at the still seated healer. “Thanks. And… I’m glad that you’re… you know, not dead and all.”

  Haven beamed. She was so happy she could almost burst but kept her composure. It was nice that the two of them weren’t at each other’s throats anymore. “I’m glad you’re feeling better too, now there’s just one more thing I need to do.”

  “What’s that?” April asked.

  Haven jumped to her feet and wrapped her arms around April. She hugged her so quickly and at such an awkward angle that April couldn’t really return the embrace. Haven didn’t care, she squeezed her tightly and then released her with a cheesy grin. “See? That’s not so bad is it?”

  “I may have saved you Snowflake, but I’ll still kill you,” April threatened sarcastically.

  Haven faked astonishment and pointed a finger at her. “You just gave me a nickname…”

  “I what?”

  “You just gave me a nickname!” Haven cried excitedly.

  By this time the boys had overheard the conversation and were sticking their heads in from the dining room. “What’s that now?” Sam asked.

  “Guys! April just gave me a nickname! I’m so rubbing off on her,” Haven poked fun.

  “I did not!” April crossed her arms.

  “Snowflake, you called me Snowflake,” Haven continued.

  The guys chuckled and returned to their own conversation. Haven and April locking eyes. Haven stopped her jesting. “I will wear the name, proudly,” Haven saluted comically.

  April rolled her eyes and started to walk away. When she was sure Haven couldn’t see her face; however, she allowed herself to smile.

  * * *

  The next few weeks were busier than Sam had ever thought possible. Two-thirds of the city’s population was slowly and orderly moved into the central borough and set up with temporary housing. The army and police worked in expert unison in evacuating boroughs that were on opposing sides from one another to cut down on congestion. At the same time, volunteers from every neighborhood were conscripted into a militia and stationed throughout the city as lookouts, security patrols, and blockade guards. They were issued basic armor and weaponry, many of which did not fit them properly or not at all. Many conscripts used gear they brought from their homes, each wearing a bright red sash across their bodies to signify their allegiance and unit.

  Slowly the Navy fell in line according to Sam’s plan, anchoring and attaching their ships to one another around the perimeter of the city. By the time the Navy had almost finished, the corsairs arrived, a private mercenary sailing fleet Lochkary often used in times of war. A few days after, the smugglers and pirates began to arrive. The new arrivals weren’t too keen of attaching their ships to one another and staying motionless, but their love of gold outweighed any further urge to protest.

  As Sam and April walked the docks to observe the preparations of the new arrivals, they heard a familiar voice from behind. “I knew this crazy idea had to come from you two,” A dwarf’s accent rang out.

  Sam and April turned to see Christian MacDougal waddling towards them, a pirate sword replacing one of his daggers at his side. “You’re with the pirates?” April asked.

  “Yup, boss man sent me as a sort of middleman between these jackalopes and yur royalty. Got myself a right fine title while I was at it! Privateer they calls me,” Christian grinned. “Imagine that! Me with a title and everythin'. ‘Spose I have to pay taxes now?”

  Sam and April laughed. “Yes, one of the consequences of turning legitimate,” Sam agreed.

  “Ah well. Least they gave me this purdy tabard. Had to get it fixed a bit, the one they gave me was dragging the ground,” Christian admired his tabard with the national seal on it, the same one that had been handed out to every corsair, pirate, smuggler, and other mercenary. It served similar purposes as the militia’s red sash.

  “You’re going to be on the perimeter then?” April asked.

  “Mhmm, and I’ll be lookin for you two when it’s over. I still owe you a drink for helpin’ me with the boss. Now two for this fine promotion this fight’s given me,” Christian winked.

  “Well, we’ll celebrate you getting a medal at the end of this. You’ll earn two at least right?” Sam mocked.

  “I dunno. You ‘spose they make them in dwarf size? Can’t have a big ass clunker draggin me down?”

  April patted the little being’s stomach. “Think you do that enough for yourself, buddy.”

  The three of them burst out into laughter and the humans bid farewell to their dwarven friend. Regardless of their citizenship, whether they be noble or commoner, soldier or outlaw, Lochmare was everyone’s home. It was going to take everyone to defend her.

  Chapter 10

  The Sacking of an Icon

  It was a foggy winter morning when the bells rang out over the city. Scouting ships had spotted an armada entering Kari Straight which connected the Loch to the sea. Cain’s invasion force was coming. Shouting could be heard through the desolate streets as the militia sprang to action. Aboard the ships, the sailors called out commands and readied their battlements. Huge crossbows with javelins the size of small trees were loaded and prepped. Catapults, trebuchets, and other such weapons of war were manned and prepared. As the ships were stationary, their decks could hold numerous large military hardware that normally would never be used in ship to ship combat. In normal sea combat, most vessels fired flaming arrows and would ram one another with their powerful bows. Many pirate vessels also used a grappling hook system to rip down sails and board ships when in close range. Today however; with the ships’ long flat decks; it had been easy to place large machinery on them for the defense of Lochmare. Losing their maneuverability meant losing the ability to ram, which was the cause for concern from many opponent’s to Sam’s plan, but the Magi’s promise for choppy waters made many of the seamen happy they were safely anchored and tethered to the docks.

  As quickly and chaotic as the commotion had started, it stopped as soldiers and sailors finished their practiced preparatory drills and sat, painfully anticipating the armada emerging from the fog bank. Sam and April stood atop the inner wall around the central borough next to General Sillis and Nathaniel. Sam could taste the tension on the breeze, the salty smell of the great lake filling the silent streets as the winds began to pick up. “David’s not wasting any time,” He said to those next to him.

  David, Gladius, and Minerva were locked away in a room within the palace. They sat cross legged and facing each other in a triangle. Runes were drawn all across the floor and walls, each one meticulously scribbled to match each of the elements they were attempting to commune with. Wind, Water, and Power were among the main. The three Magi nodded to each other, closed their eyes, and started the séance.

  Haven moved from bed to bed within the Cathedral for the Light, helping the priests heal wounded from accidents during the evacuation into the central borough. She did her best to keep the masses of civilians calm in the growing tension, swallowing a bit of fear she was feeling herself. When she wasn’t attending patients, she was prepping rooms, beds, and bandages for what was surely going to be an influx of injuries over the length of the battle.

  Ahtash and Ashtock were scattered about the fleet tethered to the perimeter of the city while Dinaer watched from on top of the rotunda on the palace's roof. Other than the coliseum and inner wall, it was the highest point in the city. Each waited as impatiently as the others aroun
d them.

  The city was silent, all eyes to the west. A tempo of drumbeats began to echo across the waters, faint at first but slowly it grew and grew in volume. Sailors shifted uneasily as the thumping got louder and louder, sounding at one point as if the armada was right on top of them. When no one could take the suspense any longer, the vessels appeared. Gliding from the fog like ghostly apparitions, Cain’s black armada poured into the loch. The vessels ranged in size, from small skiffs to large frigates. The larger vessels were the color of midnight and were three massed, their black sails tattered and menacing. The ships split at the entrance to the loch, some travelling south while others north, their apparent plan was to surround the city while the drums continued to thunder through the stillness. The vessels’ crews seemed confused at first, almost as if they were prepared to meet opposition in the open water; instead they found the ships tied to the docks.

  The Lochkary Navy waited until a few frigates were revealed from the fog bank and then the officers gave the order to fire. Flamed arrows, giant rocks, javelins, and other such projectiles filled the air on the western flank. Most splashed harmlessly into the water but a few caught sails of skiffs, crashed into the decks of frigates, and skewered marauders overboard. The initial volley was surprisingly successful, the armada made for an easy target as they were funneled at the canal’s entrance. Cheers rang out through the western flank as they saw smaller skiffs go up in flames and frigates veer off course as they started taking on water from the holes caused from the boulder impacts. Sam allowed himself a smile at least, but he knew this was only the start. His hesitance was justly motivated, for every ship that was sunk or disabled, three more poured through the canal to encircle the city. The armada kept their distance, orbiting the docks like vultures waiting for its prey to exhaust itself. The Navy continued to fire, hitting a third of what they were aiming at in the next five volleys. Signal flags from the ships communicated instantly back to the command on the inner wall, reports flying into Sillis’ hands left and right. “We’re wasting ammunition,” She stated. “Tell them to hold their fire. They want to sit out there, we'll let the storm take them under.”

  Within a few minutes the volleys stopped, the nervous tension again blanketing them as ships continued to pour in and encircle the city. “What are they waiting for?” April asked. “They should have rammed us from the beginning. They’ll be sitting ducks once David starts…”

  Sam’s eyes widened, “They’re not going to ram us… Look!”

  As if to answer him, holes began to open along the hulls on the port and starboard sides of the armada’s frigates. Large cast-iron tubes began to protrude from these holes, about sixteen on each side on two sub decks, thirty-two in all. Before the Lochkarians could understand what was going on, loud explosions burst from the ships, the iron tubes flashing in bright bursts of light and white smoke. A menacing iron ball ripped through the air from each tube and smashed into decks, houses, masts, and people as it careened through the Navy’s defensive line. Wood splintered into the air as did bodies. Screams and yelling could be heard throughout the city as some of the projectiles passed over the ships and into the streets of the boroughs. The Militia had nothing else to do but duck behind their barricades and pray the menacing balls didn’t impale them. “By the Sprites…” Sam stated in amazement as the navy officers struggled to get their sailors back to their positions.

  “What in the name of the Architect was that?” April asked bewildered.

  “Cannons,” Sillis stated, grim faced.

  “Cannons?” Sam repeated.

  “They fire iron artillery using a substance called explosive powder,” Nathan explained.

  “Like the stuff we used in the Underbelly?” April asked.

  “What do we do?” Nathan asked the general.

  Sillis stood her ground as another barrage of cannon fire made the others duck for cover. “We pray for rain.”

  * * *

  Inside the palace the Magi were disconnected from the physical world. Their eyes were closed and the runes on the ground slowly began to glow. Their corporeal forms left as a tether to the real world, David, Gladius, and Minerva walked a foggy spiritual plane few managed to venture. This was the realm where the Sprites once retreated to, their safe haven away from Cain and his followers. The Magi saw distant lights and heard muffled laughter as if they were walking through a dream. Strange alien plants grew around them, tide pools scattered sporadically about the swampy landscape. This world was strange, foreign, and wild. David called out towards the misty clouds that surrounding them. “Sprites? Can you hear us? We seek your aid.”

  Minerva saw fins in the pools swimming around them and pointed them out. They appeared in one pool, then a different one, then another. Marina, the Water Sprite, poked her head out of the misty pool at their feet and splashed water onto David’s boots. “Apprentice Aidyn, it is good to see you again,” She spoke in a plain tongue.

  “The pleasure is mine, Milady,” David bowed respectfully. “You’re speaking my tongue this time?”

  Marina treaded water next to the three Magi. “You are in our realm now young human; we all speak the same tongues here.”

  “Please Milady, we need your aid to help our city defend against Cain’s armada,” Minerva pleaded.

  “I felt his corruption cascading across my surface. His reach has grown long,” Marina agreed.

  “So you can help us?” Gladius asked.

  “She won’t be alone,” Another voice spoke behind them.

  David felt his hair blowing and the breeze caress his cheek. The boy smiled as the same breeze blew around Gladius, making papers stuck haphazardly in his pockets fly about him, the Wizard grasping desperately to try and recapture them. “My children,” The voice laughed, “Did you forget about me?”

  David shook his head, speaking into the air at the unseen Typhoon, the Wind Sprite. “Of course not Sir, we would be most gracious for your help.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Marina asked.

  “A storm, the likes of which has not been seen on the face of Teva,” Minerva stated.

  The sprites thought. “A hurricane, with the ability to sink a fleet,” Typhoon’s voice echoed through the air around them.

  “Or an evil armada as it were,” Marina agreed.

  “We don’t have enough power to sustain AND control it…” Typhoon explained.

  “You’ll need me,” A voice rang out.

  An Amazonian woman stepped from behind a twisted tree in the spirit mists, standing over nine feet tall and bristling with muscles. She looked down upon the tiny mortals with a sneer. “Hmph, puny Magi.”

  “Delta, we were hoping you overheard us,” Typhoon stated.

  “Your plan is a good one, though unruly the storm will be. Once created, there will be no controlling its path. Your city could very well be destroyed by both cannon fire and elemental fury,” Delta explained.

  David sighed but then came to a realization. “Use us as an anchor! Our bodies- use them to control the storm and keep the eye over the city.”

  The Sprites looked both impressed and concerned. “Young human, your bodies will be useless in the fight. You will have to remain here with us to maintain the connection. If someone should find you…” Marina paused

  “…they could kill you and you’d have no way of defending yourselves,” Delta finished.

  The Magi all looked at each other, each realizing the risk they were taking. Gladius and Minerva nodded to David. "Others guard the castle. Besides, if someone makes it that far into the city, well, we’ve lost already,” The apprentice explained to the deities.

  There was a long silence until Typhoon spoke. “I think we need one more to put the finishing touches on this little recipe.”

  A deep rumbling came from beneath their feet. A fissure cracked nearby, flames shooting into the air with searing heat. A heavily armored hand reached up from the crack and pulled itself to the surface. A monstrous knight rose from the deep
s, with massive horns adorning the top of his helmeted scalp and black armor pieces looking like tectonic plates, the spaces between them filled with bright red magma. Flames escaped its mouth with every breath and bright blue coals served as its eyes. The knight’s every footstep weld to the ground, forcing him to tear his feet from the floor with every pace. The crunching noise each stride made as it was placed then lifted sounded like shattered glass being fused then crushed again and again. The wilds caught flame all around him, the monstrosity pushing the burned tree skeletons out of his way. It paused, a few feet away from the mortals but still they could feel its searing heat. Even from a distance, it was almost unbearable. A deep booming voice echoed from the creature. “Who asks for the Devourer?”

  “Igneous, Sprite of the Flame, will you help us defend these mortal’s city against the Dark One?” Typhoon’s voice rang out.

  Igneous eyed them all, his nostrils bursting plumes of orange fire with each heave of his massive chest. “Forks of light I pledge to your cause,” He stated. “Only for the deeds this one has done for my children.”

  A large volcanic finger pointed straight at David. The apprentice bowed humbly. The Magi turned towards each other. “I suppose we should get started,” Minerva stated as they joined hands in a circle.

  Typhoon’s voice surrounded them as Marina and Delta put their hands on the mortal’s shoulders. “Come my brother and sisters, Lochmare belongs to all our children.”

  * * *

  Christian ducked as another barrage of cannon fire ripped through the ships’ hulls. He heard the rumbling of distant thunder as storm clouds gathered above his head from out of nowhere. Lightning cracked across the sky and the lakes’ waves began to toss and turn. “This is it lads!” The dwarf bellowed over the now howling wind. “Today the spirits themselves be on our side!”

  The clouds poured down rain and lightning as the wind circled the city of Lochmare in a spiral of destruction. A hurricane filled the sky around the loch, keeping Lochmare in the eye of its storm. Tsunami sized waves rose and fell across the lake’s surface and stopped mysteriously inches from the Navy’s perimeter. The waves tossed the armada’s frigates left and right, their cannon fire shooting either too short into the surf or too high as to sail over the defender’s heads.