Chương 51: 50 Sleeperson’s Crew

Blood. The lowering tide pulled at the heels of my boots, dragging smears of orange from crumpled shadows. Scores of bodies littered the shore, vague heaps in the crescent moonlight. My feet sank into muddy sand. I stepped over a fallen Deep One, torso riddled with bullet holes. The night flashed with white light, bright as day. I glanced over my shoulder at the shaft of white glare, and my knees bent to absorb the pressure shift as the artifact cracked like thunder. Around me, the corpses flashed with color.

Sailors, slavers, and Deep Folk lay in the sand, abandoned where they'd killed each other. Already, the stench of bloating fish and death offended the sea breeze. The Anti-Astral Defense System blinked away, leaving a harsh afterglow hovering in the air. A new hole glowed in the sky, partially overlapping the first. The timer jumped. <<Time to Seal Collapse: 03: 01: 05: 15: 47: 44>> Ten days, gone. Already, more than half a month lost. The punch of failure and despair never came. There was only numbness. Ingred.

I crouched beside a fallen slaver, prying his cutlass from his stiff fingers. Patches of rust flecked the blade, and several chips marked the edge. A shame. A swordsman trusted his life to his blade. The inverse was also true. The hole in my wrist burned, crusted blood flaring with heat. Good. Hopefully, it would never heal. I checked the slaver's pistol. Loaded, but the powder was wet. My hands moved on their own, unloading and recharging the pistol.

The monotony of the familial task grounded me through the fog in my mind. I shoved the pistol into my belt before crossing to another slaver, a Halfling. Mud slopped off his dropped saber as I picked it up. This one had been oiled, the leather of the handle recently replaced, and the blade keenly sharpened. I nodded down at the corpse in approval. His time had come; his blade hadn't been enough, but at least he'd show it the proper respect.

A curved sword in each hand, pain lanced up my right arm, centered on the bleeding pit in my wrist. I felt it again—a phantom echo of my blade piercing her side, the impact traveling up my arm. My grip tightened. The damaged flesh flared in protest. I focused on the pain, the only point of warmth in the chill. My boots pressed into blood-soaked sand, leaving prints as I continued to the docks. I read the corpses, and the battle unfolded before my eyes.

Slavers had been shepherding their cargo to their worksites, reeducating the stubborn when the Black Trench Deep Folk boiled from the sea. My gaze swept up the sand, skipping through time. The Black Trench Deep Folk hit hard, sweeping Thaddius' men up the coastline, but then the men on the ships turned their cannons on the beach, shredding them from behind. My boot clicked on wood as I ascended the steps leading to the dock.

A Dagaonite lay half-dangling over the water, an Orcish battle axe embedded in his shoulder. The Deep Ones adjusted their focus, springing onto the docks, trying to board the ships. A sloop still smoked, blackened by flame, yet somehow still floating. Along the line, the topmasts of a sunken cutter broke the water's surface. I passed a larger patch of slaver corpses, none of them bearing physical wounds. A psionic attack had cleared the rest of the docks. Deep Folk corpses clustered again.

They got bottlenecked at the gangplanks when a Bloodwake Dread Trooper counter-charge hit them from behind. A Drake-kin Dread Knight lay slumped over three smaller Deeplings, burns blackening the mutated fish scales. I stopped at a horizontal gangplank, a bridge at dock level extending to a water-tight hatch opening directly in the Black Chain's hull. Warm lantern light spilled from the interior.

"Who goes there?" A panicked voice cried from within, and boots scraped wood. Two shadows appeared in the hatch, carbines shouldered.

"More blasted fish?" A voice called from within.

"No," one slaver said. He thumbed the hammer on the weapon.

"I don't recognize you. Whose crew are you with?" Holding both swords low to either side, I stepped into the lantern light. My neck was made of lead, but I forced my eyes up to meet their panicked gaze.

"You know who I am?" I murmured, voice dry. A whispered murmur came in reply.

"The Mongoose."

"A User." I swallowed; a foreign weight caught in my throat.

"My name is Antonio Vitriol. Son of Puppetmaster." Their weapons lowered.

"W—What's going on?" One asked, casting a nervous look at the dig site. Footsteps sounded from within, and a Dwarf stepped into view, hands planted on his hips. My words were heavy; I had to pull them all the way up from the base of my gut.

"Thaddius is dead," I said.

"So is Lonnie. Gather the survivors and leave this place. Take the fastest ship."

"What about the Raven Reaper?" The Dwarf asked.

"What's happening to the sky?" Ignoring the question, I rested the cutlass' false edge on my shoulder and continued up the ramp. The slavers parted before me.

"Stay if you want," I nodded up to the breach in the heavens.

"See what happens." Another dozen sailors crowded inward from deeper in the ship's belly. The Dwarf's face tightened. He cast another skeptical glance at the holes in the sky. Like a damaged pane of glass on which the stars were projected.

"Let's go, lads," he decided, and they rushed, some pouring out of the ship, others hastily gathering supplies. Without looking, my sword came up, pointing.

"Not you." Jaser yelped, wringing his hands and glancing at his comrades for refuge. They ignored him. These men were battle-weary. They wouldn't fight. Not if they didn't have to.

"Keys," I said.

"Take me to the brig." The slavers had won the battle at the docks, but at a steep cost. Less than a quarter of the Black Chain's crew remained, making final preparations before evacuating. Jaser led me deeper into the hold, holding a lantern high and casting wary glances at my swords as we passed slave racks. The cells appeared, shadows stirring within.

"Captain?" Needles said, face pressed to the bars as he squinted in the lamplight.

"Make ready, men," I said.

"We're taking our ship back." Minutes later, Drogo was rubbing his wrists, and Clod snapped orders at the Kobolds to hurry with their shackles. Othess' grey eyes gleamed.

"Investment," he hissed simply, before nodding once.

"Don't thank me yet. I'm using you."

"Then that we have in common." Jaser started backing away.

"Stop," I said without looking at him. He froze. I motioned with my head toward an open brig door.

"You're letting the others go," he said, voice climbing in pitch.

"I didn't break them out of prison." I turned to him.

"You're going back where I found you."

"But—" A hiss cut the air as Othess reared up, cobra hood deploying and fangs flipping down. The Halfling went pale before hurrying into the cell. Drogo held out both hands. Jaser's Lantern went into one, the key ring into the other. The latch dropped as the gate shut, and the Halfling gripped the flat bars.

"You're coming back for me, right?"

"Me?" I shook my head.

"If you have any luck, Cousins far better than me will find you." My men armed themselves, and we crossed the docks as three smaller ships started pulling away.

"What'd I miss?" Drogo asked, eyes going to the new holes above, bleeding red vapors glowing in a haze. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. I didn't answer. They silently followed. A minute and a half later, we were approaching the Ash Zephyr, still docked.

"What's going on?" A familiar, nasal voice called from the deck as we approached. Bruno clutched the bulwark, looking eagerly after the departing ships. The gangplank bobbed under my troop's weight as we moved up it uncontested. Bruno squinted in the low light before his eyes went wide.

"Captain!" Vurel rushed from the hatch, a new tricorn atop his brow. He went very still when he saw me, eyes slowly dropping to the naked swords in my hands.

"I made you all a deal," I whispered. The last remnants of my crew bled from the shadows.

"One job—One job and you're free." My cutlass came up, pointing to the front of the Ash Zephyr.

"Fulfill your contract. Empty the magazine. Lash every barrel to the bow." Vurel swallowed, runic tattoos swimming across his throat.

"Captain—""Do it now!" I snarled, whirling on them, "You have thirty minutes. Then get off my ship." They sprang into action, feet pounding down the steps into the hull. Dustnose led the Kobolds in securing a sagging net to the bow. Clod raided William's workbench and returned with several flares and wind-up incendiary sparkers. I didn't help. The lower mast pressed into my back as I settled into a cross-legged seat, swords crossed in my lap. Exhaling long and slow, my head tilted up, and I watched the sky.

Time slows in moments of anticipated violence, but with my men frantically hauling barrels of powder into the nets on the bow, I was denied the silence of anxiety. The hole in my forearm pulsed with heat, and I wiped one eye. Ingred. Thirty minutes later, the drone of the charging weapon sent static through the air, a kinetic tingle even all the way out here. My less loyal crewmates scurried off the deck. My head rolled to the ramps as Bruno ran down. Vurel followed.

The Dwarf hesitated at the top of the gangplank, glancing back at me momentarily. Whatever happened in his head passed, and he slipped away. With a sigh, I rose, then turned to find Othess, Clod, Dustnose, and the other Kobolds, Needles, and Drogo waiting.

"I thought I told you to leave," I said.

"You need a crew," Dustnose said, snapping a salute.

"There are no friends where I'm going."

"Good thing we're subordinates, not friends."

"Yeah," Needles shrugged.

"You're paying us. We're professionals, not friends." Drogo tightened the bandage on his shoulder and nodded in agreement. My throat bobbed, a lump interrupting a breath. Kobolds, Goblins, and a Naga-kin. Not exactly the heroic crew I'd pretended to sail with as a child playing navy. But I was Sleeperson. So they were perfect.

"Cut us loose!" We pulled away from the dock, my skeleton crew scurrying to trim the sheets. I held both swords by the crossed blades, clutched tight in my right hand, left hand on the helm redirecting us in a loop around the bay.

"Ready the longboat!" I ordered, my burns tightening in pain.

"Othess, prepare to cut the helm cables. Wait for my order." The Cobra's gaze followed the bow toward the dam, and his eyes widened.

"Are we going to have time to make it to shore?" I angled the helm six degrees starboard, straightening our course.

"If there're no complications—yes." Then the complication I was waiting for arrived. An arc of trajectory light spotlighted me, and I threw myself back. The Raven Reaper streaked down, hand sickles sinking into planks. I tossed my swords, snatching them out of the air by the handles.

"Where's Thaddius?" The Raven Reaper demanded.

"Smeared across the plaza in the pit," I sneered back. His eyes widened as he wrenched his curved blades free.

"Lonnie too," I continued, settling into a double windmill guard.

"That's right, K-J Zero Four. The Guild dies with you." He snarled and blasted at me. Almost two hours after running dry, my mana bar ticked up a little. My blades ignited, scything in a figure eight of Ourabora's power. He cursed, one sickle spinning away and sinking into the bulwark. He jerked himself back from my windmill's path on a thread of gold light.

"Take cover!" I hollered.

"He's mine!" I cut the flow of mana to my blade. Kobolds scuttled into crevices like roaches, and Drogo ducked behind the longboat. The Raven Reaper whipped his sickles around, and his trajectory flashed to my side. I was chopping before he appeared in the space. Sparks sprayed as steel shrieked against steel. He feigned a strike and then kicked me in the chest. My back hit the quarterdeck rail, and I arched my spine, throwing myself backward over the banister. Wind embraced me, light and free.

Time slowed as I dropped lightly onto the main deck. A lighthouse trajectory beam warned me of the danger, and I rolled laterally as the assassin blurred past. He twisted in the air, hurling both sickles. I chopped one from the air and deflected the other. Gold threads flashed into existence from his fists, trailing to the handles of the curved blades. They spun back, ripping toward my back on their tethers. We'd done this before. None of it was new.

The trajectory paths guided my swords as I batted them from the air. The sickles snapped into his hands, and he snarled as he hurled them again. I chopped at them. Metal clashed, and they spun away before zipping back toward me on gold lines. I smashed one aside on the return path, but he gave the other a double tug, and the trajectory path jerked unpredictably. A new line of pain grazed my temple. A furious grin split my lips. Adrenaline—I felt it. It penetrated the numb.

I slammed my cutlass point-first into the deck and drew my pistol. He launched to evade, kicked off the mast, and his winged cloak snapped once, launching him again. I lined up trajectory paths.

"Gotcha!" I hissed. The pistol thundered, and he corkscrewed fast as an arrow, twisting around the bullet. I threw the empty pistol aside with a snarl, yanking my cutlass free and waiting. Memories flowed, mental recreations of our last fight. Either he'd vanish above and strike down, or he'd grab me and take me up with him. Only he didn't. He perched on the yard above, breathing heavily as he watched me. I clashed my swords together.

"C'mon!" Gathering both sickles in one hand, he pulled his raven mask free. A lean face and hard, dark eyes stared back down at me.

"Let's finish this," I said, lip curled. The assassin glanced past me, toward the explosives, then his eyes carried further to the dam. I couldn't duel him—didn't have the time. He beat Tony Moretti, so now he had to face Antonio Vitriol. Motion near the longboat drew my eye. Dustnose jerked back into his hiding spot under the vessel. The Raven Reaper followed my gaze, spotting the young Kobold. My eyes widened. He wanted leverage. I'd give it to him.

"Hey!" I barked.

"Leave my crew out of this!" A smile slid across his lips, and he shifted on his perch, angling himself toward the hiding Kobolds. There it was. He'd exploit my weakness. I cared, and he knew it. Only—this time it was my weapon. I glanced from the assassin to the mast to the boat. Distance. Angle. Line of travel. Vector Calculated.

"No!" I cried, sprinting to get between him and Dustnose. I deliberately turned my back on him. His trajectory path flared, bright and certain, arching around the mast to intercept me. I slammed the cutlass into the mast, burying half the blade, then threw myself clear. He blurred with speed, hooking sharply around the mast. His eyes were on me, filled with rage. Not the mast. Not the steel fixed in place. His cloak's flight path propelled him through the sword like a guillotine. Impact split him cleanly.

Warmth flecked across my face. His top half clipped the bulwark and disappeared over the edge. His sickles and legs skittered across the deck. I panted, wiping my face and streaking red across my hand.

"Captain!" Drogo called, pointing at the dam, rapidly approaching.

"Get that boat in the water!" I scooped up the sickles and added them to my inventory. Othess approached.

"Disabled the helm. She's free." I rushed over to the davit, pushing the arm that cradled the rowboat out over the water.

"On, everyone!" My crew leaped onto the launch craft, and I did a quick count. My head snapped up.

"Clod!" The fat kobold was on the bow, cranking spring work flares, dropping sputtering flames onto the barrels.

"Move!" I thundered, and he dropped his final one before sprinting over, belly sloshing with the motion. Clod leaped, impacting the side of the rowboat and not clearing the edge. His legs kicked desperately over open air. Drogo and the other Kobolds seized him and hauled him aboard. I leaped on last, the hanging boat swinging as my weight landed.

"Needles, the fall!" The Goblin's blades flashed at the rope on his end, and I severed the second fall line. We plummeted. Dustnose shrieked. We slammed down, spray exploding upward. The Ash Zephyr's steel hull slammed into the smaller boat, and Needles went over. Drogo lunged, catching the Goblin's wrist. I threw my weight to the other end to counterbalance, a death grip on the edge, making my forearm cramp. One edge dipped, water gushing over the lip. We clipped the hull again, spinning into Ash Zephyr's wake.

"Row!" I bellowed, snatching an oar and driving it into the frigid depths. Drogo hauled Needles back aboard, and Othess snatched the other paddle, locking it into the oarlock.

"Heave!" I called, straining as I pulled on the oar. We pulled in unison, the boat fighting to escape the Ash Zephyr's pull. The Kobolds shrieked, bailing water with their hands as we pulled away, angling for the dock.

"We're not going to make it!" Drogo cried, glancing from our wayward missile to the dock.

"We're going to make it!" I hollered, body straining as I drove with my legs, back arching.

"Heave!" We pulled, my forearm flashing hot with pain. On the bow of the runaway, scourged navy ship, one of the barrels flashed, flaming dust popping across the nets. I drew my oar to my chest before folding again.

"Faster!" Clod hollered My teeth clenched, sweat poured down my face as I pulled. Othess and I got out of synch, and our blades chopped the waves in staggered intervals.

"Together now!" Needles called.

"Ready, heave!" The dock pulled toward us. I abandoned my oar, reaching and snatching a chain bound to a cleat. Steel screamed and wood splintered as the Ash Zephyr's reinforced hull crunched into the dam. I wrapped my arm around the chain, pulling hard and using myself to anchor the boat to the dock. Othess sprang to the planks. A fireball bloomed in the night, and every head pivoted to the mushroom of fire growing from the embankment. Then the sea swelled, and a roar filled the night.

The bay became a river as the ocean rushed to fill the dig site. The water level dropped, my arm jerking upward, and the boat ripped toward the breach. Something in my shoulder tore, and I howled, keeping my death grip on the icy chains. The ships secured on the dock started to roll. Mooring lines groaned as they snapped tight. The rowboat dragged away from under me, and I caught the edge of the seat with my other hand, muscles straining.

"Go!" I snarled. Kobolds scuttled over me, climbing across my shoulders like a bridge. A clawed foot jabbed my eye. My hand on the boat started to slip, and my arm bound in the chain stretched, shoulder popping from the socket. The bay rushed the dam, flooding the ruins within.

"Drogo! Jump!" The Hobgoblin leaped, stumbling and collapsing on the planks. The sea whisked the boat out from under me, and water hammered my face. I choked, flailing in the rapid surge of seawater, arm still tangled in the chain. My head broke the surface, only briefly, and I gasped.

"Captain Anton!" Dustnose shrieked, clawing at the chain that tethered me to the dock. I went under again, water punching me in the face. The water vanished, and I fell, slamming into a slimy piling. I flailed, kicking and looking around in confusion as I dangled beneath the deck. I hung suspended in a perfect sphere of air, the raging sea slamming into an unseen barrier around me. A figure half-rose into the air bubble, fingers clasped together, and I recoiled. The head of an eel watched me.

It had one eye, milky white; the other one a vacant socket with a scar slashing through it. Black paint ringed its single, pupilless eye. Soaked and slimy robes hung from his scalded body. A Daggonite priest. Like the one that had infected Naomi. He smiled, flashing serrated teeth. Othess and Drogo caught the chain, no longer fighting the ocean's pull, and they hauled it. I slapped my free arm on the deck, kicking as a half dozen Kobolds snagged handfuls of shirt, and they bulled me onto the dock.

Panting, I whirled, glancing back at the Daggonite priest. The sphere of air collapsed in on itself, and he vanished under the waves.

"How fortunate," Othess said as he watched the wave surge by.

"It seems you have a powerful ally." I cradled my shoulder, a shiver racking my body.

"I don't think that's an ally I want." The static charge in the air of the Anti-Astral Defense System winked out, magic dispersed by the wave as I dropped an ocean on my father's head. <<Time to Seal Collapse: 03: 01: 05: 14: 38: 20>>