Chương 13: Cormac Fiadh

Cormac Fiadh was only made captain of the one-hundred-foot Outer-Class Long Sí Líadan six months ago, but in that time he fancied that he'd done a pretty damn good job. Did he know the first thing about sailing a ship before setting foot on the Líadan? No. Did the crew of the Líadan hate his ever-loving guts from day one? Yes. Did he have to maroon them all on an island two days later? Allegedly! But still, the boat was floating one hundred and eighty days later, and by anyone's metric, that was a clear win.

The Líadan was a special class of schooner no sailor from Miriam's world would have ever recognized. From the waterline up it might have seemed fairly familiar, but the astute observer would have noticed how high on the water the hull rode - in fact not really even touching a drop if the weather was fine. They would also have noticed how thick the keel was as it tore into the water below. That was because of the characteristic that made this boat so unique - the extra space that hid under the water.

There were maybe five or six similar boats in this quarter of the Outer Rings, but most were owned by regional governments. As had this one been before Cormac's good fortune liberated it from its tyrannical overlords. Three swift raps on his cabin door, and his first mate Róise Séarlait barged in. Cormac stuffed down his annoyance - he was the captain was he not? Surely that should mean he had to give his first mate permission to enter his cabin!

Róise had been with him since long before he was ever captain of anything - he supposed that loyalty deserved some concessions.

"Cormac," Róise said, plonking down a weather-beathen leather map.

"I think we're lost."

"That's impossible, my dear!" Cormac smiled broadly at her.

"In fact, that was the biggest selling point of this vessel! Impossible to lose your way, due to our friend downstairs." Róise rolled her eyes at him and clutched the map more tightly. She was a small girl, but they'd both been born in the Third Ring - out here her thin arms might as well have been steel rods. It was her power that had whipped the current crew in line after only two mutiny attempts as much as his charm had.

Honestly, it was probably more her, given how unsophisticated the crew tended to be and how little they appreciated a man of his persuasiveness.

"I don't recall anyone selling you anything. You won the ship in a card game."

"Yes, but the former owner was quite effusive about the perks his ship offered when he made the bet."

"I don't even think the ship was his to gamble away." Cormac shrugged with a grin.

"I can't be responsible for everyone else's bad judgement." Róise shook her head.

"I'd be happy if you could be responsible for your own. Regardless, we should be a hundred kilometers more northwest than we are." Cormac peered at the map.

"Well, we have had a run of bad luck." Róise glared at him.

"What?"

"The luck was supposed to be your department." Cormac sat up straighter.

"Captaining a ship is not an exact science, Róise! Between the two of us, we agreed I should take the captain's chair. My luck was in no small part a consideration."

"I let you be the captain because you'd be bloody well useless doing any actual work." Róise shook her head.

"A whole month of ill omens, though? Squalls that set us southward. Sea serpents we had to run east from. That broken anchor that drifted us a dozen kilometers in the night?" Cormac pursed his lips.

"Fine. I didn't want to worry you, but… something has been breaking my strings. I spin them - it takes me all day sometimes - and I leave them, good as can be. Then the next day I find them snapped. Like a great beast has trundled through them." Róise stared at him slack-jawed.

"You weren't going to tell me about this?" The newly minted captain squirmed in his chair.

"You always yell at me when things go wrong. I thought I was just making a careless error or two." Róise was very clearly trying not to yell at him, but he made it very difficult. Luckily for the captain, two aggressive knocks nearly bowed the cabin door in.

"Oh, right," Róise said.

"There's another mutiny happening."

"What? Again? Why?" This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Róise jabbed her finger at the map.

"They think their captain is a foolish land-lubber who's gotten them lost on a ship that it's impossible to get lost on." Cormac nodded sagely.

"Ah. Yes, that does sound pretty reasonable, honestly."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it," she said.

"I could use some backup though." Cormac stood and bowed deeply.

"Always my honor to play your accompaniment." Róise flung the cabin door open to three startled faces, the foremost of which was attached to a fist gearing up for another knock.

"Aye! Aodh, Ger and Liam. Punched up for another drubbing?" Aodh, the one who had knocked, scowled.

"You talk to us like children, Róise. We're ain't children, and that there ain't a captain worth a spit. You promised us riches and all we get is empty sea." Cormac snorted.

"I promised you adventure! I promised open air and the freedom of the wind! I promised camaraderie with your fellow travelers of the sea!"

"You promised us money." The captain shrugged.

"I'm assuming money will come if we do all those other things." Róise rolled her eyes as the three deckhands became visibly more enraged.

"Alright then, boys. Topside?" Liam, always the more somber of the trio held out a hand - meant to be a clear point of no return.

"Róise - you've always been a good lass to us, hard though you be. This is bad now - we're gonna look to put you down if you don't turn over the Líadan to us." Róise frowned.

"You're sure about this Liam? We've all danced before and I didn't get the feeling you were holding back. You come at me with death on your mind and you'll receive it back in kind. Filthy mutineers you may be, but you're good enough lads I don't want to be sewing a loop through your nose and dumping you in the drink." Ger pushed through the other two, tall and muscular in the way that those with poor fórsa control tended to compensate. His beard was rough and shaggy.

An ugly scar had permanently closed his left eye, but the right one blazed with anger.

"We're not playing games this time, love. We'll be coming at you together." She pursed her lips and sighed.

"Hardly sporting fair, is it?" Ger shook his head.

"You're a Third. Three Firsts against that seems pretty fair." Róise snapped her fingers.

"That's bull, Ger. Aodh is a Second." Aodh snorted.

"By advancement. Puts me a long way from a born Third who lived the rough life." Cormac put his hand gently on Róise's shoulder.

"I think the lads are set in their course. Such hearty men are not likely to be stripped of such bold conviction." She shook her head sadly.

"All right boys. We'll tangle it out, and I'll say some nice words at your wakes." The five made their way up the stairs to the deck where the other seven crewmates had already taken perches on the masts and railings. Cormac could see the fast action of money changing hands as odds shifted, mercurial as the winds, when the three mutineers ascended the stairs fiery and Róise with nothing but sorrow on her face.

"Hey," Cormac said, gripping her arms reassuringly.

"It's not your fault, you know. It's the nature of the Tír. If you don't do what you have to do, it'll be us going for that last swim today." Róise batted his hands away.

"You don't have to tell me that, Cormac. I grew up in the gutter, same as you. It's just a waste. They really are good lads when they don't have the itch of rebellion in them." Cormac nodded.

"I'll back you up. Best start the tune." Róise and the three mutineers squared off on the deck, temporarily cleared of any loose cargo or detritus. Cormac knew he didn't run the tightest of ships, but he staved off a moment of irritation - why couldn't they keep the deck this clean when there wasn't a fight to the death? Ger stepped forward, projecting his fórsa into the wood of the Líadan.

"Ger, Aodh and Liam, bonded crewmates, challenge Captain Cormac Fiadh for rightful control of this vessel." Cormac could feel his bond to the Líadan thrum as Ger invoked the right of all crewmates aboard a Sidhe vessel to challenge for authority. If he wanted to remain captain, the challenge must be answered.

"I, Captain Fiadh of the Líadan, offer my second to combat. I hold her victory or defeat to be as my own."

"To the death!" Ger shouted, to the gasps of the watching crew. Cormac could see the faces of Aodh and Liam drop in a moment's fear as they set in their fates - if Cormac accepted the terms, someone was going to die in the next ten minutes. He wished there was a different way. He hadn't known the extent of the Captain's Covenant when he took ownership of the Líadan, but those organizations powerful enough to field a ship like this took their pacts seriously.

The Tír was full of backstabbing bastards, and when you factored in a vessel that could skip between rings, there could often be situations in which captains might sail where their overseers couldn't follow. So they often planted spies and agents in crews for these very circumstances - to protect their investment should a captain get flights of fancy. It was one reason this ship's original crew was likely still counting their toes on that little island just outside the Second Ring.

Normally, these were one on one challenges, but the Líadan knew when a fight wasn't fair. For normal challenges it let things slide - the ringers the boat's owners planted were often overpowered to maintain advantage - but to the death it would only allow what it viewed as an acceptably even balance. In this case, two native Firsts and a low Second against a Third in her prime.

"To the death," Cormac agreed sadly. A ship upon the open water was a riot of noise. Cormac had even found it soothing when he went to sleep in his bed, a blaze of sounds so indistinguishable that it blended into a soothing cacophony; deckhands polishing the deck, the hull cresting a swell, the call of the watchmen on the hour… to him at least, a relaxing hum of life and motion. Now that noise shifted, but Cormac thought he and Róise might be the only ones to notice.

Now the sounds of the boat were becoming less and less random. There was rhythm to it, a subtle tune that you had to listen for to hear. Róise swayed for a moment, eyes closed, her lips mouthing the words. Then she launched into her first combat technique, Banks of Red Roses.