Chapter I
We seek, we fight, we die. We are simple men. Nothing more, nothing less. Some people think we’re heroes, saviors, and others think we’re demons and destroyers. But frankly, we don’t care. We don’t care about what the law has to say, let them hunt and let them starve, and certainly we don’t care what the civvies think.
We will do what we always do. Do what we have to do.
But I’m not your hero, I’m not your savior, and don’t go looking for me when everything is all said and done.
Understand that, boy?
And the boy nods, scared to say anything. His eyes tell me he wants to spit in my face and hit me. It was him or his mom and I hope he understands some day. His shaking head, his shaking body tell me that he wants to run away, to be far away from here. To grieve. To scream at the gods from the edge of the world. And maybe, if he really lost it, he would give himself to the ocean.
I hear whimpering and it’s not from him, but from a kardyu, a beast. In the boy’s eyes, there’s a glimpse of hope. Maybe the kardyu belongs to him. So I follow the noise. And lo and behold, underneath a toppled wooden garden wall, there is a geesh. A special one at that, as this geesh has two white spots over its eyes, acting as its eyebrows. Supposedly, these dogs have the greatest psychic abilities, they’re empaths that understand humans to well… a human-level. Still they can’t speak as if they’re a genuine psychic.
I lift the wall and the geesh is able to crawl out. And right on cue, it rushes to the boy. It licks his face a few times and then immediately, it whirls around at me. The geesh is the protector, but the boy is not the master. It barks once but it doesn’t growl or bare its fangs, then it stares. It’s telling me that I can’t come any closer, but it won’t do anything if I stay or turn my back and walk away. Maybe it wants an explanation. I’m inclined to believe a four-eye would understand to some degree. Not full, word by word understanding, of course.
Listen boy. What happened here, the carnage, the destruction, it wasn’t us. It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t your parent’s fault. We came riding, chasing a storm created by dinehs, the raging thunderous wolves you might’ve saw, and their masters. They want death and they want gold. Death because that is how the dinehs retain their power. We were too late. We did what we could, but it was too late for you, for your village. I’m sorry.
You don’t need to come with us, but if you do, you got a long road ahead of you before we get anywhere safe. And you’d have to work. The geesh can come with. Your choice.
Can we bury them first?
Yeah, yeah we can.
And that is we do. It takes a few days. It could’ve took a day if we all we did was bury the villagers, but that’s not us. We performed the ceremonies required to prevent this village from becoming haunted and infested with dark energy. And we had to burn the bodies of the ravagers and their dinehs, perform ceremonies for them as well. It’s not because we respect them, it’s because if we didn’t do the rites, their evil would linger in the world. They’d look for hosts so one day they could get their revenge.
The boy didn’t come with us. He stayed with the survivors. His extended family. If he was a few years older, likely he would’ve come with us. When we come across teen boys, they want to be with us, they want to learn, they want the adventure and the gold, the honor and the glory. They want to be someone. And some just want the women.
When we leavin?
I change my gaze from the blaze that is consuming the bodies to the man in the scorched and scratched up long mahogany leather coat. A strong and tall, bald man with a chestnut beard and intense blue eyes. He was known as Achi. I had a hunch that it was short for Achilles, but he never confirmed it for some reason.
At dawn. Need a good sleep.
Sounds about right.
And at dawn, we mount our ahauths and ride south, a different way then the path of our chase. This way is smoother. A gradual, zig-zagging descent through the hills. A few of our men fly on the back of their faldors to prepare the ship for another voyage. I envy them as they get to enjoy a better view of the changing foliage and also the sea on the horizon.
By noon, we arrive at the beach. And there the crew had prepared lunch for us. Roasted fish and nuts. Not bad at all. Everyone seems to be in high spirits. The client made good on his promise and his crew transfer crates of gold, ammo, sugar, and beer onto the ship.
After finishing his drink and throwing the bottle off to the side, the client speaks to me. They say revenge is never worth it, but… this. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s as if I woke up from a deep slumber and refreshed for a new day and a new life. They can rest now, I hope. But thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
I’m glad. We do what we can.
Where are you off to now, if I may ask?
Don’t know. Wherever the winds takes us. I’m sure the men and the kardyus need a bit rest. Maybe Solton.
Solton? Huh. Haven’t been there in a while.
Me neither. Figured it be best for the crew.
Yeah. It’s a good time there. And well, if I ever need your services again, I’ll let you know. Pleasure doing business with you.
Yeah, you too.
And with that, he mounts his stahkstra and flies back to his ship.
Achi comes over to me after he leaves.
So. To Solton?
To Solton.
Chapter II
Nothing is better than to be at open sea, especially in this part of the world. Smooth sailing, clear water, and easy targets. Reason for that is because the Champion of Solton, Sanna, had banned engine-propelled ships in her waters and those within a certain radius of her waters.
She claimed it was an environmental decision and that it was to protect the wildlife from commercial fisherman and to prevent oil rigs from being set up, to save the seabed and the aquatic mammals that lingered too close to the surface, but in reality, it gave her the authority to seize ships: to cripple pirates and rogue merchants. Merchants that would otherwise support the black market trade of the Hyrcanians, and therefore the ravagers.
Of course, she gave passes to “verified” ships. Verification, for most ships, meant bribery. For other ships, like ours, verification came directly from Sanna herself. We pay by carrying out missions of maritime interdiction. Often, that just meant boarding merchant vessels and seizing cargo whenever the buoys marked an unverified ship. Paid the bills and kept us ready for action until we land a bigger contract.
The other contracts come in through messenger pigeons, the big contracts anyway, which may seem slow and inefficient in an age of instant communication, but digital communication lacked security and privacy - something our clientele require.
Speaking of which -
The door opens without a knock, which means only one person.
Hello, Maria Aquilia says with a great big smile. I have news for you and I’m sure you will be pleased.
Why don’t you ever knock?
She shrugs, sets the letter she had in her hand down on my desk, and then sits on the couch off to the side. Effectively, it was her couch, as she was the only one that sat there.
I read the letter and I say, aren’t we so fortunate?
Shhhhh, please let me sleep. We’ll discuss it in when I wake up.
***
Days later we arrive in Solton.
A majestic city, made of sandstone and marble that anyone can traverse entirely on foot. Takes a few hours, but still. Of course, one can drive a car or a motorcycle, or take the underground subway system, or use the canal system, or even ride in a wagon pulled by ahauths, the large, four-legged majestic creatures with fiery-blonde manes and fine chestnut coats. Horses, as some other cultures call them.
Achi and I sit across from each other at a tavern close to the port. Outside, enjoying the weather, the peace. Me with my… elixir and him with his beer. There’s been a pause in the conversation. But then, he sniffs and coughs.
So I look at him and ask if he’s taking the usuals, the ones that go with him to Pyraton because they think the city is too uptight.
Yeah. See ya in a week or two. Before I go, I been meanin to ask somethin.
Yeah?
Think there’ll be a time when you retire? I’m old, gettin there anyway, can’t move as well as I use to. Can’t imagine you doin anythin else, but me? Got maybe a year, maybe two left. After that, I’m goin home. See my wife, see if my son has a son yet.
I nod. Remember The Dreaded?
The ship the Hyrcas sunk?
Yeah, I was the sole survivor.
Don’t tell me. You aimin to get revenge?
And he sees the look on my face.
You’re crazy I tell ya. Absolutely crazy. How do you aim to do that?
Well, that’s partly why we’re here. Didn’t you hear the Champion of Solton been spurned by the Regime?
And you think she’ll help?
She has no other choice.
What makes you say that?
Well, look around. What do you see?
He looks around, and so do I. It’s not that there is presence, but that there is absence. But I keep that to myself.
Not a thing I see is new. He looks at my face, sees my smug reaction. Tell me, oh wise sir, tell me what’s missing, oh all-knowing one.
Hate it when he does that. I shake my head. You see, Sanna and Lord Byron had a deal. She would send a handful of ships over to the Bay of Thieves, to help blockade a rebellious contingent of Thunderers and The Masked. In return, Byron, my bad, Lord Byron, would send a detachment of royal guardsmen for the Solton Championships. She sent the ships and Byron never sent the guardsmen. The tournament is in a week.
And they’re not here. And they should be here? He sees me nod and continues on. When did you find out that out? Must’ve been a couple days before that nasty business with the ravagers.
No. Actually, found out on our way over here. Knew about the deal days before, yeah. But it wasn’t confirmed that they didn’t show. Lord Byron is a man of his word, so something happened. Haven’t heard why. Either way, it’s good for us.
Always with the ulterior motive. Achi laughs. Should’ve known. Thought you might’ve wanted to get under her dress. Next you’re telling me that you volunteered our crew to be security.
Not quite. I don’t think we would do well.
You’re right, we wouldn’t.
But I did arrange for security, as a measure of goodwill. Sanna knows the security, but she doesn’t know my grand scheme.
And when will you tell her that?
When the time is right.
Ahhh, makes sense. He finishes his drink, clanging his mug on the table. He stands. Well, send a pidge when you need me. I’ll be off to Pyraton with the wild ones.
***
I see Drakon standing at the end of the pier, fishing. A tall, lanky man with refined tastes and a silver tongue. He’s the only one that wears formal wear out at sea. Difference is instead of a suit jacket, it’s usually a long fisherman’s coat. Mantle. Whatever it’s called. It’s black, ragged, and covers his arms and goes down to just below his knees. It’s the only thing that suggests he’s tough, gritty, and a bit of renegade. Half of the time, it’s off and he has his sleeves rolled up. He’s in charge of the Raptor Squadron.
What can I do for you? He asks without turning his head to see it was me.
I’ve got a special job for you.
Need to me sit at tea with the old ladies? He pauses, as if waiting for me to respond. I don’t, so he continues. How wonderful!
Not quite old ladies, but it’s right up your alley. A dinner with Sanna’s Admiral. He’s got a job for us and I want you to get the most we can out of him.
Dinner with Florian? The Lion of Solton. The Golden Knight. The Hero of Claude’s War. And you expect me to haggle with a living legend?
I don’t think you’d need flatter him so much. Hear he makes an absolute fool of those who try. But, yes, you will.
Think I am one? Pfft. But what is it that you’d need from him?
His fleet.
What?
Chapter III
She stands there, with her body and her light blonde hair swaying in the ocean breeze, taking in the salty seawater air, and her hands rest on the marble balcony railing. It amazes me that no matter how long the sun showers her, she stays pale. Must be the genetics of being a Firekeeper.
She stares out at the ocean, appearing to be in deep thought. Looking at her from behind reminds me that she is human, that she could be anyone. Because the difference between her and the other women of Solton is not her cybernetic arm, many Firekeepers have them for one reason or another, and it’s neither her hair nor her eyes. It’s the emerald soulpiece lodged in the center of where her delt would be. It matches the soulpiece in her golden circlet.
I know you’re staring. She says in a distinct elegant voice. How did you distract Florian this time?
Drakon.
Ahh. She turns around, a simple gesture turned flashy with her white silk dress, and as much as I hate using this as a way to describe her eyes, but there’s nothing else that can compare. But she glares at me with her ruby eyes. Tell me why you’re here, Oddie.
Well, you know me, Sanna, what do you think I’m here for?
You go on and on and on about glory and honor, treasure and gold, but we both know that’s not true. You’re power-hungry. Blood-thirsty. And she laughs, softly. When I see you, it’s like I’m looking in a mirror. And I know that look in your eyes. Full of hatred, rage and righteous fury.
That transparent, huh? Well, I’m searching for the The Lionheart. The crown-
Jewel of the Hyrcanian Navy. I can tell you where she is right now. She’s dry-docked at the port in Northern Hyrcania. She’s undergoing routine maintenance. I don’t know when she will be back at sea. It’s the Captain you’re after, I assume. And then, you’d be after the admiral, Admiral Roberts, who gave the order - again, I assume. I don’t know where the admiral is. You’ll have to find that on your own.
And you will help me.
Tell me why I will. From my point of view, as a Champion and nothing else, is that you’re a scoundrel, a pirate. One of the best, true, but still just a pirate. You’ve got a few ships at your command and you want to take on the world’s strongest navy. One deal gone wrong doesn’t mean I have to get revenge. This is the strongest freehold and I intend to keep it that way.
It’s the only choice I have. It’s the only choice you have.
Don’t be stupid. You can live the life of a Pirate King, of a Champion of whatever city you want, if you so desire. You can live here, work your way up. You don’t need to throw away your life. But that look in your eyes…
If they sacked Lord Byron and they didn’t honor the deal you had, then what does that tell you about how they think of Solton? About your freedom and sovereignty. So you need to get your ships out of the Bay.
I need to think about it.
You have a day, maybe two.
***
On the beach at sunset, Sanna spars with Cyra, one of her Elite Generals.
Florian and Tykon, her other two Elite Generals, watch from a shaded table. Elite General is Florian’s official position, though he is most often referred to as thee Admiral. Tykon is a Thunderer that is in charge of the Aerial Corps, and Cyra is a Masked in charge of Intelligence. There’s trainers and assistants buzzing about. No spectators allowed, though, but Florian waved me through past the guards.
They haven’t undergone fusion and they’re not using any powers, just old-fashioned hand-to-hand combat. I assume that’s the reason Sanna isn’t sparring Florian. Wouldn’t be fair otherwise, even with the cybernetic arm. Comes down to height and weight. Fusion, or even elemental power-ups, is what levels the playing field. With the second soulpiece and post-fusion, Sanna ascends to the level of a Demi-God. It’s why no one will wage war on Solton. Other politicians play somewhat low-stakes games, economic and political games.
I walk barefoot on the pleasantly warm sand to the Generals’ table, an advanced steel table that appears to be capable of projection, and take a seat.
Good news for you, Florian speaks. Drakon persuaded me, so you’ve got my support. But there’s a catch, as there always is. Tykon?
You will need to rescue the Iron Fleet. The Bear Island Fleet is, of course, preoccupied with the Bay of Thieves.
And where was the Iron Fleet attacked and who were its assailants?
Well…
Well? Out with it.
It’s a suicide mission. The Iron Fleet was attacked by an Elder somewhere off the coast of the Horn—
Sanna slams her hands on the table, surprising the three of us. And when were you going to tell me?
Got word of it earlier today, Florian says, unflinchingly. He crosses his arms and leans back into his chair. He appears relaxed, almost sleepy. Now, it is time to tell you. And we’ve arranged a rescue for the fleet. The captain here agreed to do it.
Sanna sighs. At what cost?
Your full support in the assault against the Lionheart, I tell her. So you’ve got to withdraw the Bear Island Fleet.
We can’t…
But it makes sense, Cyra says, joining in on the conversation. Someone over there ousted Lord Byron and reneged on our deal. The Royal Guardsmen should have arrived by now.
And you think it’s a good idea to lend our support in an attack?
We’ll be ready if they retaliate, won’t we, Florian? Cyra looks to a half-asleep Florian. And they will retaliate, but they’ve already committed an act of war.
What now? Are they responsible for the Elder that attacked our fleet? asks Florian, alert now.
Yes, they are. They were experimenting on sprites and for that, I have undeniable proof.
Experiments that could lead to rage? There’s a change in the faces of both Florian and Tykon when Cyra nods. Both seem concerned. And Sanna finally sits. Cyra connects to the table with her augmented glove and with a few taps, she pulls up video footage of a lab. There are no logos or colors that denote who the researchers belong to, but their sunken eyes and heavy metal wristbands explain it all. Lab monkeys sentenced to death by exhaustion.
The camera footage pans to glass capsules that look like they contain a blazing fire. A few minutes pass before the researchers make a determination to stop the experiment. In turn, this kills the “fire” and it reveals a common sprite strapped to a metallic chair. Wires run in and out of the sprite’s tiny body. It looks like it’s in agony, it’s pale, and looks close to death. Energy harvest? No, some of the wires are not wires but tubes and they have remnants of a vibrant purple liquid.
They’re extracting the sprite’s blood, Tykon says. The light must be from its struggle to escape.
That’s enough for me, Sanna says. So, this sprite’s pain and all the others in that experiment… the Elders feel it?
Cyra nods. Yes. To the point some are blinded by rage. The last Elder known to be in that area… a primal oowa.
Oowas aren’t spirits, they’re kardyus. Sanna says what the rest of us are thinking.
True enough. But remember, the bodies of primal kardyus, the ancients, tend to be taken over by Elders.
That… that’s terrifying, I say. But I keep the rest of my thoughts to myself as to not show them my fear. Because oowas are formidable enough, but a primal that is possessed by an Elder? Suicide. Absolute suicide. But I ask, how do you suppose I rescue your fleet? The only way to deal with that… is to get another Elder involved.
It’s not the only option. You could, alternatively, just hope that by the time you arrive, it’s long gone.
Florian speaks now. You ask us to send our men to death, because of your desire for revenge, and all we ask is for you to do the same. Rescue our fleet and our fleet is yours to command.
Understood, I say.
Chapter IV
What do you think, Achi? I ask after telling him the dilemma. The choices I have are either to let the crew rest, take a few, or take everyone. But the longer the wait, the more casualties the Iron Fleet will incur. But this is a suicide mission. For the best chance of success, I need everyone in their best shape.
He thinks for a few moments, but someone knocks on the door before he answers. They don’t wait. There’s a beep and the door unlocks, and they walk into the room. Sanna. She closes and locks the door as swiftly as she came in.
I’m going with you, she says. Those are my people. Tykon can handle the tournament preparations. We’ll be back in time for the opening ceremony. All we need are your Raptors. I just spoke with Drakon and they’re good to go, so we ride at dawn. I’m taking five good pilots. And no, you don’t get a choice in the planning. My people, my fleet, my mission.
Well, looks like that’s settled. I’ll be off now. Achi says and ends the video call in a hurry.
She takes off her coat and boots and sets them off to the side. She pulls up a chair to sit beside me at the scratched-up, worn desk.
It’s midnight. What are you doing?
I’m staying with you tonight in this crappy motel. I don’t know why I let them stay in business, but whatever.
I can tell you, but you won’t like the answer.
Then don’t tell me.
So why are you here? Could’ve told me over a call.
I’m here to make sure you’re up and ready to go at dawn. Nothing more.
I don’t believe you.
Then don’t believe me.
***
True to her word, she wakes me before dawn. We ready ourselves for the long journey. It will take two or three days to fly south to the Horn of Skyland. But for now, we must meet with Drakon and his crew. I say it’s his crew because he is the one that recruits and trains the members of his squadron. Except for Maria. I recruited her and she was already trained, but still.
Can tell daylight is upon us because the sun peeks above the horizon and the overhead sky is visibly blue, masking most of the stars, leaving satellites and the brightest stars. Sanna’s breath is visible, which surprises me.
Never knew it got this cold here, I say.
It is the coldest it will get, she says. Surprised you didn’t say anything about the coat and boots last night. But you know I wouldn’t live here if the temps dropped any lower.
But you’re a Firekeeper, thought you were supposed to stay warm.
There’s so much I’m supposed to do.
What’s that supposed to mean?
Nothing. Let’s get going.
And we do just that. Few people are out besides us. They are merchants and shopkeepers, bakers and butchers, blacksmiths and tradesman, but none of them were Firekeepers. Which is funny to me. Would think that with their name, they’d be the hardest workers, that they'd be the ones that keeps society warm, so to speak. The name is not meant literally. It means they are the engine of society, they tend to carry us forward, and they make sure that traditions are not lost to time. Sounds like a contradiction, but it makes sense in a way I can’t articulate.
We arrive at the airfield fifteen minutes later. Drakon and his crew look like they’ve been here for a good while now as they’re all ready to go. Sanna’s fighter pilots don’t look like they’re ready for take-off, but it could be that they will trail behind us until we are near the bay. After all, they’re in modern fighter jets. Though, it would be more accurate to say that the jets are nothing more than flying guns. Some will carry missiles, so flying missile-launchers. The common folk refer to them as Flying Drums for the similarity of the bursts of gunfire and a drumroll.
He chose the standard kardyu steed for us all: a faldor. They are bird of prey in name only, as they are vultures. The fastest of the endurance raptors, but they aren’t the strongest, the most durable, or the most nimble. They can take a few hits and they can dodge some attacks, but can’t ask them to engage in a dogfight. That is why we tend to have other aerial kardyus as escorts. There’s a psyfox, a flying psychic fox, in both the front and rear guards. They are able to detect anything in a five-ten mile radius, whether it be a human, a kardyu, or even a sprite, and they hit fast and hard, but they are frail.
Drakon’s guardian, as his name might suggest, is a black horned dragon named Calamity. It has orange, expressive eyes, and it is sleek, but with massive wings. Drakon tells nothing about it, not its proper name, not its ancient name, and neither its elements nor its capabilities. All he said is that Calamity is benign and indifferent, but powerful. And Calamity itself remains silent. No roars, no growls, nothing. And in battle, red mist is the only indication that some Eldritch Horror exists.
I’ve never seen such a… creature, Sanna says, trying to sound amazed. But it is not amazement, it is thinly-veiled terror. And terror is the correct feeling, the only feeling, to have in the presence of an ancient dragon.
Tykon, of course, has Doom, and Doom is scary to be sure but he doesn’t inspire the sort of sheer terror that Calamity does. Doom is more of a common dragon, as common as dragons go and dragons are not common. Their numbers range around a thousand, in a world where billions of people live. And all but a handful belong to the Thunderers, the People of the Storm, the people that descended from the mountains above the clouds. They are said to be the ancestors of the Firekeepers.
Very few have, Drakon says. He rubs Calamity’s neck and then leans in and whispers something indecipherable in its ear, a language only the Thunderers and select historians know. Seconds after, the dragon launches into the sky and disappears. Drakon looks to Sanna and to those who haven’t seen Calamity. No questions will be asked, thank you.
***
As the sun reaches its high point, we reach an outpost at the most southern tip of the Isle of Solton. Faldors do not need the rest - they could stay in the air from dawn to dusk, as could any experienced flyer. We stop because Sanna needs to contact the leaders of Skyland, amongst others, on a secure line. We’re still on-schedule to arrive at the Horn after two nights.
Still we, meaning Sanna, were not able to reach the fleet’s crew, or for that matter, anyone in the general area. But we did hear from Skyland’s Navy. Some of their ships had went dark around the same time the Iron Fleet did. Communications had went down not too long after the initial attack, but the message that an elder had attacked was able to be sent.
Get out, she says. She realizes the harshness of her voice. Please. This is important.
And so we do, and by we, I mean Maria, Drakon, and I. So the three of us head outside and then we sit underneath the leafy trees where most of the crew lounges. There are a few swimming in the water. Everyone’s kardyus are in the open, as is best practice. Leaving them in their gem for too long and or over great distances cause them to be disorientated upon release. That could be a fatal mistake.
So what’d you say to Calamity, I ask in a quiet voice. I’ve told you this before, but I know that Calamity is Elder-class. Doesn’t matter if he is one or not. Still I need to know what you’re up to.
Well, Drakon says. He then says something that is intuitive, that helps me understand how Calamity is terrifying, in addition to him being Elder-class. So Drakon says, I can’t tell him to fight, or do anything for that matter. His will is his own, entirely separate from mine. All I do is ask.
But I asked him to scout. If he returns with a bird, then it means that the Elder is in the area. If he returns with a piece of metal or fabric, then it means he founds the fleet. If he returns with nothing, then he found nothing. I told him to bring me back what he finds. In theory, that means he could bring back a body.
Wonderful, Maria says. Nothing like being woken up to a orange-eyed void carrying a mutilated bloated purplish-blue corpse.
You have a way with words, I say. Both of you.
It is why you recruited us, sir, Drakon says. You are… the hammer. We are the scalpel. We have our jobs.
I’m not a scalpel. I’m more of a sword. Maybe a katana? A greatsword? Hmm. No, no. A saber. Like the ones the Skyland warriors use.
But you’re not as graceful.
Not everyone needs to be as graceful as Sanna and the people of Solton. Put me next to a Ravager and I’d be the most graceful woman you have ever seen. Speaking of which, I wish to make a formal request.
Yes?
We must attend a ball the next time we’re in… I forget the name, the common language name. The city with the waterfalls and the ice caves and the normal caves and the buildings built into the cliffside and the canals. The city the Masked built.
There? That’s on the other side of the world.
So we must go to the other side of the world. Our adventures will lead us there again, I’m sure of it.
If we survive this, then yes, I promise you, we will go there.
In summer, I hope.
In summer.
And then Sanna exits from the sole outpost building. A blank facial expression.
That does not seem to be a good sign, says Maria.
Chapter V
You must tell us what happened, Maria says. Sanna leans against the tree we’re under. And Sanna lets out a deep breath, as if she had been holding it for the duration of the call.
Lord Byron, she says. Another sigh. Lord Byron has been executed. The Southern Council found him guilty of high treason. Admiral Silve and Captains Ryden, Hatcher, and Lathe were all hanged alongside him. The Bear Island Fleet has been confiscated and the remaining men to be prisoners. Which doesn’t make sense, at all.
And who is in charge of the Bay now?
I heard from the secretary that Lord Fairfield was chosen to be the successor. Either my men were in on the conspiracy, and I don’t believe they would meddle in international affairs in such a crass manner, or they were murdered. We need to go there and find out what happened. The secretary didn’t want to say much. She said she didn’t want to cause an international diplomatic incident. But they already did when they killed my men, so this isn’t adding up. And.
And…?
And we’ll still need to rescue the Iron Island Fleet. But I’ll send Florian to the Bay right now to have him sort out what’s going on. But if they even so much as look at him the wrong way, they will get the war they’re so desperately asking for.
And you. She looks at me and then back to Maria. You were right, both of you. Something was wrong when they didn’t send the Royal Guard. I should’ve listened.
Never mind that, I say. Let’s focus on getting to the Horn. Then focus on dealing with the oowa.
—-
The last two days were hectic, almost frenetic, but we made it to the Horn without a hitch. The Iron Fleet seems to be mostly intact, a couple hundred casualties as opposed to estimated thousands, and two destroyers… destroyed. Other ships suffered some damage, a few major but repairable and some minor.
Problem was, and is, that the oowa circled the lighthouse at the tip of the Horn, which means that it will be a problem to move the fleet, let alone for it cross the ocean. Good news is that it had calmed down. No longer did it have the reported smoky aura that had enveloped it during the attack. However, there seems to be a limit to the oowa’s range because we flew low and close to the trees to arrive at the beach, and the psyfoxes provided us with active camoflouge.
Admiral Kazarian and a few of the major captains sit in the bridge of the Berserker, the flagship of the Iron Fleet. Sanna, Drakon, Maria, and the fighter pilots are in as well. A team of Kazarian’s men give a detailed report of the attack, describe the status of the fleet, and then they lay out potential escape strategies. There’s two options they won’t present, even though they are the most straightforward.
The first option is to have a special squad undergo fusion and then one by one, each fighter will break off. The last would need to escape on an gyrprey, an arctic psychic falcon, even though escape would not be guaranteed. Problem is, the death of any of these ten is a catastrophic loss.
Next would be to have Calamity attack the oowa and have Drakon eject and caught by a gyrprey. The issue would be to convince Calamity. Of course, the men don’t know about Calamity. So, that is not presentable. Drakon and I have told Sanna that is an option.
The first option the team presents is to lure the oowa away with fighter jets. If chosen, these pilots will be guaranteed death. But, the pilots seem ready to make the sacrifice. Good, experienced men, but not essential and they are in expendable aircraft. Costly, but not the end of the world. The team recognizes the immediate problems. The jets aren’t fast enough to provide enough time for all ships to escape, we don’t know how far the oowa will chase, and we don’t know if the oowa would break off the chase in order to attack the fleet again.
Absolutely not. Sanna leans back. They weren’t finished, but that doesn’t matter now.
The next option is to have the damaged ships head towards the lighthouse, and to load it with explosives and to have psychics provide mirages that would act as human decoys. Then, the rest of the ships would slip out from the southside exit and then from there, travel southeast to get out of its sight horizon and after a few hours, we’d head north. Again, the oowa’s motivations are not clear. It would be best to immobilize it, but killing it is out of the question. Only a few beings would be capable of that.
No. Too many unknowns. Does your next option include attacking the oowa head-on or are we to hope we can sneak by a god of shadows?
We never considered attacking the oowa head-on, ma’am. The casualties would be too great.
Conventional battle would be suicide, I understand. Thank you. You can sit now. Sanna stands and takes their place. With a tap of a few buttons on her cybernetic hand, she connects to the projector. Kazarian, your men will provide anti-air support. Ice missiles, psychic-locked only. From the hip and we’d risk hitting one of our own. Drakon, your squad will act as flies. Don’t get too close, but get close enough to distract it.
She looks to the fighter pilots. Stun rounds, psychic-locked only. I was told that it should understand nonlethal attacks.
Maria makes eye contact with Sanna and nods. Esoteric, ancient, knowledge is one of those things unique to The Masked. A stereotype, true, but you can expect many to be living encyclopedias. A behavioral relic of their culture.
We can’t kill it. And even if we could, we shouldn’t try to kill it. When it’s immobilized, we’ll lock it in a temporary psychic prison. Once we know it is secure, we’ll leave. I’m making this sound too easy. It’ll be anything but. I’ll send you reports now. And her eyes and her hand glow for a brief second and almost instantly it is received. Any questions?
What will I do? I ask.
You’ll be with me, Maria, and Kazarian. We’re attacking the oowa. Are you ready, Wretch?
Chapter 6
Were it so easy, so easy as she had made it sound.
Dozens of men dead in the blink of an eye. They weren’t dead, but the oowa, with his great wings, had dragged them into The Abyss. The Abyss is the realm that exists in the depths of every shadow. In theory, their souls could be recovered, but their bodies would be dust before they could be found. And the souls, they would be empty shells of who they were.
They were Kazarian’s men, and by extension, Sanna’s. Her plan had to change a little bit. We stand on Kazarian’s ship, waiting to learn the next step. She ordered all personnel to remain under light. The oowa had a very basic strategy - take everyone who stood in shadow.
And my idea became her plan: fusion. Drakon would join as soon as he saw what was going on and Kazarian would stay back to provide command from the ground. And the four of us would take on the oowa.
Sanna is the first. She taps her emerald gem and from a pale pink burst of light, a majestic beast emerges. Gold and white flowing fur, red eyes, a creature that stands tall and proud on four muscular legs. A long flowing tail. Rehyars, they are called. They can’t fly, technically, but with they way they’re built, it doesn’t matter. They don’t need solid land to leap as high as they do. Rarer than dragons and they only accept masters they consider worthy. Hers is named called Snow.
Sanna whispers an indecipherable phrase. The words are meant to ensure that her and Snow’s mind are one. And in an instant, a fiery emerald aura envelopes her. The shape of the aura bears a faint resemblance to the rehyar’s head. Akin to warriors wearing bear or wolf headdresses. A cloud platform forms beneath her feet, allowing her to hover. Fly, really. And then, she ascends.
Drakon sees that, and as expected, he fuses. He becomes a storm cloud, crackling with electricity, on the haunches of Calamity. They sink into the shadows to find the oowa.
Solo, either Sanna or Calamity and Drakon, could bring down cities. Destroy fleets. Countries, even. But to take on an elder-class sprite, in an primal oowa’s body? An oowa that has been around for millennia? I have my doubts.
And with Maria, her kardyu is a horned sea serpent, large enough to swallow men whole, with breath poisonous to melt flesh off bone. Locking eyes with it is a surefire way to become paralyzed. Its scales are a mix of iridescent blue and red, beautiful in an horrifying kind of way. Its horns aren’t necessarily horns, but more so, antlers. And it has long wispy eyebrows. Its head is less like a snake and more like a great lizard. Oniare, a member of the species is called. Hers is named Placid. For as violent as the serpent looks, it is remarkably calm. Lazy, as Maria says. Despite the name, indeed it is capable of great violence.
How can a water snake fight a flying death owl? Simple, oniares can breathe fire, ice, shoot jets of water, and can generate arcs of electricity. Some have been observed to create waterspouts. How, about any of that? No one knows and no can know.
Maria dives into the water and resurfaces with a deep blue aura. She looks to Sanna for command. Sanna shouts to move to the lighthouse, some few hundred yards away.
Meanwhile, I release Helio, my chimpron. A great ape with hair as rough as steel wool, with sharp metallic claws. He’s the product of generations of experimentation with gems. Capable of controlling earth, steel, and vegetation. And through fusion, I gain access to his powers.
And I fuse not a second too late. Moments later, the oowa and Calamity emerge from a shadow near the lighthouse. The oowa is on fire and Calamity is bleeding. Despite that, all three don’t look any worse for wear.
From there, both Calamity and the oowa were hit with ice. Drakon’s cloud envelops Calamity, the electricity destroying all incoming ice. The barrage slows the oowa, just enough.
Sanna raises her cybernetic arm, fully charged, and from the palm, shoots three arcs of green energy at the oowa. One lands, but it was enough. One arc is lethal for most humans and kardyus. All the arc did was draw its attention, didn’t even enrage it. The oowa dives towards Sanna. It needs to descend a couple hundred feet more before me and Maria could hit it.
Sanna flies towards the ocean. Calamity is a little slower than the oowa, even with it being slowed down. Then, the Raptor squadron intervenes and distracts it. Moments later, the fighter jets bombard it with stun rockets. A last minute change, presumably by Kazarian.
It worked.
Elder or not, that much firepower within a couple seconds will cripple anything. Kill almost everything.
It falls with its body locked. Calamity grabs, and he digs his fangs into the nape of the neck, and from there, Drakon sends electricity through Calamity to keep the oowa paralyzed.
Calamity sets it on hard ground in the sunlight, close to the sandy beach, and the three of us rush towards them. Sanna tells Kazarian to get the fleet moving. She makes the decision for the fleet to take the southside exit so the fleet can slip behind mountainous islands to the southeast.
We don’t know if the oowa will regain its faculties once Calamity, and Drakon, let go. Calamity, I’m sure, can hold as long as needed. However, there’s a time limit for fusion, and it’s already been a few minutes.
Assuming once the oowa’s eyes are open, its time to disappear and regroup. Sanna tells Kazarian to send over an arehna, gyrpreys, and psyfoxes. An arehna is a bipedal, humanoid kardyu that looks vaguely like a short, stout old man with a hunchback and a turtlish face. A powerful, powerful psychic. This group of psychics would create a psychic barrier, the arehna mostly. The gyrpreys are to evacuate us the moment the oowa regains consciousness.
The arehna looks calm. Its eyes slightly glazed over. A sure-sign that we’re doing fine. If it had an intense, focused stare, it would mean trouble, being that it has clairvoyant ability.
Maria deactivates and recalls Placid. The arehna looks more alert. Maria releases Placid again, the arehna returns to being relaxed. Huh, Maria says.
A sea serpent that could easily constrict a jet, let alone a giant oowa, and that strikes fast? Not surprised that the arehna feels more secure with its presence.
Me and Sanna deactivate, with no change with the arehna. Helio and Snow stay, ready to strike the oowa.
It will take at least another twenty, thirty minutes for full evacuation. Drakon maybe has ten.
Those ten minutes flew by, Drakon deactivates and hops off Calamity. The damaged ships have yet to leave. Still the oowa remains locked, with its eyes closed. No one is sure how long Calamity can hold its grip.
A few ships remain and the oowa has its eyes half-open now. No other body movement. Maria left with a gyrpey, but she left Placid behind. Often, Placid roams the seas for prey, and it would return to Maria hours or days later. Today, though, the arehna will teleport it to the top deck of the Berserker.
Sanna, Drakon, and I remain. Another few minutes and Sanna can reactive fusion again. No one says anything. Waiting for the all-clear from Kazarian.
The seconds drag on, the minutes turn into eternity.
We’re good, Kazarian’s rough voice comes through Sanna’s radio. A sigh of relief, but we’re not in the clear yet.
Placid, as capable as it is, slithers close to the arehna. It wants nothing to do with the oowa. Sanna climbs atop Snow, ready to disappear in a burst of energy. Snow starts to radiate. And I recall Helio and climb on top of a gyrprey.
Calamity drops the oowa from its mouth and escapes the barrier. The oowa emits a weak shadow pulse. It only causes the barrier to shimmer.
Sanna says, we scramble on a count of three.
One. The oowa emits another pulse, stronger this time. It breaks a hole that’s easily repaired.
Two. The oowa opens its eyes fully.
Three.
Poof.