“Get down!” cried a shrill voice, barely audible over the sounds of cannon-fire bursting from an Imperial galleon flanking the Druchii vessel. Plumes of smoke erupted from the guns below the deck of the much larger ship, flashes of powder strobing,as the ships rocked upon the choppy sea bordering the coastline of Hargendorf. It had been folly to sail this far into the territory of Men, but the Captain had been convinced somehow to do so, be it through bribery, blackmail, or simply threats of violence.
The corsair fleet had struck six settlements along the Nordland coast in as many days, leaving behind a trail of destruction; each town stripped of anything of value and left as a scene of slaughter. Six days they had rampaged against a poor defence, before the seventh had brought more worthy opposition. From the east a galleon of fine build had come, her white sails pulling her black-painted hulk through the waves to liberate the people of Nordland from this terror of the seas. At first sight of her masts, the other four ships of the Druchii fleet had made the decision to change their course, and seek bounty elsewhere. But not this one.
Lord Borkor watched the battle from the upper deck of Hope’s Ruin. Sent and funded by his father, the coin bestowed to the corsair fleet had granted the young Druchii a certain degree of power, but with it the expectations that he would be fruitful in his expedition. The Lordling was determined to return to the port city of Clar Karond with a well-filled hold, enabling him to present a hefty bounty to the Drachau at the time of Hanil Khar, and gain favour for both himself and his House. Hungry for renown and glory, he had discarded the Captain’s advice and urged they stand and fight the enemy rather than take advantage of the Druchii ship’s superior speed and evade direct combat. Victory here would provide more livestock for the slave markets as well as any other goods aboard the galleon that might be plundered. With the rest of the fleet now specks behind them on the horizon, they would make their stand here. Victory was the only option. Wearing a heavy suit of armour and gripping a pair of hooked swords, he eagerly awaited the opportunity to board the enemy warship.
With a whoosh, a bolt thrower launched a long steel shaft into the side of the Empire galleon near the waterline. It was immediately targeted by the cannon battery of the warship, a cannonball splitting the blackened wood of the deck with a crash before being carried into the Druchii weapon and tearing it and two of its crew apart. Borkor cursed at the loss of the weapon and called an order for those manning the remaining five bolt throwers to redouble their efforts as he stepped down onto the lower deck to join the Captain who was maintaining calm amongst the slaves chained to the oars with sharp cracks of his barbed whip.
“Hold steady, you worthless scum!” the Captain shouted, his whip splitting the skin across the back of a human who screamed in agony at the blow. Noting Borkor’s approach, he growled to the Lordling “This is folly, my lord. We cannot stand against such a ship.”
“Do you question my orders?” Borkor replied angrily, the ship juddering as a cannonball hit the port side. “You do know what happens to mutineers, don’t you?”
“No my lord, I mean yes.” The Captain replied, his grimy brow glistening with sweat. “The rest of the fleet has moved on. We are alone and outgunned.”
“The others are cowards. Their reputations shall be forever scarred by their actions. For us shall come victory and a great prize once we take command of that warship.” Borkor mused in reply, hungry for battle.
“If you say so.” The Captain responded understanding the Lordling’s reasoning. Pickings had been poor so far but he believed this had made Borkor reckless and impatient. And now the Lordling’s decision had placed Hope’s Ruin and all aboard her in a most unfavourable position. He bitterly thought of ways of being rid of the noble, wondering if they would survive their sea battle at all as a cannonball brought down the aft sail, splitting the mast which crashed down at the rear of the oarsmen crushing many to death. Cheers were carried across from the human vessel and were met with roars and curses as a volley of bolts answered in return from the corsair ship.
“Keep her steady and we’ll...” Borkor was interrupted mid sentence as he was grabbed and thrown to the deck, a cannon roaring by and reaping carnage out of a row of oarsmen, chained to their benches and unable to evade the shot.
The Lordling grabbed hold of the one responsible for knocking him down, rolling him on to his back and raising a sword, the spiked pommel ready to be brought down to deliver a death blow against a temple.
“Captain, have this clumsy bastard nailed to the mast!” He snarled, his face twisted with rage.
The Druchii beneath Borkor hissed a laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
The corsair shrugged an arm to his right and Borkor followed the line of the gesture to see the Captain, or what was left of him less than a foot away. He had taken the full impact of the cannonball, his head and the top of his torso torn away from his body and reduced to a bloody smear across the deck.
Borkor let go of his sword and grabbed the corsair that had thrown him down by his arms and slammed him hard against the deck, reeling from how close he had just come to being killed. Had this miserable Druchii not intervened he would have shared the Captain’s fate.
“How dare you touch a Highborn!” He roared, punching the corsair in the face twice. “Where is the second in command?”
“Dead, m’lord.” Replied the elf.
“Then get up and take over,” ordered the Lordling as he rose to his feet. “What is your name, dog?”
“Kasayth, m’lord.” came the reply as the corsair picked himself up, nursing a bloody nose.
“It’s Captain Kasayth now. Get us out of this mess.” Borkor growled, as he took account of the damage to the ship, noting that the mainsail was now ablaze.
“Aye. All we need now is a sea dragon and a flock of harpies.” replied Kasayth. Borkor glared at the Druchii, not sure whether he was ridiculing him or was just immensely dim.
“I don’t care how you do it, just get on with it.” the Lordling snapped back, turning and heading back to the upper deck.
Kasayth grinned, hardly believing his luck. He prized the Captain’s whip from his lifeless hand and snapped it above his head to get the crew’s attention over the din of screams, cannon fire, and bolt shots. “You heard him you savages, now get to it!”
“Turn hard to port!” Kasayth shouted, thinking to lessen the target area of their vessel. By wheeling around, only the stern would be vulnerable and whilst they made a sweep away from the larger galleon, opportunity would be granted to shoot several volleys of bolts at the enemy.
He was enjoying the feeling of new found power until, “We can’t Kas... Captain. Rudder’s come loose.”
Kasayth hurried to the stern, shoving his way through a frenzied mob of corsairs tearing down the burning mainsail with hooked poles and casting the flaming cloth overboard. He scrambled up the steps to the ship’s wheel. Lord Borkor threw him a questioning gaze, Kasayth responding with a reassuring nod and smile, before clenching his teeth and grabbing the Druchii on the wheel by his matted topknot. The Druchii looked to the Captain with alarm, his adam’s apple bobbing as he felt the tip of a knife below his ear.
“What do ya mean Rudder’s come loose?” snarled Kasayth, just low enough to be out of earshot of the Lordling.
“Loose Captain... or rather, gone.”
Kasayth released the corsair and stomped to the back rail. Leaning over the edge, he could see the damage. The rudder hung from its chain in smashed fragments, useless and ruined. He sighed to himself and returned to the wheel.
“When did this happen?”
“A fair while ago...”
“You mean to tell me that you just stood there pretending to steer the ship?”
“That’s the measure of it, Captain. He’d have thrown me over the side.” The corsair replied, gesturing to Borkor who was beginning to look interested in the scene at the wheel.
“What’s to say I won’t chuck you overboard, idiot?” Kasayth questioned, grabbing the corsair’s topknot again.
“Release me and I’ll save you the bother.” The Druchii replied ruefully, thinking it better to leap into the icy waves and escape a slow and painful death.
Kasayth let go of the corsair’s hair, thinking the situation through. “You’re Jerek’s son, aren’t you?”
“Aye Kasayth, second eldest, Ranal.”
“Well Ranal, if we’re going to get out of this alive, you just keep doing what you’re doing.”
The corsair nodded his understanding, turning the wheel anticlockwise.
“Is anything amiss?” queried Borkor, stepping confidently towards them.
“Don’t bother yourself m’lord, in all this excitement this oaf forgot his port from his starboard.” Kasayth replied, smacking the back of Ranal’s head, causing the corsair to yelp. The Lordling raised a brow, thinking them both incompetent, and to their relief returned to watching the battle.
It was then that one of the corsairs on the deck noticed something and shouted a warning cry whilst pointing at the enemy vessel. Kasayth followed his gaze and paled at the sight before him. The Druchii had been barraged by a single deck’s worth of cannon fire, but now hatches were opening on what must be the deck above. Loaded cannons were wheeled forwards as the Druchii shot reaver bolters and crossbows at the enemy ship. One by one, twelve cannons shot a barrage of munitions at the smaller Druchii vessel, the noise of the guns blasting only seconds before their vessel shuddered with the impacts. The screams of the wounded were joined by the sound of the ship creaking.
“Breach in the hold!” Yelled a voice from the slave deck.
Kasayth ran down from the upper deck to look at the damage, thinking this promotion wasn’t going so well. “How bad is it?”
A one-eyed corsair, his face scarred by a hefty diagonal wound, gestured behind him, where three cannons had punched through the side. The slaves began to panic as water gushed in, the vessel already starting to lean.
Lord Borkor had come down to see for himself, his face a mask of anger and dismay. His hakseer cruise had taken a definite turn for the worse. Kasayth took a swig from his wine flask.
“She won’t stay afloat for long.”
Lord Borkor floundered for words. No amount of threatening or violence would prevent the ship from sinking. “So do you have any ideas?”
Kasayth stroked his chin, his icy eyes narrowing in thought, before a desperate smile spread across his face. “There’s only one thing for it now. We board the bastards!”
