“You would defend Roska too, right? — And would remind me of this at every moment ...”
“I would not let Roska get hurt,” cut off the Baroness. “This girl — she is something! The whole team of the flagship is in love with her, they showered her with gifts. She had already been everywhere. Even on the lowest decks — and under water. I did not even need to give an order to protect her— any of the fighters would stand up for her without being asked. Especially after she asked the Scarlet Baron what it is like to be under the foot of the Plague Knight twice, and how did he feel about losing to an honest sailor?”
“Oh ...”
“That’s exactly what Baron said when he closed green mouth and wandered off somewhere deep into the hold … from which, later, a quiet sobbing was heard…”
“Hmm ...”
“But you’re right — I would had reminded you at every turn. And upon arrival at Zar’Graad, you would be a ship engine on land … a walking catamaran with a sea of unnecessary mana. And we would had helped you again! Hmm … would you really have minded?”
“What do you think?”
“That is life. But I repeat — I would have done everything possible to give you excess magical power. And I would not hurt Roska.”
“Another question. You could even count your answer as payment for a sheet from the ship’s log.”
“I will do exactly that. Ask.”
“Do you have any plans for Roska as the head of Sleepless?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you. For the honesty.”
“And what do you think of us now?”
“I feel nothing but lukewarm hatred. BB, it is how you were waving at me from the table there — invitingly, resolutely — but with servility. Here are the craftsmen ...”
“What is it?” The Baroness shouted, displeased, obviously not wanting to finish the conversation so quickly.
“Info confirmed! Intelligence has detected the swallower fish! Sitting ready for ambush right on course. What is the order, cap? According to the plan of military analysts?”
“That was fast. And what is their plan?”
“Accelerate the two ships with the help of boosters and allow the fish to swallow them together with the team. Then we check the data from the new source, and at the same time we would test the resistance of the creatures to volley from both inside and outside.”
“Great plan! And we will do it! Let us give the ships to the sea creatures! Bring forth the victims!”
“Ay-ay, cap! There are no clouds in the sky, the weather is beautiful — an excellent day to be eaten! Give orders to Dashing Jack and Bold Moxi! Their fate is to be devoured!”
Chapter Twenty-Six.
Black waves.
Here was the power of information!
Here was unimaginable power of information warning you about an impending threat!
Another fully confirmed proverb.
Armed with information from the ship’s journal and tactical analytics, the Sleepless managed to think through not one or two, but five or even six ways of counteracting each described danger. Then, the number of countermeasures was slightly curtailed, leaving three methods, which were sent to the commanders, so that they tried them in practice.
And they tried with pleasure! And almost with complete success — misfires happened only in a couple of cases, and were far from fatal.
The main result of well-prepared battles was a significant reduction of wasted ammunition. It was not necessary to choose a type of charge at random and shoot, hoping for a miracle. When the type of monster was known in advance — its size and speed, its survivability and methods of attack — it was possible to count on the success at almost every volley. I was convinced of this when a single volley at the maximum distance accurately blocked the swallowing fish that was rushing towards us. It tried to dodge the attack, turned abruptly, began to go into the depths — but there it was caught by the main blow — the gunners knew about the maneuvers of the enemy and easily foresaw its movement.
As soon as the armada passed through the “strip of swallowers”, the “black waves” began. That was unpleasant. And in some ways, disgusting. The black liquid spilled into the ocean remotely resembled an oil that had acquired intelligence and an aggressive temper. Only unlike the real earth’s oil, this grease did not want to burn — and differed tremendously in that it easily went to the bottom and then again rose to the surface again.
The Sleepless had to take it easy. Even if they were warned in advance, they managed to reduce losses, but they did not completely eliminate them. The armada lost dozens of ships. The spectacle of frigates and schooners being overwhelmed by black waves fascinated and froze the soul.
The fact was that, in the blink of an eye, this liquid “dissolved” in the water as easily as a drop of ink in a liter of clean water. And to try to strike at the enemy — where would one strike? After all, the enemy was the whole ocean! The soldiers froze in strained positions— the ship continued to go forward. But nothing happened … Transparent peaceful waves rolled with a roar on the bowsprit, sweeping the sides, spreading foamy puddles on the deck, squelching under the boots of the soldiers. And then the water became turbid, in an instant, and was filled with a terrible blackness — and on the deck there was a shapeless animated drop of “oil” beginning to destroy everything and everyone around it. With a crash the masts collapsed, and then the deck broke through, after which the “drop” fell, with a mocking noiselessness, into the hold or other internal premises. And the slaughter began in the narrow internal corridors. The blazing and gleaming wall of water was rapidly advancing on the defenders, drowning them, beating against walls, pressing on the floor and ceiling. And the black waves continued to arrive, to fill the sinking ship. An overloaded combat ship sunk faster, water flooded the deck, and then the boat swiftly went underwater, unless he could be propped up by the mighty back of a whale or a dinosaur, or even by the strong “palm” of magic.
Underwater, the situation was even worse. In the native element, black currents sprang up right around the victims, instantly squeezing them in deadly embraces. And the size of the victim did not matter — whether an achilot or a giant sperm whale. It was all the same — the waters enveloped any enemy.
“The waters rebel against us!” Gloomily stated Klest, watching as the enemy seized the next ship, and the dark waves danced across single boats, from which dragons and birds began to evacuate team members.
I did not understand many of his phrases, but I was impressed with the serious expression on his face and nodded, just in case. I’d pretend to be smart …
But the Sleepless, as always, broke through. A salutary “gong”, a signal to stop fighting, was heard during an incredible beautiful purple sunset. Half an hour later, in the distance, the peaks of the first islands dotted with dense forest appeared. During the next few hours, the Black Queen passed by these islands, heading for the very last in the line. There, the flagship entered the largest bay and stopped. The first day of the campaign after the Great Rest was over.
In the evening, when players settled around the fires, intending to chat before going out into the real world, I was not with my friends. And not even with the insane insomniacs. No. I stepped away, sat down under the nearest tree, stretched out my legs, and fell silent. I warned my friends in advance that I wanted to think about various trifles, to gather my thoughts. So I sat for about an hour, and then returned to the bonfires and joined in the fun. Half an hour later, Kira and I went to the real world went to the bathroom at once, shoving each other and arguing about whose turn it was to wash first, and also about where all the real gentlemen had gone. The shower was taken together. Then we had dinner together, watched a film full of special effects for half an hour.
What was I thinking about, sitting by the tree and looking out at the nocturnal ocean?
Tried to deal with the nearest future. To establish a temporary camp, the first Zar’Graad clan, and whether to stay or not,
to return or not, if I could even return. If not to the old continent, perhaps to a place closer? Fly to the Ring of Peace, which had proven to be a nice quiet place and there to grow Roska? … Unlike the old continent, where the young goddess would be devoured. Raise Roska on the new continent? It was still unclear. Nobody knew what to expect at Zar’Graad. There was no data.
How did my thinking end?
It did not. Tomorrow night I’d try again …
The next day we again felt ourselves in the shoes of Klock, the captain of the old ship. We went to a new “page” of his ship’s log and collided with the described monsters. Don Klock called them sliding lobsters. But the Sleepless identified the enemy more accurately— water hoppers. Giant insects. A length of eight to ten meters. Their incredibly long and widely spaced legs rested on the water surely as the earth’s firmament. A vile snout was armed with a ten-meter, two-pronged fork— or a spear, as this device could easily be called. The wings were small, and could not be straightened much— they were able to leap to an obstacle, and then again to sink into the ocean. The most fascinating thing was their speed. Approximately equal to the speed of the arrow released from a good bow. Their maneuverability was the most beautiful— their dodging was so chic. Valdira called her new pets simply: the Taranga. Thank you, Valdira … thank you very much. It was wonderful to see a live RAM passing at full speed through one of the ships that floated next to us. Slivers and debris scattered in all directions like funeral confetti!
Thus, all glory be to Don Klock! After all, who would have thought that so much blubber could be poured overboard a ship. I had read in some adventure novels that this was the way one could calm down the raging waves. But I did not know that it could also slow down Tarangas. As soon as they reached the blubber, they became like cows on ice. The gunners were very happy with the dance of the insects, and hit the moving targets with ease. They used bolts with explosive tips. As soon as the whale fat began to separate, it was set on fire – on the orders of Don Klock. A few minutes later, the Tarangas were thoroughly cooked, turning into an insect popcorn, which is loved in some countries.
We did not have time to rejoice over the small triumph, as some old enemies joined our new enemies- our unpleasant acquaintances, the Sargasso fields. The ocean around us turned into a sort of “skating rink” dotted with populated green islands and deadly skaters. Under the “skating rink”, there was a fierce fight between underwater troops and the same Sargasso, as well as the “black waves”. The latter sometimes went upstairs. Again, we managed to break through with only a small loss. Only a couple of crumbs pinched from us. But if you pinched every day …
In the evening of the second day, I spent a couple of hours on the deserted shore of one of the islands on the ” dotted line.” I had a good look at the dark waves that hit the sand with a. Their measured noise calmed me — but, unfortunately, did not give me any enlightenment. It was going to take a deliberate, wise decision to determine the future fate of Roska. We — the players — could, at any moment, refuse to continue further down the difficult path. We could step aside and start collecting digital chamomiles in a virtual meadow. But Roska could not did this — even if she did not want to become a goddess, by her soul anyway, someone would appear with the most bloodthirsty intentions.
I did not take a decision that night, either. Well … the expedition was still going on…
The third day was amazing. We, the whole armadas of the Sleepless, somewhere within a couple of hours after the start of the next day’s passage, entered a special zone of the ocean, dotted with rare rocks and islets. Everyone expected to see some new creatures hungry for our death. But instead the ships received a gentle push and began to accelerate quickly. The wind — even and very strong — filled the sails to the point of failure and accelerated us even more. Not perplexed, Klest shouted the order of ” Howler” and the Black Queen rushed forward. Soon the ships were carried forward, and cargo schooners did not lag far behind the graceful ships. The water and wind were so strong that for the first time a longboat with a single low mast was able to experience real speed. And this speed fascinated the imagination — I, for example, had the impression that we were sitting in the cabin of a high-speed car and were flying along a coastal road, with sea views passing through the window.
A sort of race began, where you could not get too far behind any ship, and could not slow down because another one was at your back. Captains who had been sitting at the helm minding their own business now gripped the steering wheels, white in the faces.
The Great Voyage turned into a race of super-speed bolides. Rather, it was the race for survival from the very beginning — even before the start it was assumed that a large part of the participants would not reach the finish line. But now, for the first time, it looked so obvious — it was a race in all its glory, and in its purest form, without the addition of battles with monsters.
The wind was strong! The current was strong! The sails were buzzing, the rigging was ringing, the hulls of the ships were cracking, the water hissing, the cries of the sailors echoing.
The huge armada left behind itself a wide band of foaming white water. If we looked from the cosmos — we were like a single gigantic living organism, a monster rushing towards its goal.
There were constant incidents. Again, the loss of ships. But this time the fault lay entirely on the teams of the affected ships — sometimes it was the way they changed their course, the way they did not turn abruptly enough, or ignored the strange tremors of the deck. As a result — there were holes on the sides, broken noses, broken bottoms, fallen masts. When the ship jumped on the rock protruding from the water, the blow was strong because of the speed. A couple of ships took off as if on a springboard, flew over the water, and safely landed on it in an aura. The move was lost, received some damage, but it stayed afloat and continued the campaign.
Another handsome ship also managed to “fly” but did not fall into the water, but onto another island, where it remained a wonderful memorial to itself. Another frigate proved to be an excellent jumper and flew down, but it was sharply stopped by the “leash” — the ship dragged a large barge behind it and it could not take off … the ship jerked back and fell back into the water. And the last ship — it fell directly on the deck of the brigantine ahead. Both ships survived, which surprised many.
It was the same underwater. Only there it was not the ships but the underwater creatures. One jellyfish simply splashed onto a stone column, when it did not had time to turn away.
In a word, there were plenty of spectacles, which I enjoyed it all day, as well as the rest of the unemployed players. Many had received gaming achievements, some of which had already been known to seafarers Valdira for a long time — and some were brand new. As reported by the Baroness, in the future these achievements would be very, very useful for sailors during peaceful and combat voyages. They were memorable achievements. The administration was working overtime — there were about twenty different ones, of which two-thirds were in the category of being memorable.
“Flying frigate”, “Soaring barge”, “Ship press”, “Ship’s somersault”, “Deep bend” and others.
Judging by the extremely grieved groaning of the most seasoned sailors, those who had already walked the waves of the world of Valdira for more than a year, it was clear that the achievements in this zone would be even greater for them. One captain asked permission to deploy a ship for a test of what would happen if you were going against the current and the wind. He was given permission and, immediately after the maneuver, some memorable achievement popped up, although the frigate could not move forward. There were dozens of experiments. But the armada was moving at full speed.
No one engaged in collecting interesting pieces from numerous islets and rocks, from underwater caves and algal forests. There would beno delays …
The crazy race lasted almost until sunset. The islands of the dotted line appeared three hours later than usual. The fleet of the Sleepl
ess passed over five times the normal day’s journey.
This amazing leap had pushed us forward very far. So many nautical miles behind us! And losses of the fleet were ridiculously low. Several broken chips did not count, and there were only about a dozen drowned barges and dead monsters together. The rest could be repaired. Terrific! But the leaders of the clan were much gloomier than yesterday, when the day was harder and monsters attacked us from all sides.
At first, I thought that they were sad because they could not predict the future — what lies ahead of us after such a powerful breakthrough? And then I listened to their conversations and realized that they were worried about something quite different — that some followed us like a pack of wolves behind a herd of moose — though it was a sin to compare the Sleepless with horned herbivores. But it was so.
The jerk moved us forward. That is right. And it had also reduced the distance between the Sleepless and their pursuers. The trouble was that the huge flagship, though it a monster of monsters, could be overtaken by speed. Iron was an iron, an iceberg was an iceberg, and an island was an island. But it could be surpassed. Ships were already rocking in the bay chosen for this purpose, and their teams had managed to put up their camps on the shore.
No other clan fleet had a ship as heavy as the Black Queen. In addition, the flagship was dragged a huge gun platform behind it, which consisted of hundreds of large rafts. Judging by reports of logistical reconnaissance, the clans that followed us were approaching with every hour. They were restrained only by their own slow-moving ships, which were loaded with supplies. But three clans, left their cargo galoshes in the care of the alliance, and jerked forward, intending to approach us. And they succeeded.
The Way of the Clan 9 Page 18
