He kept his eyes on the helmsman, who was at the rudder, steering the ship straight and true. The Papaya's Vengeance lagged behind, its green hull and orange sails standing out against the blue sky and gray water. Jonas had had the ship painted and the sails dyed at great personal expense to himself, but as he put it, there was little else to do with the coin on the island, and there would be plenty more coin to replace what he'd spent.
Presently, they finished the crossing, and the oarsmen were able to rest, riding the sails over the shallower, calmer water. They drew up even with the Iron Oar, the Papaya on their other side, closest to the shore.
Almost on cue, from behind the shell of a volcanic remnant of an island, the front of a massive ship sailed into sight. On either side were two galleys, small, open-decked ships with one sail and a bank of oars on either side, much like Elias's ship. They were perhaps a mile distant when they hove into view, their sails tightly furled, rowing towards Elias's ships. They were not moving swiftly, but were gaining speed.
Elias ordered the men on the oars to start rowing again as he untied his sword from the mast, where he had lashed it to get it out of the way. The pulled ahead of the other two ships, and hurtled towards the giant war vessel ahead of them.
As they drew closer, an arrow struck the deck next to him. He looked up to see a volley in the air. “Archers!” he yelled. “Shields up!”
Everyone on deck grabbed their shield, which was hung on the bench in front of them, and crouched behind it, momentarily stopping in their rowing. Arrows struck the deck and shields, penetrating through at times to strike the warriors behind them. The cries of the wounded caused him to grit his teeth. He knew that this was just a part of the battle, but he hated being unable to strike back yet.
He saw the archers on the decks of the Iron Oar and the Papaya loose their own volleys, targeting the smaller ships on either side of the great galleon.
The Slingstone rushed forward, closing with the giant ship. “Brace yourselves!“ Elias shouted, grabbing onto a rope that he had tied to the mast.
The front of the small galley slammed into the hull on the starboard bow of the ship, the brass-clad ram tearing a hole below the waterline. The impact would have thrown Elias to the deck if he hadn't been holding onto the rope. The oarsmen had braced themselves against the back of the bench in front of them, riding out the impact. Seawater rushed into the bilges as arrows struck the deck around them. He could hear the pirates on the deck of the galleon shouting and cursing above him.
The Iron Oar drew up alongside the galleon, between it and one of the smaller ships, casting hooks and lines between both of them. Like tattooed blue locusts, the sea elves swung from one ship to the other, scaling rigging and leaping the rails.
“Row back! Pull free of the hull, or she'll pull us down with her!“ Elias cried, attaching the scabbard of his sword to the harness he wore. He grabbed a grappling line, whirling the three-pronged hook over his head, and cast it up to the railing of the forecastle of the great ship. It didn't catch on the first try, so he hauled it in and cast again. The arrows had stopped raining down as the deck became consumed with melee combat.
The hook caught on the second cast. He gave it three solid tugs to make sure it was set, and started climbing. He made short work of the climb, and hauled himself over the railing to the deck, ducking down behind some crates. He pulled his sword off of the harness, just as the Slingstone wrenched free of the hull of the larger ship. He could hear water gushing into the hold, and knew that their time here was limited. He threw the scabbard back over the railing, landing it on the deck between the oarsmen of the retreating galley, then turned back to the battle.
There were easily a hundred pirates on the deck, fighting fiercely with the warriors, mostly sea elves, who were boarding the ship in waves. Most of Elias's warriors were concentrated in a fighting line on either side of the ship, the pirates in the middle, as they were trained to do.
Elias, on the other hand, was not in a position to just clip away at the edges of the mob. The upper deck of the forecastle was almost deserted, maybe ten archers standing along the rail, firing at the warriors below. He charged up from behind, swinging his massive sword like a scythe. His first swing cut through two men and into a third. The adrenaline was surging through his veins, giving him the familiar red tunnel vision. It used to scare him when he lost control, but over the last year, he'd grow accustomed to it, even reveling in it from time to time.
The remaining archers turned to face him in surprise as he rushed into them, swinging his greatsword at their necks. The first archer still had the shocked look on his face as his head was unburdened of the rest of him, falling to the deck below. The second man ducked, dodging the swing, but caught a solid kick to the face. By this time, the other five were nocking their arrows and drawing their bows.
Elias grabbed the body of the headless man, ducking behind it. It did a poor job of covering his extremities, but it caught three arrows that would have struck his torso. An arrow skimmed his chest, cutting him, but not badly. He threw the body at the standing men, who scattered as they dodged the makeshift projectile, reaching for the swords sheathed at their waists. This is what he was waiting for.
Even as they drew their swords and formed up in front of him, he crouched, supporting his sword across his shoulders. The five remaining men kept their distance, glancing between each other, before rushing him all at once.
He stepped to the right, swinging his sword as hard as he could, shattering the blade of one pirate, severing his arm and driving the blade into his ribcage. He wrenched it free as he reversed his swing, coming in to hack through the leg of a pirate coming in from the other side. He jumped back and the now one-legged pirate fell to the deck, screaming. His blade dripping red with blood, he faced off against the last three.
He stood at his full height, his powerful muscles flexing in the sunlight. The three men looked up at him, panic overtaking their features. One turned to run, and the other two held their swords out in front of them.
Like a striking snake, Elias's sword flashed down at the man to the left, who dodged back out of the way as the man on the right leapt in with an overhanded swing. Elias jerked his blade free of the deck in time to catch the strike on the hilt, reaching for the pirate's hand. The pirate was too fast, though, and dodged clear.
Again, Elias swung in hard from the side, and the pirate was too close to dodge entirely out of the way. The tip of Elias's blade caught his stomach, disemboweling him. The final man turned and fled onto the deck below.
Elias leapt over the rail, vaulting onto the deck amidst the pitched battle, his long blade flashing into the mob as he landed, cleaving into two pirates, dropping them where they stood. Swinging his sword back and forth, he cleared a path of enemies who either fell where they stood or clambered out of the way of his deadly scything. He could hear the pirates moving in behind him, so he started striking all about himself, his enormous sword flashing about him like a whirling dancer, blood and screams in his wake. Despite the danger, the horde of pirates pressed in against him.
A broken oar handle caught his blade, knocking it down, stopping the momentum. The crowd surged forth, blades and hooks seeking his flesh, yet he did not know fear. All he knew was the battle, his vision tinged entirely red, no haze this time. His muscles bulged as he gripped the handle of his weapon in two hands and surged back against his assailants, smashing weapons and the limbs that wielded them.
Something hard struck him in the back, and he spun, cleaving through an oar handle and into the head of the man who tried to block his strike. Suddenly, blue-skinned warriors surrounded him, battling the pirates, driving them back away from him. Something grabbed his arm, and he pulled back to strike it.
It was Jonas. He stayed his blow, glowering down at the man from the height of his frenzy. He turned back to the battle, but Jonas held fast.
“Elias! Dammit, Elias look at me!”
Elias whirled back, baring hi
s teeth in a snarl. “What do you want!” It wasn't a question as much as it was an accusation, a challenge for the one who would dare interrupt his carnage.
“Elias, you're wounded!”
“So are they! They're on the run!” He wrenched his arm free, and stepped towards the line of elves that were clashing with the pirates. Bodies littered the deck, both men and elves, and he stepped over them, closing with a group of pirates just as the elves that were facing them fell. He dove into their midst, cleaving and hacking with his sword until there was no opposition left. Vaguely, he could hear Jonas shouting, and warriors answering him, but the words were well beyond his caring at that point.
An explosion threw him to the deck. He looked up, his vision clearing, to see the sails of the Papaya on fire, flaming bits of wood and debris raining down around him. He looked around, feeling dazed. Almost everyone on the deck of the giant galleon had been thrown to the ground or overboard. The sails of the Papaya listed away from the galleon; she was sinking, and sinking fast. Elias struggled to his feet, the ship heaving on the waves from whatever had caused the blast.
Through the smoke and debris, he could see that the galley that had been on the other side of the Papaya had been obliterated. Fragments of the bow and stern were rapidly sinking under the waves, as the masts of the Papaya fell to the water where the enemy ship had once been.
The elves on the deck started rising to their feet as the pirates began regaining theirs. Pockets of fighting started breaking out again as combatants gathered their senses. Elias took a step and slipped in blood and sea spray, almost falling to his knees again. The warriors on the deck outnumbered the pirates by an easy three to one. It would not be long until this battle was over.
Sea water washed over the side of the great warship as it listed forward. Elves were jumping back from the pirate vessel to the Iron Oar, and pirates were floundering on the deck. The second galley had been captured by Delain and his warriors; Elias could hear the victory cries from across the ship.
He stepped up on the sinking rail of the warship, and grabbed a rope, hauling himself upwards. The ropes that held the great ship tied to the Iron Oar were being cut, so as not to let the smaller ship be dragged down with her. As the ship sank, his right hand slipped on the rope, leaving a long, bloody smear. He readjusted his grip, and climbed up the rope and over the railing.
The great warship sank until only the top of her masts were visible above the waves, settling on the bed of the shallow water. Pirates floundered in the floating wreckage, the elves fishing them out and tying their hands behind their backs. Prisoners were worth more than bodies, after all.
Elias could feel the red fading from his vision, the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears calming as he observed their victory. They had lost a ship, but had gained another. The largest ship they had seen in the pirate fleet had been scuttled, and another had been destroyed entirely. The fighting was done, except for a few straggling pirates who refused to stop resisting. Short work was made of their struggles, and they soon joined the ranks of the captured.
Elias swayed, and gripped the rail of the Iron Oar. He could feel the wind cold against wetness on his trousers. He had assumed it was from sea spray, but when he brushed at it his hand came away red with blood. His vision darkened as his head swam.
He could feel his balance going as he pushed himself back from the railing, away from the sea. “Jonas!” he shouted, as the deck came up to meet him, and all went black.
~ ~ ~
14th Waxing Flower Moon, Year 4369
He could hear again before he could see. The cries of seagulls were distant, but not terribly so. The sound of the waves almost drowned them out. The padding under his chest was firm, but not hard. Elias was laying on his front, his head pillowed on his right arm, his left arm stretch out to the side. While not uncomfortable, the position did restrict circulation to his hands, and his fingertips tingled a bit.
He stretched, rolling to his side. Pain shot up his back and down his left arm, causing him to hiss his breath out and grit his teeth. He opened his eyes, his vision bleary, and wiped the grits away.
Small, gentle hands caught his shoulder. “Slowly! Slowly, my love. You do not want the stitches to tear.” He focused on Coral, her emerald green eyes lined with worry.
“What happened? Where am I?”
Coral pushed him back down onto the furs. “You're in the village, at Seagate. Jonas brought you here. You had a fever, and were shaking.“ She wrung out a cloth, and set the cool pad on the back of his neck. “The weapon that struck you was poisoned. That battle had been a trap.“
Elias grunted, his head pounding. “Poison? Did I survive?”
Coral snorted, chuckling slightly. “No, you died. This is heaven.“
Elias shook his fists lightly in feigned exuberance. “Yes!“
She lightly slapped him on the backside. “No, you silly thing, my father was able to identify the poison and administer an antidote. You were out for a few days, but you should mend.”
Elias carefully stretched again. The pain and stiffness in his back radiated all the way across and down to his tailbone, and his left arm felt like dead weight. He felt like his spine needed to pop, but tensing in such a way would cause far too much pain. He pushed himself up with his right arm, easing his way into a sitting position, Coral steadying him as he moved.
Once he was upright, Coral stood. “My father and Jonas wished to speak with you as soon as you woke. I will fetch them now.” She leaned down and kissed him, lingering for a moment before she departed. It was not long before man and elf arrived, Coral returning with them.
Marl stepped in, and moved to check Elias's wounds. “How are you feeling, my boy?”
“My head hurts, my back hurts, I can't move my left arm very well, and I am hungry enough to eat a horse.”
He flinched as Marl pushed lightly on the skin around the stitches. Apparently, he had three shallow puncture wounds, much like the wounds a bladed mace would deliver. Marl reached around Elias, putting his hands on either side of his chest, and squeezed. “Did that hurt?”
Elias shrugged, wincing slightly. “Only a little.”
“Good. No broken ribs, then. Lift your arms over your head.”
Elias tried to raise his arms. His right arm was fine, but lifting it caused waves of pain to surge down his back, and into his left arm. His left arm, however, was only able to lift partway before the pain made Elias drop it.
Marl shook his head. “That is what I was worried about.”
Elias felt his stomach clench up. “What were you worried about?”
Marl looked over Elias's back some more. “The weapon that hit you was not only poisoned, but it destroyed a lot of the muscle that it struck. It very nearly broke your shoulder blade. It definitely pulverized a lot of the meat under your skin. You're lucky it didn't do more damage, or you would have lost your arm. As it is...“ Marl trailed off.
Elias frowned. “Go on.“
Marl was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “As it is, the damage to your muscles is deep. I did everything I could, stitching you back together, but the oil they put on the blade burned through you fast, and destroyed some of your tendons. You'll be very, very lucky if you regain even half the use of that arm. I don't think it will ever swing a sword again.”
Elias was stunned. “That... that's not acceptable. I have to get back out there. We have to finish this. We have them on the run!”
Jonas scoffed. “Did you miss the part where you were baited and ambushed, boy? They're targeting you, and they almost killed you. Who's to say that they're not going to lay down another trap?”
“Absolutely nobody.” Elias pushed himself to his feet, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to stand despite the pain, gripping his left arm with his right hand. “That is almost assured. Once they know that they failed, I expect them to redouble their efforts.”
Coral tried to push him back down. “All the more reason for you to rega
in your strength before you face it!”
Elias braced himself, taking her hands gently in his, wincing as his left arm dropped. “If they know that I am weakened, and they know where I am, then they could attack here and there is nothing I could do. No, better that it be seen as though I am unhurt by their attempt.”
She narrowed her eyes, frowning. “Elias, you are hurt. I know you're strong. We all know you're strong. You're the most powerful person I've ever met. You should be dead, but you're standing here in front of me. You don't have to prove anything to us!”
He straightened up to his full height. Normally he slouched or hunched very slightly, to not tower over everyone else around him, but now he stood up straight. “Coral, I'm not proving anything to you. Nor your father, Jonas, Delain, or Martin, or Geoff, or Jenna. I am proving something to the people who are watching me. The pirates, the villagers here, on the other islands, the sailors and merchants at Port Greenreef, I am proving something to them.”
He released her arms, and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I am proving that the pirates can't win. That they can't kill us, they can't even slow us down. I am proving that this battle is already won, we just have to take it. Isn't that what your prophecy says?”
Coral turned away angrily, facing the sea, her back to Elias. A crack of thunder sounded ominously, almost too perfectly in time with her motions. Jonas and Marl were silent.
He looked down at them where they were standing, outside on the sand in front of the platform. “Well? You wanted to speak to me?”
Jonas looked at him for a moment, before shaking his head.
“What?”
“You're a damn foolish fuck, Elias. But you're a brave foolish fuck, and brave foolish fucks get themselves killed. She's wise enough to know that.”
Elias looked at Marl. “Isn't there a prophecy that she will bear my son? We haven't lain together for nearly a year now. According to her, and your prophecy, she has nothing to worry about.”
Rising Thunder (Dynasty of Storms Book 1) Page 20
