CHAPTER 12: In the Hands of the Enemy - Part 1

  Delforn and Nifara stood back to back. The corpses of a hundred foes, both regulars and Decimae, were strewn from stern to bow on the ship's deck. Some lay twisted and contorted, others torn. The main mast had collapsed, driving wooden planks and deck railings asunder, the helm shattered, and the ship's half-tilted angle caused the enemy's blood to slide to one side.

  Delforn was of a robust build, a beard creeping from his chin to his sideburns. His black hair was cropped short on the sides, the rest combed back and secured with a short ponytail. Nifara, a tall woman matching Delforn's height, had a substantial figure. Her light brown hair was shoulder-length and became increasingly wavy towards the ends.

  Their Prana Armor had long since extinguished. Cold steel had torn through their clothes and flesh. Added to the wounds inflicted by Mana and Prana attacks, it was impossible to place a hand on their skin without covering a wound.

  Their ship was faltering. Creaking and heaving in concert with the waves of the grayish sea. Debris from other Isofean sister ships tapped against the hull. The last rope snapped, and the wind carried the blood-stained sails into the ocean. Their plight was in opposition to the dozen Terzionite ships encircling them.

  Sciast approached the Ira Vith railings. At the masthead, two flags fluttered. The top flag bore the Terzion Empire’s insignia, a seven-pointed star encircled by seven crescent moons with a blazing sun at its center. Below it fluttered a flag depicting a horned flying fish with a double-looped tail, the symbol of their naval forces.

  “You two the Southern Shields?” Sciast called out. His voice carried despite the distance between the ships, which would require a regular to shout. “You two are responsible for half of our casualties. Impressive. But this marks your farewell voyage.”

  Earlier that day, a single flag appeared on the horizon. Atop the Fhon fortress, the lookout reached for his telescope. By the time he put it to his eye, what was one flag had multiplied to a dozen, each bearing the seven-pointed star. He rang the bronze bell with all his might.

  Delforn and Nifara, conducting their midday inspection, immediately initiated a muster. They led all warships to meet the enemy, fighting with a valor that could terrify any foe.

  However, outnumbered, unfavorable ocean currents, and the enemy's advantage in weather gage worked together to thwart their efforts. The enemy's Artifica cannons, in particular, were instrumental in their defeat.

  Delforn refused to let excuses be his epitaph. Thus, he sat cross-legged, hands resting on his thighs, and remained silent.

  “You! No, not you,” Sciast said. “You're beautiful. A woman like you belongs in my cabin, reclining on your back. Rather than a head, I have another anatomical part for you to twiddle. Bite your lower lip if you agree.” The soldiers on the deck of the Ira Vith chuckled.

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  Delforn stood up, his face dark with rage. A gentle pat from Nifara on his back eased his expression.

  Nifara walked towards the front sail mast, her shoes clacking on the deck. Golden yellow Prana flames enveloped her forearms to her fingertips as she activated the Radiant Talon.

  She patted the half-remaining mast then gripped it until it crumbled. Wooden shards burst as if exploding from within. With the help of her other hand, she lifted it above her head and threw it towards her husband.

  Delforn caught it with the Aetheric Deflector technique, capable of attracting, repelling, and restraining attacks. His hands, wrapped in a purple aura with sparks like the night sky, received the mast – or rather, welcomed it.

  A purple whirlwind from his hands spun the mast above his head, faster and faster like a windmill. Then, he hurled it towards Sciast.

  Sciast ducked. The mast smashed the heads of five soldiers standing behind him, sending them into the sea.

  “Which anatomical part were you referring to?” Nifara asked. “Care to show me… in private?”

  Nifara made an inviting gesture with her index finger while biting her lower lip. Her fingers, stained with dried blood, served as a reminder of how many heads she had twisted off. Delforn grinned, his teeth red with blood.

  “Nah, you’re too rough. This is how you should use your fingers, with grace.” Sciast snapped his finger.

  At that command, the Artifica cannons protruding from the gunports of the Ira Vith fired pulsating blue orbs in unison.

  BOOM…

  ***

  Eiran awoke to the creaking wooden planks of the deck, which rose and fell as if massaging his back. How he dreamt of such things was beyond him. He had never even met Delforn and Nifara.

  The snores of shirtless sailors around him reminded him that he was on the weather deck of the Ira Vith. Aside from the night watch crew and the assistant navigator, he was the only one awake. The sails bulged full like inflated chests. The sky was beginning to lighten, though the sun had not yet risen.

  Ever since the Fhon’s destruction, something within him had felt out of place. What exactly, he could not tell. It was like rowing in the dark with one person not paddling, making the boat's progress uneven, but he could not pinpoint which rower.

  This was his second morning on the Ira Vith. Let alone having the chance to assassinate anyone, he did not have time for himself. Without a partner, the other crew saw him as an extra hand to use when needed. And he had to do his best, or risk arousing suspicion.

  He stepped over the heaving chests of sailors, heading towards the bow. He always wore a shirt to hide the wounds that must have scarred his body. The night watch crew extinguished the lanterns that had burned all night to prevent ship collisions.

  At the very front of the bow, he looped one leg around a hemp rope on the floor to prevent being thrown into the sea. He lowered his trousers to urinate. The autumn wind changed direction as if to tease him, nearly causing him to wet himself.

  The Ira Vith cut through the sea waves alongside a dozen other ships. Their impressive formation demonstrated the skill of each ship's navigator and helmsman. Even though Arvane was still considered the greatest sea power, Terzion was not far behind.

  Even now, the size of the Ira Vith continued to amaze him. Taller, longer, and wider than any other ship, a size impossible if not for the giant trees of Elitria. Its sail arrangement was unique, designed to maneuver the vessel.

  Without a sextant, astrolabe, or compass, his location was hard to confirm. Yet the sun, wind, and currents indicated it was sailing south. He could use his stone necklace as a pendulum to better ascertain direction, but he now realized, it was missing. Violet's scarf was also gone.