A hundred strong arms were called to the windlasses, a chorus of work songs and will pull the handspikes, and once more the Daybright’s sails bellied out before the Art wind. It was the year’s third star cycle, and the fourth fortnight since that fateful day of Lost Azure. A general mood of both relief and despondency was the city’s parting word. For what threat we proved and the unrest our reputation carried, the Daybright afforded also merry sailors with laden pockets, for which the people would look back at the time as some festive occasion. But of the crew of the Daybright, we resumed our endless voyages.
Now the Daybright departed peacefully from Xenon. With most of her hull repaired and a new mast erected, the hold still had needs of supplies. The border city could offer little without denting her subsistence, which Aurora would not force from them. There are many ill things to be said of the captain, but she grudges not trivial matters such as these, unreasonable sometimes as she might be. And at any rate, our next port would offer any and all that we may require, and then some.
Much could be recounted in the captain’s log since the last time we set sail from a port. Back then I was not so concerned with the larger doing and plotting of her course. But now that I had been involved with much and should be with more, I shall set down what had happened thus far to me and mine in our voyage since:
The hand of Fate first touched upon me even before I was fully aware of her plot for me. A beginning dubious and full of questions unanswered, of many hidden points that most women I’m acquainted with could not point to aught certain truth, but wholly in whispered rumors. That is, even before Lost Azure, the captain had briefly departed the ship for a raid, accompanied by first mate Justitia and her most trusted alares, those of Ala Vernal and Ala Hiemal. It was a significant thing, for the captain seldom left the ship. But shortly after, she returned, remarkably, without spoils or fanfare, but in the night’s secrecy. According to my Ala-sisters, it was then that Litzia made her first entrance in the Hall of Wreaths. But the details of how she came to be recruited by the captain were never touched upon, neither by the mates nor the wyverness herself.
Then on the first of Lost Azure, sometime after Litzia's appearance, the captain ordered the azures onboard to make her a hierogram of the season and the constellation of its namesake. It was for the accomplishment of this task that I owed a debt to Litzia, who later invoked it to bind me into a pledge with her.
There was too the effect of our ship being sighted and hailed by a company from the Princedom of Absalomi, who came bearing an offering to the captain. ‘Twas the treasure that set her on a chase for a Leviathan. And during First Wyvern, we conquered our mark at great cost to render another treasure into the captain’s hoard.
Then in Her Mercy we sailed for and docked at Xenon. Whereupon the captain made a prophecy, enslaving and cursing a prisoner from the city in the process. I was there as a witness of the vile act, and so was Litzia, who played the part of an unwitting accomplice. But my fate as a reluctant witness carried on with my part in the destruction of another wyverness in my Ala, Marigold, who was Valerian’s pair.
Now with Valerian out of commission, our Ala’s number had been reduced to three pairs, a number scarce qualified for a full-fledged squad. And yet there were no signs either from the mates or Rosa Alba to bolster our ranks.
At the time, even our internal affairs were in tumult. My training under Gladiola grew harsh and sometimes brutal, as a certain silent awkwardness in my relationship with Litzia did affect our pledge and skewed our coordination. Often we were reprimanded by Gladiola for our lack of progress. Yet it was not an issue mere willpower could resolve. Meanwhile, Galanthus and Acis, as ever they were wont, reserved themselves in private peace in the sky or the Hall, and said little, in public at least, of Valerian’s and my troubles.
The days wore on. And as we left Ammonia’s airspace, vessels were more frequently sighted along the trade route a safe distance away from the warzone between two countries. News of the war came as a matter of course during such brief encounters: merchants were troubled by the battles that grew fiercer and numerous by the week across Ammonia and Absalomi, and already there had been talks of other vested interests to soon enter the fray. And even now there was yet to be an intervention from the empire, their stance remaining a mystery. And so the region grew restless by the emergence and exploits of the ancient Princedom’s champion. But here, at least, enroute to Tithonus, safety might be expected.
Tithonus is the name of but one of the captain’s many vassal states, those who pay tributes to the Dragon for her patronage over their airspaces. A fact the Last of the Dragon sought to remind all parties with her presence every so often. Aught direct challenge to the purchased peace in her declared territories is well considered a direct affront towards the captain herself. But there are few certainties in the skies, and the wise counsel of fear is not always heeded.
One afternoon there came an unexpected clamor of horns and shouts from aloft, and the all-hands ahoy echoed across decks for each station for battle.
Caught in the middle of a nap, I was roused by Thea at the first bellowing of the horn. Even as I gathered myself, the maid leaped from the foot of my berth, reaching for my boots and staff with a trained alacrity. Already Litzia was at the door, as bewildered as me. No one had expected aught but perfect peace in this airspace.
In the chaotic hallway, we were met by other pairs of scrambling alares racing to answer the summon. Thumping feet and drawing chains thundering aloft. No prepared deployment that, nor a planned hunt, but a reaction to provocation. Cannon wheels groaned in the belowdecks as Litzia and I made to the citadel’s front. The starboard studded sails had been reefed. We wheeled our course leeward.
Once there, Gladiola gestured on the starboard bow. Swimming in the wild gray cloud sea, a cluster of vessels blackened the horizon. Astern their silhouettes were not too clear, but each appeared slighter in size than a merchant. Black cloths swelled upon their masts, cannons jutted from their hulls, but not one pennon to signify their home port.
“Privateers?” I muttered, the lack of ensigns was telling, “Pirates?”
“In Tithonus’ sky,” Acis said, I noticed, with a marked ferocity in her tone, “Injudicious curs. They sail boldly to their death.”
“However you look at it, they are sailing away.” Hortensia yawned, making a likewise theatric stretch, “Must we after them? This is a hassle. They may yet stumble on their own shrouds and scuttle their own hull for fear of us.”
“Natheless we fly,” Gladiola said, “it is a matter of pride, and no less a message for those who still dare entertain thoughts of our tributaries.”
For my part, the apt course could not be more obvious. Pirates are not innocent humans that one must scruple from killing. Murderers they are, cold-blooded killers who thrive on taking from others. Not to say that we of the Daybright are innocent of such deeds, but the captain’s laws are still closer to human sensibilities than that of pirates. She guards her own and conquers those who dare cross her, that much I, as a pawn, could stand with.
That is to say, at the prospect of training my staff on humans, I did not waver at the thought of killing outlaws. And if I did wonder at the fact, it was as to whether other humans with as lacking experience would be as willing to kill a fellow creature. But as an Azure, my sympathy for scoundrels was not so developed.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
Thus ere long, we took to the stormy clouds, flying in wrath for the lesser menace of the open sky, who before the Dragon but frightened doves.
Six Alae were mustered for the assault, which amounted to about thirty pairs all told. Ala Vernal, as usual, held command deep in our formation, while Ala Estival assumed the vanguard. Slacking behind as barbs to the arrow whose iron tip Gladiola formed, flew Ala Boreus and Ala Zephyrus, each seven pairs strong.
They had the head start, having spotted the enormous size of our vessel from a distance, but at the time of the Anemone Order’s deployment, the ship had covered the greater portion of the chase, owing to larger, more numerous sails and vastly superior Art wind. So that by the time we issued from the vessel like deadly vultures bearing down on preys of a sealed fate, their movements were seized by a marked panic. There were five brigs, each scarce larger than the transport nested in the Daybright’s belly. From their decks a dozen of wyverns took off. For one such lowly lot to afford so many alares was a wonder, and yet they stood no chance against our well-trained and geared alares. Still, they did not attempt to surrender. At the first sight of the Daybright’s draconic visage, they had quailed and known no mercy would be reversed them.
Unwittingly, or thinking they would pass through unnoticed, these pirates had assailed one of the captain’s tributary skies. A fatal mistake and momentaneously misfortune for them to jump the cub at the very moment of the she-bear’s return.
Instead of charging headlong at us for vain duels, the pirates’ alares hugged close to their ship, affrighted. But that would not avail them.
The Anemone’s spearhead penetrated their formations with relentless mercy. Gladiola’s runic harpoon that once made ghastly wounds upon the great leviathan’s flesh now rent the envelopes atop those black sails. Runestaves roared on all sides as we passed, blazing with great precision each hand on deck. The wildly stumbling alares we fought at leisure, playing like cats upon seized prey. For they present no threat, and would be picked off once their vessels fall regardless.
What hope had them to resist was gone after our first charge. As our formation dispersed into individual Ala and came down for our second strike, their ships scattered.
Planks and timbers burst open upon the burned desk. To my personal count, I had thus far struck two stumbling figures upon those decks. They made for simple targets, restrained as were without wings. Strikes as these could not be hindered by steel gunwales, let alone flesh and bones for another shot.
The alares proved a greater challenge, disorganized as they were. Though untrained and unrefined, they boasted the experience I had not. Most of my shots went amiss, and only by Gladiola’s intimidating presence that I was not picked off by their riders. It was still my first aerial battle in convenient warfare, and my comprehension of the situation was shaky at best. And so Litzia did most of the heavy lifting of keeping up with the formation. Most of our Ala’s kills were merits of Gladiola’s blades and Acis’s staff.
Then of a sudden, swept by the battle rage of our comrades, Litzia shrieked and down we plunged after Gladiola. Our leader landed heavily on deck, willingly giving up aerial advantages, and we together with her.
The veritable image of a war goddess, even as an aspect of Mars, she languidly observed the vessel, blades poised. Step by step, Hortensia crawled aft with a straightened gait. The crew fled from their vicinity and none would challenge the bold knight. Most were swiftly dispatched by Acis’s runestaff.
It was so happened to be the largest vessel among the five, and the only one with a topgallant royal to her main mast. Gladiola seemed to have deemed it the command, and were come for their chief.
Before we could gain the unguarded hatchway, however, Hortensia halted, and clawled restlessly the planks. Gladiola pricked her ears.
Presently, she said, “Galanthus, secure the hold.”
At this, the white wyvern straightened her serpentine neck. Could be that my eyes deceived me when a shimmering glow radiated from the wyvern, but it was as if the sight of Acis wavered momentarily, as though her image flickered. Strange as it was, I did not dwell on the occurrence for long, for in the next moment, a sharp sound sizzled out, and a flash of blinding light surged noiselessly from the hatch leading to the belowdecks, of which lesser shafts crept out from the cracks at our feet.
This done, Gladiola proceeded to the quarterdeck and rapped her harpoon on the threshold. There sprang, like beasts unchained, two armed men from the dark within. Missing not half a breath, Hortensia coiled to the sky, arching on her back before landing cleanly a rod from the men, brushing the main mast ever so lightly on her way down. A beautiful maneuver to answer a planned ambush, for a showing of grace and boastful mockery.
The Prima Alae pointed her blade at them: “Of ye, who leads this band of curs? Show me a challenge and earn your swift death!”
“Neither,” growled one of them. He bore a greatsword the likes seldom seen among commoners and outlaws, his tabard the livery of a civilized world. But this speaks little, for it might well have been plundered from the corpse of a noble’s guardsman. Still, the outfit paused Gladiola.
“What are ye then?”
The man glanced at his companion, who was of less impressive equipment: leather jerkins, worn hosen and a cutlass. His eyes grew fierce, and the other men almost quailed.
“Slavers,” said he, “we contracted this ship for passage only. Pirates we are not. Let us go, and we shall compensate your master in kind.”
“Hah,” Gladiola let out a curt laugh without mirth. “To beg for mercy having contracted outlaws and invaded the Dragon’s sky is preposterous!
With a sharp cry from Hortensia’s throat, Gladiola leveled her blades. The swordsman marked her as his opponent.
Two calculated strides took him close enough for the blade to connect, but Hortensia coiled her head away, and Gladiola’s harpoon parried his effort.
Not so quick to react, his slighter comrade leaped at Litzia and me. At the corner of my eyes, Acis aimed her staff. There was no need for her intervention, neither mine. Ere his cutlass could make the full arch, Litzia snarled and snapped at him, biting off cleanly his head. The sound of the neck spine and skull crunched in my pledge-sister’s jaw reverberated in my very bone. My mouth tasted flesh and blood.
I shuddered. But Gladiola’s fight went on.
After brushing off another strike, Gladiola forced her opponent back with a casual thrust. Hortensia still rested her claws on deck, having shifted her position little since I last looked. If needed, the pair could have simply taken off and slaughtered the man with little effort. But though she took him lightly, our leader did not aim to toy with him.
“Identify yourself,” she demanded again, “No common pirate or slaver you are, not with that level of mastery over the blade! Why have you sailed my Mistress’ airspace? Answer!”
He spat, and charged again. Once more Gladiola’s blade swept his arm to the side. Hortensia reared, toppling the man on his back. And our Prima Alae’s harpoon pierced true his heart.
“Fealty or pride, I wonder.” Gladiola spat.
Now with the main deck entirely vacanted, she bade us scour the quarterdeck and the hold. And sure enough, in the hold we found slaves, some of the crew, both blinded and paralyzed by Galanthus’ sorcery. Some women we found in the quarterdeck, more finely dressed, but shackled nonetheless. As Litzia and I emerged on deck with them unchained, the battle had drawn to a close. Terrified gasps escaped their mouths at the destruction and bloody aftermaths of the battle.
“What will become of them?” Litzia asked.
“If their marks are legal,” answered Gladiola, “then the captain will take them as her booty, and they will serve to the end of their contract. If not, then they may choose as any free woman may.”
“We found some without a mark,” I indicated the ones we just brought from aft.
Three in total, frightened and shriveled in their tarnished garbs, they huddled together as though fearing to be Gladiola’s next victims. With her blades still sheathed, our leader approached them, not without studying the full extent of their appearance, and arrived at a conclusion of distrust.