The beauty of the tide is that no matter your origins, power is always within your grasp. All that stops us from achieving greatness is our determination to succeed.

-Excerpt from ‘What Lies Beneath the Waves’ by Telamere Ilrend

Prince Everyn pushed arcane energy through his body as he prepared to bring down the bastard commodore. He regained his balance and went for another deadly slash, every cut of his blade aimed for the commodore’s vitals. But each time he struck, a spear of ice or wall of frost would appear to block or parry his attacks.

And every time his sword swung wide, another punch or two would smack into his unguarded torso. Once or twice the frost needles were bearable, but the more he was struck, the more intense the chill became.

Soon there was ice visible on his body and his movements grew sluggish. Despite that he persevered and didn’t allow the battle to end.

“How noble of the valiant prince to come to the aid of a damsel in distress,” Foulter sneered. “But it’s important to be aware of one’s own strength.”

As he said that, he tossed his cutlass aside and took a large stride towards the prince. Everyn hurriedly raised his blade but was too slow.

A spear of ice appeared in the commodore’s hands and he thrust it forwards at the prince’s heart. Everyn managed to parry the spear and instead of piercing his heart it skewered him through the shoulder.

He grunted in pain and tried to swing his huge sword with one hand and slice the spear of ice, but as he did so the commodore summoned another and smacked his blade away.

“This was a rather profitable venture,” said Foulter with a devilish smirk. “I complained to the old man when he told me to come but I’m going to leave with two new trophies.”

His arm twirled as he spun the spear and plunged it towards the prince. He desperately struggled to free himself but with his other arm trapped it was extremely difficult.

As the spear descended Everyn cursed his own folly. He had rushed in without much thought due to his annoyance. He’d believed someone had stolen his thunder, but now that thunder was nothing more than a tingle.

The commodore stabbed downwards, but right before the spear could pierce the prince’s flesh, there came a bellowing bray from behind him.

Blood suddenly spurted into the air and the ice spear went wide as the commodore stumbled. He even let go of the spear in Everyn’s shoulder, collapsing with a huge horn sticking through his stomach.

Everyn reacted immediately, ripping the ice from his shoulder and channeling his arcane energy to seal the wound. He had forgotten the most important part of being a doori-rider. He wasn’t fighting alone.

The doori in question was tossing the commodore around on his horn, but was forced to throw the man off when he began blasting shards and spears of ice at the beast. It returned to Everyn and nuzzled into his hands.

“Good boy,” he praised the satisfied bovine, wiping the blood from his horn with a handkerchief he kept for that reason. “Let’s go,” he added, hopping onto the beast’s back once more.

The commodore was swaying on his feet. His earlier show of force had been a bit of bravado on his part clearly. An attempt to dissuade Everyn and try to end the battle quickly before he ran out of strength.

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There was no way he could go through one fight and emerge unscathed to begin the next. Now it was just a case of ensuring none of those pesky spears of ice could pierce him.

The prince made sure to keep a tight grip on his mount as they charged at their foe once more. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake as he had before and allow himself to be dismounted.

Now that he had regained the momentum and advantage he would be sure to use it.

His oversized weapon was designed to be most effective on the back of the war-doori. While he could swing it properly on the ground, having the speed and height advantage that came with being on the back of his mount allowed Everyn to deliver mighty strikes with impunity.

He charged past and his first swing was blocked by a hastily erected shield of ice, but it shattered on impact with his blade and barely slowed him. It took a few seconds for his doori to slow down and change directions, but the beast was well-trained and managed it before Foulter could recover.

Everyn’s second charge caught him on the thigh, carving through flesh right down to the bone. However, he had to pull his sword back early to avoid being skewered on an icicle that blasted from under the ocean’s surface.

This continued for a while. Commodore Foulter struggled against the constant onslaught from man and beast, but with his energy dwindling he was unable to mount a proper defense.

Every slash of the prince’s blade carved more flesh from bone and left him on his knees. All that stood between him and death was a tiny island of ice and a fierce determination.

Unfortunately determination is not enough to resist strength. Everyn’s confidence grew with each charge, a beaming smile appearing on his face.

He’d felt dismayed at his utterly shameful entrance but as time passed and he continued to dominate his opponent he forgot about the earlier antics. This was how it should be. He was born to be a hero defending his homeland.

When they told the story of how the mighty prince slaughtered the invaders, he hoped they would include how dashing he looked atop his muscled doori. The last song the bards sung of his deeds had helped him woo more than one buxom wench.

He cursed himself. Now was not the time for such dangerous thoughts. He had a man to kill. One final charge was all he needed to end the commodore’s life. There was not much fight left in him.

He raised his blade high, starting to swing before he reached the man. As he drew closer he noticed a smile on Foulter’s face, but it was too late to change course.

Whatever the tricky bastard had planned it would fail before the might of his blade. Tactics and strategy had their uses, but before a strong enough sword they meant nothing. When his doori was just a few steps away he heard the commodore speak.

“I really hate using this, but it seems like I have no choice. Why is that old geezer always right? It’s so damn annoying,” Commodore Foulter muttered to himself.

Everyn wasn’t sure what he meant by that. The old geezer was likely his master, but to be so disrespectful to such a powerful and respected figure of the Minenblum Navy was a little…

He knew he certainly wouldn’t speak to his father like that. Foulter wouldn’t get another chance to disrespect his elders. Everyn’s blade carved a heavy arc through the air on a course to decapitate his foe.

The moment before he struck, there was a flash of blue light and a powerful thrum of arcane power erupted from the commodore. The energy smashed into Everyn and threw him and his mount backwards into the ocean.

It wasn’t even intended as a disruptive attack but it had cut the intense focus of the pair and now the war-doori was desperately treading water. Getting it back onto the surface would be a challenge.

Even now the power hadn’t dissipated. Everyn watched as Commodore Foulter manipulated it then suddenly it all rushed into the man’s body. All his wounds healed and armour made from almost transparent ice appeared, covering his entire body except his head.

A cutlass of pure ice formed in his hand and he gave it a few practice swings before turning his gaze towards Everyn. The prince shivered.

Ice exploded outwards from the commodore, freezing the ocean for hundreds of metres in every direction. “This is gonna hurt like hell in the morning,” he groaned, but there was a nasty smile on his face as he stared at Everyn. “But it will be worth it. I’ve changed my mind. I don’t need two statues. I need to let my anger out on something.”

Everyn clenched his teeth. Clearly the man had used a treasure from his master, the admiral, in order to temporarily boost his power.

The backlash would be severe but as long as he held out he might be able to last long enough for the treasure’s power to run dry. Then he could end this battle.

There was no more time for thinking however as he heard the sound of cracking ice.