Cristo's story triggered an avalanche of memories in me that would never happen again. The memory of the past cycle obligingly reminded me that the "past me" went through something similar at the very beginning of his journey in Ain. Of course, not in such a harsh form, as it was without slavery and imprisonment, but that life really resembled an endless race against an unfriendly fate.
Not knowing local customs, the "past me" got into trouble on a regular basis. Moreover, many of my mistakes could easily have led to death. The start of this cycle, due to the memory of the future, even despite all the setups by the questers, can be called an easy walk compared to what the "past me" had to go through.
Because the "past life" was filled with a constant struggle for survival and running from one trouble to another, I accumulated many different achievements in that cycle and flew through the initial ranks not much slower than I do now. Like Cristo sitting next to me, who rose to Bronze today without any memory of the future, just a couple of days after me. His fate, not the prodding of the questers or the understanding of the grim common future, forced him to grow at such a speed.
Another thing is that the speed of growth is, undoubtedly, an important element, but not the only one. The quality of the achievements that fill your Core is also essential. And by this indicator, the current me has far outpaced the "past me."
As for the speed of ascending the Spiral, even possessing the memory of the future, I was very much limited. Both by the general opportunities available to me and by the location in which I found myself. The Bastarga Archipelago is far from the best place for accelerated Elevation, primarily due to transport restrictions.
I was straining my every nerve, even daring to perform an adamantium feat, and yet I only managed to surpass Cristo by a few days in the race to Bronze. But there's nothing strange or unusual about it. Suppose there's a sprinter who runs a hundred meters in ten seconds, and no matter how much resources you dedicate, no matter how much you train this athlete, he will never run that hundred meters in eight seconds. Never. An ordinary person, unfamiliar with this sport, might think, "What's this two-second difference between ten and eight? It's nothing!" but in reality, it's that boundary that separates the possible from the impossible. And in this cycle, I managed to cross that boundary, moreover, without compromising the quality of the Core filling.
The fact that I'm on the right path is confirmed by the words of the quester, who said I was the first earthling to reach Bronze. The first! Leaving all the Shards behind!
"Your turn," my thoughts interrupted the earthling, who changed his pose to listen to my story more attentively.
"Of course," I nodded, read a new Healing spell, and began to speak.
Perhaps I could have told him everything as it was, omitting only my memory of the future so as not to provoke the questers. Maybe there would be nothing wrong with such a story, but I did otherwise and gave Cristo what could be called the "official" story, the one I had already used on Larindel and the earthlings in my group. The story where I soloed the Monkey's Lair after getting drunk with the sheriff and remembered nothing from it. The story that doesn't involve the "Pure Palm of Five Empty Fingers" and other epic feats.
As for Larindel, in this version, I just worked for him as an independent mercenary. And it was while carrying out the elf's assignment that I ended up on this island. At the end of my story, I couldn't help but add a part of the truth, the part where the Sidhe half-blood abandoned me, leaving me alone on Gnur after I had carried out his task.
"And then, then you know everything already," I concluded my story, literally quoting Cristo himself.
"No!" The earthling shook his head. "Not everything. I barely saw how the battle was going: at first, I was too busy biting through the pirate captain's throat, and then I was kind of dying." At this point, Cristo just shrugged, not even turning pale at the memory of how he nearly crossed the Boundary.
Yes, it seems that this guy, who is sitting next to me now, has balls not even of steel but cast from titanium alloy. I've never been as reckless and fearless as he is. After thinking a bit, I agreed with his argument and briefly described the battle of the rebels against their former masters.
Listening attentively to the end, not interrupting even once, as soon as I fell silent, Cristo raised his index finger and asked a question.
"Just one clarification. Did you really kill the pirate boatswain with one blow?"
"Yes," I replied; it made no sense to dodge the question; others had seen it.
"So you, being a Bronze, killed a Steel with one blow?" The earthling, who seemed to be experiencing another bout of paranoia, squinted suspiciously.
"So, the fact that you, unarmed and a rank lower, at Iron, managed to bite through the throat of the pirate captain, who was even at Wootz, doesn't bother you?" I smirked openly.
"First of all, there were three of us," Cristo bent a finger, counting. "Secondly, Lano, who was the first of us to die, had a small knife hidden away, which he successfully pierced Vano's neck with, damaging the artery with the first strike. Thirdly, someone hit the captain in the back of the head with an oar, making him wobbly. There are also fourth and fifth reasons." The earthling grimaced. "Yes, I was lucky and would have died without your potion, I admit. But!" He raised his index finger again. "My 'victory' is within the realm of possibility, but yours... One blow... Steel, while at Bronze... And I saw what that boatswain was capable of. He was definitely not just some punching bag."
Hiding the possibility of using the Sacred Barrier in battle from a fellow earthling made no sense, so I smiled openly and told the truth.
"I just told the boatswain that I'm from Earth before my strike."
"Huh?!" Cristo didn't understand me at first, but a second later, he got it, his eyes cleared, and he gave me a thumbs-up. "Damn! You're awesome! I wouldn't have guessed! And it worked! I have to remember this! The boatswain, hearing your words, got a little stunned, didn't he?"
"A little, yes, but it was enough for me to make one precise strike." I added, "They say there's a skill at the precious ranks called 'Mental Barrier' that won't let you use this trick. But on the metal ranks, almost none of the locals have protection against such a 'maneuver'."
After listening to me, Cristo clearly relaxed, as if a puzzle that had been bothering him had finally fallen into place in his head. He changed his position, sitting more comfortably, and started talking again with curiosity in his voice:
"Listen... After I killed the old captain, I got an achievement of Emerald rank for it, as I defeated a Wootz on Iron, even if it wasn't alone. This achievement allowed me to take Bronze, even though I was almost a quarter short of filling my Core for Elevation before this victory over the captain." They only gave him an Emerald achievement for such a victory? This surprised me a bit; I thought there was at least an Itildine one, but apparently, the fact that there were three attackers and someone else also hit the pirate with an oar played a role. "Today you've killed two Iron fighters, two more at Bronze, and one at Steel," Cristo looked intently into my eyes. "Did you score a lot?"
His use of the term "score" irked me a bit, as I don't like it when people use such words for achievements, but I didn't show any reaction. I shrugged and explained to the earthling with a slightly feigned disappointment:
"For the Iron opponents, they didn't give me anything." The astonishment in the earthling's eyes was genuine, and I added, "Apparently, that's how the achievement allocation works. If you killed someone of a lower rank, meaning someone weaker than you, then what kind of 'achievement' is that?"
"Hm-m-m..." Cristo pondered for a moment before nodding. "You're probably right."
"As for victories over Bronze enemies..." I thought for a moment but ultimately decided to tell the truth. "About a dozen such kills would allow me to undergo a new Elevation. But! I don't think that this path through the Spiral is efficient. The risk is too great to run into someone stronger or more skilled and experienced. Plus, if you start killing left and right, you'll soon attract attention and be taken out as a precaution."
"You're right about that," Cristo nodded. "I don't think the locals take kindly to those who advance from Elevation to Elevation over dead bodies. I understand that, but what did you get for the bosun?"
"Umm... almost nothing," I shrugged.
"What do you mean 'almost nothing'?" The earthling didn't understand.
"I mean literally," I clarified, "you can't call a wooden rank achievement 'Foul Play' something noteworthy." Then I added, "I think winning over someone using our Sacred Knowledge isn't considered a positive 'achievement'."
"Damn!" Cristo slapped his thigh, seemingly very disappointed. "That's a bummer! I already had such a plan forming in my head..."
What he thought of, many came up with in the previous cycle. Perhaps that's why such a simple method of defeating a stronger enemy, who isn't expecting a blow from Sacred Knowledge, was devalued in achievements by the questers. And they were probably right to do so, as many earthlings would have dismissed morality and quickly taken such an easy route to rapid Elevation.
Cristo scratched the back of his head and stared at the sky, lost in thought. As for me, looking at him, I pondered how people change. Not long ago, this earthling abandoned everything and ventured alone into the unknown, trying to break free from the custody of the questers and the path through the Spiral they imposed. Now, he was contemplating how to climb the ranks as quickly as possible. And you can understand him, after all that he's been through in such a short time, even such a rebel has come to realize that weakness is perceived in Ain as a resource that can be exploited in one way or another. In fact, it's the same on Earth, only it's implemented less conspicuously and in a softer form.
"I'm sorry." Pulling away from contemplating the clouds drifting high above, Cristo spoke. He correctly interpreted my puzzled look and added, "For accusing you of working for those... what did you call them... questers."
"Accepted," I respond tersely.
I have many questions about his story. I want to clarify many details, ask the earthling about his escapes and how he managed to pick the local locks. Moreover, a thought crossed my mind that such a skill wouldn't be superfluous for me either. And it wouldn't hurt to learn it. Maybe I should take a few lockpicking lessons from Cristo? Who knows where fate will lead me, and I admit that such a skill might come in handy. I spent about two minutes thinking about how to approach this topic, then spit on formalities and just bluntly asked Cristo to teach me.
"Quid pro quo." He winked at me in response. "You teach me the magic of Illusion; you said it's not tied to techniques, and essentially anyone can master it, and I'll teach you the basics of lock picking."
"I only know the basics myself." In principle, I'm not opposed, but I immediately outline the boundaries of what's possible. "And I should warn you, this magic can only be learned by those who have a good spatial imagination or have a talent for drawing."
"Oh!" The earthling smiled broadly in response to my warning. "I have no problems with that. On Earth, I made a living by publishing artistic sketches from my travels."
"Then it's a deal." Saying this, I extended my palm to him.
"Great!" Cristo smiled openly, shook my hand, and stood up. "I have some things to do now." He nodded towards the rudder oar. "And then, when we set sail, we'll start our mutual training."
"Agreed," I responded succinctly, as it was time to cast another Lesser Healing.
When I finished the spell, Cristo was already gone. He had gone down and was talking to the new boatswain about something. They spoke quietly but, at the same time, gestured quite a bit. Their behavior piqued my interest, and I was about to activate the aura of Perception in the hope of eavesdropping on what they were talking about. But the healer interrupted me; he just at that moment came up to me and once again began to examine the wounded. The examination showed that there had been no positive changes as a result of my spells. And when the healer stepped aside, Cristo had already finished his conversation with Duar, and there was nothing left to eavesdrop on.
An entire hour had passed, during which I was left undisturbed. All this time, I wasn't just casting a spell every ten minutes but also analyzing Cristo's story. I searched for inconsistencies and any apparent deceit in his tale but so far found nothing. Each part of it logically stemmed from the previous one. Every action he took led to quite logical consequences. Of course, it seemed a real miracle that the earthling managed to constantly escape from custody, fleeing from prisons and cages. But, considering his experience back on Earth, even this could be explained.
Cristo, in general, made a mixed impression; on the one hand, he was extremely unlucky, and if something bad could happen to him, it did. But at the same time, he was surprisingly lucky. Without incredible luck, it would have been impossible to escape from the adventures that had befallen him. His story was the embodiment of the dualism of fortune.
My reflections on Cristo's story would have continued for a long time if not for Aun, who approached me and asked for help. The merchant's heir and the new boatswain had almost finished the surface inventory of the pirate cargo captured along with the galley. And it was about one part of it that they had a question. One of the small boxes bore the seal of Unudo and a small sign, apparently belonging to some trading shop. Aun asked if I knew who puts this sign on their goods, but alas, I couldn't help with this. I had definitely seen something similar in the Unudo market, but I didn't remember which trader branded their goods this way. Inside the box were dried herbs. Not particularly rare or expensive, but collected and prepared quite skillfully. If the whole box was sold wholesale, it would be easy to make a couple of gold coins.
"Did Duar really want to return this box to its rightful owner?" I asked the merchant's son in a doubtful tone as the boatswain stepped aside.
"When we enter the raid of Tries, the galley will definitely undergo a full inspection," Aun explained. "And the goods that can be identified will be confiscated by the port guards anyway. So, if Duar could accurately identify the box's owner and voice a request to pass the goods to that person when possible, it could positively affect the mood of the guards."
"Did you suggest this to him?" The corners of my mouth twitched in a faint smile.
"Um..." The young man's eyes darted around. "Not that I told him explicitly."
"But you nudged his thoughts in the right direction," I guessed correctly and patted the youth on the shoulder.
"A bit," Aun admitted, blushing slightly.
The familiar task of sorting goods clearly had a positive effect on the young man's mood. No, he hadn't forgotten about his father's death and the losses that had fallen on him, but his gaze was no longer as empty and doomed as an hour ago. It seemed as if the boy had latched onto something familiar, and it, like an anchor, kept him from falling into the abyss of all-consuming depression.
After we finished dealing with this box, I returned to the stern and was about to cast a healing spell again when the healer stopped me.
"Enough," Fuun said, pursing his lips as if reluctant. "We've done all we could for him." Adjusting the injured man's head, he stood up and, glancing at the sky, added, "Now we can only hope for the mercy of Elai or the favor of Ishia."
The rest of the injured, except for the guy who had a head wound, not only came to their senses but even began to help the other rebels. After all, the magic of Healing and alchemy perform real miracles. Three of those injured who were already hauling cargo bales under Duar's command would have spent at least three to four months in earth hospitals with the wounds they had received.
No sooner had I thought about what to do - something that wouldn't make others think that I was idling while they worked their fingers to the bone - than Huran issued a command. The order was to finish cleaning up and taking inventory, and to prepare for departure. Not even ten minutes after the announcement of this command, the galley, creaking with its cleats was lifted from the anchor. As the new captain promised, everyone took up the oars. This included the newly minted officers, the doctor, and Aun. Not to stand out as the "odd one out" in the worst sense of the phrase, I took my seat on the galley bench as well. The only one who didn't descend to the rowing deck but stayed on the stern elevation was Cristo, but he also got his oar, albeit the steering one.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Despite the losses during the battle and the fact that far from all rowing benches were being occupied, the galley nevertheless confidently picked up speed, smoothly turned its stern to the island, and began to move away from it. The work of a rower is not as simple as it may seem. A galley oar is far from being a paddle from a pleasure boat in the local park, and it's much harder to handle. Physically, I didn't experience any problems - after all, a Bronze warrior is significantly stronger and more coordinated than someone who hasn't stepped onto the Spiral of Elevation. And even with maintaining the right rhythm, thanks to the active aura of Perception, I didn't have any problems. Nevertheless, my rowing strokes were slightly different from those of the others, and Fuun, sitting on the bench behind me, corrected me several times, explaining how to handle the oar correctly.
After an hour and a half of intensive rowing, the galley, despite the obvious lack of rowers, moved away from Gnur by more than five kilometers. We continued to toil until Cristo's satisfied exclamation rang out, and Huran ordered us to dry the oars. That is, to stop and raise them above the water. Then, the new crew of the ship set up sail; thankfully, among the former slaves, there were several experienced fishermen, and the galley slowly began to pick up speed, turning its bow precisely to the west.
The new captain assigned a duty shift and allowed the others to rest. According to Cristo's estimates, we will reach the roadstead of Tries no later than the day after tomorrow if the wind doesn't change. I got up from the bench, stretching my back, slightly numb from the monotonous work, and climbed onto the stern superstructure. Leaning against the side with the steering oar tucked under his armpit, Cristo looked as if he had spent his whole life doing this job; he seemed so natural and even bored from the side. It was as if he had at least circumnavigated the globe, standing like this on the stern and controlling the ship with the steering oar. Noticing me, the earthling smiled and nodded, inviting me to come to him.
"How are we doing?" I quietly asked so that others wouldn't hear our conversation.
"In principle, Huran wasn't lying," Cristo grinned. "The galley is in good condition, and the sail is securely attached. I know the direction. I've been briefed about the local currents, so we should be in Tries quite soon. Once we spot the mainland, we definitely won't get lost."
"But?" I asked for clarification.
"There's always a 'but,' right?" The new helmsman nodded. "The closer we get to the mainland, the more pirates there are. This galley is familiar to many in these waters, and the previous captain had plenty of enemies. As you understand, with our far from full crew, we won't be able to fend off an attack. And with such an incomplete team on the oars, we won't be able to outpace them, no matter how much we want to."
"So that's why Huran is sitting on the prow, scanning the horizon," I realized, nodding towards the front of the galley.
"And Duar will take over from him at night," Cristo clarified.
"And who will take over from you?" I gestured to the steering oar.
"I got some sleep during the Elevation," Cristo said, his laughter somewhat dry and not particularly cheerful. "So, I can easily stay awake for a day or even longer without problems."
He was definitely exaggerating about the Elevation and getting some sleep, but I understood him. Thanks to his "Enhanced Body" and the Bronze he'd attained, he could indeed stay awake for a couple of days without much loss of concentration.
"You see..." the earthling almost whispered, just as quietly as I had been speaking. "For the locals, this place," he patted the steering oar, "and the very position of the helmsman, hold sacred meaning. It's believed that it can only be occupied by someone who worships Nertan or Sundbad above all other gods. And when I briefly told my story, to at least explain my adventures, I called myself a follower of Sundbad." The earthling smiled, spreading his palms. "That's largely why they appointed me as helmsman, and not just because I know how to handle this." He patted the steering oar again.
"Nertan, Sundbad?" I asked, pretending to hear these names for the first time, although thanks to my future memory, I knew perfectly well who he was talking about.
"Gods of the local Fallen pantheon," Cristo grimaced. "The first one is the god of seas and oceans, something like our Neptune or Poseidon. The second one is the deity of roads and travels; there was one like that on Earth, the Scandinavians called him Meili."
I've never heard of Meili; for me, the patron saint of travelers is Saint Christopher. However, earthly saints mean nothing to Ain - they have their own pantheon here.
"And you presented yourself as a follower of Sundbad?" I clarified. "Here, gods are not just an empty word, and you shouldn't be so frivolous with such words."
"Oh, come on!" Cristo rolled his eyes. "The local gods fell, and all that remains are memories."
"Really?" I smirked. "Only memories? Well, then try to swear by the name of Kamo and then spit on that oath."
"Alright," Cristo didn't argue, showing his open palms. "Not exactly an empty word, I agree; I went a bit too far. But still, their influence is not as great as the locals believe."
"I hope you have enough sense not to talk about this in front of the priests," I chuckled softly.
"I already tried discussing religious topics with local servants of the 'higher powers'," Cristo grimaced. "They didn't appreciate it." As he said this, he jerked his left shoulder. "If it weren't for the 'Enhanced Body,' I would still have marks from a couple of dozens of lashes on my back for 'blasphemy'."
"Well, if the only way to get through to you is through a beating," I shrugged.
At my words, he instinctively touched his nose.
"M-m-m. Yeah, you've got a good punch."
"I was taught," I replied succinctly, not bothering to clarify who taught me and when.
"Oh! Speaking of 'taught'!" He changed the subject. "How about the first lesson in Illusion magic?"
"Tit for tat," I returned his recent reply.
"No problem! Bring over a couple of slave shackles and locks that Duar knocked off the boxes," Cristo quickly agreed.
Invoking the helmsman's permission, I easily found what I needed on the lower deck and returned to the stern with my hands full. In the last cycle, there were several instances where I could have used lockpicking skills. So learning the basics of this craft wouldn't hurt.
That's how we started "teaching" each other. I would give Cristo a task, and he would do the same. To my profound surprise, lockpicking turned out to be not as complex a task as I'd thought. Moreover, my lesson was made easier by the fact that before I got to lockpicking, I disassembled a similar lock under the earthling's guidance. I looked at how it was made and what moved its parts. After that, understanding the structure, it was much easier for me to pick it using a wire or a nail.
Cristo also showed excellent results in mastering Illusion. I think he has about four stars in the talents of an Artist, or at least three and a half. Therefore, this school of magic came to him easily and naturally. He achieved his first visualization in the form of a simple line on his palm almost an hour faster than I did when studying with the Stone Master.
"Just don't get carried away," Cristo warned me after I picked the lock of slave handcuffs in one motion. "This is the simplest lock. And merchant chests aren't anything particularly difficult either. I'm sure there are craftsmen in Ain whose locks won't be that easy to pick."
"I'm still struggling with locks from merchant chests," I replied, picking up one of those locks, which had been giving me a hard time.
"And you wanted to become a safe-cracking master in three hours?" Cristo dryly chuckled. "That doesn't happen."
Well, yes, it doesn't... Of course. He doesn't know Dice. Who, I think, could operate a helicopter on the first try after skimming the instruction manual while drunk. Moreover, this instruction could have been written in Chinese, which he didn't know - it wouldn't have stopped him. Or Arien, who, in my presence, made a random gesture and broke a magical seal. A seal that the best mages of the Artifactors' Guild had been unable to crack for centuries. But in some ways, Cristo is right; despite the quester calling me the thirteenth, I was far from being a true Shard.
The sun had long set beyond the horizon, Seguna had risen to its zenith, and we had no thoughts of resting, continuing our studies. Having loaded Cristo with the visualization of converging circles, I was attempting to pick one of the merchant's locks for the umpteenth time, getting so engrossed that I only noticed Huran's approach when he had already climbed onto the stern superstructure.
"Cristo," the new captain called.
"Yes?"
"Fuun says the morning will be particularly foggy."
"Thanks, I understand," the earthling nodded, and Huran once again went to the galley's bow.
"Does fog affect something?" I didn't quite understand.
"Of course," the helmsman nodded. "I'm currently keeping a course due west to get within sight of the continent's coastline. In fog, such a course becomes dangerous as we could run into coastal rocks. Since these waters are unfamiliar to me, I think the best option would be to lower the sail and drift at the very beginning of the fog. The current will, of course, carry us a little south, and Tries is to the northwest, but it's better than wrecking the ship."
"Will we lose much time?" I asked.
"I can't say for sure; nobody showed me the sailing books or satellite images," Cristo grimaced. "Are you in a hurry somewhere?"
"Yes, I had some plans," I still hadn't lost hope of making it to the Alchemists' Guild tournament.
"Plans?"
He seems even more curious than Ilona. However, there's no big reason to hide something like this, so I readily admit:
"There will soon be a major tournament under the auspices of the Alchemists' Guild in Tries, and I thought I'd participate."
"Such a good prize?" the earthling asked with light interest.
"Metal Elevation Pills," There's no point in making this a secret. Within an hour after we anchor in Tries, he can easily find out all the details himself.
"Judging by the name..." Cristo paused for a moment. "It sounds really useful. But I thought Elevation could not be achieved just through alchemy, and yet here we have some pills."
"You're almost right. These pills are extremely rare, and the entire Alchemists' Guild produces only three or four sets of such pills per year. And a person can't take more than one dose in a lifetime. But, I admit, it's tempting to swallow a pill and get an Elevation."
"Tempting?" the helmsman said doubtfully. "I think that if you invest the energy required to win such a tournament in something else, you can get a lot more profit. And an amateur like me has no chance in a competition of this level." Having finished, he looked at me closely. "Do you think you have them? These chances."
"If I don't try, I won't find out," I shrugged.
"Don't trust me?" Cristo asked as if about something trivial. "Is that why you don't want to talk?"
Of course, I could answer diplomatically or turn everything into a joke, but instead, I met his gaze and said with a metallic edge to my voice:
"Is there a reason to trust you? You abandoned our group, fully aware that without a full team, we could meet difficulties. The fact that this didn't happen doesn't mean it couldn't have. You've shown yourself to be a person who listens only to himself." I tilted my head and asked, "Would you trust such a person?"
"It's good that such questions do not prevent us from sharing experiences," the earthling replied casually - as if he had just heard a funny story and not a rebuke. And then he showed me two circles on his palm, slowly moving towards each other.
"Good, yes," I agreed with him, picking up the lightness of his tone. "And your progress is excellent. Which can't be said about me." Once again, I failed to crack one of the locks.
"Don't worry. You're doing everything almost right. Almost. Don't stop; feel the lock, and it will reveal its secrets to you."
It's easier said than done, but so far, I haven't succeeded, even though I can say I understood the basics and principles of this science. At the most basic level, of course, but still, I got it. But in the 'science' of lockpicking, the theory and understanding of the basic principles are only a small part; the main thing here is practice, and only it can bring significant results. I was engaged in this practice under Cristo's guiding comments almost all night. Neither the earthling nor I slept today. He didn't trust anyone to steer the galley, and I didn't want to waste time and also didn't feel particularly tired.
The fog predicted by the healer appeared shortly before dawn. At first, it was a faint mist in Seguna's light, rising above the waves. But with each minute, the hazy veil was getting denser and rising higher above the water. When the foggy curtain, similar to a dense cloud, rose almost to the level of the galley's side, Huran woke up several people from the former fishermen, and they furled the sail. While they were busy with that, Fuun, who had woken up, walked along the entire ship's side, whispering something. When he finished the round, I felt a slight, almost imperceptible breeze blowing evenly from the center of the galley to its sides. Apparently, the healer used one of the Wind magic spells. Because of this spell, the sea fog, which had already risen almost to the middle of the mast, did not spill onto the galley, staying outside the perimeter outlined by the healer. This Wind spell was familiar to me, it belonged to the domestic section of magic, and it was often used to protect rooms from mosquitoes or unpleasant smells. In battle, it was practically useless, except perhaps to disperse alchemical vapors, but for that, you could think of something more effective."
"Hmm," Cristo uttered behind me, and after securing the steering oar with a rope, he let it go. "This isn't fog - it's some sort of soup," he reached out over the side and ran his palm through the mist, "it seems like you could scoop it up with a spoon. This means it's going to be a sweltering day."
"How long will this last?" I asked.
"I've seen fogs that lasted for several days," the earthling said, tilting his head. "But! Don't worry- this is definitely not the case. The sun will rise, warm up the air, and the fog will melt. Two hours, maybe three at most." After answering my question, Cristo turned to the captain. "Huran, assign someone to sit at the bow and listen to the waves under the Aura of Perception."
"What should they listen for?" the leader of the former slaves asked.
"How the noise of the waves changes," the helmsman explained. "We wouldn't want to hit rocks in this fog. According to my calculations, the coastline is close, and if it was daytime, we would already see the shore."
"Understood," Huran nodded and immediately called one of the crew members, assigning him as the lookout.
A thought crossed my mind to volunteer for this job, as due to the belt, my aura was more sensitive, and I would probably hear the change in the noise of the waves earlier than anyone else on the galley. But it was already predawn, and yawning took me over. Therefore, instead of getting to important business, I sat down and, leaning back against the boards, drifted into an anxious doze. It wasn't sleep, but it wasn't fully awake either.
The rhythmic swaying of the deck, the calming creak of boards and rigging – all this had a lulling effect, better than any lullaby. So, I allowed myself to relax and let the accumulated fatigue overcome anxiety and paranoia. Especially since Cristo didn't seem to be planning to nap, and he would hardly let anyone attack me while I was asleep. My eyes closed on their own as if someone had filled my eyelids with heavy mercury, the quiet surrounding noise became even more lulling, and I began to sink into the realm of dreams…
But I didn't doze for long; the alarm call of the lookout forced me to open my eyes. I slept for a little over an hour, judging by the rays of the rising sun that were already breaking through the fog.
"What's out there?" Huran asked the lookout.
"There's some kind of strange noise," said the man, slightly over thirty, pointing not directly forward but somewhere further to the left side.
The captain, as well as Cristo, who had approached them, apparently activating their auras, began to peer into and listen to the fog. This went on for about two minutes, after which Huran raised his hand with a clenched fist upward and whispered loudly.
"Wake everyone up! Alarm! There's a ship nearby!" And he immediately snapped at Cristo, who knocked over one of the crates, making a fairly loud noise. "Quiet! The fog is still very dense, and there's a chance they won't notice us and will pass by."
"Get up, everyone," Duar, the boatswain, started waking everyone up. He immediately understood the seriousness of the situation. "Arm yourselves! But quietly!"
The former slaves weren't softies and had been through a lot, so no one panicked, although the expressions on everyone's faces were tense.
"I hope they don't notice us," the healer whispered, standing up behind me. "There's too few of us for a full-on fight."
As he didn't have a healer's wand, Fuun now held a steel cutlass in his right hand. And judging by how confidently the weapon lay in his palm, I realized that he was able to handle it at a fairly professional level.
The fact that there were few of us was clear to everyone and especially to the new captain. So, when most of the crew had armed themselves, and those who could - had donned armor, Huran issued a new command.
"Everyone, line up on the stern deck!" His loud whisper echoed. "In case of an attack, we won't be able to hold the entire ship, and this is the highest part of the galley, plus the stairs up are narrow," he immediately explained.
There were less than fifteen of us, so if it were not a trading junk in the fog next to us, like the "Free Wind" familiar to me, this number wouldn't be enough to fend off a full-fledged boarding team. Yes, we had two warriors of full Steel on our side, but only one mage, who was more of a healer than a battle spellcaster.
Huran had assessed the situation correctly. We wouldn't be able to withstand a full-fledged battle. Our only chance was to take a defensive position on the stern deck and inflict enough damage on the attackers that they would decide that further attack on us was too disadvantageous. Moreover, by moving to the stern, we left all the cargo below. And if necessary, we could say something like, "Take everything, but leave us alone." I wouldn't say that such a plan promised us guaranteed survival in case of an attack from the fog, but we had nothing better. At least neither Cristo nor I could come up with any alternative.
Duar took the lead in our formation, which blocked the stern stairs. As much as I didn't like him, I stood behind his left shoulder and raised my spear into a battle position. The boatswain jerked when he saw an unfamiliar shaft so close to his face, turned around, looked carefully into my eyes, then silently nodded and turned away. Huran was the only one left at the ship's bow, continuing to listen to the fog.
With each minute, as we stood frozen in our improvised formation, the tension grew. Someone behind me started to pray, and for some reason, they were praying to Antares, the deity of Light. For a moment, I wanted to turn around and explain to the one praying that if the sun heard him, it would warm the air, and the fog would disperse. The very fog that is hiding us now from the other ship. And we would be spotted immediately.
More than ten minutes of incredible tension passed, but nothing changed, and we had hope that possible troubles would pass by. But as it often happens, as soon as this hope gained some strength, it immediately collapsed. Huran raised his fist again and, jumping off the bow, ran up to us and took a position next to Duar.
"The other ship has turned towards us," he explained. "I don't think it's a coincidence."
Not five minutes had passed when his words were confirmed. The fog, as if herded by some invisible force, tore through the light wind barrier set up by the healer, enveloping the bow of the galley and obscuring the bow superstructure from our sight. Almost immediately, a heavy shock passed through my feet, and I had to strain to keep my footing. The foreign ship had just slammed into our side, but due to the fog, we still couldn't see our assailant, only vague shadows.
"Get ready!" Huran commanded, gripping his sword more comfortably.
Almost immediately after his command, as if waiting for it, a foreign boarding party emerged from the fog. It was a small group, even smaller than ours. Just a dozen warriors and mages. But we didn't stand a ghost of a chance against them. Each of their fighters was clad in excellent armor and wielded wootz weapons. The weakest among them was a full Bronze, while three had reached the Wootz rank. In the hands of the mages, standing in the second line, the enchanted tips of their artifact staves glistened.
Moreover, I knew these people. This was the boarding team of the "Defector"! Led by their commander, a seasoned warrior named Shansi Lun. He was the one who took me to Gnur on a boat, as the "Defector" itself did not risk docking at the shore.
With a sharp cry from their commander, they reconfigure into a narrow wedge, pushing their Wootz fighters to its tip. With a flick of the short sword in Shansi Lun's hands, this well-coordinated group, which had fought together in numerous battles, began to move in our direction like a single living organism.
From the way Huran's blade trembles in his hand, it's clear to me that this Steel warrior perfectly understands that this is his last battle, and the rebelling slaves stand no chance against such opponents. There are no more than a couple of seconds left until the clash when Shansi Lun's gaze catches me. His eyes widen, and recognition flashes in them. Recognition turns into understanding, and understanding into fear, followed by genuine horror, and the commander of the "Defector's" boarding team yells at the top of his lungs:
"Retreat! Run!" And he is the first to obey his own command, spinning around on the spot and making a run for it, all the while continuing to shout into the fog: "Cast off! Faster! Raven is here, and he's alive!!!"
The eyes of the former slaves, who all turned to me after this outcry, were filled with genuine surprise.