Still sailing on the freighter ship across the vast sea, John watched the sun slowly go down. The air got cold and his skin felt stingy as every breath shaped a cloud of mist while the sun began to touch the horizon. Among the sounds of the gulls and the bubbles popping below the ship, he heard the voice of a young boy.

Turning around, he saw Matt who had come down from the top of the mast.

“Do you need anything Matt?” John asked.

Rubbing his hands and breathing into them, Matt answered. “Not really, but is everything alright with the course?”

“The course?” John reiterated in a boyish high pitch. “What do you mean?”

“Well it’s just that we are going in circles.”

“That’s not right, the ocean is just so big that everything looks the same,” John said.

Matt shook his head. “From up there you can see the bubbly trail the ship is leaving behind. It’s curved and it looks like we are going in circles. I began watching the Captain too and he steers slightly to the---le-he-hef!” Matt sneezed.

“Bless you.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll go have a talk with the Captain then. Meanwhile, go to the cabin and get a jacket or pullover. We packed a few, so just take one. Don’t want you to get us all sick,” John smirked.

“Okay then, I’ll get that and head back up,” Matt said, running off to the cabins.

“Circles, huh?” John mumbled in thought. As he thought about what Larson told him earlier today, his eyes sparked up and he began pacing on the deck before going up the stairs to the Captain.

The old man stood there, the helm in hand, a pipe in his mouth. The sun almost disappeared behind the horizon as mist started to cover the sea.

“Captain, can I have a minute?” John said loudly.

“What is’t boy?”

“We aren’t actually heading for the docks are we?” the young man said.

The pipe sunk down as the Captain heard those words, taking it out of his mouth. “What are you trying to say?”

“Your previous crew, what happened with them?” John asked, his left hand firmly grazing over the pommel of his sword.

“So you noticed. What are ya, a detective?”

Leaving John dumbfounded, his feet began to get warm. “Wait, they didn’t tell you? I am a detective!”

“Damn them rats of the police! I told them to send me a few men to bodyguard but I never expected them to send someone like you,” the Captain threw his pipe to the ground stepping on the glistering ashes that became covered in mist.

“So Larson was right then. You lost your previous crew to the pirates and are the only survivor, now you want your revenge and...you are using us as bait by keeping us in circles,” John said, slowly pulling sword out of the sheath with his right hand.

“Ye don’t know how it feels to see each and everyone of your friends be slaughtered by them poachers! I only survived because they chose to let me live, so now I am here for revenge! They will regret their choice!”

Pointing the blade to the Captain’s throat, John said. “Let us hope for your sake that I don’t get to see that, otherwise you can join your crew after I dealt with--” John looked around, noticing the darkness that has come now that the sun has completely set and the warm mist surrounding them.

Condensate formed on his blade, dripping down second by second. John bit his lip. “They are here, aren’t they?”

The Captains feet tapped about as he looked around with a smile on his face, revealing the many green and yellow teeth of his mouth. “Yes! Here they come.”

Clicking his tongue, John went down the stairway to the deck, but halted midway, looking back at the Captain. A despicable stare was aimed at him before continuing to walk down.

Loud explosions sounded, mere seconds after the freighter ship shook with cracking sounds all over.

“We were hit!” the Captain shouted from up above.

From the starboard a ship slowly came into vision through the steamy mist. The bottom cloaked by steam that gushed out of large holes on the side, the top old dark wood repaired haphazardly with scraps of metal and planks. The mold that decorated the ship was impossible to miss. The first enemy men came forward and threw long planks and ropes onto the freighter, starting to walk and climb over.

Larson already stood at the ready, joining side by John. “We have our work cut out for us, it would seem.”

John coughed out a laugh. “Aye.”

The son, who John knew was in truth the daughter, rushed over fetching her rapiers out of the sheaths of her waist belt. “You boys ready?”

“Yes,” John said turning to her. “Sorry to ask you, but please take the crew and hide inside.”

Her face boiled red in anger. “What? This is my fight too!”

“Yes, I know. But just look at them, they don’t know what to do. They need someone to rely on and to guard them in case one of those thugs there sneaks past us. This is your chance to prove yourself,” John answered, quickly distracted by the first pirates with light ragged clothes and rusty chipped sabers that made their way onto the ship. “Please!”

Her hands turned white at the knuckles from her strong grip at the rapiers as she snarled. “Fine, but don’t you dare die on me! I don’t want to clean up your mess.”

John smirked back. “We’ll see who cleans up who's mess.”

With the enemies coming closer, she ran back to collect the crew and sent them inside. Slightly distracted, his eyes following the movement of all the crewmen, the shouting voice of the pirate in front of John came to a surprise. Double stepping back by instinct, he drew his sword ready to strike the man down, however Larson came in faster. His Rapier striking like lightning at the knees of the pirate, severing the limb atwine. Leaving him to suffer and struggle on the deck. “Hey now, don’t want you to die to some small fry there,” Larson chuckled.

John clicking his tongue at the scene that has played before his eyes he kicked aside the pirate on the ground, the thump of it even over sounding the noise of the steam hose. “Shush, now, there is more incoming!”

Three enemies quickly surrounded them in a triangle. Forced to stand with their backs facing one another while John counted. “Three, two-”

“Now!” Larson said, thrusting his rapier, visibly cutting through the steamy mist. John and him both went for the invaders to their left, dodging their swashbucklers with a duck, cutting at their legs. Two falling, one left. Charging at John while his back was open, a whistle resounded from John. Not a natural one, but one that reminded of a water cooker overheating. In an instant, John lifted his left foot, tiptoeing on his right foot as the propulsion of the steamworks blade spins him. Full turn towards the attacker, once again chopping off a leg. Still tumbling on the slippery wet surface of deck, John caught ground by ramming his sword into the wood as the next batch of attackers came to have their go at them.

Larson scratched his rapier along the floor, and quickly used it to scrape up the water at his attacker’s face, causing the pirate to flinch and suddenly fall to the floor as the rapier pierced his legs.

John at a defensive stance, his sword held tightly with both hands in front of him, he parries the incoming slash,turning his blade past the pirate´s hilt and slashing up the wrist. Sidestepping the attacker from his right, getting behind the man who was screaming in pain over his bleeding wrist, John kicked back at the achilles heel to make the pirate fall to the ground while striking down his sword like a guillotine at the stretched out arm of the attacker who was to his right. Losing his sword arm, the pirate stumbled aside, cowering in pain.

The pirate to his feet, still struggling with the bleeding at his wrist, now had John’s blade right above and between his eyes. The pirate’s eyes closing, aware of his fate, John raises the sword and cuts off the man’s left leg instead of going for the kill. Shouting and screaming in agony. “Why didn’t you just finish me off?”

“Simple,” John said with a smirk. “You aren’t worth me shedding my no-kill policy. If you bleed out however, well that’s your problem. Not mine.”

Backing off to Larson, he is asked. “Going for the legs too, huh?”

“I’d rather not kill them if I have the option of just making them surrender like that,” John answered with an exhausted voice.

In the few minutes of the invasion, both of them started to show fatigue. The heat of the steam and having to fight at night drained their strength. While some of the pirates continued to brawl with the two of them, the others started to explore the ship further to scavenge. Busy with the battle, John and Larson accidentally let a few of the pirates sneak past them. The thugs ran to the doors that lead inside the ship. When suddenly an explosion, followed by a quake of the ship, sounded.

“The bastards are firing their cannons at us again!” The Captain said, fighting off the stray fighters that managed to find their way to him.

Inside the storage quarter, Aaron and the Captain’s daughter managed to keep the crew together and safe and were soon met by the exploring scum that made their way inside. She pushed Aaron back to aid the crew as she stepped up. In a cross, she drew her swords, her rapiers which she held loosely facing down.

“What’s this? A coward crew and only one man to protect ‘em?” One of the Pirates said, aiming his rusty blade forward. “Have at ‘em and let none survive!”

Her right blade pointing to the rum barrels next to Aaron, she shouted. “Let it roll!”

Seeing the pirates standing closeby, he and one of the bulkier crewmen took the barrel and gave it a heavy push. Falling to its side, it rolled toward her and the pirates.

Watching in suspense, they were surprised to see her, which everyone still thought was a man, jump over the rolling barrel as she swiped her blade at it, letting the alcohol spew out from the inside pressure. It didn’t have enough force to quite reach the men, but the spewing liquid still covered them in rum. Not minding it, some licking it off their own face, they went after her.

In allegro, her feet danced along as her arms moved in her own rhythm to parry, and swipe. Little over a dozen men surrounded her, yet none could land a hit. Tiptoeing from left to right, she went to parry with her left and a thrust with the right rapier. Moving forward, in a pirouette, a flurry of thrusts chewed its way through their parries and eventually into their organs.

“That’s like ballet,” Aaron thought out loud in awe. “Without knowing the steps and her rhythm, they probably won’t know how to deal with this fast paced flurry.”

Step by step, she backed off toward the corner opposite of Aaron. Using the pause after each rotation to briefly check her surroundings, she saw the crates which were stacked up and many more barrels.

This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

While only few had been downed already, she jumped backwards with one leg, landing on top of the crate behind her with both her feet. Ramming her sword into the crate next to her, she flung it at her attackers right before jumping yet again onto another crate which was higher up. Aaron saw the gas lamps on the ceiling above them and understood what she was going for and tried to buy her time by letting the crew roll more barrels at the enemy. In waves of three, the barrels rolled but were stopped by the men’s swashbucklers who had expected the attack but unnoticed the swordsman jumped off the crate in a pirouette, cutting away the pipes that held the lamp to the ceiling on that side of the room. Landing on a barrel and hopping from one to another, back her crew, the lamp fell down on the pirates, the glass shattering and the flames rushing out. Now aware of her plan, the pirates tried to run away but the flames were too fast. Following the alcohol which soaked into their clothes, they were slowly burning away, only leaving behind their final screams.

In excitement and exhaustion, she shouted aloud. “Hey now! How’s it feel to be defeated by a woman you clumps of charcoal?” Jumping and dancing in joy on the spot, she left her crew in surprise.

“Woman?” Some began to wonder. “I thought he was the son?”

Her cheer stopped as she heard their muttering and saw their piercing eyes, sharper than her sword. Her mouth opened as if trying to say something, but her throat suddenly dried up in the trouble.

“Oh will you unthankful idiots stop it already?” Aaron said in a loud voice. “This woman, albeit in a surprise to me too, just saved our lives and this is how you treat her? As a man she was a hero and now she is just a sore in your eye’s? Have you no shame at all?”

The muttering silencing on the spot, some looking down, some into the air.

“Why, what’s this? It seems you turned my men into a barbeque, how very rude of you,” a man of towering height entered through the open door through which the pirates initially entered too. In both his hands he held a large axe, it’s bladed head alone had the size of a gull’s wing span. Several holes along the edges of it and a flexible pipe coming out of its handle and leading behind his back where he carried a large double canister gas tank system which Aaron recognized from John’s early builds.

Moving forward, each step sounded like that of an elephant while the man before them was not only tall but also muscular, equipped with heavy steel armour and a ragged black coat.

“What a shame,” his dark eyes looked at the cowering men. “While those two have the joy of dealing with the pests outside, I have to kill off a bunch of little shits.”

The female fencer turned around, facing him with both her swords. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that. This is my crew and I will protect them!”

“Wait miss-” Aaron turned to warn her.

“I know! This is one of the leaders that my father spoke about, but nevertheless I can’t just stand around and let him slaughter us.”

“That isn’t what I meant to say, or at rather not all. I wanted to ask for your name, so we know just who is saving us,” he smiled.

Surprised, she looked at him and smiled back. “My name? It’s Taine and you’d better remember it after I save your butts!”

“Aww how adorable. Are you done yet with your chit chat or can we finally get to the fight?” the tall man said. “Here I come!”

Long steps, he ran straight at her with his axe close to his right. Suddenly the sizzling and whistling of the steamworks weapon shrieked through the room as he swung it swiftly. The propulsion steam came out of one half of the double edged axe. Cleaving right above her head, she backed of with short leaps to gain distance but he quickly caught up.

Outside, on the deck, both John and Larson dealt with the mercenary pirates and before them stood two men. One short with with a stubble beard and rough hair holding a stumpy broadsword and the other at average height with a bald head holding a lance. Both their weapons were tied to pipes which lead to the pressure tanks on their backs while they too wore black coats.

“You really did a number on our men,” the swordsman says as he looks around him. “Ah well, they were all convicts anyway.”

The other man next to him chuckles. “Then let’s get started, shall we?”

On that mark, they each chose a target and pincered them. The swordsman came after John while the lancer went for Larson. Trying to not be surrounded, they turned the position around, splitting up to fight one on one.

“Steamworks versus Steamworks,” the pirate swordsman said while lifting his broadsword defensively before him like a shield. “Let’s see who’s is better!”

Two steps forward, the stumpy swords propulsed at John who had taken on a defensive stance, holding his sword aimed at the opponent but ready to react. As the enemies sword came from the top right, John parried the swing in an instant, dashed toward the enemy and used the momentum for a horizontal attack.

Quickly stepping back, the broadsword came flat side before the enemy to shield him from the slash. Both attacks having been parried, they stepped back to position.

“Just as I thought. Your style is reactionary. You wait for a move from the opponent to parry it and use the opportunity to attack, very basic if I might say,” the pirate remarked.

“Not quite,” John said. “But I don’t want to pop your illusion!”

This time the roles were switched, John went to the offensive with an upward angled horizontal cut, trying to get past the shield. As the broadsword’s steam propulsion allowed the enemy to move into position to block the attack, John didn’t connect and used the momentum to let it straighten above his head, turned the blade facing down and used his own propulsion to instantly cut vertically. The steam’s whistle was a giveaway for the enemy but he couldn’t fully parry the attack. John’s sword clashing into the edge of the broadsword, it managed to cut into the shoulder of the pirate before being swung away.

Opposite to them, the lance wielder and Larson have yet to make a move other than stepping around each other. Each looking for an opening.

“A normal weapon like your rapier can’t possibly defeat a steamworks weapon,” he said, pressing a button on the handle of the lance. The large cone shaped lance began to blow steam through the holes evenly distanced on the multipart lance.

“A lance made of several parts,” Larson thought as he analyzed the weapon steadily while stepping out of it’s range. “A tip with three blades, from the bottom up. The middle seems to be three separate disks with steam propulsion holes which can spin independently and the back end is a large disk that acts as a shield.”

“Not bad,” Larson remarked. “However it’s nothing I can’t beat!”

With fast steps he circled around the pirate to get into his blind spot and dashed in for a lunge. To his surprise however, the pirate easily turned around with the lance spinning. As his rapier got into touch with the spinning segments it was repelled. A whistle sounded, steam rushed out of the shield like disk at the back, propelling it forward while the lance extended between each disk. The bladed tip quickly found purchase above Larson’s shoulder, spinning it’s blades and digging into it. With a quick reaction he swiped the lance away with his rapier, succeeding.

“It’s so light,” Larson said, walking back to gain distance. “I see.”

The pirate stood in wonder as he heard his opponent talk. “This baby can do more than just that, you know?”

Aiming the lance at Larson, the disks began to spin and pause, spin and pause, several times. Observing the mechanism, Larson saw the three extra holes in the disks which weren’t part of the propulsion system.

“Those are barrels!” Larson shouted, just barely sidestepping to the left as small bullets shot out of the lance like a gatling. Two grazed his upper right arm and leg.

“So I can’t get close to it and I can’t keep my distance either, not bad,” he snickered. “You aren’t the only one with a fancy weapon though.”

Again, he circled around the pirate into the blind spot to go for a lunge. Just like before, the spinning disks easily reflected his strike but with a grin he used his left hand to pull the handguard full circle. At the starting shaft of the blade, a small tube appeared. Next to his index finger was a small lever now as well, his blade aimed at the shield disk, he pulled the trigger.

“Let’s prove my idea!” Larson shouted as the explosion left the barrel tube.

A bullet flew out of the barrel, digging into the shield and piercing it straight through, shooting into the lancer’s shoulder. In shock, he tried to step back but it didn’t stop there. In the moment of shock, Larson ran to his back and took aim.

“So that’s what his weapon’s gimmick is, an actual gunpowder pistol.” John said while trading blows with the broadsword wielding pirate.

“If you think you can look away, then you are wrong!” John’s opponent said, going for three consecutive horizontal slashes, abusing the stream propulsion.

“Damn, he’s got so much pressure left compared to me,” John thought, dodging ever so slightly. His short and coat being cut. “If I had to guess, he still has about a dozen usages left, while I have one or maybe two more depending on how well I can pull this off.”

As John backed off, evading the attacks, he counted down. “Eleven, ten, nine.” While walking backwards he stumbled over a bottle, falling flat onto his back. “Crap!” he yelled out. The enemy’s sword came like a meteor down at him as he just managed to hold his sword between him and the attack. Holding it at the front of the blade and at the grip, he struggled. His breathing became heavy and he felt his muscles failing any second now from the pressure.

“Get crushed already you piece of garbage!” the pirate said, increasing the propulsion on his blade, trying to push through John’s sword.

“Three, two...one!” At the end of the mark he flexed his right leg and kicked it up, his boot hitting against the pirate’s elbow.

The pirate pulling back, John stood up using his legs as leverage to flip himself up. Still in motion, John tried to step forward and went for a vertical slash but only saw his enemy disappear in a cloud of steam.

Looking around in confusion he saw Larson still fighting and currently aiming his pistol at the lancer. As the lance began to spin and release a thick cloud of steam John smelled something odd. Something he remembered but couldn’t quite point down.

“Go ahead and shoot, I dare ye!” the lancer shouted.

Larson’s finger tensing to pull the trigger, John finally remembered it. “Stop, don’t shoot!”

In the second of hesitation, the lancer laughed and disappeared into the thick steam.

“Damn it Johnathan! Why did you make me stop?” Larson swiped his sword at John and then pointed it down. “I would’ve had him!”

“No you wouldn’t, let me show you.”John picked up the bottle that he stumbled over, still sealed with a cork but empty. “Do you have those smoke bombs with you that you used last time?”

“S-sure? Why?” Larson wondered, handing him a few.

“You will see,” John said, swinging the open bottle a bit and then carefully placing the bombs inside before sealing it with the cork again. “Now all I need to do is throw it up against the mast.”

Turning around, aiming and finally throwing it up high, the bottle hit the mast. Not splintering, but triggering the smoke bombs inside. In a flash, a dampened explosion could be heard, blackening the inside of the bottle. When it dropped on the floor, it bursted into hundreds of pieces.

“This steam isn’t just regular steam, it has a high concentration of hydrogen. A noticeably high amount of it,” John said.

“What? How did you even notice it?” Larson’s voice peaked high.

“I noticed the smell was odd, that’s how,” John answered.

“Hydrogen doesn’t have an odor, what are you talking about?”

“That’s where you are wrong, it smells a bit different from air. If you’ve worked with steamworks as long as me, you’d know,” John crossed his arms in a bragging motion.

“Sure you do, now back to topic Mr. Dogsnout, where did those thugs go?”

To the right of them, where the ship was still docked, they heard two voices. “Thugs? That is so rude, don’t you think? At least call me Lan,” said the swordsman. “An’ me Ken,” said the lancer.

Larson and John looked at each other in confusion. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” John asked, tapping on his pressure tank ever so slightly. Larson noticed his sign and shrugged in response to the question and nodded before they both took up their sword again.

Then, with a heavy kick and a metallic break, the door to the storage room behind them broke open and dense steam escaped. In the entrance all they could see was a very tall and faint silhouette.

Who is standing in the steam and how will John and Larson continue to fight the Pirates in the cloak of steam? We will see next time on Steam’s Shadow!