The Elena’s deck was a nest of men hiding or running from the hissing of iron balls. The main mast of the HNS Disaster had collapsed to the Susanne‘s guns, but the Herajard frigate could still fire towards the Northislay formations and the Elena was going to engage her; to stop their relentless attacks and to ease the shots towards her.

“Com’on fellas! Take your blades!” shouted Mr. Wisps. The boatswain tossed a short but broad sword towards Hafiz. “Here boy, take dis’one! Ye’ll do well, I know. I swear I’ll give ye seven days leave when we go back to Linee!”

The Bay of Bratsberg was engulfed in an enormous cloud of smoke that flashed to the blast of hundreds of hidden cannons. Screams of rage and fear mixed with the continuous thunder. The Elena cried with wooden sounds to the punishment of a burst of cannonballs. Chips rained down on Hafiz as he scrambled for cover behind some sacks, where Genet and Todd huddled, waiting for orders to attack.

Todd glanced at his cutlass and nodded. “Something like that would be much better, Ma’Lord.”

Genet swung a small, thin sword while frowning his eyebrows to the sailors comment. “Nothing wrong with her. She has earned me nothing but victories through the years, dear Todd.”

“What am sayin’” Said Todd. “Is that a man stabbed with that may still fight. You need something more... blunt.”

Genet slapped a hammer on his belt proudly. “That’s why I’m bringing Theodore as well.”

“Excellent addition, Ma’Lord.”

Since the war against Herjard began, endless months ago, The Elena hadn’t been ever damaged once. The bomber, a vessel design to siege cities, was always guarded by ships of higher class, better prepared for straight line combat. Now, she was receiving heavy damage from the port side and for the very first time in his life, Hafiz was going to fight in a hand to hand battle.

“I wish I’d practice with the sword as much as we practiced with the dive suit.” Hafiz said.

“Scared?” Genet asked, huddled in his corner as a gust flew over their heads.

“I’d be lying if I said no. You?”

“I had six older sisters, Mon’Lad. This is just like home. Here, take my pendant. It gave you luck during the training. I’ll give you luck today.”

Hafiz put the golden chain around his neck wondering like many times before why the old diver never wanted to use its charm for himself and remembering, like every time he thought about the matter, that Genet was a man with a sad past that never sought for a lucky future.

A few feet behind their cover, Brian and Charlie could not help but continuously reply to the gunfire with curses and screams for glory and honor. “There’s no honor and glory in a men's fight, you idiots! Only corpses and survivors,” the old sailor turned towards Hafiz and put a hand over his shoulder. “Son, when we start, stay close to me and do what I say. Hear me?”

Hafiz answered with a nervous nod, glancing at the surrounding chaos. From above, the red and white marines of Northislay fired continuously to put the balance of clashing forces in their favor. The green and black counterparts were retaliating with endless shots from the Disaster.

Without rushing and straightening up, the two Red brothers crossed the deck. Nearly naked and painted entirely in ritual warfare glyphs, they stood next to the gang, only avoiding bullets by the will of their beliefs.

“You fools will be the first corpses!” shouted Todd.

“If that’s the will of the Dual Gods, there is nothing we can do to change it. Our duty is to be brave.” Said Kilio while sitting, as if none of the besieging madness existed. “Brothers, we have a question.”

Genet turned his head to the side where Hafiz was huddled and whispered. “The line between bravery and foolishness is often blurred. “

A lead ball grazed Romano on the forehead, causing him to duck reluctantly. Checking with annoyance the blood of the scratch, he spoke, pointing at the ribbon of Todd’s arm. “We’d like to know why no one has given us the red war charm.”

Todd gave them a head to toe look. “I don’t think any of our boys will mistake you for Herjardmen, do you?”

“So, it has no power?” asked the reddish man, surprised. Todd opened his mouth to answer, but the calls of engagement muted him.

“At the ready!” shouted Mr. Wisps, freezing the souls of each man on board. “At the ready!” repeated an officer in the distance. The Elena maneuvered from stern seas towards her target’s side and the hulls collided, scratching wood from her starboard with wood from her port. Hooks on ropes flew. Bullets whistled.

“Next to me, son.” whispered Todd. Screams of rage joined the boarding bell call. Following the whistles from the officers. Hafiz jumped onto the enemy deck as fast as his trembling legs would let him. The overwhelming sense of fear and excitement clouded his mind, creating a feeling of being in a dream.

Todd, at his side, faced the charge of a man with a blue ribbon at his arm. Their cutlasses clashed, but his old mentor moved faster, pushing his enemy away with the shoulder. Not knowing how, Hafiz dodged a blade that sliced through the air from the side. His opponent , a robust sailor, waved his sword quickly, almost without giving him time to stop the cut. Hafiz’s sword shot to the side, almost slipping out of his grasp. The next blows were even more terrible, and he could barely parry the slashes with a blade that crumbled at each strike. At a moment of bravery, maybe folly, Hafiz counter attacked with a cut from above, but the Herjard man parried over his head and kicked him straight to the chest. The blow to the back of the head left him half dazed. Hafiz swung his sword in the air, terrified and confused. As his senses returned to his assailant, the sailor was on his knees, crumbling to his death with a sword struck right to the neck.

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The spurts of blood that followed the sword when Todd pulled left Hafiz in shock, letting out a gasp that was meant to be a scream. “At my side, son!” His old mentor said, grabbing him by the shirt. Then, they both faced aggression, back to back.

A young man cursed at him, raising his saber defiantly. He was not a man, but a boy. A boy in the black uniform of the Herjard officers. A child committed to kill him. Even with a numb arm and a weak blade, he parried the boy’s attacks with ease. But Hafiz was hesitant and the young officer gained his footing forward. Hafiz shouted with rage and retaliated, slicing through the Herjard boy’s eye. The officer cried, falling at his mercy, But Hafiz doubted. It was just a boy.

To the aid of his superior came the bayonet of a marine, who trusted his musket as it was a spear. Hafiz parried but mis-stepped, crumbling over a sack. The next thrust hit the deck as he deflected the barrel with iron. He cut, aiming for the legs, but the marine stepped back, yanking his weapon and leaving the muzzle’s blade stuck on the wood.

Seeing him out of iron and powder, Hafiz made the mistake of believing his aggressor was defenseless, so he charged with a cutlass at ready. The marine hit him in the arm and he lost grip of his weapon as the musket butt snapped his nose. He fell on the ground for a second time at the mercy of the enemy as the young officer was to his moments before. Unlike him, the marine would not hesitate, would not doubt. He was done.

Then, a grenade ball exploded somewhere around them, filling the air with smoke and wood dust. Numbed by the blast, he found himself unable to move. His sight was nothing but smoke and the war cries were now just a painful and continuous whistle. For minutes he tried to get up in vain. His muscles, deprived of strength, could only but tremble. The marine didn’t return and finish his job. No one did.

Out of the fumes came Todd’s outstretched hand. His words were just noise. He pulled him up and brushed the dust off his shirt. “You’re fine enough,” Todd said with a glow on his face. He was soaked in blood, but not his. When his hearing recovered, the sounds of battle had transformed into cries of victory.

“Are we … are we done?” Hafiz muttered, still stunned. “Did we win?”

“Disaster’s cap’n has called for surrender. And the rest of Herjard navy is leaving the bay entirely. We have not only won the fight, son. We have retaken Bratsberg. Come, let’s find Dr. Simmons and his men.”

“Two hurrays for Northislay!” shouted the men. “Hurray! Hurray!”

Back aboard the Elena, he found a place to rest. Soon Mr. Roney, one of the doctor’s assistants, was taking care of his wounds while his senses and his strength slowly returned. Todd sneaked away while an officer was calling men in groups, one to deal with the prisoners, one for repairs and one to join the landing party to the city.

He remained alone for a while, his body drained and his heart still pumping hard, as if the battle had not ended. “Brian’s dead.” Todd said, seating at his side and filling his pipe slowly. “Charlie was hit in the stomach. Doc is with him now.”

“Will he be all right?”

“Nay. The boy’s dead too. He just doesn’t know it yet. Doc said he can only give him ‘poppy’ and wait. Tonight is the guess. I’ll stay with him after my smoke.”

“I’ll come too.”

“Nay. You have work. Cap’n needs a check for damage below the sea line and your fellows are all hurt. Nothing serious, luckily.”

Hafiz’s eyes wet. “Don’t let it sink in your heart, son.” Todd said, nudging him. ”Or it will burn your soul. Remember them when you cheer. Forget and keep going when the glass is empty.”

Sean, a short bulky gunner from the new colonies, tossed a small leather bag on Todd’s lap. “Tobacco from Mr. Wisps. He wanted you to have it.”

“How?” asked the old sailor.

“Head shot. Good way to go, if you ask me,” The gunner left as silent as he came.

“Who’s gonna smoke with me now?”

Hafiz picked the pipe from his hand and took a drag. The cough sparked a giggle from his friend. “You need to meet your the dive Lord now. I’ll be fine. He’s next to the ‘sparrow’ , the second twelve at deck port-side.”

Genet was where Todd said, sitting on a bucket and letting the skillful hands of Mr. Rouse stitch a big cut on his head. “Glad you are fine, Mon’Lad! I was worried. Look what those barbarians have done to me! Have you heard of the orders? I cannot join, I’m afraid. But I promised Richard you are a man for the task, If you feel all right to do it, of course.”

“Nothing would please me more, Chief,” Hafiz said.

“Excellent, my boy. Excellent! I’ll see you later, when the sewing ends.”

Kilio was already at the air pumping station, limping on a swollen foot but moving at the same speed he was used to. “Can you breathe with that nose, brother?”

“just as well as you can walk.”

Kilio chortled without stopping to move the equipment even for a moment. “Did you bet on the fight?” asked Hafiz, letting the Reddish man help him with the dive suit.

“Of course. I’m sad to admit Romano’s hand was faster today.” Kilio pointed at his chest, where the paints of war had become a blur of white sweat. “But I can say with pride that my charms worked better!”

“Is he all right?”

“Of course. He’s bored in the infirmary.” The Reddish man raised the heavy helmet with his powerful arms. “The medicine man has ordered him to stay there until tomorrow. Just for a stab in the side, you see.”

Isolated from the world inside the headgear, Hafiz felt at ease. Calm and safe. Dis-attached from the madness that he’d had to live moments ago. Outside, his mates began to move around the deck nervously, many looking up with shocked faces. He opened the small porthole in the front of the round helmet. “What’s happening?”

Kilio left the fothered rags and a bladder of tar on the side. “Where did I put your gloves?”

“What’s going on? Why are the mates so rowdy?” Hafiz asked again.

Kilio traced the bridge and his eyes followed a sailor’s finger pointing upwards, raising his attention towards the sky. “There’s a lot of... I don’t know. Between the clouds. They look like grains of rice.”

Hafiz, struggling to see, tried to lean back as far as his gear would allow. The unsuccessful attempt only got some tubes loosened, releasing a subtle hiss of air. “I think there is a licking,” he said, confused at not hearing the usual flow from the pump. “It’s not a hiss, it’s like a whistle.”

Kilio answered, his nose still pointing at the clouds. “Brother, I’m not yet pumping. But, I can hear it too. It’s like, oh…”

Their gazes met for an ephemeral instant. An instant where Hafiz, for the first and only time since they met, saw fear in the face of his brother.

The flash of light blinded him, and the shock wave threw him into the air, destroying boxes and barrels through his path to the fall. Surrounded by debris, Hafiz gasped for air inside a closed helmet with only a snapped little hose as a source of air. He tried to open the window of his face-side but his hands reached at nothing. The pain of moving felt unbearable. The world outside tainted in red and the increasing heat felt like dogs chewing his flesh.

Consumed by fire, The Elena keeled, releasing agonal breaths made of cracks and snaps. The dive mate, following the fate of a broken ship he was supposed to fix, let out an agonizing cry for help. Then, surrounded one more time by screams, smoke and whistles, he fainted.