Orenda was dying. She had been unable to keep her grip on the railing and had gone flying back as far as the rope would allow, where she was pinned, face first, to the deck. Behind her, Imperius stood with his staff raised, his hair, beard, and robes whipping out into the wind in front of him. Draco was tucked into the robes at his chest, and Orenda couldn’t see him.

Gareth was in front of her, leaning heavily into the wind, braced with one leg back and the other slightly bent. He was tied to the wheel, but he didn’t seem to need it, and Orenda suspected that he had some kind of magic protecting him from it, though she didn’t understand what it could be. His clothing and hair moved as if they were affected, but he hadn’t gone flying back, and his hat was still sitting on his head.

Bella still stood before the sails, and was breathing rhythmically in a way that Orenda thought must be part of the spell.

“Are you steering?” Orenda tried to shout over the wind, but Gareth couldn’t hear her. And he seemed to be using all his attention, so she felt it was better not to bother him.

She found that while traveling in this way was faster, it was terribly dull, and it made her illness worse, so she pressed the side of her face to the wood of the ship and tried to rest.

They slowed down at what Orenda thought was some sort of arbitrary point; all she saw was Bella lowering her wand, and then the ship, while still moving quickly, slowed enough that she probably could have gotten up had she wanted to. There were stars in the sky above once she could see it, after the motion blur passed, and she heard the sound of Gareth’s voice.

“Impy, old friend, that’s enough!” he shouted.

“What’s that captain?” Imperius asked.

“We need to slow down!” Gareth shouted, annunciating each word, “Draco needs to scout for shore!”

“Aye, Captain!” Imperius agreed, and the ship slowed to almost nothing.

Orenda watched Gareth shove a piece of wood onto the wheel that apparently did something she did not understand, then he made his way to her and offered her his hand.

“Come on, Ronnie,” he said, “Up you go.”

“Rendy,” She corrected.

“What did I say?” he asked.

“Maybe that is what you said,” she said as she took his hand and he pulled her to her feet.

“Still sea-sick?” He asked.

“Yes,” She lamented, “Gareth, I’m dying.”

She watched Draco crawl out of Impy’s robe, snuggle into his face, and then make his way to the crow’s nest. He alighted there for only a moment, hopping from place to place, then spread his wings and flew off over the ocean.

“It took me years,” Gareth said kindly. Then, as an afterthought he added, “We’ve been traveling all day and I’m starving, but I think perhaps we should wait until we make it to shore to eat. We really need to make a supply run. It shouldn’t be much longer.”

“Land ho!” Draco called as he came flying back. He spun in circles coming lower and lower, screaming the entire time, “Land ho! Land ho!”

Gareth held out his arm and Draco alighted on it; the crew had been summoned by his cries and gathered around them.

“What did you see?” Gareth asked.

“It’s difficult to see from the air,” Draco admitted, “And I didn’t want to fly too close, but we were wrong about the time frame, captain. We’re sailing into a battlefield. They’ve not taken the shore. Perhaps the outlands, but the Knights have not taken the shore. The docks are closed, and the Urillian soldiers are guarding them.”

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

“Well,” Gareth said, “That’s unfortunate.”

Orenda watched as he opened his hand and a flame appeared inside of it.

“Zena, darling,” he said in a voice obviously meant to be charming.

“Nochdifache?” The voice of an older woman, stern and businesslike asked, “I can’t see you? Is something wrong with the scry?”

“No,” Gareth said, maintaining his air of underserved confidence and charm, “No, love, I’m not wearing my mask. But I am a few naughts from your shore and I was wondering where you were. I’m coming in along the western coast.”

“Are you?” She asked, “Thank god. Do you think you could take out the ships along the docks? The Urillians have a barricade of sorts. I don’t know what’s in them. We can’t get down there.”

“Perhaps,” he sighed, “I was really hoping I was sailing into a safe zone. My niece is with me.”

“I didn’t know you had a niece,” She said.

“Give us time to eat,” Gareth sighed, “And we’ll secure your docks. Perhaps I’ll just set them ablaze and give any ships that may come this way nowhere safe to situate themselves. At the very least we’ll take out the soldiers stationed there. But we’re running low on supplies, so as much as I hate it, darling, anything on those ships is mine.”

“Fine, Nochdifache,” she said, though she didn’t sound happy about it.

“Can we do that?” Orenda asked, “There are only 8 of us, and… how many soldiers are there?”

“I didn’t count,” Draco said, “normally about half a dozen per ship, at least. But we aren’t worried about it, Orenda. We’ve done much worse.”

“Well,” she said, “we have the cover of darkness.”

“That isn’t how I do things, Rendy,” Nochdifache laughed, “Let’s get a bite to eat, and then we’re going shopping.”

Orenda watched the shape of the fire continent come into view as they sailed closer, first the mountains in the distance, as shapes against the night sky, and then the mass itself, growing in detail as they moved closer. Gareth was at the wheel again, but now he wore his mask and full naval regalia.

“Orenda,” he asked, “Do you feel confident to come raiding with us? I know you’re ill.”

“I don’t know that I’ll be much help,” She said, “I… I’m useless upon the sea.”

“Nonsense!” he said, “You’re a Firefist!”

“We’re close, captain,” Bella called, and Gareth reached behind him to take out his carpet as she came forward to take the wheel.

“You’re in charge of the canon, Rendy,” He said, and she nodded, and walked as quickly as she could with her illness as it was, to the place where Falsie waited for her. He had just placed a large metal ball in the cylinder, and was locking the wheels in place as Gareth flew off in front of them.

They were so close now that Orenda could make out the other ships, four of them, taking up every spot a ship could tie down on the harbor. Gareth was flying towards the first one, and they were nearly upon it.

“Attention!” Gareth called, and Orenda watched a group of earth elves dressed in Urillian military uniforms running to the deck. None of them seemed to believe what they were seeing.

“My name is Captain Nochdifache!” Gareth proclaimed, “And I need to speak to the captain!”

“I am Captain Trayjor!” One of the soldiers stepped forward, but Orenda could not see who it was. She could barely hear his voice. “And… you claim to be the dread pirate Nochdifache?”

“I don’t need to claim it, captain!” Gareth said, “I have come here with a warning. You’re in my way, and I require an immediate surrender. I need access to your supplies, and I need you to move so I can dock my ship. If you agree to these terms, you, and your crew, will walk out of this encounter alive.”

“Give him what he wants,” Someone yelled, but again, Orenda did not know who.

“He’s trying to intimidate us!” The Captain snapped, “He’s bluffing. Come down here, Nochdifache. You know you have no way-”

“Think it through,” Gareth advised, “You can walk away from this night alive, if you make the right choice. If you don’t, I’ll kill you where you stand and take what I want anyway. I’m being courteous right now.”

“Alert the others,” The captain called, and Gareth shrugged.

“I’ll do it for you,” he said, drew the gun from his hip, and shot. Orenda heard the noise, and saw the splatter of blood from the captain’s skull, but she didn’t see the projectile, didn’t see what had knocked him backwards.

Gareth pulled a bag from his pouch and began to pour something into the gun as he yelled, “LIGHT UM UP!”

Orenda ignited the gunpowder inside the canon and her ears rang from the instant bang. She threw both hands over them to protect them, but all she could hear for some minutes was the disheartening sound of silence. Falsie was smiling and slapping her on the arm, but she couldn’t hear him. Their ship had moved, was closer now, and Orenda saw the hole they had blown through the other, saw the bodies that had scattered from it, and thought, once again, of the soldiers in the library.

But then Gareth was in front of her, holding out his hand and tilting his head up and down and side to side as if he was speaking behind the mask.

“What?” Orenda shouted.

“I said,” Gareth screamed over the silence, “Come on if you’re coming!”

Orenda took his hand and climbed onto the carpet.