Chapter Sixty-three

Krissintha Arlonet Dar Ghelain was happy she was wearing the stupid theatre mask, because her irritation was definitely showing on her face now.

‘A few minutes?’ she grumbled.

It had been more than just a few minutes, and Kevin was still absent. Well, technically, Kevin hadn’t broken his promise not to leave her again; he was here, probably, hovering somewhere behind or above her, but he couldn’t have chosen a worse time to deal with his … personal issues. How could he just cut himself off from communicating with everyone, including her? That wasn’t smart, not with a bunch of Orkuz Graal’s marauders still sitting on the deck in front of her. This was still a dangerous situation, and now she couldn’t understand a single grunt leaving the big, toothy mouth of the ork. Thankfully, the captain and his mossy-green crew seemed content to sit and wait for the elven higher-ups to decide whether to oblige them with duels or not — a decision she wouldn’t know about, now that she was cut off from the rangers on the shore as well.

The damn spirit was really riding the line between irresponsible and stupid. Actually, this was just stupid. Did familiars regularly do this sort of thing? What personal issue could be so important? She hoped, for his sake, that he would have a damn good, life-or-death reason for this, otherwise …

‘The ships are nearly here,’ Tomas stated nervously, disrupting her internal onslaught of complaints.

The ranger had spent the last half an hour standing next to her chair along with Ferin. The two of them had been silent, mostly. The few and short whispered exchanges between them were too quiet for her human ears, but one glance at their faces was enough to know it was Ferin asking over and over whether the evil spiritualist was going to kill them too, and Tomas trying to assure her they were safe.

The elves helped her to her feet, pretending to be not terrified of her. The orks murmured something and did a sitting-shuffle backwards. Seeing fourteen of the large brutes doing that in unison would have been a comical sight, had they been anything else other than a green mass of murder. It was a good thing they considered being killed by a spiritualist a less than ideal outcome. It was a good thing that apart from her and Tomas, no-one knew her familiar was taking a break from being useful and available. And it was a good thing Tomas had the good sense not to say anything.

Tomas and Ferin helped her limp over to the railing. The sun was down, the moon was up, and all she could see were two, ship-shaped shadows. She was sure the elves could see a lot more than that.

‘How long?’ Krissintha asked.

‘Ten minutes or so and they’ll be side by side with us,’ Tomas answered.

He sounded confident in his assessment. But Kevin wasn’t showing any signs of returning from … his personal issues. She would have to keep Orkuz Graal and his marauders calm without being able to talk to them, then she would have to explain to the navy-people what was going on, without having Dimal or Sini helping. Without Kevin she couldn’t even remove the mask. It was stuck there. And if something unexpected happened? Easy. She’d limp away and try not to break her other arm or sprain her other ankle.

She exhaled long and hard. She should just leave this to Tomas, the actual ranger on board. But … maybe that wouldn’t be enough.

‘Tomas, can you get the others up here from the hold?’ she asked.

The ranger looked puzzled for a moment, then scared, but then he relaxed. Good. He understood why, didn’t he?

***

Tomas had been correct in his assessment. The two navy ships were arriving by the time the elven prisoners — or former prisoners — started to appear on the deck. Krissintha watched silently as the two ships maneuvered to either sides of the galley, getting into position so they could both send boarding parties over.

The elves seemed to have put as much importance on aesthetics when it came to shipbuilding as they did with their architecture. Krissintha wasn’t surprised; why would people who adorned their dwellings and buildings with relief patterns and actual statues, not do the same with their ships? Of course they did. But regardless of the ostentatious appearance of the vessels, she didn’t know enough about ships to be able to form a professional opinion. The elven ships had more masts, the sails were a different shape, and the rigging looked infinitely more complex than the galley’s. The quarterdeck of the elven ships were higher up then the galley, their crews were looking down on the Graal’s Enormous Pride from at least five or six paces above. If nothing else, the crews of the elven ships had the high ground. On water.

The last of the liberated people arrived on the deck, and they started cheering and waving at the sailors on the elven ships as soon as they spotted them.

Life was unfair. The most she had got from the liberated prisoners were fearful looks and conspiratorial murmurs. The Solace Navy had done nothing so far, except arriving painfully late to the party, and they got cheers. Life was harsh and unfair.

The fifty or so archers lining up on the decks of the elven ships looked … confused, although with only the light of the moon and lanterns, Krissintha couldn’t see them well. She imagined a cheering crowd wasn’t what they had expected, and thankfully that was enough for the ship’s officers not to order an opening volley of arrows.

Other orders were barked, crew members worked, elven troops stood ready, and the two, beautiful Solace Navy ships were in position.

The grappling hooks came first, from both ships, sandwiching the galley between them. Then the ramps appeared, also with hooks at the ends, plonking down on the quarterdeck of the Graal’s Enormous Pride, attaching to the railing. Then, finally, the first of the navy troopers set foot on the orkish ship.

‘You know what to tell them?’ Krissintha asked Tomas.

The man nodded at her, and left her in the capable hands of Ferin, scooting over to the first of the arriving naval troops. This was probably the easiest boarding they had ever done.

***

Each elven ship sent at least thirty men to board the Graal’s Enormous Pride, under the watchful eyes of their archers, who stood ready to put an arrow into anything they perceived as a threat. The navy-troopers — or marines, as Tomas had called them — came running down the ramps, half of them spreading out to search the deck, the other half surrounding the sitting orks, and of course Krissintha along with Ferin.

Orkuz Graal grunted something and he moved to get up from the floor. Krissintha turned her head sharply, grunting something approximating orkish swearing, while pointing at him with her good hand, then gesturing him to stay seated. The ork made some unhappy noises, but he got the message and stayed down — his aversion to a dishonorable death by spirit seemingly stronger than his desire for a fight. This could have ended poorly, Krissintha thought. And it still could.

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Tomas was already talking with one of the officers — a man wearing an elaborately designed jacket, an orange sash on his arm and a tricorn hat frighteningly similar to the one Orkuz Graal was wearing. The rest of the marines were keeping an eye on the orks, their spears leveled. Krissintha noticed some of them were eying her instead of the green menace. She couldn’t really do anything else then eying them back and wait for Tomas to finish telling the three officers of the situation.

The marines were a strange looking bunch. Krissintha was used to the practical simplicity of ranger gear, especially the dark green robes that helped rangers to blend in with their environment, which was mostly forests or fields. The marines wore uniforms consisting of bright blue jackets, or tunics, and white trousers. No robes, no hoods. Even their hair was cut shorter than shoulder-length, which was unusual for elves. The only difference she could see between the marines from the two ships was the embroidered emblems on the shoulders of their jackets — probably a sign to identify which ship they belonged to.

They all carried short spears, and instead of proper swords they all had shorter blades or one-handed hatchets hanging on their belts. After a moment of considering this, Krissintha concluded that once a ship was spotted, individual stealth was meaningless, therefore it didn’t matter what kind of garb the marines had. The short weapons, especially the hatchets, started to make sense, too. In a confined space, like a ship’s cabins or passageways, shorter, smaller weapons seemed like a good choice. Except when the enemy ship was sized for orks where you could swing a siege engine and you’d be fine.

Everything seemed to be going well. Until the marine teams that had been sent out to secure the rest of the deck came back running, going straight to the officers Tomas was talking to. Krissintha wasn’t quite close enough to hear everything clearly, but she was sure she heard the words “evil spirit” and “dead people” in the same sentence. The three marine officers looked at Krissintha, their eyes following Tomas’ arm pointing at her.

‘Oh, this will be good,’ she muttered unhappily.

Two of the officers marched to the ramps leading to their respective ships and went back, presumably to give their reports to their captains. One officer stayed with Tomas, looking rather pale all of a sudden, and the rest of the marines started to fidget nervously.

Orkuz Graal grunted something. Krissintha looked at the green bastard, shushing him by putting a finger to the wooden lips of her mask — a sign she hoped was universally understood.

She had no idea what was going to happen; by now the elven ship captains probably knew about the hundreds of spirit-kills, and were probably making decisions she would not like. Orkuz Graal looked like he was re-thinking his recent choices, and was considering things she would not like either. And to complete the picture, Ferin was shaking like a leaf, and Krissintha had to wonder whether the woman would run off or just faint.

Damn it, Kevin, get back here! She made a futile attempt at sending a thought.

A man appeared on the deck of one of the elven ships, standing over the ramp leading down to the galley. Krissintha had never seen a more elaborately designed and ornamented uniform. His jacket even had those shoulder-things she had heard were in fashion among Voysair army officers — epaulettes if memory served. His attire was complete with a tricorn hat and a feather jutting out of it. The one thing that kind of spoiled the visage was the small dog the well-dressed elf was holding in his arms. Was it even a dog? It was ugly, but … in a cute way.

The man — the captain, surely — looked around quickly before stepping on the ramp and descending to the Graal’s Enormous Pride, followed by two officers.

He exchanged a quick word with the officer who stood with Tomas, then they all marched over to her.

The elven captain looked her up and down, frowned, then turned to his officers.

‘As I thought. Rangers,’ he said, his voice nasally and grating, very uncharacteristic of elves. ‘What a sneaky bunch, getting on the enemy ship. Admirable. Truly admirable,’ the man prattled on, smiling a smile Krissintha was sure was fake. The captain turned to her. ‘I am Rimarle Alas, captain of the Righteous Wrath. Remove that ridiculous mask at once, and I will hear your report. But, I will not suffer any more of this spirit-kill nonsense.’

Before his officers could show their agreement with the captain, or Krissintha could tell him to jump off the ship and drown, a sharp, angry yell came from the other ship.

‘You idiot!’ the female voice carried over to them.

Krissintha and the illustrious company of the captain and his officers all turned towards the ramp connecting the galley to the other ship. A woman. She was as well dressed as the man, only lacking a feather in her hat and an ugly-cute dog in her arms.

She strode down the ramp, jumped onto the deck of the Graal’s Enormous Pride, escorted by a couple of marines. She hurriedly walked to them, and stopped, facing the other captain.

‘You can’t possibly be this stupid,’ she began insulting the captain, not even looking at Krissintha. ‘Didn’t your men tell you the ship’s full of spirit-kills?’

‘You came aboard, too,’ Captain Rimarle Alas countered, sneering.

She looked around. One of her marines nodded to her.

‘It seems safe for now, somehow,’ she conceded. ‘But that’s not the point. We should pack up the people and leave. Evil spirits are not a joking matter.’

‘Bah! There is no evil spirit here,’ the man laughed it off. Even his little dog barked once, as if to express his or her agreement. The man patted the creature on the head. ‘Hush, Fifi, we’re safe, don’t you worry about a thing.’

Krissintha would have agreed with the woman, normally, but the other captain was more or less right. They were safe for the moment.

‘Then how do you explain the spirit-kills?’ the woman demanded, scowling at the man.

‘There are rangers here,’ he said, pointing at Krissintha. ‘It’s obvious what happened here.’

‘Is it?’ the woman scowled even harder.

There was something very familiar about her — her face, especially the way she scowled, reminded Krissintha of someone she knew.

‘Of course. A few rangers sneaked onto the ship and poisoned their food or water. Rangers are like that, aren’t they? You should know.’

Both captains turned to face Krissintha, the man smiling, the woman scowling. Ferin gulped and almost took a step back, but she had to support Krissintha.

A jar appeared in front of her, out of nowhere, hovering in the air for a second. Fifi barked and Krissintha moved instinctively to catch it. She regretted it instantly — pain jolted through her entire body as she took a half step forward, reaching to catch it with her good arm. She caught the jar, hissing through gritted teeth.

‘That is … unusual,’ Captain Rimarle Alas commented calmly, as if just mentioning how nice the weather was.

‘Hm.’ The other captain scowled so hard it seemed her face would turn inside out any moment.

While the two captains didn’t seem all that surprised or bothered, Krissintha was close to exploding at that moment.

What the hell? Are you done with whatever you’re doing? She demanded, but Kevin didn’t reply, and it still didn’t feel like the spirit was even hearing her. Damn! She racked her brain, trying to come up with an explanation that would not result in something disastrous. She came up empty, so she just held the steaming jar up and said,

‘Tea?’

‘Always,’ Captain Rimarle Alas nodded, then yelled, ‘Cups!’

The other captain just sighed.

A marine pushed his way through the crowd of ex-hostages and other marines, bringing an ornamented wooded box. The marine opened the box and offered cups to both captains. Beautiful teacups, on par with what Krissintha’s mother used to use when serving tea to guests. Maybe it was a navy thing, but it seemed ship captains were ready for a nice cup of tea at any given time. The captains, both holding cups now, looked at Krissintha.

She nodded, and poured tea for both of them, then handed the jar to Ferin.

The captains sniffed the tea, then took a sip in unison as if they had practiced the move.

‘This is good tea,’ Captain Rimarle Alas said approvingly. ‘Quite a unique flavour. Civat fruits, perhaps?’

‘It’s not bad,’ the other captain nodded and took another sip.

Incredible, Krissintha thought. Something as mundane as a good cup of tea, and not one but two ship captains stood there completely distracted. Perhaps there was a reason after all why rangers seemed to have a less than flattering opinion of the tar-lickers. Even the marine officers looked somewhat embarrassed.

Ramming speeeeed! Kevin’s voice suddenly filled Krissintha’s mind, louder than ever before. She flinched, but before she could do anything — like thought-yell back at Kevin — the spirit yelled again. Cruising speeeed!

Kevin! You’re back? Krissintha inquired as forcefully as she managed to send a thought.

Krissssyyyy! Kevin bellowed happily. Too happily.

Something was wrong.

Ferin suddenly jumped away from her. With her support gone, Krissintha’s poor, twisted ankle suddenly had to support some of her weight. She hissed as the pain came, and she instinctively reached out for Ferin and grabbed her shoulder before falling flat on her face. She steadied herself, but from the corner of her eye she saw immaculate red fabric instead of the tattered, grey rags Ferin was wearing. She saw the two captains staring at something, their tea forgotten. She pulled herself upright and turned her head to look.

Red dress, blonde hair, a beautiful face and the most vividly blue eyes she’d ever seen. Oh shit.

Bitchy biiiiiiitch! Kevin yelled excitedly.