Miles off the coast of Yorktown, floating in the waters, was a trio of ships. Their black sails were rolled and their anchors set, signifying that the crews were taking the night off. The black waters of the sea would occasionally impact the ships’ hulls, rocking them in place. Most of the crew would still be asleep, as most of them were experienced sailors who had already gotten used to the nauseating movements after months of pillaging and pirating. Still, some preferred to walk around the deck, making sure no royal ships or rogue bandits were around, ready to sound the alarm if any showed themselves.
Yet here in Valenfrost’s waters, an enemy ship was a much more preferable opponent to fight rather than against the mythical serpents and beasts that were rumored to roam the deep and dark waters, hiding their unsettling shapes as they hunted for lone ships to devour.
Thankfully, tonight was a rare night, fairly quiet as no ship roamed the waters and no beast hunted around the deep. There was, however, a single human prisoner, ready to make his escape from the captors that had killed his entire family and clan.
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Another wave rocked the ship, nearly causing Seamus Halvorson to lose his balance. He held back a curse as he pressed himself against the hull of the deck. He was terrified, his heart beating out of his chest as he slowly sidestepped through the shadows.
Seamus had been slowly sneaking his way through the ship, careful as to not get caught by any roaming marauder. It was miraculous enough that he had managed to escape his chains without a problem. He was also extremely fortunate to not encounter anyone on his way to the surface deck.
Yet even Seamus knew that this kind of luck wouldn’t last long. He even began to wonder how long it would be before his good fortune ran out, before he was killed off by a wandering guard, his own story ending with a swift stab to the gut. He shuddered at the thought, his chest tightening in response. His fear had him stunned for a moment, his body slightly shaking as he tried to calm himself.
‘How did it end up like this?’
Of course, he knew the answer all too well. It all had gone to hel back when he survived the initial purging of his entire clan, the slaughter enough to beckon the omen of the Blood Moons. Seamus had survived the massacre out of pure dumb luck. When he was confronted by that marauder, he had passed himself off as an unlucky merchant, giving a fake last name to not tip off that he was the Jarl’s dear son.
‘My luck has gotten this far. Let’s pray that it gets me to safety,’
Seamus was now so close to freedom that he could taste it. Literally. The salt in the air made Seamus so relieved and excited that the urge to jump ship was nearly unbearable.
‘No…’
Seamus silently scolded himself.
‘I can’t afford to risk swimming in the dark. I need to find a rowboat to get my arse as far away from this ship as possible.’
Seamus wiped some sweat from his eyes and looked around at his surroundings. No guards nearby. Most of them were already asleep below the surface deck, from which Seamus had come from. It was an act of the gods that he hadn’t managed to wake any of them up.
Seamus cautiously crept along the dark shadows, slowly crawling up the steps that lead to the top deck. He could see a couple of men talking at the other end of the brig, too far away for him to identify if they were armed or not.
‘It doesn’t matter anyway. I can’t fight worth a damn, even if my life was on the line.’
Seamus gulped at that reminder, his hands shaking slightly. He couldn’t even pass for a fighter with his small frame and bare face. He made a fisherman look more like a warrior in comparison. The young man looked unassuming and weak, which was not too far from the truth.
Seamus shook those thoughts away. It would do him no good to dwell on his weaknesses. He instead took a couple of deep breaths, trying to build up the courage to sneak onto the deck.
‘I’ve gotten this far. No turning back now.’
Seamus physically crawled onto the deck, sticking to the shadows near the railing’s edge and avoiding the light of the mounted torches nearby, which were practically everywhere. Luckily, most of the torches were almost burnt out, their flames weak and flickering.
‘How big are these ships?’
Seamus looked around the deck. Once he was sure that no one was looking in his direction, Seamus rose from his prone position, half-standing as he looked out onto the side of the vessel. He knew the ship was bigger than the ones his clan had, but this was ridiculous.
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The brig was more than double the size of the longships he had seen before, making his late father’s boats look like rafts instead of the terrible warships they were. Seamus swallowed and brushed his fear aside. He focused ahead and squinted through the darkness before he finally spotted the rowboats. Which were tied up near the railings ahead.
‘No!’
Seamus mentally cursed all the gods he knew, as the small boats were being guarded by the two men he had spotted earlier. He could feel his hope for freedom dissipate like snow in water, the feeling of hopelessness settling in his heart. He almost gave up then and there, his despair almost enough for him to ignore the stray ember that stung at his neck.
Seamus winced at the small burn, almost scolding himself for allowing himself to be so close to a torch. However, a spark of an idea crossed his mind. Seamus turned his head towards the torch that had burnt him. His gaze soon shifted to the many torches that were mounted on the ship.
A grim plan now plagued his mind once he remembered the many barrels of alcohol he had seen in the cargo hold. It would mean possibly dooming the many souls that slept on the ship, most of them being the prisoners he had been stuck with for the last few days. Seamus grimaced, knowing that the many lives weren’t worth it.
‘Still, there has to be a way.’
He looked around, and his attention turned to the rolled sails.
‘Maybe…?’
Seamus wasn’t sure if it could work or if it would still doom the ship. He gritted his teeth, knowing that he needed to make his choice, sooner or later, or else he would die a very, very painful death.
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“You fucker! You cheated!” Wren exclaimed as he pointed a fat accusing finger at Junn, who grinned stupidly behind his newly acquired gold piece.
“Want to bet again?” Junn asked, his smile barely having any teeth behind it. Wren wasn’t sure how this bastard had cheated, but he knew damn well that Junn was slippery when it came to bets. Still, Wren was stupid enough to fish his pockets for another gold piece; sure he was going to catch Junn in the act. It was also his last gold coin, gained from the previous raid they did days ago.
“Err…. fine! But if I catch you cheating, I swear I’ll gut you and feed you to the silverheads!” Wren threatened, hoping to get a reaction.
Junn just smiled stupidly, unaffected by the threat as Wren slammed the gold coin on the railing.
“All right, watch closely,” Junn said, both hands out as he prepared himself. His face soon changed emotions, his dumb grin fading quickly as his one remaining eye widened. Wren was confused at first, certain that Junn was playing a trick to get him to look away again.
“You’re gonna have to try harder than that–” Wren started before wincing as he felt something unbearably hot make contact with his shoulder. “What the–?” The guard turned around, his eyes widening. The mast was on fire.
Wren watched in horror as embers and pieces of flaming debris fell onto the deck and waters. He snapped out of his trance, turning to his fellow guard, “What’re you doing, you fucken idiot?! Sound the damn alarm!” He shouted at Junn, which seemed to wake the bastard up. Both guards scrambled across the deck, Junn heading to the bell as Wren went to find the captain.
‘If that bastard’s asleep, I swear I’ll–!’
His thoughts were cut off immediately as he heard the sound of something large hitting the waters, specks of cold ocean water hitting his face.
At first, he thought it was the debris from the mast, splashing down into the waters. But he soon disregarded that thought. They were at least five meters from the water’s surface. For water to splash up to the railing, it must’ve been something sizable enough.
‘Unless half the mast fell off-board… nothing could’ve made a splash that big…’
Realization hit the old guard, causing him to run to the source of the sound. He looked down into the black waters, squinting into the darkness of the night. Wren’s eyes were old and unreliable most of the time, but the burning mast thankfully provided enough light for him to see much more clearly. There, he could barely make out the outline of one of the rowboats floating away with an unauthorized passenger.
“Runner!” Wren shouted out as loud as he could. He could hear Junn finally ring the alarm bell, its ringing echoing out across the trio of ships. “We got a runner! All hands on deck! Get the marauders out here now! Runner!”
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“Runner!”
The hoarse, angry voice reached Seamus, making him jump in place. He looked up the ship’s railing, where he saw the old guard he had spotted earlier. He was screaming his lungs out, his hand gesturing to Seamus’ boat.
“Shit!” Seamus cursed. He could feel his heart beat like crazy as he rowed the boat, his adrenaline running through his body like a cold breeze. Seamus prayed to all the gods who were listening to let him get away.
‘I’ll be a dead man if they catch me…’
He frantically pulled on the oars with strained effort as waves rocked his small boat.
‘If they catch me.’
Seamus blinked, a glimmer of hope slowly blossoming in his chest. It was still dark, meaning he could still disappear into the cold night.
‘They would also need to pull their anchors and set their sails… and that’s if they manage to get that fire under control.’
Seamus had the sudden urge to start laughing like a maniac. He forcibly held it back, trying to keep his nerves under control. All he could do for now was row his way to safety and hopefully find an island to hide out on. So Seamus Halvorson did what he did best. He rowed and rowed for the entirety of the night, leaving behind a burning ship and a group of very confused marauders.