Section Seven: Blood at Sea
Fara yawned widely and rubbed her eyes. No one in the party had gotten to go to bed yet. Over half of the classes at Morningstar had been cancelled to release their teachers for an all-out conference, and what had resulted now was a massive brainstorming/research mission in the library.
Fox sat down next to her, and after a moment said, "They're not having too much luck."
"What's the subject they're researching now?" She replied tiredly.
"Well, since the general conclusion was that someone or something, whether it be a consortium of gods or something else, is now trying to restore Mormo, they're now looking up everything they can on the Titan's War, as well as casting speculation on whether or not anyone can do anything about it." He sank low in the chair he was in, rubbing tired, itching eyes, wondering how it was that magic users could go without sleep. He could, but not to this degree. "The problem is there are no accurate accounts of the Titan's War."
"None?"
"None. It was too long ago, so what little exists is legends, speculations. No accurate, factual reports."
She winced. The group had had more then enough experience with that problem during their last quest. "So, what are they going to do?"
"Keep looking. It's a big library, so I have no doubt that they will search every book." He shook his head, hefting himself to his feet, and after a moment stuck a pair of fingers in his mouth and whistled piercingly. This action was rewarded when the entire group of people in the library looked at him, most more then a little annoyed. He ignored the fact. "I am going to bed, and I release any of my people from your slavery to do the same." He announced in a loud voice. "If you find anything of interest, notify us in twelve hours." And with that, he helped Fara out of the chair and marched for the doors, group members straggling in behind him.
"You know, most people wouldn't order around a magic school." Tempest remarked, not bothering to cover a yawn.
"Most people haven't saved the world." Alan said. Fox only smiled.
"Fearless leader! Wake up! I have an idea!"
"Hn?" Fox opened one eye and focused it on Alan, who had let himself into the room. Fara also opened an eye as Fox sat up and fought the urge to glare, shaking himself awake. "All right, Alan. All right." He said resignedly. "Wait in the hall, will you please?"
Five minutes later, both Fox and Fara had assembled themselves and had joined Alan, who was bouncing up and down in excitement. Not waiting for either to say anything, Alan ploughed into an explanation. "I'm sorry to wake you up, but you've gotten seven hours sleep and I had a sudden realization." Alan wove his arms around, gesturing as he spoke. "They want information on the Titan's War, right?"
"Well, yes."
"Lord Momus was alive during the Titan's War!"
Fox blinked, processing this. "And you're certain this is fact?"
Alan paused mid-bounce and looked at him. "Who argues with the Jack? He told me so once, and I know that my Lady the Demoiselle has been alive just as long. They witnessed the fall of the Titans."
"Then why haven't they published accounts?"
"Who is brave enough to ask them about it? Especially the Demoiselle, I mean, it's just improper to ask a Lady her age…"
Fara grinned. "You are a genius, Alan."
"You just noticed?" The bard wanted to know.
"All right, Alan, you've got my permission to awake the others. We might as well give this suggestion to Bendel, so we've got to be informed first."
Alan grinned and took off down the hall.
"You believe him?" Fara finally asked, glancing at Fox.
"I don't have a reason not to. Besides, the Jack of Tears is a lot of things, but he isn't a liar."
The group looked around at each other, letting this bit of information sink in. They hadn't been awake too long, and were now in the main cafeteria of the school, most with some sort of food or drink at hand as they tried to fully wake up. No one was really surprised by this information of course—or at least not the ones that had met the Jack before. The Bayou was not a place where you asked questions often, it was just too dangerous for that.
"Are you proposing we return to the Bayou?" Katt raised her eyebrows. "Or just try to contact the Jack?"
Fox spread his hands. "I suppose it would depend on what Bendel thinks about this, but the Bayou is on the other side of the world, and it took us quite a while to get here. It'd probably be better to try to contact him."
"Success rate: one in fifty." Slippy said, head resting on his folded arms, which were propped on the table. He hadn't woken up in the most cheerful mood. "We don't know if he has a mirror, he hasn't got one of our rings, and spells being cast in or in the direction of the Bayou have a large chance of going completely and utterly haywire."
"And even if this school had a powerful enough adept to teleport us directly to the Bayou, there's a good chance the spell will miss simply because of magical properties of the Bayou." Said Rita.
"So we know where information is, it'll just be utter hell to get to." Falco grumbled. "How completely typical."
"Alan, is there any particular reason why the Bayou is so hard to contact?" Bill asked after a moment.
"It has to do with the Titan's blood that saturates the area." Alan said, feeding Kagi bacon. "Everything there is just abnormal."
"Present company included." Tempest smiled a bit.
Alan grinned and didn't bother replying.
"So, what, we wait for Bendel's approval before trying to figure out how to reach the Jack?" Katt asked.
"That would probably be best. That way we don't waste any effort if he decides against it." Said Peppy.
"Get my approval on what?" Bendel asked, suddenly appearing, looking tired.
The group shared a glance, then Fox wove at Alan. "Well, go ahead and explain, by all means."
"The Jack of Tears." Said Anubis somewhat reverently, shaking his head. "You do have some interesting friends, Fox."
"Allies." Fox corrected, looking at his map, which was floating in midair fully open, displaying a map of the world. As he manipulated the magic that made the map, two locations lit up: the Blood Bayou and Morningstar. Another twitch of his hands, and a line connected the two locations, then Elven writing started hovering in midair next to the map. "This is saying at least nine month's hard travel, out of range for a direct Lantern jump." He finally said, frowning as he read the writing. Tempest drifted over, also reading. After a moment the line realigned, now following a sea path. "It's shorter over water, but not all that safe either."
"How much did this cost you?" Tempest asked, watching as the map shifted itself around.
"Nothing, it was my father's. I imagine that it would cost quite a bit to have made, though."
"Any thoughts, anyone?" Asked Bendel, having also moved to a spot where he could see the map. After a moment he gestured in the air, and a greatly enlarged projection of the map lit up most of a large wall, shifting with the map. "I really can't think of anything that I or my people could do, unless we can get in direct contact with the Jack, and that's next to impossible."
"Well…" Alan shouldered in, chewing the end of a quill. "Enlarge the area around Morningstar, Fox." Fox shrugged and did, having the map move by degrees until Alan gestured that it was close enough. "How far to these costal cities?" He finally asked, pointing out the glowing dots and lettering that represented larger cities.
"Five minutes of magic." Bendel replied. "Morningstar has set gates to the Lantern depots at a few of those cities. We provide them with simple defensive magic and thus forth, and they let our students and staff teleport in for breaks, shopping, trading, et cetera."
"That's convenient… I wonder…"
"Thinking a sea route would be best?" Anubis asked. "You should at least try to contact the Jack first, I think."
"Yes and no." Alan finally replied, turning to Bendel. "So you have teachers and students going to these cities fairly regularly? How regularly?"
"No set schedule, but more then weekly on average." He shrugged. "Why?"
"What would it take for you to find out if a certain ship or party was in one of those cities?"
"Bit of time and magic I guess, depends on the city. Bit of money, at most. The cities we've shook hands with don't tend to argue with us much."
"All right then." Alan produced a piece of parchment and scribbled on it, then shoved it at Bendel. "Try to find out if these ships or people are in any of those towns right now or are expected to dock within a day."
Bendel read the note, eyebrows lifting toward the ceiling, then disappeared in a puff of turquoise smoke.
"Care to share your idea with the rest of us, Alan?" Fox asked after a moment.
"The Blood Bayou has naval emissaries that visit costal cities around the world." Alan replied. "I don't know much about them, just the names of a few of the ships and Heron Priests… I don't associate with them much. But those boats are nowhere near normal, of course. If we're going to have to travel to the Blood Bayou, that will be the quickest way, I guarantee it."
"Are you sure you are insane?" Fara grinned.
"Insane and stable are two very different things." Was the wise reply.
"The Scarlet Inferno is expected to come into dock in less then eight hours." Bendel said, a number of reports spread out in front of him from students and teachers he had recruited to look around. The students found it to be a gleeful assignment, the teachers bore it with resignation, being almost all of them were tired and burnt out. "Strange name for a boat." He noted.
"This would be a galleon of the Bayou, what else would you expect?" Fara asked.
"Point. Well, they passed the city's magical checkpoints about two hours ago, and at the reported clip they were at, they'll be docked by midnight tonight."
"How exactly do the cities keep track of this stuff?" Falco wanted to know.
"This particular city asks that galleons send notice before docking, and they have magical buoys that report when larger ships pass. It's something we set up for them." Said Elgar.
"Makes perfect sense." Peppy grinned. "That practically negates a sea attack from any enemies. A huge fleet sets off alarms, right?"
"Right, and it's convenient for commercial uses."
"So, know anything about this boat?" Bendel glanced at Alan.
Alan scratched his head. "Not really, to my knowledge it's a fairly typical setup, but I didn't talk to any of the bosuns much, so I may be wrong. None of the boats are set up for war, if that's what you mean, and nobody of extremely high rank should be aboard."
"So how does this help us?" Slippy wanted to know.
"Galleons of the Bayou can get anywhere from the Bayou in about a week, and the trips back are just as short. Everyone in the Bayou knows who Fox is, and knows of the fact that he's allied with the Jack. If we can find one of the Heron Priests, we can finagle a free ride to the Bayou. That is, if you don't mind a week on water." Said Alan.
"No, that's significantly shorter then anything else." Said Fox. "So, is it confirmed then? We're going back to the Bayou?" He looked around at everyone.
Nods all around.
"I've been trying to get through to the Jack for the last six hours." Said Slippy. "We're not going to be able to contact him from a distance. If he has information, we're going to have to get it face to face."
"All right then." Fox stretched and stood. "Bendel, can you get my party to this city first thing tomorrow morning?"
"With ease. You won't mind if I tag along?"
"No, you're welcome to." Fox assured him. "All right everyone, get some rest before tomorrow."
Everyone nodded, and the party split up.
"All right, so out of curiosity, why would the Blood Bayou send diplomats?" Julian asked. The group had just arrived at the city—Cerstunne—and were walking down the street.
"Recruits." Alan replied, taking a drink, having already relieved a street vendor of a bottle of wine. "The Blood Bayou has a pretty high fatality rate, and to keep it running new people are always needed."
"These new people are told nothing near the truth, I take it." Said Falco, looking around the city with a practiced eye.
"They stretch it a bit." Alan admitted. "But if they didn't, few would go. The Heron Priests also hold embassy for the Jack, but besides that they don't do much."
"Heron Priests." Bendel mused aloud. "Just how they sound, I take it? I don't believe I've met one…"
"Just how they sound." Alan agreed, taking a look around. "Let's head toward the docks for now. They should be fairly easy to find, they dress brightly and are usually preaching."
An hour later the party was still drifting about the busy docks, most with something to eat or drink that they had been goaded into buying by the vendors. They had found the ship, but its ramps had been partly pulled back, and its attendants (Bone Bosuns, according to Alan) didn't look all that pleasant or friendly. The boat itself looked barely able to float, let alone travel at the speeds Alan said it could. It was mostly dull white in color, apparently carved from bone and sun-bleached wood, and bobbed lazily in the water, brightly-colored flags flapping in the wind.
"You sure they wouldn't be elsewhere in town?" Tempest asked Alan finally.
"They have to pass by here fairly regularly, to show converts where the boat is." Alan replied, tossing the empty bottle away absently. Elsewhere in the crowd, someone squawked in pain, but Alan ignored the fact. "Plus, there are quite a few people here anyway. We'll find who we're looking for soon enough…" He suddenly trailed off, focusing elsewhere in the crowd, face changing, then lighting up in a grin of pure delight. "SASHIMA!" With that happy cry, he catapulted through the crowd and pounced on someone, knocking the figure down in the process. The crowd automatically cleared a space as the pair rolled, Alan ending up sitting on the new person's stomach, grinning the entire time.
Fox and the others exchanged a look, and quickly caught up.
"Alan Mangrove. How am I not surprised." Said the new figure, speaking for the first time. She was dressed in the gala of the Dark Carnival, face painted in a cheerful expression.
"Sashima." His grin widened, which the crowd hadn't thought mortally possible. With that one word he leapt up and back, grabbed her hands, and pulled her up, dusting her off. "Good to see you." To accompany this, he grabbed her into a hug.
Sashima, now trapped in the hug, looked at Fox and the others, rolled her eyes, and gave them an expression that plainly said, 'help me, please…'
"Alan, I think you need to let her breathe." Falco remarked.
"Oh, sorry!" He released her and repeated the dust-off.
"Now that the greeting is over, why don't you introduce us?" Fox said, stepping forward.
"Ah of course. This is Sashima, she's a Dark Harlequin, one of the Jack's direct servants. Sashima, this is Fox McCloud, or Ivellios Siannodel, it depends who you ask. I'm sure you know of him."
"Heard much, I'm charmed." She held out a hand clad in a white glove.
He bowed, taking it respectfully, and was jolted by a sudden burst of merriment. The next thing he knew he was sitting on the ground, blinking up at everyone else, giddy. "What was that pray tell?"
"I apologize. I sometimes forget not to do that. I am a Harlequin, Sir McCloud." She held up the hand in the white glove. "Touch of Joy." She lifted the hand in the red glove. "Touch of Pain."
"Oh, I see." He stood with effort, shaking off, shooting a look at Falco as the thief muffled a snicker. "Please refrain from doing that from now on."
"But of course." She took the entire group in. "My, what a pack. Staying at a local inn?"
"Not exactly, we're here from Morningstar, so we're staying there for the time being." Fox finally said. "I take that you and your… friends are staying at an inn, I imagine?"
"Perceptive. Yes, I am currently traveling with the Herons." She smiled. "But we are staying on our boat, in the few hours we are not traveling the streets."
"Ah."
She turned to Alan. "So, now that the niceties are over… was there actually a reason that you tackled me?"
He grinned. "No. We need a favor from the Herons, though." He gestured to show that 'we' included the entire group.
"Oh really?" She lifted a colorful eyebrow. "What kind of favor?"
"We need transportation back to the Bayou."
"Well I should think that's doable, I doubt that the Herons would argue." She glanced at Fox. "I'll speak to them about it…" Someone called her name from a distance, and she sighed. "Speaking of such, I must return to work. Why I have been put on guard duty…" And with that she disappeared into the crowd, after affectionately cuffing Alan on the shoulder with the white-gloved hand.
"Do we want to know, Alan?" Falco asked rather pointedly, looking at who he was speaking to, who was giggling giddily.
"What? What? What do you speak of? What?" Alan said, ceasing his giggles and grinning.
"Right."
"I should return to the school." Bendel said after a moment, toting a seemingly heavy bag. He had been running errands during the last hour, of what kind the group had failed to notice. "Inform me of the plan before you leave, all right?" After Fox nodded, he disappeared in a puff of silvered smoke.
The Herons turned out to be more then happy to transport the group back to the Bayou, though they said they weren't leaving for two days. It was fairly clear their motives weren't completely selfless, though—one of the four Herons gleefully remarked that having such a hero traveling with them just might bring their number of recruits up.
Peppy and Katt returned to Morningstar to explain to Bendel what was going on, and came back with the report that Bendel was fine with it, though he insisted that they have the Jack set up a solid mirror for communication once they got there, which Fox agreed was a very good idea. Bendel had also called into one of the local inns, so the group apparently had rooms until they left, and as Morningstar currently didn't need them on site, Fox let everyone do as they see fit, providing they stayed out of trouble. Which, of course, was easier for some then others.
Alan sighed, kicking a foot back and forth, staring out toward the water. He was perched on the railing of his room's balcony. It was late, and a bone-gnawing exhaustion was beginning to creep through him. He ignored it though, unwilling to go to bed, mind wandering as he took a drink from his flask.
Why was Sashima assigned to guard duty for the Heron Priests? He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head. Not that he was going to deny that he had been happy to see her, but it twisted a few old knives that were driven in his side, and he was tired.
He didn't get tired, typically. He just DIDN'T. He normally slept maybe eight hours out of a week, fueled by the taint of the Bayou. But now, he was tired. And he knew why…
Behind him, he heard the room door crack open, and looked over his shoulder. "Come on in, Peppy."
"Everyone was wondering where you had happened off to." Peppy remarked, walking across the room to join him on the balcony. "No one thought to check your room, though." He leaned on the railing, eyeing the bard. "What's wrong?"
"What do you mean?" He took another drink, still staring out moodily toward the water.
"You aren't smiling. You're avoiding the happy crowds in the taverns and so on. That isn't exactly normal for you Alan." Peppy looked him in the eye. "And you may be able to fool everyone else into thinking you're all right, but you can't fool me."
Alan laughed to himself. "We all have our reasons for everything, Peppy."
"Then what is your reason for being depressed?"
"I'm never depressed." He pointed out. "Well, when Fox's life was in danger on our last quest, I suppose I was, but besides that… I am always happy, Peppy. People do not understand that."
"Are you really happy right now?" Peppy asked quietly.
"In a quiet way, yes, but it is a… painful happiness." Alan worked out the phrasing with difficulty, a strange smile warping his face.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"I do not think I need to."
"Sashima."
"Yes."
There was a long silence during which Alan knocked back the remainder of what was in his flask and tucked it back inside an inner vest pocket, hugging himself.
"Beauty masked, painted over. Outer finery, hiding inner beauty." He spoke the lines very slowly, eyes half closed, as if hearing an orchestra. "Danger, shrouded by the smile of an angel. She lives not for life, she seems not to live." He dropped his head, shoulders sagging, smile leaving. "She does not know I live for her."
Peppy was silent.
"Evil is just that, Peppy. It makes you blind to your heart. I know this. I live surrounded by it, but I am not it. Do I make sense? No matter. Evil makes you blind, Peppy. It makes you blind and deaf. I think she knows something at least, but she can't understand how I feel. She lives for her Lord, and I am not he." Alan smiled, but it was painful, twisted. "Touch of pain and touch of joy. Both at once, every time I see her."
"Oh, Alan…"
"Do not feel sorry for me Peppy. I am of the Bayou. I am lucky to live this long. I do not know when I will die, though I am sure it will probably be soon." Ignoring Peppy's alarmed look, he continued, staring into the distance. "But I would very much like it to be in her arms. I only wish she could understand. But she can not. And that is the end of this tale." And with that he hopped off the railing and started to return inside.
"Do you really believe that, Alan?" Peppy asked, watching him leave. "You've traveled with us quite a bit, and you believe that love will find a way. You've said so, many times, during our last quest in particular. You seem very much a believer in 'happy endings,' as you term them."
Alan stopped and looked over his shoulder, his smile turning very sad. "Peppy, do you know how old I am?"
"I thought you didn't even know."
"I am fifty-eight."
Peppy's jaw dropped.
"Oh, I know. I seem in my early twenties at most. I don't age. I haven't since I moved to the Bayou, but every time we travel, I feel it. I feel myself age, Peppy. There are no real outward signs of it, but I feel it in my heart." Alan's shoulders sagged. "And it will someday soon kill me. I'm tired, Peppy. I never get tired. I'm dying. There is no happy ending for me."
Peppy's hand landed on his shoulder, a solid, reassuring pressure. Alan looked at him in surprise, even more so when he saw Peppy's gentle, stern look.
"We need to talk." Peppy said very quietly. "If anything, so you can loose all the weight on your shoulders."
"Ahem."
Fox and the others glanced up, blinking at how tired Peppy looked as he walked over to the table in the tavern that the group had commandeered. Breakfast had just been served. "Morning, Peppy. Where's Alan?"
"He's taking the day off." Peppy sat heavily, rubbing his eyes wearily. "Or at least I told him to. Whether or not he'll listen to me, I really don't know."
"How can he take a day off if he's never worked a day in his life?" Falco wanted to know, then blanched when Peppy threw him a dark look. "What?"
There was a long silence before Peppy spoke again. "I have some rather disturbing news." When the group stayed silent, he continued. "Last night I took it upon myself to track Alan down. He was hiding in his room. It seems that he had reason to." He paused. "Apparently, he's dying."
"WHAT?!"
"He's over a decade older then I am, and being away from what's kept him healthy all this time—namely, the Bayou and the blood of Kadum—taxes him in more ways then we could imagine. In fact, it's starting to kill him."
There was a long silence. Fox had pulled into himself since Peppy had first said, but now looked up, sad and troubled. "What can we do to help?"
"I'm not sure we can." Peppy admitted. "I talked to him for quite a while. He's just wearing out. We're already going to be doing what's best, namely heading back to the bayou for a while. The thing is, he isn't willing to stay there once we've found out what we need. He wants to stay with the group."
"It's still going to be over a week until we reach the bayou." Katt shook her head. "Would any sort of spell help support him until then?"
"I don't know, and it's probably best if you didn't try. He doesn't want to be treated like an invalid. In fact, I suggest that none of you mention this. Except you, Fox, you might be able to get away with it. After all, you are the 'fearless leader.'"
Fox only smiled sourly. "We're still set to leave tomorrow, right?"
"As far as I know."
From then on, breakfast was eaten in silence.
Sashima leaned back against the railing of the ship, watching as the group came aboard the ship, their horses already stowed below. Most of them seemed a bit uneasy, as if not sure about the Scarlet Inferno's seaworthiness. Given, the ship looked battered and strangely put together, but that was not the case of course.
"So you're our guests?"
Fox blinked as one of the bosuns swung down the rope ladders and landed in front of them. He looked different then the other bosuns, though—namely, he was larger, almost double the size of his comrades, and his clothing was a bit more whole. "That would be us. Should I suppose that you're in charge?"
"Yes indeed." The bosun preened an antenna absently. "I'm the captain. Call me Scarface, everyone else does who cares for names. Don't bother talking to my friends, though." He pointed the antenna at the other bosuns absently, which were preparing for launch. "Or at least, don't expect an answer, they're the quiet sort. Your steeds have been secured in our stable area on the third deck. You'll be in cabins on the first deck…" He paused, eying the group, which now numbered twelve as Elgar was accompanying them. "Will it be a problem for you to be two to a room?"
"That should be fine." Fox assured him.
"Good, then." He looked at Alan. "I know you."
Alan grinned. "Morning, Scarface."
"Don't jinx the day by calling it good, we're hoping for clear skies, it'll cut half a day off our travels." He turned back to Fox. "We'll be leaving within the hour. Do you have everything you need?"
"Yes indeed."
"Good."
"… It's intriguing, really." Slippy said as he sketched the boat absently, scribbling notes to himself. "It seems that all of the vessels of the bayou are high-class artifacts. Without the magic imbuing them, they'd sink in moments."
"That does wonders to comfort me, Slip." Falco mumbled, leaning on the railing, looking rather green. The Inferno moved too fast to rock, really, but he still wasn't feeling all that steady.
"No, the magic is part of the ship. No amount of spells could remove the enchantments; it would have to be done by the maker." He considered the picture. "And part of the magic is allowing the ship to hold a lot more then it looks like it should be able to. For the size, this boat is carrying about five times the weight it should be able to, and yet is hitting speeds five to six times then most larger ships do." He looked up at the full sails, watching the bosuns. "Interesting setup, really."
"And you're trying to figure it out so you can make money on it, right?"
Slippy grinned crookedly. "I'm a gadget master. It's what I do best."
"Besides blowing up your father's blacksmith shop?"
Any reply Slippy would have made was interrupted by a rising commotion from the other end of the boat. The cargo bay doors were open, and the bosuns were making bewildered noises, scrambling up the ramp to get out of the way of something.
"AIIYEEE! I can't take it any longer!"
There was the hollow noise of wood against wood, and a barrel somehow rolled up the cargo ramp, ricocheted off one of the masts, and went into a tailspin, ending up on one end. It held still a moment, then rocked energetically and started bouncing down the deck, passing by Slippy and Falco, screaming "Let me out!" in a high, squeaky voice.
Slippy and Falco looked at each other a moment, then Falco said, "Did you see that, or was it just my hangover?"
"Bouncing barrel?"
"Yeah."
"No, I saw it too."
The barrel ran into one of the masts, bounced in place for a few moments, then tipped over and started rolling again, still yelping at the top of its lungs. By now, it had attracted the attention of everyone on deck, including Scarface, who watched for a moment then returned to what he was doing. Business as usual on a ship of the bayou.
Eventually the barrel rolled in the direction of Tempest, who stopped it with his foot, maneuvering it so it was trapped between the railing and him. This sparked even louder protests from the barrel as he turned and looked at Fox, who had been watching this whole scene with amusement. "What do you think?"
"I'm not sure I want to know." Fox responded honestly.
"Leave him in there." Alan advised as he wandered up. The barrel, hearing this, started screaming even louder.
"You know who this is?" Tempest asked.
"Yes, and I would rather face an army then deal with him."
"LET ME OUT!" The barrel yelled in a piercing staccato, bouncing on the word 'out.'
"I think whoever this is will deafen the entire boat if we don't do something."
"Silence spell." Alan advised with a sour smile.
The trio was quiet for a moment. The barrel started bouncing in a steady rhythm; Tempest put his weight into keeping the thing trapped.
"Eh, what the hell." Tempest finally said, pulling his sword and eyeing the barrel.
"Go ahead, don't listen to me." Alan shook his head, and promptly disappeared from the area.
After a moment, Tempest wedged the sword blade into the barrel and levered off one of the ends. The barrel promptly ceased moving, and a small form shot out like a firework, cornered off two of the masts, and hit Tempest square in the chest with enough momentum that Tempest promptly sat down.
"Thankyouthankyouthankyou…"
Fox watched, amused, as Tempest peeled off the small form, which happened to be a somewhat undersized kobold. His efforts were in vain; the minute he let go the kobold was promptly back where he had been. After a few minutes this issue was solved, but only because Tempest was holding the kobold under the armpits at arm's length.
"Who are you, and why exactly were you in a barrel?" Tempest asked once the kobold had shut up.
The kobold responded by making a small series of noises and swatting the air.
"Fox, could you translate that?"
"I don't speak kobold."
"Neither do I." He shook the kobold a few times, who yipped but didn't seem bothered otherwise. "Try again. English this time."
"That is my name!" The kobold protested, then repeated the earlier series of noises and motion.
"Maybe I should have left you in the barrel."
Slippy and Falco, having been watching this from a distance, joined them. "Why exactly was the kobold in the barrel?" Slippy wanted to know.
"That's what I'm trying to find out, but I can't even get his name out of him."
"I TOLD you my name!" The kobold yelled.
"Care to say it again?" Falco asked. The kobold again went through the routine. "Yipsnarl Fleaswat." He translated. Fox, Slippy, and Tempest looked at him. "Hey, I run a thieves' guild. You'd be surprised who turns up who happens to be a member, and it helps when you speak the lingo." He looked back at Yipsnarl. "So. Why were you in the barrel?"
"I'm an agent of the Jack." The kobold dusted himself off once Tempest had set him down. He was even smaller then the bosuns.
"Which has what to do with the barrel?"
"He wanted me to be inconspicuous."
"All respect, but you're about as inconspicuous as an erupting volcano." Slippy remarked.
Yipsnarl ignored this. "Where's Alan? I heard him."
"He left. Apparently he didn't want to deal with you." Tempest replied.
"Eh, he's just kidding. I'll find him." And with that, he was gone.
The four looked at each other. "Why would the Jack have a spy on board?" Falco finally asked.
"I don't want to know." Fox decided, and the others agreed.
The next few days passed uneventfully, until the morning of the forth day.
Fox woke up because he very suddenly fell out of bed. The Scarlet Inferno, which normally rocked only slightly because of the speeds it traveled at and some magic, now had a steady rock which had caused him to roll out of bed. After staggering to his feet with a grumble, he noticed something else—the Inferno wasn't moving. At all. After waking up Fara, he shrugged into a tunic and went up to the ship's main deck. The sails were closed, the rocking the only motion the boat was making. No land was in sight. The ship's crew was silently gathered toward the bow of the ship, looking at something ahead, but got out of the way for him.
"Morning." Scarface remarked over his shoulder, staring out over the water.
"What's the problem?" Fox asked, hearing other members of his group arrive on deck, having apparently suffered similarly or woken up on their own.
"That." Scarface said flatly, pointing out ahead of the ship.
He looked automatically, and it took him several moments to realize what Scarface was indicating. About fifty feet in front of the boat, the water was blood red in a ribbon about twenty feet wide and stretching out to the horizon in either direction.
"That is the Scarlet Tide." Said Scarface grimly. "We can't risk going through it: it's got us cut off. It'll add a week to our travel time trying to around it… if it's possible at all."
"Enlighten me. Why can't this ship go through it? Isn't it still the blood of Kadum?" Falco asked, arriving next to Fox, still straightening his tunic.
"Yes, but the trouble lies within it. That tide houses Blood Barnicles, and they aren't picky. They'll latch onto the ship, even if it is a vessel of the Bayou, and once they do, they'll be able to drive everyone on board into a blood rage. Even my crew." He shook his head wearily, then snapped his head up when the Bosun in the crow's nest started crying out strangely; long, harsh calls. Moments later the other bosuns started joining in, all looking in one direction. "Have you brought bad luck upon my boat?" Scarface moaned, looking at Fox's group, which had gathered. "Our situation has just gotten much, much worse." With that he shoved by, chattering up at the Bosun in the crow's nest, listening to replies.
"What is going on?" Tempest wanted to know.
"I don't know." Fox replied flatly, and caught up with Scarface. "What is going on? Why do you think we are bad luck?"
Scarface was at the wheel of the ship, looking at a magical readout that hung in the air in front of him. "Bad enough that we've come across the Scarlet Tide and been cut off by it, which hasn't happened to a Bayou vessel in six years." He replied, distracted. "The Scarlet Tide carries other things with it other then the barnacles, Fox. Worse things."
"Blood pirates." Said Alan. "You're talking about Blood pirates."
"You bet your musical ass I'm talking about blood pirates." Snapped Scarface, waving away the magical display. "My brethren can fight, but we've got too many civilians on board to really risk it. The herons won't help, either." He preened his antennae nervously, then cried out to the one in the crow's nest and listened to the reply. After a long silent moment, he looked to Fox, not happy. "I've got a few choices to make, and you're my guest of honor and an experienced fighter, so you're the deciding factor." He pointed in a direction, where ships could be seen charging in from the horizon. "Three blood pirate ships are coming at us, and they'll be on us in five minutes. We do move faster then them, but we've barely got room to turn and run without hitting the Tide… and if we turn, the wind will not be with us, and they'll inevitably catch up. We can't move forward, which is really the only direction to move if we want to use the wind effectively, but if we wait here motionless they'll surround us." Scarface was silent a moment, then brought up the display again, and winced. "No help is within range, and worse, one of my fellow ships is only behind us by about a day, and she's not as well armed as my Inferno is. She'll be done for if the pirates catch her, and the Jack will have someone's hide over it."
"Then we fight." Said Fox after a moment. "These blood pirates sound like they do no one good, and if that's the case, the world is better off with out them."
"I share your opinion, but I'm trapped, movement wise… unless I turn the Inferno, and if I do, we'll be greatly slowed." Scarface sighed.
"I can get you over the Tide." Said Rita after a moment. "Would that help?"
Scarface looked at her, then slowly grinned. "That would help enormously. And with the wind at our back, we'll be able to outmaneuver them. So we're going to war then?" He looked to Fox, who nodded. "Wonderful. We haven't had a good scrap in ages…" He threw back his head and shouted at the top of his lungs in the Bosun's language. They stopped to listen, then whooped and dispersed, grabbing weapons and taking battle stations, a good portion running below deck. Thumps resounded through the hull of the ship, and those who leaned over the rail and looked at the sides of the ship saw cannon ports banging open in the ship's hull.
"I was under the impression that vessels of the Bayou weren't armed." Peppy remarked.
"Why should we tell everyone we carry enough cannons to shred a navy ship? That would make it rather hard to get into a port, don't you think?" Scarface grinned, then looked to Rita. "Whatever you're doing, you should do it fast. Tell me when to open the sails." Rita nodded, going to the bow of the ship and starting a spell as he turned to the others. "Well, get your weapons and get ready. This should be interesting."
The group did so, and as they gathered back on the deck moments later, Rita shouted over her shoulder for Scarface to open the sails—all of them. Scarface obeyed, yelling the command to the bosuns as he reactivated the magic, and the ship jerked forward, plowing toward the pirates and the Tide. As it reached the current of red, though, the entire ship lifted out of the water, splashing back to a landing after it was safely across. The pirate ships, nearly on top of the Inferno, slowed as they turned to follow, and moments later cannon fire started whistling by. In response, Scarface slowed the ship and started turning, letting his own cannons draw bead. The crew managing the cannons took action, the deck shaking with the percussions of the cannons as soon as the pirate ships were in sight.
"How long before they're able to board us?" Fox asked quietly, lining up arrows to his bow and tracking one of the ships, watching for movement. The others with bows were doing the same.
"Two minutes tops." Peppy replied, eyes narrowed as he watched the lead pirate ship, bow tracking and arrows glowing. "Scarface is letting them get close on purpose, I think."
As if cued, the cannons on the far side of the Inferno started letting loose. One of the pirate ships had circled around; the Inferno was being boxed in. Fox didn't wait for any other cues, he fired, and those who also had distance weapons also opened fire. Cannon smoke clouded the air, and a series of horrid crashing noises resounded through the air as some of the pirate's shots found their mark, forcing their way through the combined bone and bleached wood of the Bayou ship. Scarface screeched in anger and spun the wheel, sending the Bayou ship plowing straight for one of the pirate vessels.
The collision rocked both boats, but it was the Bayou ship that was more prepared for it. Bone spikes had grown from the nose of the ship, and had driven into the side of the pirate boat, locking the two boats together. Zombies leapt off the ailing pirate ship and were met by the bosuns, then by members of Fox's group. Chaos broke out across the deck as Scarface strained to turn the Inferno, still interlocked with the pirate ship.
Sashima, who had been on deck when the Tide had first been noticed, watched Fox's group fight for a moment, then yelled over her shoulder and led a group of the bosuns off the Inferno and onto the pirate ship as the hulls of the two boats ground together, the Inferno driving itself deeper into the side of the enemy vessel. The rotting wooden planks of the ship started to buckle as the bosuns charged across the cracking deck of the ship, leaving dismembered zombies in their wake. Sashima was still in lead, casting spells constantly to assist her small allies in their fight.
The Inferno gave one last heave, and the zombie ship gave with a rough, ear-splitting crack, the masts falling, taking out both zombies and bosuns as the two halves of the boat began to sink, decks breaking apart and sending those remaining scrambling for handholds as they slid toward the water. Sashima needed no prompting, yelling again to what remained of the bosuns and running for the Inferno as the half she was on continued to plunge toward the water, leaping to grab the railing.
Her hand instead was caught by another, strong fingers wrapping around her wrist and holding tight. She returned the hold automatically, blinking up at who had grabbed her. Alan grinned back at her, other arm wrapped into a rope he had cut free from one of the Inferno's masts, easily dangling in midair and holding her bodyweight as if it was nothing.
"I wasn't going to let you fall." He remarked.
"It's appreciated." She replied, looking down at the debris-ridden, churning sea.
He grinned again, swung his bodyweight, and landed both of them in the middle of the fight on the deck of the Inferno, easily cutting a path for himself through what remained of the zombies as the ship swung back around, plowing into the last and smallest of the three enemies and sinking the ship on impact.
Silence descended on the Inferno as the ship slowed to a halt, cannon smoke clearing. Around the ship, the sea slowly calmed, littered with pieces from the three shattered pirate ships. After many long moments, the bosuns lifted chattering victory cries, a few cannons firing last shots as celebration.
"Not bad at all." Scarface remarked, approaching Fox's group, carrying a two-bladed sword. "If you hadn't been here, we probably would have been overrun."
"Speaking of which, what was the idea of charging those ships?" Falco exploded, tossing a blood-and-brine soaked tunic overboard in distaste and shaking off his sword, which was faintly smoking.
"Last-ditch Bayou tactic, part of the magic of the ships." He replied with a grim smile. "Navy ships used to be fond of boxing a Bayou vessel in and taking it out, so we made sure that couldn't happen in most cases. The larger Bayou ships can go right through a navy freighter if they have enough speed up."
"I take it that doesn't happen often." Fox remarked, working a cleaning/purging spell with Rita to clean the blood and zombie parts off the deck. Slippy had wanted to help, but the smell of rotting flesh had him hanging his head over the ship railing, waiting for the waves of nausea to pass.
Now Scarface grinned in earnest. "Not anymore."
Alan sighed, drawing his legs up to his chest and staring out over the water, setting his chin on his knees, balanced on a crossbar of the main mast. The Inferno had spent most of the day motionless once they had moved to clear water, slight shimmers passing over the hull as the ship slowly regenerated, sealing over the holes that had been made in the top two levels of the ship. During that time, their sister ship the BloodHawke had happened by, and now both ships were in motion, pacing each other back to the Bayou, alert for any sort of trouble.
He huffed out a sigh, feeling the hollow ache in his chest. Part of him was almost relieved to return to the Bayou. This way he could recover somewhat, let the blood of Kadum heal him as best it could. In a way, he hated it. Hated it with a passion… He wasn't sure anymore what had made him decide to join the Bayou and give up his once much-loved humanity. But then, it had been humanity which had loathed him his entire life…
Kaji mewled, and Alan glanced down the long drop to the deck. Sashima was there now, sitting on the stairs that led up the wheel, staring out to the water. "Guess I'm not the only one who doesn't sleep." He sighed to his familiar, looking down at her and feeling the ache in his chest grow. In response, the kitten mewled again, rubbing its cheek against his cheekbone. "No. I can't do it." He finally said. "I can't, Kaji. There isn't much of a point. Even if Peppy suggested it…" He trailed off, still watching her. "Damn it. All gods damn it." He finally snarled to himself. "I have to." With that he stood, grabbing a rope and sliding down to the deck, walking over, fast at first, then slowing, feeling fear grow. "…Sashima?"
She almost startled, then stopped herself, looking up. "Alan. What brings you here?"
He swallowed and forced the words out. "I… I need to talk to you…"
"So talk." She wove him to sit next to her on the step, and he did so. She looked at him for a moment, then blinked. "Where is your smile?"
He looked at her. "Where is yours?"
She touched her face, then laughed softly. She had taken off the paint, leaving only her normal fur color. "I suppose I look odd without it don't I?"
"No, you don't." He shook his head. "You look… you look alive. Beautiful."
"I suppose I should thank you." She smiled a touch. "So I answered your question, now answer mine. I've never seen you serious before. Never. And I've known you since I first came to the Bayou."
He was silent for a moment, not looking at her, then said suddenly, "Sashima, do you know what love is?"
She stared at him. "Of course I do."
"Do you really? Do you really understand what it is?" He carefully looked away from her.
She continued her stare, uncomprehending. "I… I don't understand why you would ask me such a thing. I am but a Harlequin, a servant of the Jack, not a… poet and musician such as yourself."
"Yes, yes you are a Harlequin. Unfortunately that is all you are." A resentful note crept into his voice as he stood and went to the railing of the boat, hugging himself.
She was silent for a moment, watching him. "Do you hate me?"
That sparked a bitter laugh from his chest. "I wish I could, Sashima. I wish that I could quite often, and when I do not wish that, I wish that you could love."
"You love me?"
"I always have, since I saw you. The heart, he makes the own rules, you know?"
"No, I don't."
He pounded a fist into the railing hard enough to make his hand bleed and the railing creek in warning. "Of course you don't." He said in a tight voice, looking up at the stars. "Olidammara, are you in need of a bard in your court? I think this one is more then ready."
"No, Alan, you are not." She stated, standing and joining him.
He turned his gaze to her. "What do you know?" He asked simply. "Not your heart. You forsook that, you forsook that the minute you delighted in pain and death, Sashima, the minute you bathed in evil and reveled in it."
She stared up at him, arms folded, and dropped her head. "I wish I could understand you, Alan."
"You are not alone in that wish." He sighed. Both were silent, then he suddenly said, "What were you before?"
"I was nobody." Was the flat reply. "I was but a street urchin, a hungry pick-pocketing thief whose humor cut sharper then razors. The Jack found me by chance on his travels and took me in."
"That is hardly nobody, Sashima. That is yourself."
She kicked a support banister. "Talk sense!"
"I am!" He replied, waving his arms in frustration. "You just do not understand!"
There was another very long moment of silence, during which a few of the bone bosuns paced by absently, finding more comfortable perches, obviously not caring about the pair arguing on the deck.
"Why did you come talk to me Alan? This seems rather unlike you."
"I may not look it, but I am old, and I am weary of heart. I love traveling with Fox's party, but I feel the years, and it makes me ache." He huffed out a sigh, closing his eyes. "I guess I wanted to try to make you understand before my years took their toll."
She watched, and gasped when she saw the tear running down his cheek. Alan, crying. Even to her, it seemed a bitter, cruel thing. "Are you… are you dying?" A strange word in the Bayou, where almost all were either dead or could never die.
"Yes, I am. Slowly, very slowly, but I am." He didn't open his eyes, voice tight, another tear slowly dripping. "This bard is weary and full of heartache, Sashima."
She slowly reached up and brushed away his tears, feeling painfully awkward. "I… I want to help you. I don't know why, but I do."
Lifting a hand to hold hers against his cheek, he opened eyes, baring his soul. "Perhaps you would know if you would just listen."
Silence fell again.
"You want me to love you, don't you?" She finally asked.
"Well, that'd be nice." He replied somewhat drolly.
"I cannot forsake my title and life, Alan." She shook her head slowly. "And love isn't part of my title."
"Then just forsake evil."
"But that is my life."
"It is not mine."
"I am not you."
"You need not be. The Jack hardly requires you be evil."
"I cannot be good."
"So, be neutral. Do as you like. That is what I do."
She pulled her hand away and stepped back, mind spinning. "You confuse me."
That drew a bitter laugh from his chest. "I am insane. I am not meant to make sense."
She looked at him, and shook her head. "No, Alan, you are the sanest person I know. But I cannot simply stop being who I am."
Suddenly he grabbed her and pulled her back to the railing, making her look at her reflection in the water. "Who are you, Sashima? Are you who is looking back at you, or need you paint and orders?"
She tried to struggle, but no matter how much she did, no matter how much pain she inflicted with her touch, he retained his hold. She went limp slowly, looking at her reflection, and dropped her head.
He let her go and let her cry, making himself not hold her. "Who are you, Sashima? Are you who I think you are? Are you who I've grown to love? Or are you just a puppet of the Jack?"
She stared at him, shaking. "I don't know anymore."
"Then let me help you find out. Please." He pleaded. "Even the Jack understands love, Sashima. I do not believe he would be angry for you trying to find yourself."
She wrapped her arms around herself and cried bitterly. "You're cruel, Alan."
"I'm truthful, Sashima, and the truth can be cruel." He replied, voice very gentle. "And I am only letting it be cruel because I do not know what to do. A lady cries in front of me, but dare I comfort her?"
She looked at him, somehow angry. "Please dare."
"Well, then."
"What?"
Scarface sighed, fidgeting with one of his antennae. "We're diverting course. I know you've got to get to the Bayou, but we've got something to do before we head for home port."
The Inferno and the BloodHawke were bobbing side by side in the ocean, lashed together for the time being to allow crewmembers to cross back and forth. The Herons had gathered in a pack to talk, as had the recent converts. The rest of Fox's group was in assorted places, but Scarface had pulled Fox aside for a moment to speak with him and the captain of the BloodHawke, another male bosun nicknamed Peg-leg.
"We haven't let on to the Herons yet, but one of our brethren has been trapped in port and is being held there by navy vessels." Peg-leg said. "And it gets worse. In the fight before the capture, the captain was killed. Even if the ship could get free, none of the magic is active."
"The crew is being held in the brig of one of the navy ships. They've got until sunrise tomorrow, then all of them die. The converts are being held in a prison in the port city." Scarface huffed.
"So you've been told to go break your sister ship out of imprisonment, as well as her crew and if possible the converts." Fox said slowly.
"Right. There's only two navy ships holding the Tornado, but we're going to have to tow the Tornado out of port."
Fox didn't like this at all. "Let me talk to my group, all right?"
Both captains nodded.
"Let me get this straight. Both ships are diverting off course to save one of their own?" Peppy rubbed his chin.
"That's the long and short of it, and it looks as though we don't have a say in the matter." Fox replied. "They didn't say what kingdom was holding the ship, but I'm not sure if it matters. I don't like the idea of assisting in this. We'd be going up against a human military, not undead."
"Do we have a choice?" Bill wanted to know. "Either way, when the attack happens, we're going to be aboard."
"But if we ask to be taken ashore, we loose our ride, and we're only halfway there." Falco shook his head. "Do we have time to delay?"
"I'm not sure if we'll be able to be taken ashore." Said Tempest. "Think about it. The military of the kingdom is holding a vessel of the Bayou for whatever reason. What makes you think they're going to let two other armed Bayou ships anywhere near port?"
"They won't." Bill shook his head. "I speak from experience. I can see why they captured it in the first place. Just look at where the ship is from: an area of death, plague, and decadence. Why would you want that in your city? Why would you let it take your citizens?"
"Given." Fox said. "That said, if this whole mission fails and we end up captured, we'll be charged with abetting."
"Can't have you scarring your good image, can we?" Falco snorted, and shriveled when he saw the look he got from Fox.
"Do you want to be in the stocks for a week?" Bill shot at him. "If the laws are anything like in the Phoenix kingdom, that might be what happens if we're found to be part of this whole mess."
"It's known I'm allies with the Jack, but assisting on a raid against a kingdom is an entirely different thing." Fox shook his head.
There was a long silence.
"Do we have a choice? I don't like this more then anyone else does, but there's an entire ship's crew that's going to die in 16 hours if they're not helped. And I don't know about you guys, but I don't need their deaths on my conscience." Slippy shook his head. "Besides, I kind of like the bosuns…"
"What if this whole mess could be carried out non-lethally?" Katt proposed after a moment, rubbing her chin. "Four of us here are magic users, and so are the herons. If we knock the crews of the navy ships out, we'll be able to get in and out unnoticed."
"That's magic of some degree… two entire crews…" Said Elgar, frowning to himself. "But… it's doable…"
"So we're assisting then?" Fara asked.
"I'm not sure we have a choice." Fox said after a long moment. "I hate it, but I can't see any better way. And if we can prevent death on both sides, all the better." He glanced around. "We've got some strategy to lie out and we've got about six hours to do it in. Julian, do me a favor. Once we've got a solid idea, go round up Scarface, Peg-leg, and the Heron priests."
Julian nodded.
"The only way we're going to be able to go through with this is to split up." Said Falco, leaning on the table and looking at Fox's map. Fox had found the harbor needed, and glowing magic markers shimmered on it—the hypothesized location of the Tornado, as well as the prison.
"Not the best idea. Neither the Inferno or the Hawke has enough firepower to take on two full-crew navy vessels." One of the herons said, neck stretching over Fox's shoulder. Fox ignored him.
"Non-lethally. That means no cannon fire." Fox replied. "None."
"How do you expect us to do this then?" Another heron demanded.
"Calm down and listen." Peppy snapped, having already had enough of the slightly patronizing herons. "The Hawke is faster then the Inferno, right?" He glanced at Peg-leg, tapping his fingers on the table.
"Right. My ship's a lighter vessel, on all accounts. Only four cannons instead of the Inferno's full ten, and a crew only half as big." Said Peg-leg.
"Right. Do you have enough room to carry the jailed converts and herons?"
"Of course."
"Good." Fox moved the markers around on the map. "Your job is to sneak into port and sneak out again unnoticed. That possible?"
"I've had to do it before." The large bosun admitted begrudgingly. "You have a plan, don't you?"
"It just so happens that we do, and if everything works out right, we're out of port within two hours and no one dies." Said Tempest. "Care to hear it?"
Twenty minutes later all gathered were staring at Fox's group.
"You want us to take on two navy vessels and break people out of jail without killing or hurting anyone?!" One of the herons burst out. "Are you mad? That's impossible!"
"I don't see what's so impossible about it." Said Rita. "You've got to know some invisibility and silence spells, and if you don't, we do."
"Um, excuse me…"
Everyone looked down at Yipsnarl, who was peeking over the edge of the table. Scarface grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and lifted him so he was sitting on the table edge. "Yes?"
"Will this help?" He held up a bag and sling. Seeing the blank looks of those around him, he pulled out a small dusty ball, put it in the sling, and nailed Falco, who was at the other end of the table. With a puff of dust and a slightly dismayed squawk, Falco collapsed to the ground, snoring.
There was a long silence, during which everyone looked at Yipsnarl.
"Then again, maybe this isn't so impossible." Said Peg-leg slowly. "Shall we go over it again?"
It was midnight when the BloodHawke and the Scarlet Inferno slid into the port, then split up, the BloodHawke slowly circling on the outside of the bay, keeping as low a profile as a three-mast ship could. The Scarlet Inferno headed for the center of port, toward where the Tornado was being held.
Fox sighed, propping a foot up and watching the port city swell on the horizon. The BloodHawke was fast, he had to give it that. At full speed, it would have probably left the Inferno in its wake. But it also had a lot less armor and weaponry. Apparently, while the Inferno was meant to be a heavier carrier and diplomatic vessel, the Hawke was meant for short-distance sprints and message delivering. But that meant it was smaller, as well as lighter, and even with the triple masts it was able to slip into the docks unnoticed.
Once the boat was docked, Fox jumped off and waited for the group he was working with, namely Tempest, Falco, Yipsnarl, Rita, and a group of bosuns from the Hawke, all of which were terrified they wouldn't get back to their ship by sundown. Falco, who very well knew what Yipsnarl had done to him not long ago, was not too pleased with the arrangement, but had already shut up about it. He sighed to himself, shaking his head and looking at the group, then gestured them into a huddle. "Listen up. I know this has already been explained once, but I'm going to do so again. We have to be quiet about this because we can't risk alerting the authorities. And no, absolutely no, killing. I can't emphasize this enough."
The bosuns nodded as did his friends.
"All right, let's go. We've got to do this as fast as we possibly can."
"Yeah, looks like two heavy navy cruisers." Said Bill, looking through a spyglass. "Almost all the lights are out. I guess everyone's already asleep."
Elgar shook off, wiping sweat off his brow absently. He, Slippy, and Katt had just finished casting a massive specialized invisibility/silence spell, and it was so far working. "Well, what's the plan of action then?"
"We're going to work our way closer. We've got to find and release the crew, then cut the Tornado loose and tow it out of port. The earlier will the tougher, we don't know what ship the crew is in."
Even as he spoke, the Inferno started moving closer. The Inferno was being held between the two navy ships, lashed to both with about ten feet distance between the hulls. After a moment, the Inferno pulled alongside one of the navy ships, and the ones boarding swung across the gap. Sleeping dust and spells kept the ship silent, but the search yielded nothing. After the ropes were cut, the group transferred back.
Fara went with the second group, landing lightly on the deck of the navy ship and moving to the lower decks. The ship was silent around her as Bill, Julian, and a few bosuns followed her, the sound of the water drowning out their movements. The brig was also silent, the heavy doors locked and barred. Leaving the bosuns to stand watch, she, Bill, and Julian worked to get the door open. After several minutes, they succeeded.
Movement stirred in the dark, then dozens of eyes blinked wearily back at them, accompanied by soft chitters.
"You the crew of the Tornado?" Bill asked quietly. "If so, let's go. We don't have much time…"
Even as he said that, a bell started clanging. The watch on the other ship had suddenly noticed the Inferno, and the alarm was going out. Moments later, bells started ringing on the ship they were in, and doors started banging open.
Bill, Julian, and Fara looked at each other, then started running for the stairs, the bosuns closing in behind them, the crew of the Tornado struggling along weakly. By the time they reached the top deck, cannons were already booming, and the Inferno had already tried to run, dragging the Tornado and the attached navy ship with it. With happy chitters and cries, the crew dove for their boat, and the rescue team was quick to follow, grabbing onto the ropes even as they were slashed and clinging for their lives as the Tornado jerked forward, free of the weight of the navy ship and plunging after the Inferno.
"Fox?"
Fox glanced at Tempest, then froze, also hearing the booms of the cannons, which echoed across the entire port.
"Aw, bloody hell." Falco moaned.
Everyone agreed, and Fox gave up on Falco and Yipsnarl picking the lock and shoulder-checked the door open with a jerk. Then they were running down the stone corridor, glancing into cells. The other prisoners, also woke up by the cannons, shouted and thumped the bars, and were ignored. Yipsnarl, who had already pounced on and knocked out a guard, tossed the keys to one of the bosuns as he leapt to the next guard. Moments later the locked-up converts and herons were free, and chaos ensued as the group charged out of the jail.
Dawn broke slowly, and no one suffered for it. Both the Hawke and the Inferno were tearing across the open sea, both with tow lines attached to the Tornado. For the first hour or so of the journey, several navy ships had been in chase, but they had long since left their pursuers behind.
Fox yawned, watching the sun come up. Falco had threatened Scarface with his very existence if their next stop wasn't the Bayou and if there were any more problems. Scarface had just laughed.
"Thank god for some peace, eh?" Peppy remarked, leaning on the railing next to him.
"I can't agree more."
"By the way… through this whole mess, did you see Alan at all?"
Fox thought back, and blinked. "Actually no…"
Peppy considered for a moment, then burst into laughter. "Ah well…"
"You wouldn't be laughing if you were worried. What do you know that I don't?"
"Trust me, you do not want to know."
Fox looked at him for a moment, then gave up and went to bed.