Chapter 18
The Battle of Fetcher's Rest
During the next two days, life at the Unicorn Tavern was a whirlwind of activity. Chester, Trent, Preston, and Anthony supplied their ships with additional ammunition crates and cannonballs and cleaned the cannons until they shone. Tasha wrapped countless pieces of bread, salted meats, and fruit into cloth napkins for individual rations, while Madame Olwen filled a large leather satchel with medical supplies. Alexander and his two friends jumped from group to group, giving help wherever it was needed. Shadow darted between and around everyone's legs in exhilaration. The little black fox sensed the tension in the air, and occasionally he let out a few yips of excitement.
Some of Clay's friends tried to give him a few quick sword fighting lessons. Chester had been teaching Clay since he was fifteen, but as Chester had needed to fish for longer periods of time to provide enough income, the lessons had become much fewer and further between. Clay was somewhat out of practice, but he was a fast learner and quick on his feet.
Each of his friends taught him one of their preferred tactics. Wooly's favorite was a maneuver that involved charging headlong at the enemy to get their guard up around their chest. This left them open for a sudden duck at the last moment to swipe at their legs.
Matt's strategy was meant for multiple enemies attacking at the same time. You would dodge behind the closest one just before everyone would collide and shove them from behind. This would send all of the opponents sprawling, leaving you with the upper hand.
Even Oliver showed Clay a few basic maneuvers. Since the former merman had been trained using a staff, he showed the boy some offensive and defensive tactics that could be executed with a heavy stick or other improvised weapon if a sword or firearm was unavailable.
It was during one of these training sessions with Oliver that Clay broached a question to him. "Oliver? Have you ever felt any… regret in giving up your life as a merman?"
Oliver had responded with hardly any hesitation. "No. I would rather give up my tail and fight beside you than keep it and remain a subject to that cowardly King Oceanus." He gave Clay a comforting smile. "And don't think that you forced the decision upon me. To be honest, human life has always fascinated me, and I had often found myself wondering if being one of them wouldn't be so bad." He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Not many know this, but dozens of merfolk throughout history have lived amongst the humans. They worked, married, had children, and died without a soul knowing of their origin. Or, if anyone did, it was kept in strict secrecy among the few they trusted most. Can I trust you to be one of those few?"
"Of course," Clay replied, deeply touched. "I won't say a word if you won't."
On the morning before the ritual was to begin, the Ambrose family packed their supplies on board the Golden Pondie and the Awakened, and those thirteen members of the Banishers of the Flame set sail for Morrow's Peak Outpost. As Ancient Spire Outpost faded out of sight behind them, Clay couldn't help but wonder if he was leaving home for the last time.
As the two ships approached the meeting place, Trent, who was steering the Awakened, peered ahead at a large, black mass that had appeared ahead of them. He pointed this out to Alexander, who squinted through his spyglass.
"What is that?" he murmured. When they drew closer, his jaw dropped. "Saints above," he whispered in awe. He scooped up a speaking trumpet and yelled across the waves to those riding the Golden Pondie. "Look dead ahead! I think you'll want to see this!" Clay peered through the early morning mist, and his jaw dropped as well.
The waters around Morrow's Peak Outpost were jam packed with ships. Most were galleons, but there were a few brigantines and sloops moored among them. There were at least twice as many boats here than there had been at the Sovereign banquet. As they drew closer, everyone could see each cannon glistening under the emerging morning sun, and although the sails were furled, the sailors could still see the wide range of colors and patterns they all sported. The matching hulls, flags, and figureheads indicated that members from all factions on the Sea of Thieves were there. Gold Hoarders, Merchants, Order of Souls, Reaper's Bones, and Hunter's Call made up just the most popular factions present.
Anthony whistled in admiration. "Honestly, I thought I would never live to see the day when a Reaper's Bones ship would be moored beside a Merchant's without firing any shots."
The group moored their ships at the edge of the fleet, piled into two rowboats, and carefully weaved their way past the crowd of wooden hulls before reaching the shoreline. The island was now overflowing with sailors of all shapes and sizes, their clothing as unique and diverse as their ships. Clay couldn't help but notice that everyone was grouped with fellow members of their own faction while casting cautious glances at everyone else. This was understandable since the trading companies had never really been at peace with each other for centuries. Now that they were all together in one place, that tension was much more noticeable. When Clay arrived, however, everyone noticed his glowing ashen marks right away, and most began to call out greetings and applaud. The boy was quite embarrassed by all of this sudden attention, but he smiled and waved back as best he could.
Sovereign Margot emerged from the crowd to greet him, and Clay told her, "I must admit, Madame, you've done an amazing job. I've never seen this many people in one place before!"
"Well, it wasn't all my doing," Margot admitted. "Although I did recruit more than a fair portion of everyone here."
Tasha handed her son a speaking trumpet. "I think everyone is waiting to hear you speak, my dear," she whispered. She gave him a reassuring pat on the back and an encouraging smile.
Taking a deep breath, Clay raised the trumpet to his lips and addressed the assembly. "Fellow sailors, I thank everyone one of you for your courage to come here today. There are many factions represented here, but today, we are together for the same cause. Today, we are not Gold Hoarders, Merchants, or even Reapers. We are Banishers of the Flame!" The crowd cheered, and some fired their pistols into the air in their jubilation. Once the noise had died away, Clay continued. "I will be planning with a council for the rest of the day on our battle preparations. In the meantime, some of you keep guard and make sure none of Flameheart's forces attempt an early attack."
Before the council began, Clay ordered each faction to elect one representative who was considered to be the best strategist. He knew that if he didn't seek advice from anyone except those he knew best, people would walk away, angry that he had no interest in their opinions. Once the impromptu elections had been held, Clay, his family and friends, and the representatives from each faction gathered around a table in the Charred Parrot Tavern. On this table was spread a large map of Fetcher's Rest and its topography.
The council was deep in conversation for hours. Meanwhile, those outside could do nothing but wait… and wait… and wait. Finally, at nearly two o'clock, the committee emerged from the tavern, and you could almost hear a collective sigh go up from the audience.
Clay once again raised his voice so that everyone could hear. "We have agreed upon a strategy, but now there is no time to waste. Each of your representatives will give out your instructions. For now, everyone make final preparations on your ships. We sail for Fetcher's Rest in an hour."
The impressive fleet of the Banishers of the Flame plowed through the waves toward Fetcher's Rest with the Golden Pondie leading the way. Clay stood at the prow of the ship, his heart beating with a nervous tick. His left hand stroked the hilt of the enchanted dagger for the umpteenth time, assuring himself that it was still there.
"Don't worry, Clay," Matt consoled him with a pat on the back. "Your plan seems foolproof, and Flameheart won't know what hit him!"
"I hope you're right," the boy sighed. He called up to Oliver who was in the crow's nest. "Is the ship ready with the proper signal flags?"
"Aye!" his friend replied with a smart salute. "Ready and waiting!"
"Good to hear," Clay affirmed. He turned back to face the growing silhouette of Fetcher's Rest. As the island came more into focus, Clay's skin prickled with goosebumps. Even without a telescope, he could see that the beaches were swarming with charred ashen skeletons.
Suddenly, a low, mournful note rolled out across the water, and a few moments later, an entire line of skeleton galleons broke the water's surface ahead. There were ten of these ships blocking the direct path to the island, each one carrying a full skeleton crew. The ashen lord known as Warden Chi was at the front of the first galleon, and she bellowed across the water, "You are all fools to come here! Now prepare to be annihilated by our fury!"
"We were right in guessing that Flameheart would have some naval power waiting for us," Chester remarked.
"Alright, Oliver, run up the blue flag!" Clay shouted up to the crow's nest. With a quick nod, Oliver reached into the flagbox attached to the mast, pulled out the flag, and set the blue cloth fluttering in the wind. This signaled most of the other ships to furl their sails and slow down, allowing three sloops to pull ahead and face the oncoming hostile ships.
Warden Chi scoffed. "Those cowards! Why would they send out these pitiful vessels to stop us? Full speed ahead! We'll ram them without giving ourselves any holes worth mentioning!" All ten galleons set their sails with the wind and barreled toward Clay's fleet.
This strategy was Anthony's biggest contribution to the plan. He had extensive knowledge about handling explosives such as powder kegs, for he had been the one to blast out the entire escape tunnel beneath his cabin on Devil's Ridge. When the concern had risen that Flameheart would send a fleet of his own out to meet them, Anthony had suggested a way to almost instantly disable a few of the enemy vessels, leaving a break in the line to barge through.
The holds of the three sloops now sailing full tilt toward the oncoming enemy were packed to the brim with powder kegs. The ships were steered by Alexander, Flash, and Vote, and just fifteen seconds before impact, Vote bellowed, "Bombardiers, abort!" All three jumped off their ships and began swimming frantically back toward their oncoming allies.
"What are those fools doing?" Warden Chi demanded as she watched the three humans abandon their sloops. She smirked. "Why, I believe they are fleeing in terror! That's right! Run away, you poltroons! You stand no chance-" It was at that moment that Vote's sloop crashed into her boat, followed by an apocalyptic explosion. Both vessels were reduced to toothpicks in an instant, and planks, cannonballs, and bones went flying through the air like fireworks.
The other two targeted galleons realized what had happened, but it was too late to change course. The two remaining sloops rammed into them, causing all four to disappear in a billowing cloud of smoke and fire.
"Oliver! The red flag!" Clay shouted. With the red flag now flying from the mast, this signaled the rest of the fleet to drop their sails again and charge through the gap made in the enemy line. The other skeleton ships had been converging toward the same area in an attempt to box in the humans' fleet. Now they all began to panic in fear of crashing into more explosive vessels and began veering off in random directions. This left Clay and his crew with a clear shot to the island, and he signaled Oliver to raise the final flag: the black flag.
Now the fleet of the Banishers of the Flame began circling the island clockwise and opened fire at the skeletons congregating on the shore. The monsters attempted to return fire with cannons of their own, but with the ships constantly moving, they were having a harder time landing their shots. When a group of the creatures was cleared away from the beach, some of the crew from each ship would leap overboard, swim to shore, and begin engaging the other skeletons. Soon, half of the ships' occupants had left their vessels to begin fighting on land.
Once the battle on the island was well underway, Clay, Matt, and Wooly abandoned the Golden Pondie and struck out for the northern shore. After climbing out of the waves, the trio had to wade through the thick of the battle in order to get to the island's southern plateau. Fighting back to back, they were forced to hack and slash their way across the battlefield, dodging sword thrusts and pistol shots from hostile skeletons. The number of casualties was already starting to rise, and many of the humans were trying to pull their wounded comrades to safety while still doing their best to fend off the monsters.
Finally, the three of them reached the foot of the path that would lead to the plateau above and took cover behind some boulders.
"The battle is getting quite fierce already," Wooly noted, beating bone dust off his clothes.
Matt ripped off a strip of his shirt to bandage a bad gash on his arm. "Clay, are you sure you are ready to face Flameheart?"
The boy shook his head and winced. His back was stinging from a spray of stray blunderbuss shot. "No, but we've come too far to turn back. This dagger is the only thing that can stop him now, and-"
A hulking figure jumped out from behind a rock, hooked one arm under Clay's chin in a strangling hold, and held a cutlass to the side of his neck. Clay couldn't move his head, but he was able to roll his eyes upward to see a familiar plague mask with a glittering ruby eye.
"I've caught you again, Clayton Ambrose," crowed Captain Riley Nelson. "And this time, your cursed skull will be mine."