Across The Jade Sea

“Dragons! Dragons! Two points off port!” Montiago bellowed from the forecastle. A musket shot snapped against the gunwale and forced Montiago to the deck.

Captain Arkus Van Der Blaak was starting to despise these distant seas and all the strangeness borne upon them. He had a hunch those denizens of the deep would be the death of him one day.

The captain’s eyes darkened at the call, but he said nothing. He tightened his grip upon the spokes and navigated the Fortuity through the armada of small boats and launches assaulting his frigate. On the main deck below, Master Reedus directed the small arms and swivels. The dragons’ arrival emboldened the warriors of the Golden Horde. Not a quarter bell before, three Golden Horde Junks lay smoldering by Fortuity's superb marksmanship, thwarting their assault on the small city of Maleko. Now however, more monsters circled, and only his crew's cunning would see them round the cape of Maleko's narrow passage and return safetly to open sea.

Upon return to their berth in Carnova, Arkus would need to renegotiate their salaries.

If they returned.

There were worse days to die, Arkus thought. Clear skies, a firm sea breeze through his beard, the smell of powder in his nostrils. If only it were the free air of Portchester and not the warm, wet air of a string of islands halfway across the world. Dying in glorious victory against Krakens and Dragons and fearsome hordes was a nice thought, but dying comfortably in his own bed…that was true glory.

“Captain! Starboard!”

The call came from the mast—Marine Captain D’arche’s voice. The warriors of the Golden Horde threw themselves against Fortuity's hull. It was a foolish, foolhardy even, attack, and Arkus's respect for the denizens of this new world deepened. They were a worthy enemy of the Empire.

Captain Van Der Blaak turned and drew his pistol, bringing it level in a smooth motion right between the eyes of the nearest boarder. The man, barely more than a boy really, disappeared below the rail in a cloud of powder smoke.

“Nelson, on the helm if you please,” Arkus yelled, drawing his other pistol. Three more grappling hooks appeared. The Helmsman hopped to his duty put himself squarely between the invaders and the wheel. Nelson would know what to do. The dragons would tear them apart faster than the Junks Fortuity’s broadsides laid low, but knowing these boarders, if they took the helm, they would all die dashed against the cliffs. Death was the only remedy for their dishonor. Fire may have been the tool of the Devil himself, but Arkus feared nothing more than being broken upon cliffs. Fear constricted his heart. It was his great secret, his dread secret, something a captain should never admit: he could not swim.

Cursed gales and tides, Arkus thought as he drew his cutlass. The tides in this new world were strange and drew Fortuity too close to the invasion force—a foolish mistake of his own making. Their twenty-eight guns outmatched everything in the great southern expanse of Tannatera, everything save the two dragons preparing to block their escape, but guns be damned, this tide of men would overwhelm them before the dragons came into range.

Another boarder appeared, this one’s face was streaked with blood, and his eyes were white with rage. There was no fear within their enemy.

Arkus fired again, but the shot sailed harmlessly wide.

The boarder pulled himself over the rail, his black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail wrapped around his neck. Gunfire and powder smoke filled the air, now interspersed with the clangs of metal on metal.

The crash of his cutlass against the thin blade of the boarder drew Arkus's attention fully to repeling the boarding. The boarder attacked with wild but practiced strikes, Arkus’s own well-trained blade parrying each. Despite their thin profile, these blades of the Golden Horde’s honored warriors were surprisingly sturdy–a dangerous coupling with their light weight. Arkus desired one greatly. He parried again and again. He needed to end this, or he would tire quickly. Fighting on a ship was more brawl than an honorable duel his swordmaster trained him on. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind did his guard slip. With a flash, his foe's blade bit into the black leather of his jacket.

Arkus roared, the thin blade stopping just before his flesh, and hacked. Blood erupted from the boarder's neck as Arkus’s cutlass found his foe’s spine.

He heard the clang of boarding hooks. The small boats tasked with invading Maleko now turned fully against the Fortuity. Despite the roll of her cannons, the horde would overwhelm them in short order. No sooner had the boarder’s death rattles silenced did another take the dead man’s place.

He took a breath.

His years of training at the estate and a decade of fighting upon the waves and foreign shores all told Arkus he was dead before the newest foe. His footing was wrong. Arkus always readied for his death. It was an occupational hazard of being a sailor, doubly so for a captain. The charging brute would be within Arkus’s reach in half a breath. Portly and surprisingly tall, this latest foe had at least three stones on Arkus. The captain’s cutlass arm was heavy and slow to raise to a guard.

He exhaled.

Arkus saw the dirt and dried blood below the fingernails of the hand grasping towards his throat. He could not see it, but he was sure the other hand would be smashing his skull in before he exhaled again.

The hand hovered before him...

And fell flat to the deck.

Blood gushed across Arkus’s torso.

Out of death’s reach, he flashed his cutlass, and the boarder joined his companion dead upon the deck.

And beside him stood their carpenter, ax bloodied from where he severed the attackers arm.

With a silent nod, for Kallens did not speak with any of the officers since they rescued him from a slave ship off the coast of Rhyu, the carpenter returned to the macabre task of clearing the bodies of their foes from the quarterdeck.

Arkus heard the cheers then.

As quickly and ferociously as the assault came, the boats of the Golden Horde retreated.

Why did they disengage?

Arkus would dwell on that later. One last squall to navigate, he thought, turning back to the dragons.

They cleared the last of the retreating boats and bore for the cape. Beyond lay only the dragons and the open sea. Captain Van Der Blaak unfurled his glass and examined their foe. Sixteen masts between the two massive junks and the burthen tonnage each of a small ship of the line, they were impressive vessels. Their real danger lay in odd contraptions that breathed streams of fire from their bow gunports. Terrible in close combat, Arkus would have loved to get his hands on one of the strange weapons that seemed suicide to keep aboard a ship.

But even while the Fortuity had the advantage of speed and quality of cannon against one of them, the combined broadsides, even if armed with secondhand trader cannon, would tear the Fortuity asunder even before they came within reach of the dragon’s breath.

And their foe, for now, had the weather gage. Yet despite all their advantages, the dragons refused to press the cape and instead sat far beyond gun range, leaving Fortuity an opening. The second oddity their foe presented today.

“Lieutenant Fontuain, pass word, if you please, to the Master and to Tovak to ready the gun deck,” Arkus said, never taking his eyes off the spyglass.

“Aye sir, port or starboard?”

“Both,”

Arkus could feel the grin on the Lieutenant’s lips. “Aye, sir.”

If they rounded the cape promptly, they could catch the gage and unfurl the topsails. That would limit the engagement to one broadside at most. Then, they could use the aft chasers and their superior speed and seamanship to drive the dragons off. The captain let himself smile.

A glorious day. He and Lord Faulkner would write a song of it when they berthed back in Carnova.

As he placed his spyglass back on his hip, Arkus’s hand brushed the hilt of the thin sword he took from the boarder.

Yes, a glorious day ind–

As they rounded the cape, a sheer gust blew the thought from his mind. It carried Fortuity off its course with an unexpected ferocity, and dragons became the least of Arkus’s concerns.

“Reef! Starboard!”

With Nelson on the wheel, Arkus ran to the rail. How had the winds blown them so off course? They should have cleared the shoals with plenty of leeway.

What he saw was no reef, and fear again gripped his heart. These strange seas once again showed their ferocious teeth.

He no longer needed to ponder why the ships of the Golden Horde had retreated and why the dragons had yet to press in.

It was no reef.

Red eyes stared back at him through the churn of the wake.

Fortuity began to list as the Kraken’s tentacled arms rose from the depths.

He tightened his grip on the rail and bellowed the command, “Starboard broadside! Send it to the depths!”

Arkus’s ship unleashed herself into the dread creature, but though chunks of flesh tore from it, it yielded naught. Scores of grasping, probing devilry assaulted the ship, attempting to exploit any opening Fortuity offered.

A tentacle flashed toward the quarterdeck, and Arkus drew the thin blade. The captain struck before the wretched, grasping cups could find purchase upon either flesh or timber.

He sunk the blade deep into the Kraken’s flesh and felt it give way. Moments later, the rest of the vile creature withdrew back to the depths.

Fortuity righted, the assault graciously over.

Arkus breathed a sigh of relief.

The hairs on his neck stood on end.

Something was wrong.

Fortuity’s timbers were no longer below his boots. The snapping momentum of the ship righting had carried him over the rail.

And with the wind in his beard, and the smell of shot still heavy in the air, Captain Arkus Van Der Blaak sank so very, very far down…

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A/N:

Managed to knock out a couple of different challenges for this one! I've had this idea of a semi-historical fiction/semi-fantasy story I've been noodling on since last November, and this was a great opportunity to try a different take on it. Where do I want to take this story? Great Question...Some themes I wanted to explore were the cost of imperialism, how face-to-face interaction with the enemy outside the field of battle changes opinions, and what would take someone from a loyal Imperial servant to a rogue.

I think next, Arkus would wash up on shore while his men sail back to Carnova. From there, loyalties would be tested as a war of conquest rages across Tannatera. I think, eventually, our dread captain would turn cloak and go full rogue. Linked at the top is a sea shanty that helps outline the direction I would like to go in. Should this story ever be complete, I think that would be page one.

Story inspired by the splash image The gust (c. 1680) by Willem van de Velde the Younger. I was struck by the distress highlighted by the color palette in the piece--a sense of foreboding of all the strangeness tides may carry. To me, the painting carried a sense of rugged determination against natural powers so foreign they border on the supernatural.

Also shout out to my brother's D&D group for character inspiration. Word Count: 1704

Read more about the challenges here:

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