My crew was somber as I collected the ones I’d sent on errands, no doubt sensing my black mood. Those I’d tasked with going into town had returned with mixed success. Some supplies and loads of spices for the food were gathered, but we weren’t in the port long enough to stock up and smuggling the goods into the bay where the ship waited had taken the crew time. The ship had enough hardtack and water supplied with it to deny any starvation, but good food was going to be rationed.

The two I’d sent to try and get my funds from the bank hadn’t only been unable to do so, but had to lose the town guards who’d been set on them for trying. They didn’t know if anyone had seen through their hidden stats and realized they were cursed, or if they were chased just because my account was frozen. They seemed nervous to admit to me that they might have been found out, but I didn’t care. I already knew the whistle had been blown on our visit.

Soon came the time where I had to give the crew the bad news. I waited until we were well away from Pristav and surfaced the ship – the crew preferred the normalcy of sailing above the waves, and this seemed like the time to give them a bit of that normalcy. When they’d gathered above deck I’d told them the straight of it: I didn’t have the means to release them. Those who might know how were enemies.

“Why can’t you just let us off the ship?” someone called. “I’ll keep the whole curse so long as I can get back to my family!”

Sadeo spoke up before I did. “It’s not about Domenic being unwilling to let you go – the curse ties you to the ship. Get too far from the ship and you have a day to live. That’s the whole reason it’s called a ‘curse’. It’s not a problem when it comes to running into town, but if you are aiming to take up life on a farm again …” he trailed off with a shrug. The kitsune had taken the news with the same equanimity that he had for everything.

“If I get the opportunity to learn how to release you, I’ll take it.” I said, trying to convince myself it wasn’t an empty promise. “But I don’t know how long that will take. In the meantime, we’re stuck together. Take good notes, lads, if you ever get the chance you’ll be what stories are written about. Dismissed.”

While I was the one to dismiss them, I left first. My cabin called to me with the sweet isolation that was so privileged on a ship. I closed the solid door behind me and leaned against it, the brave and stern face I’d tried to have for the crew slipping away. As I let it slip, a sob suddenly choked my throat. This was all too much, too much! I’d been a fool when I’d made my deal, but now I’d condemned every soul on board too.

And the souls I was going to take … I’d almost ordered us to travel as slow as possible to delay getting to the Broken Isles. I’d been unable to give the order. I didn’t have to run the crew ragged to make best possible speed, but Jones’ fingers meddling in my mind wouldn’t let me overly delay my fate. People in the Broken Isles were going to die by my order – by my own hand. It was that or be killed ourselves.

Would that be the nobler option?

I wasn’t adverse to nobler options, but they never seemed to have done me any good. Sparing the Essential, saving Kuko from the sirens, staying behind on the Wind Runner … not a single one of those decisions benefitted me. On the contrary, they’d brought me trouble in threefold. Wasn’t it supposed to be the opposite? Do something good, get a better reward?

Maybe you had to have a higher luck stat for that. Maybe I should have invested my attributes there instead of the common-sense areas.

A knock on my door. “What?” I snarled, wiping unshed tears from my eyes.

“Captain,” Sadeo’s voice came up. “I wanted to have a word about the … the uh … the munitions stores.”

I nearly turned him away. Anyone else I would have, but it was Sadeo! “Come in.”

Sadeo did, his ears and tail not as pert as they usually were. He closed the door behind him.

“What is this about the munitions?”

“Nothing’s wrong with the munitions Dom. Everything’s catalogued and secured, and as much as I love more and better, we’re ready for the next fight.”

“Then why are you here?” I said harshly. I’d let him in and he didn’t really have anything of importance to discuss?

“Half the crew is still looking at your door. They can’t believe you’re not coming through. I didn’t want to break this image you’re trying to create for them – this role you’re trying to play.”

“Just a little while ago no one really believed I’d keep my word. Now they’re shocked it was a false dream? And as for this … persona,” I said, forcing out the words. “I’m not playing at anything. I’m at my limit, Sadeo. I gave it good run, always trying to be the good guy, but my options have run out.”

“There’s always options. It’s just a matter of what you’re willing to do.”

That reminded me of the incognito general I’d played games with back in Dagat. He’d had similar advice, which had seemed so wise at the time. ‘Just pay the price for the decision you’re willing to make.’ Well I knew the price for making a contrary decision here: death. I wasn’t willing to pay that, so I was going to make others do it for me.

“Is there anything else, Sadeo?”

He licked his teeth – looking very canine while he did – and said “I was your first crewman. I remember how hard you’d tried to give me a different route. Just because you can’t give everyone what you feel is best, don’t think everyone is going to turn on you.”

“You think everyone outside is itching to support me? Those who don’t hate me for what I am hate me for breaking my promise now.”

He hedged. “They’ll come around.”

“After what I’m going to order them to do next? You have a lot more faith in humanity than I do, Sadeo. Odd given everything they’ve done to you.”

He shrugged and seemed to give up trying to drag me from my mood. “Come practice on the scorpions when you want. It’ll do the teams good to have a frame of reference for your skill there.”

I left his offer open while he left. Turning about the room, I couldn’t help but feel it was confiningly small. Small! With its desk, bed, closet, shelves … this was more space then I’d ever had aboard a ship!

And yet when I thought of jumping into the sea to find comfort, the thought roiled in my stomach. How could I find peace there? What right did I even have to try?

I heard a gloomy voice singing on the quarterdeck. I absently tried to understand the words, and realized that they weren’t in the common tongue. They sounded elvish. It must be Rhistel.

Voice of the Crew status set: Melancholy.

The morale of the crew has taken such a hit that the very aura of the ship now inflicts an instance of depression on those within its sphere of influence.

-5% morale per day.

A quick look at my crew interface showed that the metric for crew morale had indeed taken a hit. The current morale level was such that it would take several days for the morale to drop to dangerous levels, but it would do so relentlessly unless the crew status was changed.

As if I needed anything else to worry about. In a few weeks everyone would be sharing a mutinous mentality.

I just wanted to be away and free from all this …

“Sighting off the port quarter!”

I growled and left my cabin. What ship would this be, and would I have to fight it or could I wait until I got to the Isles first?

“Where?” I demanded, searching for a sail.

“There!” Came the response, and I followed the pointing finger to something unexpected.

A small cutter was knifing through the water. That a cutter was out here and approaching us – an unknown ship flying a strange flag – wasn’t unusual. That was their job. What was unusual was that they were obviously using magic to propel themselves. I used my spyglass to watch them as they approached. I could see one figure using water magic to smooth out the waves and another using air magic to fill the sails. Even if we’d been trying to make good time, the cutter could have overtaken my carrack with a system like that, assuming they didn’t run out of mana or face overwhelming weather.

“Captain, shall we dive?” Burdette asked.

Two mages, a crew of sailors that might be hiding more of them …

“No, prepare for battle.”

There was silence for a moment while everyone processed what I said. Then an uncomfortable shifting as they realized what it meant. I turned to my first mate.

“Mr. Burdette?”

He swallowed. “All hands, man your stations! To your masts! Fighters arm yourselves!” The former Captain continued to bellow, his orders getting more specific as men moved into position. Whatever the crew thought about who they were fighting for, their training over the last few weeks kicked in and they sprang into action.

I had approximately 60 skilled sailors and 230 former slaves. Of those, nearly half had some weapon or combat skill, but only 80 of them were people I felt comfortable fielding for battle. There was a big difference between being able to swing an axe and knowing how to fight.

Those who were slated to fight got ready with whatever kit they had – which was a mismatched assembly of scavenged armor and weapons. For a moment I felt a pang for the awesome gear in the hold of the Wind Runner, but it was deep down and in the opposite side of the ocean from us. I wouldn’t even be able to try it until I’d freed us from our restriction in the Broken Isles.

Sailors manned the sails, standing on every spar, lining up on the deck to begin hauling line however we needed to maneuver the canvas and ship. Those not needed – and there were more people than could fit on deck with the space we needed – were below, either manning the scorpions or waiting to relieve their crewmates above.

They were in place long before the cutter approached. They were prepared for this moment.

“Helmsman,” I said, tasting the words and seeing if I’d be able to give the order to turn away from the Broken Isles. “Bring us about.”

“Aye, aye, sir!”

The helmsman began his turn, and Burdette called out the sail configurations to keep us moving through the 180. I took the time to change out of my Captain outfit into my light armor. A quick glance in the mirror showed that instead of an undead captain, I now looked like the ghoulish bodyguard to an undead captain.

Well, I’d bet my pursuers were set on killing me before they ever saw my face, so it wouldn’t make much difference …

We closed to half a mile, and I saw that the cutter was flying the flag of Antarus, with the more ubiquitous adventurer’s guild flag below it. So a state vessel with adventurers manning it – those were most likely the mages. They weren’t flying a flag of truce, so I didn’t need to ask their intentions. I gave the order to present our starboard aspect for a broadside from the scorpions.

As we turned, the cutter kept coming. We were at the far range of our scorpions, attacking a relatively small target. I heard Sadeo give the order to fire when lightning arced from the cutter to our sails. Someone was blown off, and I didn’t need the counter of my crew ticking down to know he was dead.

I immediately began submerging, but I couldn’t disappear under the waves instantly. Most mages took six seconds to properly cast lightning. Three more of my crew died before the Death’s Consort resumed her station under the waves, and a fourth lightning strike hit the top of my main mast just before it disappeared, taking some durability in a parting shot.

“Helmsman, come right to 310.”

“Right to 310, aye aye!”

We turned back to a heading to close the distance. I’d done some reading on naval strategy, though I was far from a skilled expert. What I believed was unprecedented was our ability to submerge and fire away at ships on the surface from relative safety. I intended to use it to fight as unfairly as I could.

Before I got the chance to unleash my unfair advantage, a man dropped into the water from the cutter. The water mage.

I had to admit the man’s abilities impressed me. The closest I’d come to seeing real mages battle had been glimpses of Tulisang. This man obviously had the knowledge and capabilities of someone a least on that level. Breathing water was a relatively simple spell, though you had to be careful about renewing it. But whatever spell he was using to jet through the water, leaving small vortexes about his feet … yeah, I wanted to know that one.

He began to circle the Death’s Consort. As he did, he put his fists together and began casting another spell. “Cover!” I yelled, those with shields raising them and those without trying to hide behind any part of the ship they could. Most were defenseless.

A large ice spike formed in front of the mage, and shot into the hull of the ship like a nail driving into wood. The wind mage had targeted men in our sails to try and restrict our maneuverability. This water mage was aiming for the holes our gunners were looking out of, trying to keep us from destroying the cutter from below.

“Sadeo!” I shouted loudly enough for the kitsune to hear me below. “Target the mage!” If we took him out we could deal with the cutter at our leisure.

Sadeo and his teams began sending their bolts at the mage, which kept him from casting his huge ice spikes as he was forced to dodge and use shields to deflect the bolts. Each of his hastily thrown up ice shields could block two bolts before they cracked, but it allowed the mage to remain unharmed.

It had to be burning though his mana, though. I saw him take mana potions twice, pulled from a bag like my own, but he couldn’t keep that up forever. The smaller, instantly cast ice spikes he was throwing at the port holes of the artillery deck weren’t having the same effect. Soon, he would make the next logical decision. I was waiting for it.

Indeed he did. Seeing that he couldn’t out battle the ship, he ducked below it. It was the same principle I was using on the cutter – the weapons weren’t designed to be aimed straight down. He could hang out below us and take his time trying to punch holes in the ship. He just wasn’t prepared for what we could do.

“Fighters after me!” I called. I jumped over the side and shot down in a free fall. Water whip caught the surprised mage about the waist like a lasso, arresting his speed. He cut my whip with a scythe-like water attack and retaliated with an ice spike, but I dodged it easily and unleashed half a dozen whips to harangue him.

With his focus on me, one of my fighters got close enough to shoot a crossbow bolt into his shoulder blade. The fighter didn’t even take the seconds to count how outnumbered he was, he cast another spell and a whirling bubble expanded from his body to surround him. The next bolts were all deflected by the new shield, though the mage was forced to reach into his bag to down another mana and health potion.

He then evaluated my crew fighting against him. His focus fell on me once again. He seemed to be calculating how he could take me out without having to fight my whole crew. Attacking the ship was forgotten. I wished they would resume firing on the cutter, but Burdette seemed to be trying to maneuver the ship to give Sadeo a shot at the mage again.

The water mage began a longer casting, which was indicative of a stronger spell. “Shields!” I yelled, glad that some with shields had already started to move to protect the ranged attackers. With the way he was using ice spikes, I expected some sort of nova spell that sent ice spikes in all directions.

I was wrong. Close, but wrong.

A pulse went out from the mage, fading with distance but still encompassing our battle zone. Instantly, the temperature of the water started plummeting. Worried that the water would turn to ice, I ordered the fighters to withdraw, myself dropping deeper to get away from the nexus of the spell. Storms, that water was cold! It was like taking a dip in the Atlas Ocean!

The mage seemed confused, looking at the retreating figures. Did he expect us to stay where we were? No, he surprised we moved. He expected us to take damage from his spell!

Either the guy’s spell wasn’t powerful enough to chill the ocean that much or our resistance to general damage types was coming to save us again. Stars, so long as they kept the blessed weapons away …

I dismissed my water whips, as the mage was too far away. Instead I pulled out my trident and judged my throw. Anchoring myself just long enough to get a powerful throw in, I immediately switched back and swam after my weapon as fast as I could.

Which was really fast these days.

I was right that the heavier mass of my weapon carried it through the mage’s shield, but it wasn’t the killing blow I’d hoped for. It was deflected down and one tine of the trident ripped through the calf muscle, causing the man to scream. He looked down with murderous intent, only to have his eyes go wide at how close and fast I was coming.

He pointed a hand at me and started casting another spell. I juked left and right, hoping that he had to aim to hit me and that he’d miss. Neither of us got the result we’d hoped for. He was surely aiming to cut me in half with the pressurized jet of water that streaked past, and I wasn’t looking to have my left bicep nearly bisected. Losing a major muscle – one that you’re used to using subconsciously – is a weird feeling that I did not like in the slightest.

I couldn’t summon ice spikes, put I could throw some of my numerous blades just as fast. The water mage dodged – barely. It seemed he needed intact legs to do his super-speed. Water movement buffs were primarily based on slowing your opponent, not speeding yourself up. That was air magic. Since we both cast the slowing buffs on each other as soon as we were in range, it didn’t give us an advantage. Our swimming speeds were also crippled; me because I had an arm hanging limply, him because his calf was ripped open.

Cripple fight.

A cripple fight with deadly sharp blades of metal and water.

I truly believed I had the upper hand, if only because of our mana. When I ran low on mana, I simply used my martial skills. When he ran low on mana, he needed to drink a potion. A potion that I was denying him any opportunity to take.

Still, I don’t know what last minute tricks he could have pulled out, so it was a relief when Zandar’s spear impaled the mage from above, breaking his spine and emerging from his stomach. The mage tried to get off one more spell, but his HP hit bottom first. The Death’s Consort had claimed its first enemy.

14,506 XP gained for slaying Human Mage.

I grabbed the mage’s body and began hauling it to the ship. Due to our speed and close quarters, Sadeo had never gotten a shot off. Throwing the body to the deck, I gave the order.

“Turn us in pursuit of the cutter! Sadeo!”

“Yeah, Dom?” the kitsune said, his head popping up from a hatch.

“Break that ship.”

He grinned. “I can do that!” he said, disappearing again.

Something about my observation skill was tingling in my mind, and I found out that it was a necklace the water mage had been wearing.

Of course it was.

Grabbing ahold of it, I was immediately assaulted by the notification:

You have entered telepathic communication.

Those little sea rats! They’d been communicating telepathically! The water mage had probably been rattling off everything he’d learned as he tested us and our defenses! And the other was a wind mage … which meant he surely was able to relay the information back to land somewhere.

They’d come here to test me, to study me. Every trick I pulled would be shared for the next people to try.

Fighting people was hard enough without them preparing for you!

You have attempted to use telepathic communication to instigate mental combat!

[Unknown] has resisted your attempt!

Leaving the mages body with orders for no one to touch it, I scurried to the artillery deck.

“Sadeo, anytime today would be nice.”

He looked at me and sniffed, then placed a special bolt on the scorpion he was manning. We’d had those particular ones stored separately.

Enchanted Explosive Bolt

Upon contact, releases explosive energy

“I’ll break their ship, Dom. But I’m not getting much experience from this, so I’ll let my students get their licks in.”

I didn’t say anything. I trusted him.

The cutter had turned to run, and was pulling away from us. Even without the water mage, their ship’s speed was simply superior. We were about 700 yards away from the cutter, at a depth of about a hundred feet.

I trusted Sadeo, I trusted Sadeo, I trusted Sadeo …

He shot. At first I thought he led the target too much and shot in front of it, then I saw the ship moving forward and thought he was going to miss behind it. The bolt hit the cutter’s rudder, exploding in a way that was barely visible at that distance. The debris sinking into the water after its impact was unmistakable, though.

“That ought to slow them down a bit,” Sadeo said, loading another.

“I never doubted you.”

He gave me a look that told me my sigh of relief had been noticed. “I’m a level 37 professional artillerist. I’ve got precision skills coming out the wazoo. I could’ve hit that ship at double the range of the weapon.”

“That was pretty close to double its range.”

“I mean double the range of another professional shooting,” the kitsune said, aiming with his second explosive bolt. FWAP. Later, I’d learn that this bolt hit the keel, breaking a hole and starting a flood in the bilge. Sadeo nodded to his apprentices. “Ranging shots, fire!”

The other gunner trainees weren’t all good enough to hit the ship, but they were shooting normal, un-enchanted bolts, so I didn’t care about their misses. We were closing the distance now. Unable to steer, the crew was trying to make best speed away however the wind took them.

I clapped Sadeo on the shoulder. “Good job, my friend.”

“Anytime, Dom. Grand battles, remember? That’s how I’m going to work out of slavery.”

I leaned down to murmur in his ear. “Let your gunners have their practice, but we’re not surfacing until that ship is flotsam, understood?”

He nodded, aware of the threat that a powerful wind mage represented. I returned to the quarterdeck, and was satisfied that Burdette had things well in hand.

As we closed the distance, Sadeo gave his pupils Enchanted Bolts of Ice. After several dozen strikes, the hull of the cutter was a brittle, frozen chunk that was cracking and straining against the unfrozen freeboard above. Sadeo used a third explosive bolt to break the hull wide open. Then the unstable ship twisted itself into pieces as its mast fell and pulled rigging down with it.

You have sunk an enemy ship! You have been awarded 30,000 XP.

I’d made more XP in this encounter than I had since the Wind Runner. This was what Jones had been expecting me to do immediately.

“You’ll get your bloody wish,” I murmured angrily.

“Captain?” Burdette asked.

“Sail below the sinking wreck. Have the fighting team deploy to search it out for anything useful they can grab before it goes too deep. Focus on munitions and weapons.”

“Aye, captain.”

I swam not for the sinking wreck, but the flotsam on the surface. Some sailors were usually unlucky enough to survive the initial disaster only to die in the later days, adrift in the ocean. Today they’d be unlucky for another reason.

I found someone clinging to a broken piece of hull and surfaced opposite of him.

“Not your day, huh?”

I’d expected him to splutter and push away from the flotsam, but he didn’t. He froze, staring.

“Yes, I’m the lieutenant. Got a question or two for you, if you don’t mind.”

The poor sailor shook his head slowly. “What does it matter?”

I realized that he was suffering from the effect of the Voice of the Crew: Melancholy. We were within the ship’s sphere of influence.

“You were here to test us, right?”

“The mages said they were coming to assassinate you. Heard you were only level 10, and thought it would work. We couldn’t say no – they ordered us to go.”

“Bloody black luck for you all. Was the wind mage relaying messages back to the mainland?”

“Yes, he was talking the whole time, telling them everything he could. Didn’t stop talking during the whole thing, until suddenly he stood up and told our skipper to turn the ship about and run with the wind.” He shuddered. “We couldn’t see your ship, but the mage kept looking off the port quarter like he knew. Just when he relaxed … something took out our rudder.” His voice quaked. I worked to keep myself cold, hard.

“He tell the mainland anything interesting?”

“I couldn’t hear anything. We all gave him his space.”

“What’s your name?”

“Mike? Hard-rowing Mike?”

I nodded, then went to the crew function and picked his name. “You have a chance to live. Take it. Join my crew.”

His eyes went wide and now he did push away from the flotsam. “No! Not that! Never! I’d rather die …!”

My knife caught him in the eye. Low-leveled as he was, with more points in strength than constitution, he was dead before any seawater could fill his lungs.

“I almost wish I’d had the courage to say that when I was asked, Mike.”