-[Chapter 018]-

Razazil had spent the morning issuing orders and mustering his crew. He had sent out four patrol vessels to scout for the dungeon keeper, leaving the harbor a little undermanned for his liking. While he awaited their return, the old dragon-kin Admiral made ready to receive Basil in his private quarters. He quietly worked to square away the empty bottles and cleared his desk, careful not to disturb the sleeper in his bed. He figured that he probably should have checked to see if she was awake or not, but he couldn’t bring himself to ask her to leave. With his upcoming encounter with Basil von Doom lingering like a dark mist on his mind, her presence was the only thing that made his morning a little brighter.

In the meanwhile the Admiral had granted Schwartz the liberty of roaming his ship as the Dark Ranger saw fit. Razazil had made it clear that he was to stay out of the way of his crew—a bargain that the man had seemed quite eager to take. With Schwartz now out of the way, Razazil could feel a little safer in his cabin. No matter how the man had tried to convince him of his friendly intentions, the Admiral knew better than to trust him at a time like this.

As Razazil settled into his chair, still brooding over his decision to invite Basil over for a visit, the woman in his bed judged the moment to be right to address him. “I can still smell his presence lurking within the ship,” she said. “The man in black—he reeks of death.”

“Stay out of this one, Kira,” Razazil told her. “You want no part in dealing with this House. Lord Doom is a dungeon keeper marked for greatness, but I feel like he will wreak terrible havoc along the way. If we tag along with him on this path, there is no telling what kind of dangers we might have to face… or who will be left standing alongside him at the end.”

“I’ve known danger since the day we met,” Kira replied. “We can take on anything that life throws at us. Trust in your crew like you trust in me. We will always be there for you.”

When Razazil turned to face the woman, he found her lying on one side, half-wrapped in the soft bedding, staring at him. Her amber eyes burned with a fierce passion—intense, but oddly reassuring at the same time. He would have liked to listen to her talk about how they had nothing to fear from this encounter—that they had risked more in the past and come out all the better for it, but he knew that it was not the case. Not this time. Not when it concerned the legacy of Basil’s House.

Kira went on playing with the tussles hanging from the frame of the bed as she sought to distract the troubled mind of her Admiral. “This is the one—the thing keeping you here, isn’t it?” she asked. “Once your business with Lord Doom is concluded we can finally set sail on our own journey.”

Razazil slowly nodded. “My bargain with Basil is the last thing keeping me here,” he said. “Words cannot express how much I want to leave the Nine behind for good. I feel like if we don’t do it soon, then… we might not get another chance to leave. If we stay any longer we might get drawn into whatever comes next and I fear that this will be the bloodiest rebellion in centuries.”

“Are you afraid?” Kira asked.

“Of Basil?” Razazil answered. “Of course! I am worried of what might happen once I deliver on my end of the bargain.”

The cat-eared woman shook her head. “Are you afraid of the journey?” she asked.

“Our voyage? It will be something new,” Razazil replied. “A new page in my life… One for us to write as we see fit.” His dragon-like snout warped in a smile. “No, I am not afraid of what comes next. It will be nice to sail the Astral Sea without a port to return to, unshackled and unbound—as we all dream to be.” His smile faded. “But the decision to leave Port Malus is no longer in my hands. It is on Basil to decide my fate now.”

“Why did you do it then?” Kira asked. “Did you really have to tell him? If it is such a burden, then why didn’t we just bury that damned box when we had the chance?”

The mere implication of duplicity seemed to cause discomfort for the Admiral, forcing him to look away from her. “I owed too much to his father to reject the request of his son,” he explained. “I had to help him, because it was the right thing to do. I owe everything to his House; everything, Kira!”

“And now we are in more danger than ever before,” Kira said. “I can accept that. I can live with that, but can you? I know that you don’t want to put us into more danger than we can handle, but the decision to tell Basil the truth was never going to make it better for any of us.”

“Yes,” Razazil admitted. “It was my decision to make and I made it. I have bet it all and now the die has been cast. It is out of my hands now.”

“You did what you thought was right,” Kira consoled him. “The crew will understand, no matter how the dice will land. We will be with you to the end.”

Razazil scoffed. “Not to sound ungrateful, but I never even considered their consent on this matter. If not for House von Doom, we wouldn’t even be a shadow of what we are today. I would have died long ago, nameless and loveless. Just like so many pirates before me.”

Kira smiled. “There are no pirates like you,” she said.

“Let’s hope that it stays that way,” Razazil replied. “I have played my part in enabling the rise of two masters of House von Doom. That makes me culpable for the destruction that they have wrought across the universe. I only hope that the new one turns out to be less of a monster than the last. The Sea, she is a cruel mistress, but Lord Doom sought the kind of power that destroys worlds… and I am about to set Basil down the same path that his father once traveled.”

Razazil shook his head, dismissing the topic. “I don’t want to talk about this,” he said. “Please, just let me think for a while. I have to collect my thoughts.”

Kira burrowed back into the pillows, but her gaze followed the Admiral as he went on tidying the cabin. She would close her eyes whenever he looked her way, pretending to be asleep, but her concern for him never faded from her brow.

Once the room had been cleared to his satisfaction, Razazil returned to his desk and rolled out a map of the 9th layer of Hell across it. On this sheet of weathered parchment the city was drawn in fine detail, depicting every street and building; everything except for the Inner District. There was no information available on the Guild controlled part of the 9th Hell, as it was well shielded from scrying spells and other tools of arcane espionage.

“Show me my ships,” Razazil ordered the map.

At his command several blue figures appeared above the surface of the yellow parchment. The magic lights were sharp enough to display the rough shape of tiny sailing ships, but instead of traveling across water they appeared to be flying through the sky. The map informed him of their altitude, distance from his current position, their speed as well as the direction they were headed.

The sloops and brigs of Admiral Razazil were scattered across the districts surrounding Port Malus. The four ships patrolled the skies above the city in a search pattern. Port Malus itself glowed bright blue as the hulls of six more ships—much larger than the patrol craft—were currently shown to be moored side by side within the westernmost part of the infamous pirate harbor. It was his little corner of the 9th Hell, his Sea Dragon’s Roost, as the sailors called it, and it was a damned precious bit of real-estate.

“Have they found him?” Razazil wondered as he noted the sudden and violent change in the course of one of his ships. It was a sloop going by the name of Restless and it was now traveling directly towards Port Malus at high speed. He followed its movement for a few minutes until a dark premonition struck him out of the blue. A moment later he witnessed the blue wisp of a ship become consumed by a cloud of magic smoke just as it was about to pass over the boundaries of the port.

The Admiral’s whiskers twitched and he jumped to his feet. He moved swiftly to grab his saber and made a dash for the door. Razazil’s concerns turned out to have been justified as the loud crack of an explosion could now be heard reverberating across the port.

He halted in the doorway to check in on Kira, but found the woman already half-dressed and brandishing her saber in her teeth.

“See to it that cannons are loaded and your ship is made read to cast off at first warning!” the Admiral ordered. “We are under attack!”

The cat-eared woman nodded, sheathed her blade and dashed for the open window at the back of the cabin. “Stay safe, my Admiral,” Kira said as she grabbed hold of a rope that had been left dangling outside the window. She then swung across the chasm that separated her ship from that of the Admiral’s and disappeared from his sight.

Razazil’s whiskers grew stiff, hinting at the dragon-kin’s worried state of mind at the sight of his woman departing for battle. But he couldn’t let his emotions cloud his judgment at this moment. He too had a responsibility towards his crew from which he could not flinch.

Just as Razazil left his cabin he was approached by a panting sailor. “Trouble!” the orc declared while saluting his commander. The Admiral slipped by the green-skin sailor, eager to find his way above deck, but beckoned for him to follow.

“Report,” Razazil ordered as the two of them rushed through the ship’s hull. It was cramped by necessity and functional in layout. The wooden hallways were designed so as to facilitate swift movement in two directions at once while every spare nook and cranny was a storage area for one kind of provision or another.

“We are under attack!” the sailor said.

“I know that already! Who is attacking us?” Razazil asked.

“We don’t know yet,” the sailor answered. “The lookouts haven’t reported in yet. It was too sudden…”

“From the port or from the sea?” Razazil asked.

“The port, Sir,” the sailor answered.

Razazil stopped, spun around and grabbed hold of his subordinate to get his full attention as he delivered his orders: “Get the priestess,” he said, “Bring here to me on deck—”

The orc nodded.

“—and then return with a few good men to guard my cabin,” Razazil ordered with one finger raised to stress the importance of the last part. “No one can enter! Is that clear?”

The sailor nodded once more. “Priestess; deck; guard the cabin—got it!

“Oh, and…” the orc appeared uncomfortable with his follow-up question, but voiced it regardless. “What about the man in black? Do we go looking for him?”

“Screw the Dark Ranger!” Razazil answered. “He will turn up eventually.”

The Admiral dismissed his subordinate and continued down the hallway. Along the way he was joined by several other members of his crew. The sailors and marines moved about with a fire to their step, but none so much as got in the other’s way. They had all been drilled to perfection for just such an occasion and now was their moment to shine, although, in Razazil’s mind, it could not have come at a worst time.

Explosions could be heard rocking the harbor streets beyond. The sounds of battle were growing ever louder as the violence spread.

“This is not the time!” Razazil cursed through his teeth. “Not now… not when he is coming.”

As Razazil made his way through the hull of his ship he witnessed his crew scrambling to respond to the sudden attack. Powder kegs were being cracked open and gunpowder distributed at a reckless pace. Swords could be heard rasping against scabbards as the pirates made ready for close quarters combat. Damage parties moved into position with buckets of water, ready to fight back any fires that might spread and threaten the wooden vessel during the fighting.

When the Admiral emerged from the bowels of his ship the firefight was already well underway. The ship’s crew rushed about the deck as they made ready the cannons for action and took their assigned battle positions. Snipers clambered up the rigging to get a better view of the city below while other sailors gathered around their commanders. The shore parties loaded their guns and checked their equipment as they made ready to join their crew already fighting out in the harbor streets.

Even as the first wounded sailors were being brought onboard, their fearless comrades jumped the ship to take their place in the surrounding buildings. They rushed towards the sounds of battle, down the two cobblestone streets that connected the harbor to the rest of the port. Their task was to try and repel the attackers before they overran the storehouses. As they fought to slow the advance of the enemy, improvised barricades were being set up around the plaza that stood between the ships and the harbor buildings. If they ever were driven back from their forward positions out in the city, they could then make their last stand below the barrels of their cannons.

Before the arrival of the Admiral the defense of the harbor had been directed by the ship’s executive officer. Razazil’s second in command—the XO—organized the marines that were tasked with reinforcing the garrisons out in the city. The two-headed ogre was a burly creature, but clearly had a pair of quick minds about him as he snapped from issuing orders one after the other without pausing for even a moment.

“Barker, Talos!” one of the heads called up the marines as they sprung up form below the deck. “Get your squads onto the second defensive line: the Smokehouse—the Smokehouse! Be ready to receive our sailors as they fall back under enemy fire! They won’t be able to hold the first line for much longer!”

The marines acknowledged XO’s orders and set off with their units towards the city. Unlike the common sailors manning the ships, these men and monsters carried at least a modicum of protection. They wore cuirasses—metal armor that shielded the torso with thick armor plates—and had helmets made of sheet steel with open faces for better visibility. Their design was such that the heavy armor protected only the vital areas of their bodies. Flintlock muskets were their main weapons, but most of them carried a few throwing bombs in a sash that was slung over their shoulder. Each wore a saber strapped to one side of the belt and a bayonet to the other. They affixed the bayonets under the muzzles of their guns once they had disembarked the ship, which allowed them to function as short spears, giving better reach than sabers and axes could afford them, at least for thrusting.

The other head of the XO called out to the gunnery crews prepping their cannons. “I want all top guns pointed down the streets,” he said. “Lower deck—load grapeshot! Lower deck—load grapeshot! Make ready to receive the enemies in the plaza!”

One of ogre’s heads finally noticed Razazil’s arrival. “Admiral, Sir!” He tapped on the shoulder of his opposite number to get the attention of the other head.

The two-headed ogre lumbered over to the Admiral. “Your orders?” the XO asked, both heads speaking in unison.

“Carry on as you were,” Razazil answered. “I have yet to determine our course of action. For now we should focus on getting more of our men into the fight. We can’t let them overrun us. If we can’t hold, then I want to see an orderly retreat beginning with the outer perimeter.”

The ogre nodded and went back to directing the crew.

Razazil surveyed the frantic actions of his sailors and carefully weighed his options. While the old Admiral pondered his next move the captains in command of his other ships had finally arrived. They gathered around him to deliver their reports and to await his orders.

Among the pack of hardened sea wolves a lone feline captain stuck out like a sore thumb. She shared the concerned expressions of her fellow captains, but the look she gave the dragon-kin Admiral expressed more than just a sense of duty to her commander. Since the battle had begun she had already managed to get herself covered in gunpowder. The black stains on her pale face struck a contrast to the hazel brown color of her hair. The demi-human’s cat ears still twitched in response to the commotion around her, but she kept her attention fixed on her Admiral.

Razazil used the opportunity to gather some intelligence on his enemy before deciding on whether to fight for the port or to cut his losses and get his ships out of harm’s way.

“Who’s attacking us?” Razazil asked.

“Red Hands,” one captain answered. “They sounded their war drums before storming our defenses on the left side of the line. We cut down as many of the damned orcs as we could, but their numbers seem to have no end!”

“Iron Sentinels are advancing on our right,” another captain said. “My lookouts reported sighting their scouts creeping up on our perimeter just as the Restless was blown out of the sky. After that we lost contact with the outpost.”

“Two different crews?” Razazil asked to make sure. “Are you sure?”

Both officers nodded with confidence.

Razazil once more turned to his execute officer. “Any sign of their ships?” the Admiral asked. “Is this a two-pronged attack, or are we facing just their disembarked crews?”

“No ships have been sighted,” the XO answered. “But they are pushing hard, so I’m guessing that all of their men have been committed into this attack. There might be some mercenary support thrown in as well. They hit out outposts way too hard and fast. The men barely got the alarm out.”

Razazil nodded. He then closed his eyes and considered the situation for a moment.

“Have the shore parties begin slowly pulling back towards the plaza under covering fire,” the Admiral ordered. “Don’t give up ground without resistance, but don’t let any of our holdouts get surrounded either. Fall back to straighten the lines only! Keep a reserve of marines back to fill in gaps in our perimeter as they form.

“Are there any questions?” Razazil asked. “Do any of you have something to add?” The Admiral threw his gaze around to see if anyone wished to speak up, but none one seemed inclined to do so. “Then move out!” he ordered.

“Alright, you all heard the Admiral,” the XO barked. “Move your feet, you maggots!”

The officers set off to organize their crews as per the Admiral’s directions. The feline captain threw one last concerned look at the old dragon-kin Admiral before she too departed.

“What’s your assessment, Raz?” the XO asked. The two-headed ogre wiped the sweat from his brows as he observed his subordinates scurrying about the deck.

Now that the all the captains were gone the old Admiral let his true state of mind surface. He was seething with rage. “They want to push us out of Port Malus,” Razazil answered. “The bloody bastards must think that they can take over my piece of the port! They want to squeeze us and they want us to leave.”

“We won’t let them!” the XO answered with conviction. He smashed his giant fists together. “Who do they think they are, attacking the Dragon’s Roost head on? We will crush them like the rest! No one messes with the Sea Dragon!”

Razazil looked to the growing stream of wounded sailors being brought onboard. “We might not have the numbers to hold out against two crews,” he said. Some of the medics carrying the stretchers looked to be wounded themselves, but they pushed through the pain as they worked to save the lives of their comrades.

“Admiral, Sir!” an orc sailor addressed his commander. “The priestess is here, just as you requested.”

The green skinned sailor had brought with him a small human girl, no older than six. She was being escorted by an arcane construct that looked to be covered in animal furs. The oddly cuddly looking sentinel kept close to the girl, his burning gaze scanning the scene for any threats to his ward.

Razazil dismissed the sailor. The Admiral then kneeled before the little girl. “I will need your help today,” he said in as soft a voice as he could muster. “Will you help me? Will you use your special powers to help my crew?”

The child nodded. She had a distant, dispassionate look, but otherwise appeared hale and healthy for her age.

“Thank you,” Razazil said and gently patted the girl on the head. “I will give you some candy later, if you work hard.”

The girl nodded again. She then took the hand of the fur coated sentinel and the two of them followed the trail of wounded sailors down below the deck.

“Signal the other ships,” Razazil ordered. “Let the captains know that they can cast off at their own discretion. We will hold onto this bit of land to the last, but I don’t intend to lose any more ships over it.”

“Speaking of ships, do we call back our scouts?” the XO asked. “We could use the extra manpower to—”

“No,” Razazil answered. “As much as it pains me to say it, their mission remains critical. Until one of them breaks silence to tell me that our guest has been located, I will not risk calling them back.”

The XO nodded and set off to organize the crew. He called up runners and sent them off to the other captains to tell them of the Admiral’s orders to abandon the port in case that their ships came under a direct threat.

Razazil walked up to the side of his ship and peered out into the city beyond. The unrestricted exchange of gunfire and magic had already set several building ablaze. A firestorm would soon consume the harbor, as his crew could hardly find the time to bring up water to douse the flames for as long as they remained under enemy fire. The black smoke from the burning stores and warehouses rose fast. It lingered low over the port and would make observation of the ongoing fighting increasingly difficult as the time went on.

The old Admiral twirled his whiskers. “Damn it, Basil,” he cursed under his breath. “Why did it have to happen today? Why does fate always align me with your House at the worst of times?”

He searched the deck around him for Schwartz, but his supposed guardian was nowhere to be found. “And where has he gone off to?” Razazil wondered aloud in frustration.