Jinx

Clash at Krakentrap Straits

A gush of wind, scorching hot, came from the south. Waves rose under it, broke on the Marquette’s bow, as she gracefully powered through them. Then another came, followed by even more, but strange as it may sound, the storm raged too far away to touch them proper. It had originated below Crab’s Talons, a twisting menace kilometers tall and travelled bound southeast, crossing the Scalding Sea at its mid-point. What their ship faced was nothing more, but the disturbance left behind by the phenomenon.

It rocked the Marquette and its crew though. Captain Gray, one eye on his rudder man, the other on the ship’s carpenter running around to check nothing came apart from the strain, kept his composure admirably. Some of its passengers did find it hard to cope, while others, remained completely unbothered by the raging brines.

Where is it? Jinx thought, turning her torso just enough to avoid the frowning Fox Drachen trying to retie a part of the fore staysail that had gone loose, under the orders of the aforementioned Master Udolf Nebula, the ship’s carpenter. The next moment she ducked under it, as the loose part came back, howling alike Death’s scythe, Fox Drachen still holding it for dear life.

A huge wave came, washed out anything not nailed down on the upper deck. Jinx nimbly rode through it, a hand grabbing firm the line securing the inner jib and following it upwards, small feet sliding here and there, angry sea underneath, as she climbed the bowsprit. Her eyes set on the foremast stays just ahead.

A way to reach the skies, discreetly.

If you had the skill.

Is it there? The Gish thought, eyes glancing up. Yer secret spot.

“SHIP A’HOY!” The lookout cried, from atop the mainmast across her.

Right as Jinx, after dangling from the wire like a jungle monkey, -for way too fuckin’ long- reached the end of the line, muscles burning and half-blind. She found purchase for her shoulder on the foremast, drenched but not cold and tried to recover, not minding the topgallant sail rocking the sturdy hardwood mast. That’s a nice spot, Whisper thought with a grin, keeps me all warm and moisty.

Turning her head she looked up, towards the last part of the foremast, where the second lookout spot was located. Another four meters of straight climb or so, Whisper thought, then yelled, loud enough to be heard above the angry elements.

Her voice grating and as annoying, as she could manage.

“Just so ye know! If I fall and break my head… it’s on you!”

Jinx spat down, mostly brackish water with a bit of spittle in it and wiped the hair off her face with one hand, the other keeping her on the rocking mast, before continuing in the same vein.

“Not kiddin’… yer fuckin’ fault!”

The winds had mellowed somewhat, the Marquette sailing hard away from the worst, as Jinx waited impatiently for an answer. But one didn’t come, much to her frustration.

“You’re an annoyin’ cunt.” Pretty murmured, looking to discern with smarting eyes, what the lookout had spotted earlier. Sometimes you’d see a sail in the white froth, a ship were none was there.

Lithoniela dropped in front her, a slight bend of the knees easing her into a graceful landing. She had Zestari’s hood on, keeping her face obscured. Must love that cape something fierce, Jinx thought, seeing the Zilan’s eyes turn a cool blue.

“What do you want Gish?” Lithoniela hissed, sounding annoyed.

“How come, you’re not as sweet to me, as ye are wit Glen?” Whisper probed, content she’d guessed her hiding spot on the ship correctly. “He’s got even less tits than me.”

“You’ve come, all this way,” The Zilan said not amused, her answer hitting a sore spot. “To trade insults?”

“It’s called a joke mistress,” Jinx taunted, trusting the tight space and height, were enough to keep things from escalating. Also the fact she’d her back on the foremast, the Zilan but a solid kick away from falling, to the abyss below.

The Marquette’s hardwood deck, was her meaning.

Lith’s lips split, showing her teeth, sensing her intention.

But said nothing.

“How did ye know to climb to the top?” Jinx asked curious, going another way.

“Your smell.”

“I’m all washed up for ye.”

And salted.

“It’s different.”

Jinx nodded, the rocking around them easing gradually as the storm moved away, sails mostly full, but the winds not as hard.

The danger averted.

But for the fact that the ship, a tiny white spot on the horizon, was still following them.

“What do you want?” Jinx asked her, after they watched the ship approach them slowly for a while. Most of the crew casting glances at it as well, but still carrying on with their tasks. “From the boy. What’s so special about him?”

“We have an agreement,” Lith replied after a time.

“Wit him? Hah. He’s as much a noble, as I’m a virgin,” Jinx jested.

“Human casts, are irrelevant. And only fools will trust the word, of a Gish maiden.”

“Ouch, thanks for the vote of fuckin’ confidence,” Jinx grimaced. “You come at me all high an’ mighty, are ye? How many lovers had you, oh, gracious blue maiden?”

“None of your concern, Gish.” Lith hissed.

“It’s Pretty, my moniker. So ye better use it mistress,” Jinx retorted, a little pissed at her dismissive tone.

“Pfft.” Came the Zilan’s answer, which infuriated her even more.

“Ye know, the elders talked about yer kind,” Jinx said, knife in her hand.

“Don’t be a fool.” Lith warned her. “You’re too young to fight me, Pretty.”

Jinx snorted, put the knife away.

“Who said anythin’ about fightin’?” She replied, smirk back on her lips. “Was thinkin’ more a shove, see if ye drop all the way down. Doubt ye can fly proper, without yer beasts.”

“Do you wish to try?” Lith asked, steel in her voice.

Whisper shook her head, putting her threat aside. She was just getting the measure of the Zilan.

For later.

At one point, you and me will dance, blue cunt, Jinx thought. Then either kill each other, or fuck.

“They used to come, yer people did, to the Isles. In ships first, the legend goes, then on their beasts. Left ‘em free to sate their hunger on the Gish. Their elites huntin’ for those that hid, waiting for when the waters would rise.”

“Old stories.”

“Ever been? To the Isles?”

Lith puckered her mouth, her face dark. She’d kissed that long and hard, Jinx thought.

There’s a thought, to make a girl’s skin crawl.

“Once,” The Zilan replied. “A long time ago.”

“Our elders said, they took Gish wit ‘em, when they left.” Jinx continued reminiscing. “No one ever saw ‘em again. Those younger, the elders say, were eaten; others killed for sport in the dens, to keep the Wyvern God happy.”

“You can’t judge those above your station, Gish. Your knowledge is limited, child.”

“Is that what ye think?” Jinx replied. “Ye know, why nobody ever defended yer kind? Huh?” Lith made a gesture with her hand, not wanting to hear it. “Nobody ever liked you. They were just glad, you were gone. Realm is a better place now.”

“You had a part in this, your cursed race, always mischievous, untrustworthy. Treasonous.” Lith hissed, eyes a venomous yellow. “Pray you’re not judged, Gish. Not as harsh, as my kin. For it is not… pretty. And it will last forever.”

“IT’S CLOSING!”

The lookout’s yell, interrupted their staring contest. Below their feet, the crew run to their stations to watch the Barque come into view behind them, open sails full, as it cut through the waves. Right hand of their bow, the mass of land that was the Krakentrap Straits looming large.

“Will we make it in first?” Captain Gray asked, eyes glued on the ship following them.

“Not in this angle, we won’t.” Cleveland Louis the ship’s navigator said, with a grimace. His lined face a horror to look at.

“REGIA’S COLORS!” The lookout cried out, tied securely on the mainmast.

“Thank Abrakas,” Captain Gray said relieved, “Master Emery!” He called for his quartermaster, “Strike the colors, good man!”

The flag of Raoz, was his meaning.

“Aye, captain,” Came his reply. Sailors all around him rejoicing at the news. Some of the Gallant Dogs joining in with smiles. Jinx was just about ready to get a taste of the festivities, when she was stopped, the Zilan's gloved hand on her shoulder. Wiry fingers made of steel.

“Gish,” Lith asked, face hidden under the hood. “Can you see the man on the forecastle? The one with the patch on his eye? Everyone else is keeping out of sight.”

“So?” Jinx asked, eyes squinting to find him, the distance almost four full ship’s lengths away. A good a hundred and twenty meters at least. No big deal for a Gish, even less so for a Zilan. “What about him?”

“What is it?” Glen asked, worry in his voice, forcing his head between them to see for himself, what they were talking about. His instincts more akin to a burglar, than a knight, Jinx thought.

“Is that an iron hanger, in his hand?” Lith insisted, her common tongue still rusty, but then Pretty saw it too.

A fuckin’ boarding hook.

She opened her mouth to warn Captain Gray, but Glen beat her to it, eyes wide as saucers, dread too big to measure, consuming him from the inside.

“PIRATES!” The boy cried his lungs out.

One word, all that was really needed, to get everyone’s attention.