It was too late to turn back. They’d caught a good wind they weren’t sure they would be able to catch again, so Azmond had to stay.

Feldon was kind enough to allow Rael to take Azmond aside to chastise him. Rael explained to Azmond about the dangers of the mission and the difficulties of making sure he was safe, emphasizing that they wouldn’t be able to protect him. Done in hushed admonishments and lots of finger pointing, Rael felt like he’d gotten the point when he looked to the ground shamefully.

When Rael asked him how he got on board, he eagerly explained how he snuck onto the aft by climbing up the rudder from the Omrad and hid by the window of the captain’s quarters. Until Edith spotted him.

From his excited rambling, Rael had the distinct feeling that Azmond wasn’t as regretful of his actions as he seemed. They weren’t sure what to do about that. Rael settled on banning sweets until the mission was done. He pouted for the rest of the day, but Rael didn’t change their mind. They even went so far as to prevent the crew from secretly passing him any sweets during dinner. While Bak wasn’t on the ship, there was someone who managed to use the grapevine to send a message to Stone Circle about Azmond stowing away. Apparently, Smith Gault nearly had a panic attack soon after they left.

The next few days went easily enough, the northern wind pushing them southward at a reasonable pace. In the meantime, Derrol and Feldon taught Rael about flying an airship, reading the wind and the compass, and on the clear nights when they rose above the fog, how to navigate using the stars.

It was nighttime when Jarl Feldon discreetly woke everyone to jibe the ship west. It was dark. Not even the light of the moons dared breach the fog, settling a blanket of near total darkness over the drakkar. The crew carefully turned the ship, their eyes trained on something up and ahead of them. The wind itself blew in hushes, the only sound being light treading on the deck and the soft creaking of the sails pulling on the lines. Rael managed to catch sight of a large shape flying above them. It was only a glimpse. Enough to send a shiver down their spine as their dinner tickled the back of their throat. It was a very familiar shape.

“What are they looking at?” Azmond whispered to Rael as he wiped the sleepiness from his eyes.

“Get to the captain’s quarters.” Rael pushed him towards safety, unaware of Azmond’s pursed lips, their attention strained trying to find the silhouette again. “How the Hells can they see it?”

“Only those born in the Jarldoms can see through it.” Derrol leaned closer to Rael, his beard tickling their shoulder.

‘Is he messing with me or did Feldon seriously take us out of cover so he could show me how to read star charts?’ Rael swallowed their bile, sparing a glance to Feldon. He shared a rare smile, one of his silver teeth shining for but a moment in the miniscule amounts of light.

“Pay close attention.”

Derrol waved his hands and signaled for the crew to get ready. Tomes were summoned across the ship, various magics readying to be fired.

Rael went over the objectives they covered in their head.

“We need to stop them.” Jarl Feldon had said. “Destroy or capture, it doesn’t matter. But it would be better to capture them if possible. The highest ranked person there would have some valuable information, and we could use the intact ship in all sorts of schemes against Bergin.”

The strategy was a result of the information shared with the Jarls from the Hightown battle. Bergin warships came with standardized enchantment that would warn them of any magic cast within fifty meters, the maximum range for all spells. Barring the use of [Extend Range], of course. Since drakkars were too small for any effective ballistae, if they wanted That meant they would have to ready their spells before entering range.

Feldon made a different signal. Rael beat down their anxiousness, clenching their tome-dagger in one hand as they got into position with the others. Their other hand gripped the floor with as much strength as they could muster. The rest of the crew shared the same position, one hand on the ground or wrapped around something to keep them steady, and the other readying their spells or holding weapons.

There were only a few exceptions. The best rowers manning the sharp-tipped oars at the back, rowing in powerful yet silent strokes to close the distance. Shieldmaiden Edith at the aft section, casually looking over her axe. And Jarl Feldon at the wheel. He took a deep breath, summoning his tome-warrior behind him.

The ship began to ascend sharply, bow-first, until the deck was at a sharp incline.

Rael clenched their jaw shut to keep the nerves from chattering their teeth, lest the Bergin hear them. This was unlike the demon attacks, which came as a massive surprise. Rael had known about the raid for three days, long enough for the nervousness to grow and fester.

“[Harmony].”

Jarl Feldon’s spell was like a friendly hand on your shoulder. The nervousness was still there, and Rael realized they weren’t alone. Everybody was anxious. None of the crew felt alone anymore. The sense of unity quelled the fears they all held, and the only thing left was eagerness to see this mission through.

“Aim for the sails, the rigging, the rudder. Don’t worry about damaging the hull too much, their internal balloons are in compartments. Avoid using fire or lightning-based spells.” Feldon punctuated the statement by tapping his index finger on the table.

The Bergin ship drifted lazily above the fog, a smaller copy of the ship Rael had first seen. A cylindrical blimp with two square-sailed masts on the top deck, and a single, large mast on the underside of the deck that hung below the blimp. Both decks enveloped the blimp like a cage, connected by large wooden straps with staircases on the inside. Along the straps were smaller sails, splayed open to catch the wind. The rudder was massive, a sail from the aft reaching the height of both masts, while the bow was encased in a large battering ram that could open up on a hinge to release a hundred troops at once.

It looked like a fat fish.

Had any Bergin been watching, it would have been a terrifying sight. The Bergin airship glided less than a dozen meters over the fog, a wake of low-lying clouds swirling behind them. From this disturbance rose a dark sail like a shark’s fin slowly getting closer to the surface. Then came the two dragon heads, breaching the fog snout-first.

A shrill alarm rang from within the Bergin ship as the drakkar was finally close enough to be detected. But it was too late. The drakkar emerged from the fog completely, and the rowers gave one last pull at the oars to bring the ship above their port side.

“[Acid Spray].”

“[Crystal Lance].”

“[Bouncing Caltrops].”

A rainbow of caustic colors speckled the sails and tore through rigging just as the legionnaires began to swarm the decks. Chaos. They tripped on magical strings, tumbled into bouncing shrapnel, and a few even attacked each other. The captain at the helm was buried in an avalanche of magic, tearing his body to shreds. By the time a commander had managed to get their bearings, the ship was dead in the air.

“For the Jarl!” Derrol cried, leaping down onto their ship.

“FOR THE JARL!” The crew cheered as they followed down after him.

Rael rushed with them, their heart leaping up their throat as they jumped into the fray. They had only one thought as they soared through the air.

‘Shit, how do I land this?!’

Rael’s fears were unfounded, the momentum of the drakkar sending them into the sail of the Bergin ship. They slid down the side of the canvas sheet, wincing as they landed on deck.

The madness of battle overtook the ship. Rael spun about in the confusion, enemies and allies tearing into each other with reckless abandon. Screams filled the air and the deck grew slick with blood.

‘Focus!’

Rael pulled a hand ax from their belt, one of their own making, and cast a spell.

“[Hydro-kinesis].”

A globule of water floated behind them, and just in time. A legionnaire charged towards Rael, spear aimed directly towards their gut. Months of instincts jolted through their body, and they sidestepped. The point narrowly skimmed off their leather cuirass. Rael slammed their axe into the haft, splintering it apart. Rael brought the head of the axe onto his helm and he stepped away, dazed.

‘Don’t let up!’

The Dragonward rushed closer to him, but he recovered quickly.

“[Nauseating Strike]!” He shouted, batting the splintered remains of his spear into Rael’s leg.

Rael stumbled, feeling the world tumbled around them. They ran into the legionnaire, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

“Get off me, bitch!”

They raised their ax high, head still spinning. Rael wanted to quip something back, a comment about his spear and masculinity. But when they opened their mouth, they puked all over the poor legionnaire. The two of them looked at each other. Rael raised their axe again to deliver a final blow.

“[Disarm]!” Someone cried from behind them.

Rael’s axe went flying out of their hand and off the side of the airship. Rael twisted around, dodging a gladius that sliced where their neck was moments ago. The first legionnaire pushed them off, and now Rael was on the ground. The second stabbed straight down, his blade digging itself into the wood. Rael jumped to their feet and slammed a fist into his unprotected jugular. As he gasped for air, Rael slammed the ball of water into his torso, careful to keep the mass together. He staggered away from the impact.

“I worked hard on that ax, asshole!” Rael growled as they pulled the shortsword from the deck.

Their eyes shifted between the two legionnaires as they circled around them. Rael orbited the orb of water between the vomit-covered legionnaire and themselves. He unsheathed his gladius, his helm covering his face. His ally picked up a spear lying on the ground. The two looked at each other.

They both charged together.

Rael whipped a tendril of water into the spearmen’s face, causing him to flinch. They swerved around to catch the other legionnaires’ sword on their blade, wincing as the edges cut into each other.

‘With the flat of the blade.’ Rael reminded themselves.

The legionnaire slammed his sword into Rael’s again, who parried the blade and jumped away in time to avoid the spear aimed at their back. They willed the water to condense and form a pillar, which swung down to sweep the legionnaire’s legs from under him. He landed face first on the ground with a grunt.

Rael kicked his friend away and slammed the point of the sword between the chinks in the armor.

All Rael heard from him was a strangled gasp. They had no time to process what they’d done when something huge bowled them over, ripping the sword from their grasp.

Their vision exploded into white as they were slammed against the mast. Rael twisted out of the large man’s grip, but all they managed to do was shift themselves around to face the man. His helm was gone, his wild eyes and bloody grin boring into Rael. They brought their dagger down on him. It glanced off his thick armor plates. He just laughed.

Rael headbutted him, feeling his nose break as his blood exploded all over their face. Yet he did not release his death grip, slamming Rael repeatedly into the mast. They tried to bring the dagger into his throat, but their head was fuzzy with the repeated strikes against the mast. He caught Rael’s hand as it wildly stabbed down into him. His other hand caught Rael by the throat, lifting them against the mast.

“Legionnaires!” The man yelled out. “Release the cargo!”

The legionnaires not preoccupied with Faulk warriors ran down the starboard and port staircases that hugged the blimp. They were going to the secondary deck.

Rael couldn’t breathe. Kicking and punching fruitlessly against the commander, struggling for their tome-dagger to break free, panic began to set in. They called for the water to slam into the man, but he ignored it, his sadistic grin growing wider. Even when it enveloped his head, he didn’t stop.

“[Waterbreathing].” He mouthed through the bubble.

“[Minor Cut].” Rael responded. The bemused commander flicked his gaze to their dagger, still firmly clenched in his hand.

He wasn’t looking in the right direction.

A sheen of magic covered the edge of Rael’s hand. A desperate play, but it was all they had to get themselves free. Short of electrocuting themselves or waiting for him to die of a cold.

The water pulled away as they slammed their hand into his jugular. The commander laughed.

Then coughed up blood. The expression of surprise on his blanching face when he realized that Rael had used their hand as the medium to make an edge…It was impossible.

‘Impossible for any but a Meta.’ Rael sucked in a breath as his hand let go of their throat. They coughed as they leaned against the mast, gasping in lungful after lungful of the life-giving air.

The commander tried to stymie the flow from his injury. The cut wasn’t very deep, barely more than a few centimeters.

But it was enough.

He crumbled to his knees, weakening gouts of blood spouting from the cut in his neck. Rael watched with morbid fascination as the life left his eyes, prickling of bile rising up their bruised throat.

‘Later.’ Rael shook themselves and pushed off the mast, rushing towards the stairs that lead to the decks hanging below the blimp. ‘Any cargo the Bergin release is bad news.’

Another legionnaire ran towards them, but a crystal javelin speared him through the chest and he fell to the ground, dead. Rael passed the body of the first man they’d killed, pulling out the gladius with a wet smack and jumped down the staircase, three steps at a time.

The fighting had already spread to the lower deck. Faulk warriors overpowered legionnaires scrabbling about in confusion. A lieutenant or a commander would yell out orders, only to have up to a dozen Faulk charge him. Their weapons and magic would tear the leader to pieces mere moments after he gave orders.

Rael ducked down, a bloody scythe blade whirling off the ship. It had come from a legionnaire, cleaving through a Faulk’s arm. The warrior fell to his knees, in shock from the blood loss, the Bergin soldier standing over him with his sword at the ready.

Rael threw their sword without thinking. It tumbled through the air and knocked against his helm. He turned his attention to Rael for a moment, just long enough for the injured warrior to swing his ax through the legionnaire’s chin.

“Thanks, Dragonward.” Rael was at his side in a moment. His face grew paler as his blood pooled beneath him. The clamor of battle faded away around them. “I fear it is time for me to meet Xythael.”

“Sorry.” Rael dismissed the [Hydro-kinesis] and focused on closing the wound using [Minor Heal]. “Jarl Feldon needs every hand he can get. There will be more battles. More days to die.”

The warrior blinked woozily as the flow slowed, the skin closing around the injury. Strong arms took his own, another Faulk carrying him away from the battle. Rael was on their feet again, having picked up the sword they threw and making their way below deck.

The doors were slightly ajar. Rael took a deep breath. The last time they were below deck was on the slave ship. ‘What are the chances that these doors are undefended?’

“[Minor Sense Life.]”

Two silhouettes hid by the doors, poised to strike the moment someone came through. They were a distance away in a pose that suggested stabbing implements. Spears. What was more bothersome was the roiling mass of indistinct shapes further below. They were too close together for Rael to tell apart.

“[Hydro-kinesis]. [Minor Cut].”

Rael summoned another ball of water and sent it bursting through the doors. Two spears ran the decoy through, Rael leaping in to cut through both spears at once. The soldiers looked dumbfoundedly at their new staves. The Dragonward took advantage of their confusion to cut through the leg of the closest one, twisting about to strike the other.

Two meaty thumps resounded as the leg fell to the ground, followed by the rest of the legionnaire. He cried out and tried to pull himself away.

The other one deflected their gladius with his shield, throwing the staff at Rael’s face.

Rael jerked away, nearly stumbling over the other soldier. The standing legionnaire pulled out his gladius and took advantage of Rael’s misstep, digging his blade deep into their thigh. Rael grit their teeth through the pain, the ball of water condensing and spinning around to slam into the back of his helm. A quick stab through the gap in his armor, and he collapsed next to his dying ally.

The Dragonward ignored the ladder, jumping down into a section of the ship only illuminated by oil lamps. The light covered the path down the center of the room, hanging next to thick iron bars. Shadowy lumps breathed softly in the dark, no easier to distinguish than before. A lone legionnaire desperately searched through a ring of keys to put into a mechanism that was connected to all the doors in the brig.

Rael landed loudly. Yellow eyes opened to stare at Rael from the dark. The legionnaire jumped up and began looking through the keys faster.

“Shit, shit, shit…”

Rael’s eyes widened. They ran towards the legionnaire, his shaky fingers fumbling the keys as they approached.

“You better not!” Rael roared as he held up the key he was looking for.

“Oh, hey. They’re labelled.”

He put it in the lock. Rael slammed into him, sending him sprawling to the ground. They reached to rip the key out of the lock but…

“[Nettle Needles]!”

A spray of thin needles peppered across Rael, lodging in their leather armor and any exposed skin. An itchy sensation spread from where they lodged in their skin.

“Gaah!?” Rael flinched, nearly stopping to itch where the needles embedded in their skin.

“[Nettle Needles]! [Nettle Needles]!” The legionnaire sprayed volley after volley towards Rael, who covered their eyes to protect themselves as they backed away.

‘I hate spammers!’ Rael summoned the ball of water again, expanding its surface area to shield them from any more of the infernally itchy projectiles. If they hadn’t gotten used to the rigors of dueling Faulk using nausea, burning, and pain, they likely would have already become to distracted to maintain their tome. The legionnaire got to his feet and kept firing the spell, the needles getting caught in Rael’s shield of water.

“[Disarm]!” Rael’s sword went flying backwards.

Rael almost ran after it. Almost.

The legionnaire was lunging for the lock. Rael wouldn’t be able to get there in time. Unless…

The water swarmed around them as they ran, forming a condensed ball on the small of their back. With a thought, Rael pushed a gout of water into their back, sending them speeding towards the lock. The legionnaire’s hand was around the key. Rael jumped.

Rael kicked his hand, hard. The legionnaire yelped. The key had broken off, stuck in the lock. His other hand still had the sword. Rael grabbed his arm. Grunting, he pushed them back, Rael’s frenzied dagger stabs glancing off his armor. He pushed Rael back, slamming them against the bars. He was close enough to smell the acrid stench wafting off him.

“Let. Go. Of. My. Arm!” The legionnaire said as they struggled over the sword.

“Fuck. Off!”

Something moved behind them. Rael moved, but not quickly enough. Something chomped down on their arm. Rael screamed in pain, the jaws tearing through flesh to grit on bone. The legionnaire dropped his gladius and jumped away in fear. Rael stabbed their tome-dagger into the thing’s jaw. It yiped and let go, freeing their arm enough to stagger away from the bars.

And into the legionnaire.

He slammed against the bars on the other side, Rael lodging their shredded arm under his neck.

“Either you’re the third person I’ve fought who’s been puked on, or…” Rael muttered as they struggled to hold down the soldier.

“You’re the one who puked on me!” He tried to headbutt Rael, but they brought the pommel of their dagger onto his helm. Once, twice, thrice. The helm rung each time, until the third blow knocked it clean off his head. Rael stopped right before the pommel could slam into his forehead.

“Aren’t you just a kid?!”

He could scarcely be called a man. He lacked even peach fuzz, baby fat clinging to his cheeks as he stared defiantly into Rael’s eyes. He couldn’t be more than fifteen.

Click.

Rael’s heart froze as a triumphant smile grew on the kid’s face. He’d taken advantage of their distraction to unlock the door behind him.

There was a thunderous boom from above. And the boy’s face shifted to match Rael’s. The door behind him burst open, sending the two tumbling towards the ladder. From the door paced a monster. It walked on all fours with mad yellow eyes, ears cocking curiously as the boat began to tilt down. The creature saw Rael and the legionnaire. It gave a sharp smile that was all too human. Another followed it into the light. Then another. Until there was a full pack of wargs licking their chops. Staring right at Rael.

All Rael could think of what Feldon and Edith said when they were going over the plan earlier.

“No lightning or fire-based spells. Got it.”

“Unless things go tits-up.” Edith was sulking behind her husband. “Then, feel free to blow it all up.”

“I’d hoped you would get involved before then.” Jarl Feldon raised an eyebrow.

“Nah.” The Shieldmaiden shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen?”