Michael Chatfield
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Ilus Rises: Chapter 9
🕑 Added 2024-01-12 12:00:10 +0000 UTCChapter 9:
“Mister Zilthor sir, permission to render aid to the Spindle?” Crixim asked as politely as possible.
Zilthor wrung out his hands, glancing at the various ships.
“There’s no one in the rigging of the big ship. I can just see four people moving around,” Caelum said.
Idiot boy. Crixim held himself back from glowering.
“Only four?” Zilthor’s voice becoming sickly sweet as he stared at the ship, holding out his hand imperiously.
Crixim held out the spyglass.
Zilthor studied the ships through it.
Crixim didn’t need to use spells, he’d noticed it before. There wasn’t crew moving through the rigging and there wasn’t movement on the main deck. Though the sails were still being altered and the cannons were aimed and fired.
It didn’t matter if a ship had a reduced crew if it could do that.
“Only four of them, they must’ve killed off the rest of the crew or-they might have stolen it.” Crixim could hear the thoughts and plans growing behind his eyes.
I doubt very much that a group that did all of this to save us is going to turn on the rest of their crew. The situation was odd he’d give it, but then he wasn’t about to look a gift whale in the gullet.
“They’re powerful on the waters,” Crixim warned.
“One has to have the proper amount of crew to command a ship. Isn’t that what you keep reminding me?” Zilthor turned on him.
So he was listening, just didn’t care.They had barely the people for a shift and a half, less with the wounded.
Crixim kept his expression carefully neutral.
Zilthor smirked and held out the spyglass. Crixim took it.
“Land crews on the enemy ships to secure them. They’ve got plenty of guns and wood.” Zilthor’s eyes flipped between the pirate ships, filled with undisguised greed.
“Yes sir.” Crixim bowed his head.
They had plenty of wounded and everyone was tired from being woken up with cannon fire. The wind worked against them to go back in the direction of the ships.
They’d have to use the long boats, thankfully everyone had gone up a core grade or two with the deaths of the pirates.
Which—weren’t moving. The wind should have been pulling them, their crews were dead. Though there was movement on them.
Crixim moved away from Zilthor for his first mate, keeping his voice low. “Deploy boats for the ships and then we’ll head for the Spindle. Send some that know the value of things and won’t try to take it for themselves. That moves carefully.”
“Aye Captain.”
“What in the abyssals?” Zilthor demanded.
“The other two ships are adjusting their courses,” Caelum said. “The fire on the first ship they shot up is coming under control.”
Crixim looked at the one that was on fire. Crew were using their water magics and hauling up buckets and throwing it on the fires, stifling them.
“Are they working together with the new warship?” Zilthor demanded.
“I don’t think so sir.” No cannons fired and the two pirate ships were moving towards the new ship that altered its heading to go between the pirate flagship and Spindle.
“What in the hells is happening?”
“I’m not sure.”
“What in the hells am I paying you for you to not think and be unsure!” Zilthor rounded on him.
“The crew, they don’t look alive,” Caelum’s words a confused afterthought.
Crixim frowned, looking at them closer. They had blood on their clothing, they were sprayed with wood splinters.
With those injuries. No one could live through that.
“They have to be like the water golems, someone able to turn the dead into creatures that can serve them,” Crixim said. “It’s closing with the Spindle.”
He read the ship’s name along its bow—Mesurial.
“Do they intend to board?” Zilthor asked, on his train of stupid questions again.
“I don’t think so-one’s swinging over to the Spindle.”
“That is my ship!” Zilthor slapped his hand against the wooden railing, denting it.
Wasn’t the only one to get an increase to my core.
Zilthor was a tyrant to his staff, but he was a tyrant that relied on threats and the physical violence of others under his employ.
Crixim held his tongue, to point out that he was pissed at a ship that had as many cannons per deck as each of the pirate ships had altogether. Was not a smart move.
The Spindle’s crew scrambled out of the way of the black armored man to land on the deck.
Jumping between ships in full armor. Either he was brave, stupid, paranoid, or strong as hell. Crixim was thinking the later. Who jumped onto an unknown ship by themselves.
Mesurial moved next to the flagship and threw lines over, the first ship they’d engaged moving to side-dock on the otherside of the pirate flagship.
Both of the fearsome ships looked like children next to Mesurial.
