Limitless Seas, Chapter 21.

Chapter 21.

Before they lost the sun completely, the crew that were going on the raid were armed and given some time to spar with their new weapons. All but the halfling opted to use the shields that the officers had just purchased, and with a little work, they all found a leather jerkin that would fit them. The armor wasn’t the best, but even leather could turn a blade or cushion a blow that might otherwise prove fatal.

He divided up the assault force into teams led by Nogreb and Shada. Larson would leave Tarley back aboard the Gull Dropping to keep working with the remaining crew on getting the ship ready to install the new mast tomorrow. His first mate was the least skilled of the three officers in combat, and he didn’t want to risk losing him in what might be a difficult fight. Nogreb took charge of the two men with the cutlases and the halfling with the crossbow. To their surprise the halfling, a man named Quix, proved to be a deadly shot. The crossbow they had found was a little bulky for him to reload, but the halfling managed well enough.

Shada took some time to work with the three of the crew that had chosen shields and spears for their weapons, showing them the basics of fighting in a formation and supporting each other. As for himself, Larson was more comfortable fighting on his own, his strange mix of skills and magic didn’t lend themselves to a rigid combat style. No, he would be the one to lead the charge and allow his crew every advantage they could get. His venom had also replenished, giving him a last resort weapon.

As darkness fell, the town guard began to light street lanterns around the docks, which, along the nearly full moon, allowed them to navigate the streets without too much trouble. Larson led the group; the evening streets were crowded with workers and sailors heading the various pubs and inns for a meal and a drink or two. While Larson wasn’t unusual enough to draw more than a few looks, his intimidating size and angry scowl discouraged any of the pickpockets or other petty thugs that plied their trade in the docks area.

Leaving the taverns and shops that lined the docks, Larson’s force began to pass by the large warehouses that held the goods brought by the constant flow of vessels into and out of port. As they neared their target, Larson held the other’s back, slithering his own way forward and peeking around the corner a warehouse that blocked the view of their objective.

The headquarters of the Shining Tower didn’t look like much more than a partially collapsed warehouse. Most who weren’t paying attention would just pass the place by, but Larson could see two indicators it was the place he was looking for. The first clue was the recently painted image of a golden tower on the otherwise dilapidated building. His other clue was the trio of bored looking thugs slouched against the main door of the place.

Taking his time to make a complete circuit of the building, he spotted two other points of entry. At the back of the warehouse, a small door was placed, leading to what looked like an abandoned office area. One of the long sides of the warehouse was a loading dock with several huge sliding doors to move cargo in and out. Most of the doors had been boarded over, but one was partially open, and a single thug sat there guarding the entrance. From the number of times the man took a pull from a metal flask hidden in his cloak, Larson figured the guard wasn’t in top form. After getting the lay of the land, Larson retreated to his crew, confident he hadn’t been spotted. After giving them a rundown, Larson gave orders for the attack.

“Shada, you take your team to the loading docks. Try to take out the guard that’s posted there, silently if possible. He didn’t look like he was very on the ball, so you shouldn’t have a problem. Once you’ve entered the warehouse, start clearing toward the main entrance where I’ll take Nogreb and his team to force entry. Once inside, we’ll eliminate any other Shining Tower thugs and begin securing the cargo. Any questions?” Larson asked.

“No, give us two minutes to get into place before you hit the front,” Shada requested. Larson nodded his agreement.

“Sounds good, now, everyone take one of these,” Larson said, passing out one of the precious healing potions to each of them. It left him with only one potion for himself, but he didn’t want to lose any of his crew if he could help it. Shada took her team and moved off to get into position for the attack.

“Quix, can you hit the one on the right?” Larson asked, moving back to allow the halfling to peek around the corner at the three guards.

“Aye, sir, easy shot,” Quix replied.

“Good, Nogreb, you and two of the crew take the man on the left, and I’ll take crewman Hillbright and we’ll hit the guy in the center,” Larson said, counting down in his head the time that Shada would need to get into place. When it was time, Quix stepped from the corner of the warehouse and knelt, aiming at the far-right thug as Larson and the others made their move.

It was a good 100 feet from the warehouse they were hiding behind to their targets. Most of the street lanterns in the area had been put out, likely by the Shining Tower to cover their activities. The lack of light and the inattentiveness of the guards worked to their advantage, Larson closing to within thirty feet before the guard on the right turned to look at him in shock. The man delayed in shouting a warning, which proved fatal as a crossbow bolt suddenly appeared in his chest with a meaty smack.

“What gives Lars?” The man in the center said with a drunken lisp, walking toward his fallen companion and only hearing Larson at the last moment. The man reached for his dagger as Larson’s shield slammed into him, closely followed by the spear. Movement to his left drew Larson’s attention even as he thrust his spear a second time into the drunken thug.

The final thug must have been quicker, or perhaps a little less drunk and was almost on Larson, a rusty but sharp dagger leading the way. Trying to get his shield up in time but found he didn’t need to as first one, then another dagger slammed into the thug’s neck. Nogreb and his men arrived just after, the orc pulling the two small throwing daggers from the dead thug and cleaning them on his victim’s shirt.

“Nice work everyone, quick and quiet. Now…” Larson paused as he heard the sounds of combat coming from inside the warehouse.

“Move in, quick, it sounds like Shada’s got her hands full,” Larson ordered, pushing open the door and entering the partially collapsed warehouse.

There were a few lamps and candles placed about, but for the most part the inside of the warehouse was dark. Various crates and containers were scattered about, but there was plenty of open space to maneuver in. Shada and her team had pushed in past the door to the loading docks, only to find herself fighting a desperate battle against a half dozen of the Shining Tower thugs as another four ran to attack from an office in the back, swords at the ready.

“Let’s get at them boys, Quix, try and support Shada,” Larson ordered, charging toward the thugs that were that were rushing to reinforce their comrades. One of the crew with Shada took a cutlass slash to the neck, going down even as Shada killed the man in front of her. A crossbow bolt slammed into the thug that had slashed his fallen crewman, but Larson had his own fight do deal with now, imbuing his weapon with crushing damage as he attacked the first thug.

Even the glancing blow Larson landed again his foe proved devastating when enhanced with magic. Almost completely dodging Larson’s strike, the tines of the spear grazed the thug’s belly enough to cause the magic to discharge. The thug’s guts poured out onto the floor of the warehouse as the magic gutted him. Pulling his shield up as cover, Larson scanned the battlefield.

Two of the other reinforcing thugs turned to engage Nogreb and the two crew wildly swinging their cutlasses. The final thug held back, raising his hands which started to glow red with magical power. Larson hadn’t expected any magic users among the thugs and this one was equipped and dressed in the same cheap, black leather armor and clothing as the others. As the mage thrust his hands forward, a half-dozen glowing darts of light flew out, two of which streaked toward him.

Crouching behind his shield, Larson was shocked as the two darts curved around his shield, slamming into his side. The blows knocked the breath from him, the borrowed chain shirt preventing a more serious injury. Larson could see his health indicator on his interface only dip a small amount. Nogreb wasn’t quite as lucky, the dart targeting him had hit him in the unarmored left shoulder, punching a bloody hole as the magic was expended. His bosun staggered back, holding the bleeding wound, the thug he was facing began advancing on his now crippled opponent.

Larson charged the thug, who was already bleeding from a pair of puncture wounds to his abdomen that Nogreb had dished out before the spell hit. Pushing more mana into his weapon, Larson added blunt damage. The thug tried to backpedal as he closed, stumbling against a crate and giving Larson an opening. A stab to the chest finished off the already wounded thug, the magic damage proving to be overkill.

Both of his cutlass wielding crew were down, hit by the mage’s spell. Perched on a crate to their rear, Quix was also rolling in pain, fumbling with his healing potion after catching the last magic dart. The mage was already casting another spell, the light glowing on his hands made Larson believe it was going to be another swarm of darts. Leading with his shield, Larson charged the mage, but he could see that he wasn’t going to be fast enough.

Activating shield bash, Larson almost made it to the mage in time, A flurry of new magic darts flew from the mage, only four of them this time. The darts curved around to avoid his shield and once again slammed into his side. While the borrowed chain shirt had been enough to hold back a single dart, the double hammer blows shattered links and pierced deep into his sides. Larson was having trouble staying upright, but then his shield bash kicked in, the strange system ability punching out with the shield even as he fell to the ground. The mage was smashed in the face, blood flowing from his nose as he was knocked off his feet and stunned.

Larson could hardly breathe and knew at least a few ribs had been broken by the magic darts. To add to his misery, the deep wounds had bits of metal from his armor pushed into him. Bleeding was uncontrolled and he was feeling lightheaded even as his health bar rapidly dropped. Holding the image of his healing potion in his mind, Larson reached into his storage pulling out the precious vial. He sucked down the faintly cinnamon tasting potion as he lost consciousness.

His eyes popped open as Larson came to, the intense pain of his wounds returning even as the potion continued to work. He had no idea how long he had been out, but it looked like the battle had gone in his favor during his absence. Nogreb hovered over the mage, slicing his throat with one of his razor-sharp daggers before he used his good arm to start throwing daggers at the three thugs who were still standing. One went down and the final pair turned to flee, only to be cut down by Shada and the last spear wielding sailor. After dropping the final foe, Shada sheathed her sword and slung her shield, running toward Larson to begin casting heals. Larson shook his head no, pointing toward the downed crewmen. He was going to live, and her magic would be better used to save a life, rather than just relieve him of some suffering.

Shada made her way around the wounded and dead, healing those crewmen that could be saved. One of the spearmen and both his cutlass wielding sailors had been killed. The others were still alive, with the crossbowman Quix surviving only due to his quick downing of the healing potion that Larson had given him. After doing what she could for the others, Shada cast a heal on Nogreb, mending his shoulder wound enough to allow him some movement of the arm. Her mana reserves were down to nothing, and Larson had to wait some time until she was able to cast a heal on him. The spell popped his fractured ribs back into place, a rather painful experience, and knitted them together enough to allow Larson to pull himself upright. His sides were still a mess, but the bleeding had stopped for the moment.

“I’ll be out of mana for a while, I’ve dug a bit too deep into my reserves,” A visibly exhausted Shada said.

“Thank you, you’ve saved lives here today. Now, lets sweep this place to make sure we don’t have any surprises waiting for us,” Larson ordered. They broke up into pairs, an officer with a crewman as they swept the now quiet warehouse. The warehouse floor was clear of any other threats, and they pushed toward the back of the building where several small offices were located. The first one that Larson and Quix cleared was empty except for a bunch of bedrolls, the place where the thugs assigned here must have lived.

“Sir, we found some prisoners tied up in one of the offices, Nogreb asked that you come over as soon as you’re done here,” A sailor told him.

“Very well, I have one more room to clear, head back and watch the prisoners with Nogreb, keep them tied up for now until we can sort out who they are,” Larson ordered.

He and Quix found the last office door locked, requiring a couple bashes of his tail to cave in the thin interior door. With his spear leading the way and covered by Quix’s crossbow, Larson entered the room. Unlike most of the warehouse, this room was clean and well kept, filled with nice wood and leather furniture. A row of file cabinets lined one wall and a stout iron safe was bolted to the floor.

“Let’s go check those prisoners, then we’ll give this room a better search,” Larson said. He found Nogreb twirling a dagger in front of five strangely dressed human men. They all wore tan colored robes and leather sandals, but instead of looking like merchants or even some kind of mage, they all were muscular and in good shape, save for the beating that the thugs must have subjected them to.

“So, who are you people?” Larson asked.

“I take it you are our liberator?” One of the men replied. He had a large mustache and a precisely trimmed, pointy beard.

“That remains to be seen, I’ll ask again, who are you and why are you here?” Larson asked, suspicious about how this many strong men were captured by unimpressive thugs.

“I am Ibn Hasma, the honored first dervish of the late Sultan Ilkhan, and these are the Blades of the Desert, we are at your service, and who might I have the pleasure of addressing?” One of the men, the obvious leader of the small group, responded.

“I am Captain Larson of the Gull Dropping. So, Mr. Ibn Hasma, how exactly did you find yourselves in these luxurious accommodations?” Larson asked.

“A sad, and might I add, somewhat embarrassing tale. We were sent here to guard the last surviving member of Sultan Ilkhan’s family who was seeking asylum in the Free Isles. You see, there was a bit of a disagreement within our lands and another, shall we say, more belligerent branch of the royal family saw fit to dispute the Sultan’s claim on our territory. Alas, we were overpowered on the field of battle and dispersed out into the cruel world, away from the blessed sands of Imix,” the man shook his head at the memory, pausing to gauge Larson’s reaction.

“I’m still not hearing the part about how you ended up here, I’m a busy man and can’t wait around for you to get to the point,” Larson said impatiently.

“My apologies, sir, I shall endeavor to be succinct in my exposition. Where was I, oh yes, we were dispersed upon the winds and all that. Well, this last scion of the honored royal family happened to be a rather elderly and corpulent man possessed of very poor health. Sadly, he expired as we neared this cursed port. Normally, our lives would be forfeit for failing to protect our charge, but, since he expired of natural causes, we would be expected to submit to entombment with our charge.

“But I thought to myself, Ibn Hasma, there are no surviving members of the late and honorable Sultan Ilkhan’s family, and it would be wasteful to deprive the world of our skills by entombing ourselves with our former master. So, I, and the Blades of the Desert, decided to seek our own fortune. We found an inn of less than savory repute and proceeded to drink ourselves into a stupor before seeking some new path in our life. I fear the swill posing as ale that we all ingested must have been laced with something to render us unconscious and at the mercy of these vermin. I believe that they intended to sell us into whatever form of slavery these so-called Free Isles participate in. We awoke to a considerable headache, and the sounds of conflict, which is where you enter into the tale of my life,” Ibn said, finally finishing his story.

“That was a rather roundabout way of saying you got something slipped in your drink and got crimped by these thugs. The only question now is what to do with you?” Larson asked.

“Why, my dear Captain Larson, any story worth telling is worth telling to its fullest. As for our future, I believe that, should you decide to free us, I would be honor bound to offer you our services for a reasonable fee. May I assume that, based on your recent victory, that you may have at least some small need of skilled warriors?” Ibn Hasma asked. This could be a good opportunity for Larson. His ship’s crew looked like they were going to be eager enough to pitch in during a fight, but if these five were any good, they could form the basis of a marine force, or at the very least, help him train the others in personal combat.

“Ibn Hasma, I think I just might be able to use your men. I can’t offer much more than a simple wage along with food, a bunk aboard my ship, and a share of any prizes. If that works for you, consider yourself part of the crew,” Larson told them.

“We have agreement, Captain, I and the Blades of the Desert are at your service until such a time as we feel the need to strike out on our own. I would be glad to shake your hand to confirm our agreement, but I find myself unable to,” Ibn said, trying to move his tied wrists. Larson could see their bindings had been placed way too tight, and the men must have been in some pain because of it.

“Nogreb, cut them loose and put them to work. Ibn, you’re in charge of this gaggle, for now, we need to find anything of value inside this place. I’ve got a ship to outfit and a business to fund,” Larson said. He was a little leery of setting the strange swordsmen free, but he needed all the help he could get if he wanted to pillage this warehouse of anything of value before more members of the Shining Tower, or some other group of brigands showed up.

“Captain, sir, there’s a large force of town guard outside asking for you,” Shada said, her hand going to her sword when she spotted the five men scrounging up weapons from the fallen.

“They’re with us Shada, at least, I think so. Let’s go meet the guard, I think this night is about to get a little crazier,” Larson said. It was never good when you attracted the attention of the local authorities, especially if what was attracting their attention happened to be a killing spree inside a warehouse.