Vol 5, Chapter 23

◆ Inner Sea, Frigate Espluar, Asha’s POV. ◆

"Ship on the horizon! A big one!" The clear voice of the sailor in the crow's nest easily carried over the roar of waves and the sound of something spilling overboard.

"Shut up, I feel awful already," Asha snapped, wiping her mouth.

The sailor fell silent at once. On the very first day of sailing, the crew had learned that it was best not to cross an irritable mage—unless you wanted your backside smoking.

Still, the news was too important. Weighing the risk of the captain's wrath against a scorched backside, he leaned out of his barrel and banged his fist on the planking to alert the sailors below on the topsail yard.

After a murmur of whispers, the lookout quickly slid down from the foremast and made his way to the first mate. Within minutes, the entire ship was buzzing, much to the mage's annoyance.

"It's just a ship. Why all the shouting?" she grumbled, dangling over the rail like a dead fish.

By then, the captain had come out of his cabin, holding an instrument carefully wrapped in silk. He unrolled it, fiddled with the levers for half a minute, and checked the liquid level in a vessel before activating it.

Sparks flashed. Several watery lenses unfurled from the vessel, freezing in midair as if suspended. A few more tweaks of the levers shifted the water and enlarged the lenses slightly…

And soon the captain was peering at the swiftly approaching ship as if it were only a few steps away.

It was huge—at least three times the size of his frigate, a battleship. A large crew, a rune circle platform for mages, golden filigree across the deck hinting at a core sealed in a reinforced chamber deep inside the hull. The closed gunports gave no clue about the type of weapons, but Flint had no doubt they carried something more suited to naval combat than lightning scepters.

No question, it was a warship.

The size alone wasn't proof. There were large merchant vessels too. Nor was it the mage platform or the fixed wards that made the ship a floating fortress. Wealthy houses venturing into the world's center could afford that much and more.

The giveaway was speed. The leviathan surged toward them under sails driven by storm winds conjured by a mage circle.

No merchant would pay air-mages for that kind of speed.

On the pursuer's masttop, a steel plate flashing in the sunlight left no doubt: this ship wasn't here by chance.

Squinting, the captain began deciphering the repeating signals.

"Orders: strike the sails, drop anchor, wait. Orders: strike the sails…" he muttered, scanning the masts for any family flags or banners.

But there were none. Only the Commonwealth's flag flew above the battleship, as it did above the Espluar.

That could mean many things, or nothing at all.

Though seldom spoken of, the seas held more dangers than monsters. Many captains succumbed to the lure of piracy. The sea was treacherous: who could say what might happen? And once your bloated body washed ashore, not even an archmage necromancer could wring a confession from it.

The Commonwealth seemed tightly united—unlike the Kingdom, where nobles-mages constantly skirmished. But that unity was just for show. On land, the rules held: duels, assassinations, sabotage, all permitted. Open warfare, never. The Lodge enforced it strictly.

On land, law and order reigned.

But that was only because most feuds between Commonwealth Houses were settled at sea, where the Lodge could not trace or punish the guilty.

Even Flint himself had… arranged a few "accidents" for rivals.

Now, it seemed, he was the rival.

The battleship kept flashing signals, and Flint hesitated.

It was odd. For a ship of that class, Flint was small fry. Unless… was this about his recent job?

If so, maybe surrendering would spare him. A slim chance, but a chance nonetheless. The Commonwealth valued magical blood. He would likely have to sacrifice the crew, but he and the first mate might survive.

Besides, what chance did they have of escaping a warship?

Flint sighed, shut down the device, and let the watery lenses drain back into the vessel. He wrapped it in silk and handed it to the mate.

The battleship was close enough now that its signals could be read without aid.

Flint was about to give the order when two more passengers emerged from their cabins.

"Kraken take them, a fight with them could go either way," he thought. Three mages against two, and one of them was a metal mage.

"What's going on?" Ashley asked, then immediately turned and hurried to the mage slumped over the rail. "Are you alright? Do you want some tea?"

Marvin, meanwhile, was staring at the ship in surprise.

"Hm. 'Titan & Co.' Built in 3812, bought by the Academy, refitted with the upper deck cut down…"

"That's an Academy ship?" the captain latched onto his words.

"Well yes, though originally it was…"

"I knew this wouldn't end well. Take in the sails!" Flint barked at the crew.

Now he was sure: they weren't dealing with pirates. This ship hadn't come for his gold or his life. It had come for his passengers.

Roaring streams of flame licked at the sailors who dared to reach for the rigging. They recoiled in terror and looked to the captain.

"Hold! What do you mean strike the sails? We're sailing to the Kingdom, clear?" Asha declared flatly, playing with fire in her hands.

"It's just an inspection, they'll search the ship and we'll continue on our way," Flint tried to lie, but immediately ducked to avoid the tongues of flame.

"You think I'm an idiot? What inspection? That's an Academy ship."

Flint straightened his smoking tricorne and gave a wide grin. "Young… lady," he said mockingly, the word "brat" obvious in his tone. "You see, the structure of our country is such that—"

"I don't care. We're sailing on, understood?"

"They're faster than us, can't you see? The wiser choice is to stop and ask what they want."

"Yeah, right. You took this job, so do it. Otherwise, the ship will soon have a more obedient captain."

"Don't try to scare me, brat! I've survived things you can't even imagine. I've been tortured by fear, had my soul gnawed alive…" The captain drew himself up proudly.

"If you keep being stubborn, I'll add slow roasting over fire to that list!" the mage snapped, stepping toward him.

Suddenly Ashley wedged herself between them, holding a clay cup of tea. "Wait, stop. Why argue? We're law-abiding citizens, we'll just pass the inspection and that's all."

Flint nodded eagerly. "Exactly, listen to your companion. She may have drawn the short straw with her gift, but at least she has sense! I know a sailor's tale that would...."

"Shut up. And you shut up too. I promised to get you there safely, and I will."

"Well, what harm could come from one inspection?" Ashley asked, raising an eyebrow and offering her the cup.

"Plenty," Asha snapped, though she took a sip.

There was no time to teach the girl how cruel the world could be.

"Ugh, disgusting."

"It's mint. Helps with nausea."

"Still disgusting… like licking ice, ugh." Asha handed the cup back and glanced around.

"Hey, they're gaining on us!" she exclaimed, seeing the enemy ship draw closer.

"What did I say? Even if we don't strike the sails, they'll catch us anyway," Flint sighed, wiping sweat from his brow with a handkerchief.

"Do something! Or I'll burn this ship down, I swear."

"There's nothing to be done," Flint muttered, desperately inventing excuses for not lowering the sails. I'll say the lads botched the rigging… yes, that's what I'll say!

His pleasant scheming was cut off by the lookout in the crow's nest. "Captain! They've stopped signaling! And I see mages, they're gathering on—" His voice vanished, devoured by a sudden gust of wind.

A powerful squall slammed into the sails, bending them the other way. The rigging creaked, enchanted ropes strained to breaking. The ship jerked upward as if off a springboard, then crashed down, sending towering sprays of seawater over the sides. Flint's tricorne flew from his gray head, swallowed by the sea. Sailors tumbled from the topsail yard into the waves.

"Nike drown you, steer! Steer!" Flint roared at the helmsman.

"…rying… my best!" came the reply.

But what could one mage do against a whole circle? The helmsman fought to turn the rudder, but the conjured winds pressed against them, stopping the ship. Any moment they might be driven stern-first.

Cursing, the captain focused on the sea around them. If he could push the hull…

What he saw in the waters made him blanch.

"Jettison the cargo! All of it! And the men too!" Flint shouted in panic, but in his gut he knew it was useless.

Beneath them, a whirlpool was forming. Small for now, but in ten minutes it would be a massive maelstrom. The ship would be dragged under, gone without a trace. No hope of survival. The air mages would stop their escape, and the water mages would finish them with the whirlpool. It would look like an accident…

Unless…

"You! Burn the sails!" the captain ordered.

"What? So they can catch us?" the Asha protested, clutching the rail to keep from being blown away.

"Fool!" he bellowed.

Marvin raised his hands, sparks spraying over the sails. Flames burst, and under the gale they turned into roaring sheets of fire. The silk sails burned away in moments, thousands of gold coins worth reduced to ash.

With the sails burned away, the enemy's gusts blew through the ship without effect. A few seconds later, the wind died down. 
The pursuer's sails filled once more -  the enemy  mages quickly found new work.

Flint brushed gray ash from his face and prepared to cast. The shimmering beneath the ship grew stronger. They had to escape, while there was still time.

The holds were opened, bales of flax dumped overboard. The crew herded slaves onto the deck, but Asha blocked them.

"If you throw even one person over, you'll follow him down!"

"These are rejects, miss," a sailor tried to explain, but his tongue caught fire.

"He wouldn't have done it, and I forbid you as well," she said firmly.

The crew looked to the captain, but he waved them off. Not now, damn it!

The currents resisted, bound by stronger magic, a whole circle's work. With immense effort, Flint managed to shape a tendril of water that shoved the ship, meter by meter, out of danger. The helmsman did what he could, maneuvering and funneling wind to the stern.

They were moving... but too slowly. Far too slowly.

The enemy circle saw their attempt. The whirlpool's growth slowed as some mages shifted their focus.

Energy thickened around the ship. The watery tendril chilled, and so did Flint's heart.

A drizzle crept along the ship's sides, the hull freezing, ice forming all around it. Pushing the vessel grew harder and harder; the captain felt himself weakening. Pressure on the hull mounted—sensing his fatigue, the Circle wasn't merely trying to slow them, but to crush the ship in a vice of ice.

"Ice! Melt that ice, you land rats!" the captain bellowed.

Marvin hurled a fireball into the water, but it fizzled uselessly. Asha leaned over the rail, staring at the swelling ice, and said:

"I need fire. A lot of it."

"Set the ship ablaze, for all I care—just leave my cabin alone!"

"Ha, that's better!"

She rummaged through her clothes and pulled out an iron cylinder. A flick of her hand.... and it hissed, scattering sparks before glowing white-hot. She tossed it to the deck, then another after it.

Even timber treated with fireproof brews erupted like pitchwood, thick smoke billowing upward in columns.

Heat surged along the hull, melting ice into water, chunks of frozen mass falling away as small icebergs.

The captain gathered his strength and pushed the ship again, but…

The enemy Circle had finished its work. A hundred meters off, a small whirlpool appeared, seemingly harmless, but in truth lethal. No one bothered with freezing anymore—it was pointless.

Too late to flee.

The whirlpool swelled, each second larger. A surge slammed into the stern, swinging the ship. Blood dripped from the captain's mustache; he sniffed, spattering his uniform, powerless. Only an archmage could counter a spell of such tactical force.

"Bad news, huh?" Asha muttered, feeling the churn in the waters she'd heated.

"…" The captain said nothing as the ship turned, nose toward its pursuers.

The current that had struck the stern now hammered the side. The whirlpool widened until their vessel was like a toy boat in a bath. Enormous masses of water surged into motion, and even the pursuing warship gave a turn of the helm to avoid being caught in its own maelstrom.

The captain lowered his hands, coughing from the acrid smoke of burning wood.

"That's it," he said calmly.

Marvin's face twisted in rage. "I told you we should've stayed!" He scooped flame from the deck and hurled it at the enemy.

It splashed apart short of the bowsprit, sparks revealing, for an instant, the transparent dome shielding the warship.

Ashley's eyes went wide. "But then how does it sail? Wouldn't the water press on the shield? If the hull underwater is spherical, it should crawl at a snail's pace!"

Flint spat. They were about to die, and she worried about nonsense. Yet he answered anyway, maybe just to steal a few seconds from the looming end.

"You're right. No shield can be tuned to block shot and let water through. That's why it only covers above the waterline."

"Interesting… I'd love to see how that's built. Marvin, we'll study it in the next life? Or will you run from me?"

"Run from you? As if…"

"Maaarvin!"

"All right, all right. I promise." He sighed and pulled her close.

"Enough of this. You—come here. And you. You too, helmsman, leave that wheel." Asha shoved them into the center of the burning deck.

"That's the helm," Nike grumbled, descending last.

The ship had already spun a full circle, and was starting another, each turn pulling it nearer the deepening whirlpool.

"All right, form a circle, hold hands—"

"That's… a childish way," Ashley remarked awkwardly.

"I don't know any other way," Asha admitted.

"A battle mage of fire who's never worked in a circle?" Flint raised an eyebrow.

"I never had the practice, nor the need… Anyway, listen to the plan. Marvin and I will boil the water to steam and direct it, the air mage will steady it, the captain will merge it with the sea, and Ashley… mm, you're useless, so just channel energy."

"It's always like this…" she muttered.

"Wait, you mean to lift the ship into the air?" the helmsman said, snickering.

"Of course. The water's dragging us. If we break away from it, the problem's solved. What's wrong with that?"
"You're mad, it won't work! Do you know how much this ship weighs? Nearly seven hundred tons! Why not fly straight to shore while you're at it?"

"Shut up. Steam's strong, I've seen it! Don't underestimate it. We only need to rise a little, not fly away."

"Still, it's—"

"Let's try," Flint cut him off, suddenly eager. He seized the mage's hand.

"Good. Everyone, hang on to something—anything! Now!"

Human bodies were poor conduits for magic, especially of mixed elements. The circle not only made transfer easier, but also filtered, blending elemental power into neutral mana.

But "poor" didn't mean "impossible." It worked.

The sea boiled, and the ship lurched hard to one side, nearly capsizing.

"Hey!"

"I see it! Stabilizing!"

"Now! Fly!" Asha grinned bloodthirstily, and every flame on deck went out.

The vessel groaned, timbers splintering, then shot upward like a cannonball. Superheated white plumes of steam ripped along the hull, blanketing their view.

Asha flung her arms wide and nearly toppled, but then noticed steel bands shackling her legs to the deck—same for the others in their makeshift circle.

"Not so useless," she muttered, swaying again as the ship slapped back down onto the waves.

"And again!"

Another brutal jolt, and the ship began to heave upward, leaving a trail of splintered planks. Not quite as planned—but at least it was starting to bounce away from the whirlpool!

Damn streamlined hull, slicing through most of the steam!

"Captain! Freeze the sides!" Ashley shouted.

"What?"

"Make barriers! To hold the steam!"

SPLASH! The ship crashed down, something snapping loudly within. One mast gave way, tumbling overboard.

"No strength left," the captain admitted.

"No matter." Asha drew heat from the water.

Icicle-like stalagmites jutted from the hull into the sea. Steam battered them, trying to burst free, but infused with magic, they held like stone. Trapped, the vapor dragged the ship forward, venting through cracks between ice and sea. With its stern reared sixty degrees, the Espluar shot clear of the whirlpool, trailing smoke and belching steam. The greedy vortex spun hungrily, cheated of prey.

"We're out?" Flint muttered, hardly believing the calm sea beneath. Their ship tore away so quickly the Circle couldn't feed the whirlpool fast enough; it lagged far behind.

"Out… but not from them!" Asha jerked her head toward the warship cutting across their bow. Gunports open, glowing magma-cannons primed.

"Anchor up their ass! We can't keep speed for long, I'm already at my limit. Maybe they'll spare us? OW!" the Captain yelled as Asha bit his arm for his defeatism.

"I've got a plan. Ashley, help me get those things!"

Without breaking their grip, Asha rummaged through her own clothes using the girl's hand.

"What are you looking for, your chest?" Ashley asked.

"I swear, one more joke like that and you'll be eating coal for the rest of our voyage… Ah, here they are. Pull them out!"

The last two cylinders clattered onto the deck beside them and ignited. Billows of smoke from the burning planks engulfed the five mages, while glowing sparks rained down near their boots.

"Couldn't you throw them farther?" the helmsman protested.

"Enough, shut up! We're turning!"

The ship heeled into a sharp turn, leaving part of its mast behind in the water, and rushed straight toward the warship. The gale conjured by the mages' circle filled the sails, now lashing their faces. The enemy loomed closer—close enough to make out the faces of its crew. The helmsman aboard the warship hesitated; he had never faced a vessel moving this fast. For seafaring, their closing speed was truly enormous.

"Now, just help me!" Asha commanded, drawing all the heat from the thermite charges.

A sea of fire surged before the warship. Tongues of flame licked helplessly at the hemispherical shield, causing no harm. Even the delicate sails remained untouched, not a single spark able to pierce the protection generated by the ship's core. Yet the fire completely blinded their view.
"That won't..." Nike began, then—

CRACK!

A deafening crack rang out. The battleship jolted to a sudden stop, bouncing in place as if it had struck an underwater reef.

Which, in fact, it had.

A sharp, man-made iceberg tore through the hull beneath the waterline with savage force—its keel split, its bottom shattered, and the ballast of stone blocks spilled into the sea like coins from a cut purse. The icy spike pierced all the way to the stern before finally lodging there, "reliably" replacing the ship's hull.

The crew were thrown into the water, still unaware of what had happened. But the warship managed to fire...

Magma cannons fired, torrents of lava drenching the frigate rushing past their side.

The molten mass splashed generously over the quarterdeck, setting it ablaze like a match. In an instant, the wheel, the captain's cabin, and part of the rigging went up in flames. Drops of lava dripped into the sea, making the water hiss and boil.

Asha gathered the last of her strength, drawing in the heat and directing it to melt the man-made iceberg. Her head rang with emptiness, blood streamed down her face—the sheer volume of power in so short a time was too much.

The iceberg, thawed but still many meters long, slid free of the shattered hull, and the warship quickly began to take on water. Rivers poured into the holds, rising higher and higher until they reached the blazing hot cannons. 
BOOM!

A deafening roar followed. One after another, the weapons exploded, tearing the hull apart even further and hurling drops of lava into the air like a volcanic eruption. Asha watched them despite her exhaustion—seeing them was like receiving a message from home.

The battleship still held together… its mages desperately tried to pump out the water and seal the gaping breach with ice. But the molten lava seeping through the hull, the scalding steam, and the torrents pouring in by the cubic meter each second rendered their efforts futile.

Then came an explosion. Or rather—an EXPLOSION.

The torrents of lava and steam finally burst through the protected chamber that housed the core. What remained of the ship was hurled apart for hundreds of meters, and a towering wave, ten meters high, raced out across the sea in all directions.

The wave easily caught up to the Espluar, tilting the vessel and drenching everyone with icy water. Their strength was spent. After skimming across the surface for another dozen meters, the ship crashed down, tilted, and began to sink. The countless breaches and damage from their mad voyage hadn't gone anywhere and now they were ready to claim revenge on the vessel.

The steel rings binding the circle clattered free. The mages collapsed to their knees.

The captain rose first, eyes on the shattered "Titan & Co." Wreckage already dragged toward the circling maw.

"Ah, murenas take me, what wealth gone to waste…" he muttered, then smirked. "Though the real treasure was the core. What a blast! Always hated those things. People are more reliable."

"No one'll ever believe this story. Don't even try, or they'll mock us in every port," his mate warned, brushing soot off his shorts.

"The tale of us sinking a Battleship? I'll save it for retirement, when they'll call it senile ravings." The captain chuckled.

"…We should bail water," Asha murmured, sprawling on the tilting deck.

"Don't fret, my lady. If this ship hasn't sunk yet, I'll be kraken's bride before I let it now! Rest." This time, in his mouth, "lady" held real respect.

Across the crippled ship rang the sharp whistle of the boatswain. As the surviving crew scrambled to fight for the ship's survival.