Chapter Thirty Three
Unknown Waters; HMS Longsword
Spike
The two of us made our way down to the under decks, but saw no sign of any prisoner. The layout of the ship was entirely different from our own, though the most basic things were the same. It took us a minute to figure out where everything was, but soon we had a general idea of the under decks sketched out in our minds.
“Could be in the hull.” Fafnir pointed out, and I nodded. We walked over to the back of the vessel, where a hatch in the floorboards led down to the space below. I swung it open and hopped down, and had to squint to try and see in the darkness. From what I could see from the torchlight in the room above, there wasn’t much of anything down here, though a few boxes could be seen just on the edge of the halo of light. I could tell that the darkness across the hull held more secrets though.
As I looked around, a shaky female voice reached me from the shadows. “Wh- who are you? You’re not one of them, are you?”
“The pirates?” I guessed. “Nah. They tried to take us on, we killed ‘em. Looks like we’re getting a new ship out of the deal, too. You’re their prisoner?”
I could hear a chain jangling as she stood. “Y-yes! Please, you’ve got to get us out of here! I beg you, neither of us can last much longer like this!”
“We? Who else is back there? Agh, Fafnir, get me a torch, will you? I can’t see a thing.”
“My child. They took us both, and have only been giving us just enough to keep us alive for the return journey, but... She needs help soon.”
So that’s where the crying from earlier came from. Must be a pretty small kid. I thought, Fafnir appearing at my side with a bright, newly-lit torch. By its illumination, I was able to confirm that more loot was stored near the back, plus I could get a better look at the person I was talking to. She looked like she had once been rather fancy looking- her lighter violet hair still showed signs of having been done up recently, though now was becoming more and more messy. Her clothes had lost some of their color, though it was clear they were once an expensive set. A single chain kept her where she was by the ankle.
Cradled in her arms was a tiny girl, who couldn’t have been more than a single year of age (going by Beorc standards, of course). A tuft of violet hair sat upon her head, darker than her mother’s. At the moment, she appeared to have fallen asleep.
“Let’s get them out of here. Fafnir, we need to find the keys to that chain tying her to the wall.”
“No we don’t.” He said, pulling a lock pick from his boot and walking over to them, setting fast to work on the lock. “So, who are you, then? Why’d they take you prisoner?”
“I’m... I’m a member of the noble house Icarus back at Equestria. My daughter and I were on a voyage to another part of the country by sea, as it’s easier traveling than trying to get through the wilderness between. But our ship was attacked, and the rest of our crew was stranded or killed. They recognized me- and by extension, her- and took us prisoner, hoping to be able to get a ransom for our return.”
“Done.” Fafnir said, the ankle lock clanging satisfyingly to the ground. He stowed the pick back where he got it. “Well, you won’t need to worry with us, ma’am. We’re on a diplomatic mission for our King, and all we need to do is get to Equestria. And wouldn’t you believe, we’ve got some extra rations now, thanks to those pirates. We’ll get you home.”
“Oh, bless you all.” She breathed, giving a slight bow. “I am forever in your debt.”
“Let’s take a look at the kid, then.” I said, walking over to them.
“I think she’s gotten sick, but she hasn’t had it long.” She offered quietly.
“Yeah, doesn’t appear too serious, if we get it taken care of right away.” Fafnir said. “If any of the Olivi Grass med’s made it after all that cannon fire, that should do the trick. C’mon, let’s get up there, quick.”
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“Is this what we’ve been driven to?” Irath complained. “Are we to arrive on a diplomatic mission in a pirated vessel?”
“We’re to arrive, captain.” Fenrir said, putting the situation into simple perspective. “The Dragon’s Fang ain’t going nowhere in the shape she’s in. ‘Sides, they prob’ly stole this ship from someone themselves- we’ll just return her, aye? I say we just get what we need off the Dragon’s Fang, then finish the voyage in this.”
Irath sighed thoughtfully, then spoke again. “I suppose there’s nothing that can be done for it... Very well. Three of you head over to the Dragon’s Fang and retrieve what you can- rations, ammunition, valuables- anything that made it through the attack. Be cautious, though- She can’t be very stable any longer. When you’re finished... Bring the bodies across. Put the pirates in the under decks, our two lost at the mast. When it’s cleared out, it will have to serve as a funeral pyre. The rest of you, let’s see what this new ship has to offer. See if there’s any navigation equipment on board, perhaps we can figure out how far from Equestria we are at this point.”
“I’m headed over.” Fafnir said, moving over to the gang plank. “We need to see if there’s any med’s left for the pirate’s prisoners. C’mon you two, let’s move.” He motioned for two others to join him, and they soon disappeared into the now sorry-looking vessel.
Our ex-prisoner walked up behind us, her hair obtaining a strange ghostly hue in the pale blue moonlight. Her child squirmed in her arms, sleeping fitfully. “You are the captain of these men?” She asked Irath kindly.
“Aye.” He responded, turning to face her. “Captain Irath, at your service. You were their captive, I presume?”
“Cybel. It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.”
Irath smiled. “The pleasure’s all mine. Fear not, we’ll see you two to land safely.”
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“That’s the lot of it.” Fafnir reported an hour later. “Most of the gunpowder either went up or got soaked, and as we haven’t found a single speck of it on board this ship, let’s just hope we don’t run into any more trouble, eh? The food came out pretty well, for the most part, and we’ve got more than enough medicine for the two ladies.”
Curiously, as Fafnir had said, we found not a trace of gunpowder having ever been on board- instead, we found inside the cannons small translucent spheres, thrumming with magical energy. It seemed that by pulling a rope at the end of their cannons, the spheres were broken, and the explosion of magic energy was what propelled the cannonballs. It seemed most of the technology used by these pirates was magic based, to some degree.
Irath nodded impassively. “We could be worse off. Thank you, Fafnir.”
“The rum?” Fenrir inquired from a bit further away, where he sat casually on the railings.
Fafnir shook his head. “Sorry, but it looks like the rum is gone.” Fenrir shook his own head in mock dismay, and muttered to himself: “Why’s the rum always gone...?”. Fafnir turned away from him. “The Dragon’s Fang is ready for the funeral pyre. Whenever you’re ready, captain.”
Soon our new vessel- the Longsword- detached itself from the wreckage of the Dragon’s Fang, and Irath stepped forward to the port side where it drifted. With a determined sigh, he slammed together his fists and threw his arms back, becoming enveloped in a strange gleaming black-silver light. When it faded, a huge orange dragon floated on leathery wings in his place. Beside me, I could see Cybel flinch, and her child began to cry in fear. I didn’t see any need though- while Irath’s transformed appearance may have been rather intimidating, I knew he would never turn to harm any of us.
With a roll of his head, ending with a lunge at the Dragon’s Fang, a jet of red flame erupted from his maw and set the vessel to burn. With a flourish he promptly changed back to his human form, and soon the two ships were drifting apart- the Longsword headed back to its homeland, the Dragon’s Fang on its way to its final resting place. Fafnir and I removed our bandanas in respect, and didn’t put them back on until we lost sight of the pyre. Cybel came to stand with us after retiring to the under decks briefly to calm her spooked child, who still rested in her arms.
After it was all clearly over, she spoke up quietly. “What was that? How was it that he transformed into a dragon like that?”
I sighed, sympathetic to her confusion. “We are from the distant land of Tellius, and the country of Goldoa. We are among the Dragon Tribe of the Laguz race- alongside the beast and bird tribes. All the Laguz have this ability to transform as such. Our king sent us here to try and make official contact with the queen, since we only became aware of the presence of Equestria through several castaways.”
“So, you’re all like him...”
I nodded. “We hoped to avoid transforming too much while we’re here, and studied other forms of fighting. But we felt it necessary to make an exception to retire our warriors- tradition and honor are some our core tenants.”
She nodded in understanding, though I could tell she was still in awe and uncertainty of our abilities. I didn’t wholly blame her- I would never tell anyone, but even before the voyage, I never transformed much. Having such insane amounts of power at my fingertips was a huge responsibility and burden- and frankly, sometimes it scared me that I was capable of such destruction.
“So... why orange?” She asked, now more curious than stunned. “I would have thought his scales would match the color of his hair.”
“Heh.” Fafnir chuckled on her other side. “That’s what he wanted to do. His hair’s actually orange, just like his scales, but he dyes it black. He hopes that when people realize he’s a Goldoan Dragon, they’ll think he’s a royal black dragon on top of that, and be at his mercy.”
Cybel laughed slightly. “Does that ever work?”
Fafnir shrugged, grinning. “Once or twice.”
I looked up to the night sky, cloudless, shining stars and a luminescent bluish moon looking back down upon us. “It’s getting late.” I pointed out, realizing how tired I was. Already, descending to the decks of the Dragon’s Fang just after sunset- only an hour or two ago- seemed like yesterday. “I think we should all try to catch some sleep- especially the little one here.”
She nodded wearily. “You’re right. Heh, I guess it’ll be nice to be sleeping upstairs for once.”
“Oh, incidentally... I don’t think we ever learned your child’s name?” I asked as the three of us headed down to the bunk room.
“Ah, sorry about that. Her name... is Rarity.”