Eden Fire

by Sharman Pierce

Fog of War

Two days had passed since their departure from Port Archer. Two days of feeling the salt air, feeling the spray on his fur, and feeling the deck roll under his hooves.

Cold Snap now knew why he’d be missing meals. He hung out by the front railing as he had for most of the morning and the day before. His stomach roiled like the wake below him, and it threatened to leap from his mouth at any moment.

Mountains weren’t like this. Mountains never moved! His hooves moved across the deck like a drunken dancer, the deck moving whenever he least expected it.

None of this had been bad starting out. The ship bobbed and plunged in the spray like any ship was supposed to, but that was a steady rise and plunge, and the deck may as well have been solid stone to him. A front had blown through shortly afterwards and turned the seas choppy. The bow hit the broken waves like a hammer. Every hit bounced him hard.

One tiny part of his barely functional brain pointed out that the bow was moving the most. He should try moving to the middle of the ship. He made a step to do just that. Then another wave hammered the ship, and his stomach lurched.

Never mind. It took less effort to stay here.

Not far away, but closer to the mid-point of the Hound, Nebula seemed to be faring slightly better, but only by the thinnest margin. His face held a distinct pallor, and his hind-legs swayed like they might dump him on the deck at any moment.

The only one of the passengers seemingly unaffected was Mr. Horn. He had one advantage: wings. He flapped around the rigging, doing whatever the crew asked of him. That was not much. The hippogriff had plenty of nautical experience under his non-existent belt.

The crew wandered around like it was a pleasant summer trip through a garden. They laughed; they talked. They did whatever jobs the captain demanded or they saw needed. Cold Snap couldn’t help being jealous.

Muffled hooves clomped against the deck behind him. He turned only enough to see the captain leaning against a taut rope. A hooked spur on the back of his black boots scratched the deck as he rocked against his support.

They were curious boots. Many of the hooved crew wore at least two. They came in colors from oily brown to black as night, but they all had two things in common. First, they lifted the hoof by an inch to make room for channels cut in the sole. Second, they had at least one spur that could be used for anything from tying knots to deadly weapons.

With these boots, the non-magical and finger-less among the crew could climb rigging and work almost as well as someone not lacking those body parts. Powers like this were meant to be abused, and whenever ship activity hit a lull, the crew could be found sleeping in the oddest of places.

That didn’t seem to bother Captain Wrought Iron. He stood on the deck without saying a word, content to stare out at the featureless horizon. Cold Snap tried to see if there was anything in particular out there, but the boat lurched beneath his hooves. His stomach decided it had enough.

As he hacked, the captain’s hooves thumped closer. “It’s always worst on ya first trip. It gets better. In a day or two, ya might be down for some broth or even a biscui’. The day ‘fore we get to port, well, maybe even some fish or the cook’s stew.”

The idea of fish, the thing that stank up Port Archer so badly threatened Cold Snap’s barely regained control. Something cold against his shoulder interrupted his concentration.

A gleaming brass tube lay against his right shoulder, but when he tried to grasp it, the minotaur pulled it away. “Ah ah. Away from the water.”

Stepping away and taking the tube, he found it to be a well-made telescope. As he took it, the captain buttoned his rich red vest and pointed to the horizon. “Look out at the horizon. Try not to mind the deck much.”

Captain Iron spun back for the helm, but paused a moment. “One more thing. If’n ya feel the need to feed the fishes, don’t drop the glass.”

Cold Snap nodded and tried to use the telescope, but between his own clumsiness, the heaving ship, and the necessity of using two hooves to control the thing, he nearly dropped it as often as he got it to his eye.

He looked for a place to brace that still gave him a reasonable view. A mast or something would probably do. Instead, he found a heavy metal cylinder strapped to the deck.

A cannon.

That’s what a real cannon looked like. It looked like bronze. Sea water had covered it with a dark patina with greenish flecks in the divots, but a few spots gleamed dully where constant touching had polished the tarnish away.

It mounted on a carriage, but it served mostly to let it roll backwards and forwards for reloading. Aside from the screw on the back, it had very little adjustment to it.

“That’s a one of this schooner’s four guns. Shoot a ball as big as your hoof with a crack a thunder.”

Captain Iron hadn’t left for the helm. Either that or he just returned to make sure his precious spyglass hadn’t gone swimming. He leaned against one of the cannon’s sisters. A small smile crossed his face as he regarded the open curiosity in the colt’s eyes.

“Why do you have them?” Snap asked.

A few reasons occurred to him: monsters, monsters, and more monsters. Perhaps these could be used for…

Actually, Snap didn’t really know. Home never needed anything like this, and he was at a loss to tell why the captain had these. Fortunately for his curiosity, the captain answered for him.

“Pirates.”

“Pirates?” Snap asked in wide-eyed interest.

“Yessir. They roam some of the waters the Hound plies. Most look for an easy catch. After whatever may be valuable on this here ship. Aye. That’s where the gun plays its first role. Most see a gun and either give it up or try to catch her unawares.”

He paused, a glint appearing in his eye. “Ah. The ones that don’t? They learn a lesson the hard way.”

Snap leaned over the gun and worked the telescope with his forehooves. He tried to focus on the horizon. Given the constantly moving ship, that was easier said than done. Still, a few minutes of practice, and he was getting the hang of things.

“Have you fought many pirates?” Snap asked while he lazily scanned the horizon.

The captain snapped off a few orders and sat on another cannon. “Ah. Two, mebbe three times. Each time near coastal waters. The rats hide in the sandbars and barrier islands near to port. They get a perfect sight of any laden ship as far as their keenest can see, and there’s hundreds, no, thousands of crags to hide in when the patrols come to smack them in their place.”

When Snap looked at the captain, he seemed to be scratching his chin like he was grooming a missing beard. “Each fight quick and bloody. A good broadside gets ‘em most of the time. One got close enough to ram the Hound. Lotta good it did them. My crew sent ‘em to the drink.”

The further out to sea this minotaur got, the more sea-ish his jargon and accent became, but Snap didn’t really mind. The captain’s advice was sound, and his stomach felt much better. Now, he simply panned the horizon to see what was out there.

Nothing broke the endless blue and white caps. A few large fish the crew called “dolphins” splashed in distant water, but the could not get a good view. Some birds wheeled in the air, but this far away from shore, they were an oddity. Nothing else remained to be seen.

“I see a rock.”

Captain Iron snorted. “Oh, please. There aren’t no rocks out here.”

Snap fiddled with the instrument and shook his head. “Nope. It’s a rock.”

“The bottom’s near eighty fathoms down. There’s no rock out here. It must be another ship.”

“Captain, I’m telling you it’s a rock. There’s no mast. No sails,” Snap insisted.

Metal clanked as the grumbling captain hauled himself off his seat and yanked the telescope to his eye. “I’ve sailed this route for years. I’ll swear by every coin I’ve made there’s no’ a rock there.”

His fingers worked the device, bringing the world into focus. They never stopped moving. Minute adjustments gave the captain a perfect view. Then he froze. The telescope closed with a snap, and he spun to the closest of the crew. “You, carpenter. Strike the colors. Up with Abbysinia.”

The Abyssinian gave a lazy salute, but his quick pace was anything but. The entire air of the ship changed. First it was the captain. Then, the entire crew grew tense and silent. Their joking and attempted singing halted, and the ship plowed onwards as silent as a graveyard.

“Helm! Bear us starboard thirty degrees. The wind will favor us better.”

Snap cautiously trailed the captain, not sure what exactly happened, but knowing it was not good. His seasickness was forgotten in the sudden gloom enveloping the ship. The crew no longer sang. They moved quickly and efficiently. The bow shifted, and the sails swelled, and the ship groaned as a new burst of speed caught it.

“What’s going on?” Nebula asked.

Snap looked at his swaying friend. “I don’t know.”

An hour passed. Snap looked over the sea from the poop deck. A grayish-black blob broke the choppy waters, but it never seemed to get more distant.

A second hour passed. Whatever the thing was, it was not a rock. It never fell back, and it seemed to be gaining on them. Captain Iron still held his spyglass, and Snap couldn’t make out any more detail without it.

A third hour passed. The wind slackened and died. Already low morale plummeted and the crew whispered, wondering what their captain wanted next.

Snap waited on the poop, his eyes straining to make out the thing behind them. It resembled a dead tree standing on a raft. Every part of it was some monotonous gray. There might have been movement on it, but it was too far away to tell. It was chasing them though, and with the wind gone, it would be on them soon.

“What now?” Nebula asked.

Captain Iron snorted. “Pray we get out of this alive. Without a breeze, we’re dead. If we could get a good gust, we’d leave that monster behind. As it is now?” he trailed off in a sigh.

He unbuttoned his jacket and pulled two matchlock pistols from a box by the wheel. The captain measured out powder for each and loaded them, but waited to light the matches. “We need distance. If we don’t have wind, we’ll make our own. Flyers, harness up! Reef all sails.”

Pegasi and griffons dropped what they were doing and raced to put on harnesses. They hooked onto long tow lines the rest of the crew fixed to the bow. Anyone not flying to managing tow ropes, stowed all sails. They would just slow them down now.

“You too,” Captain Iron pointed to Mr. Horn who had come out to watch their pursuer.

“Me?” the hippogriff asked in disbelief.

“Yes, you. If you care so much about that box, then you will get out there and pull!” Captain Wrought Iron left no room for debate.

Mr. Horn slumped before rushing back to the harnesses.

Nebula hooked his hooves over the railing and stared at their gray pursuer. “It won’t matter.”

He said it softly. Snap barely heard it despite standing next to him, but the captain had. “What do you mean?”

“They’ll still see us. That thing will keep following us until the pullers are exhausted. Then, we’re back where we started. If we could only hide in a fog.”

“Hmph. Maybe, but it’s the wrong weather for fog.”

“Then we’ll make our own,” Nebula said.

Snap scratched his head. “What are you thinking?”

“Some of your family’s crops required specific weather conditions to grow properly. They needed lots of cool moisture that usually worked best as a fog. So, when the plants matured enough to need those conditions and weren’t able to get them, then we could use magic on a water source to make fog.”

Nebula looked at the captain. “How many unicorns do you have?”

“Three plus the two passengers and yourself.”

“Bring them all here.”

Orders went out and the other unicorns arrived to learn Nebula’s spell. The ship moved along slowly, but it was moving. For once, a sense of hope worked its way through the crew. They hauled up barrels of seawater for the unicorns to work their magic.

Already, a white haze began to lift from the barrels and wreath around the ship. It grew thicker and thicker with every passing minute until the entire ship became mired in the fog. A pegasus detached from the harness to spread the fog even further. In just a few more minutes, A massive region around the ship was completely covered in fog, but it wouldn’t last long.

“Bear port ninety degrees. Let’s shake this leech!” Captain Iron shouted.

The pullers began a gradual sweep left while the helm coordinated the maneuver with rudder. No one dared speak. The entire ship seemed to think that the smallest voice would bring whatever that thing was down on them.

A half-hour later, the Golden Hound broke through the fog bank. Her pullers sagged in their harnesses, but they kept pushing onward. Their chaser, whatever it was, was nowhere to be seen. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Sails from a distant ship hung slack in the doldrum, but they were otherwise alone. Captain Iron ordered the exhausted unicorns to stop fog production. It wouldn’t do much more good anyway. A faint wind was starting to kick up, and he called in the tow crew and ordered all sails thrown to the wind.

Slowly, but surely, the ship started moving closer to her destination. Snap idly listened to the muted cheers of the crew as he looked over the fog quickly blowing away.

Thoughts of Mr. Horn’s demon ship forced themselves to the front. Had they just escaped it? Was it something else entirely? He knew it was no rock, and the crew’s silent fear had been all too real.

Still, it was behind them, and the wind was picking up rapidly. He’d put those fears to rest and try to put his stomach to rest too. Snap sat by the poop’s railing and watched the fading fog. He squinted. Did something move in there?

A dark shape burst from the hazy bank. His heart froze. It was that thing, closer and moving even faster than before! How could it be? It was a ship, but it had no sails.

His thoughts moved at the rate of cold honey. Only one ship had no sails and needed none.

A demon ship.

Snap opened his mouth to shout a warning when something flashed from the other ship. He felt confused for nearly three seconds. Then a horrible cracking shuddered the ship and nearly threw him to his face.

Shouts of mirth morphed into screams of terror. The helms-pony spun the wheel wildly to get the best wind, but the ship never changed course.

“Damn it! They’s got the rudder, Cap’n!” the mare shouted.

“Maintain course. Make ‘em work for us!” Captain Iron commanded.

The ship plowed on its uncontrolled path away from the nightmare ship. What good would it do? Snap couldn’t bring himself to ask.

He looked at Nebula. His exhausted friend slouched against the back rail. The unicorn offered a faint smile, but didn’t bother getting up.

“Hey, it was a good plan,” Snap said.

He could hear the other ship now. An unholy coughing filled the air, an echoing rumble of the monsters from the darkest parts of the pit. Horrible screeches that had no origin in mortal throats drove bolts of fear with every heartbeat. A single bell clanged wildly on the other craft, the only semblance of normalcy in the terrible vessel.

Snap had to look. If he was going to die in minutes, he was going to look! He craned his neck and hauled himself to his hooves.

It wasn’t a ship. It couldn’t be one. The only relationship this thing could claim with an ordinary ship was floating. It barely did at that, dragging its bulk through the water with barely a railing above the surface.

Gray like washed charcoal covered everything, shrouding every detail in wreathing cannon smoke. No sails or masts cluttered the sky. Instead, earsplitting groans came from the tumorous decks, and the howls of its unseen, damned crew climbed higher and higher.

And the sea was on fire. Flames trailed the wake as the ship came on impossibly fast. No ship could plow so quickly! Even a landlubber like Snap knew that.

Someone fired the swivel. A clatter and squeal later, the shot splashed harmlessly into the sea. Snap felt someone rest beside him. “Hey,” an exhausted Nebula said.

He coughed in the sulfurous smoke and looked at the Mr. Horn’s demon ship with his very own eyes. “So” -cough- “so it is real.”

Snap could only nod. Nebula wrapped a leg around his shoulders. “Never thought it would end like this. I wonder if they’ll take us to the pit with them?”

That broke the last straw of Snap’s reason. He snorted. His snorts grew into full on laughter. Laughter mutated into slumping over the rail and pounding the Hound’s splintered wood regardless of the stains he left. He felt Neb, the most loyal friend he could ask for, try to heave him back to safety.

Something thumped from the other ship. It thumped again. A tinkling like shattered glass scattered across the decks. Snap did not care to look. Somepony screamed, then another. Here was his end.

The ships collided. Instead of striking directly astern, the demon ship struck them from the rear quarter. Thunder-like cracks threatened to split their ship as the demon monstrosity tossed their wooden tub like a bull.

Snap felt the deck lurch and then felt airborne. One instant, he gripped his best friend tightly. The next, he whirled every limb he had as the water raced to him. He struck painfully and nearly blacked out from the shock.

He plunged beneath the sea and felt himself tumbling in the water. Which way was up? He kicked wildly, pushing himself towards the bright thing that had to be the surface. Another dark form hung still in the water.

Nebula! Snap kicked with renewed energy and wrapped his legs around his weakly thrashing friend. His lungs burned, and he felt seawater filling his mouth, but he would not give up yet!

His head broke the surface. As soon as he got a breath, he felt himself sinking again. He pumped harder, but he could feel himself weakening. Not another soul could keep up to him in a race, but the sea was no race for him.

Snap’s sluggish fore hoof slapped the surface, and it caught a piece of wreckage. He hauled them up and saw a frayed rope trailing in the water. He chomped on it, praying that it held fast to something and began pulling himself and his coughing friend from one certain death to another.

Screams of terror and clangs of battle echoed across the eerily quiet sea. Sulfur stank the air. The Golden Hound’s crew and passengers wept for mercy as the deadly crew swept the ship. Chests and bundles sailed from the doomed ship’s deck onto the demon ship’s nearly-swamped deck.

Why would demons need plunder? The though existed between one breath and another. Snap struggled with keeping his exhausted friend afloat and breathing.

In a matter of minutes, they looted the ship to the nails. The demon ship gave a mighty growl and pulled away from the Hound. Snap felt the rope shift and tighten. His eyes followed the line to a piece of the Hound snagged on the strange ship’s side.

They were being dragged along with the demons. Before he could think to let go, the Golden Hound, unrestrained by the other vessel, began darting across the sea like a freed bird.

One fact finally pierced the fog pervading his mind. The Hound wasn’t moving that fast. Their ship was traveling backwards!

Such a difference that made! Snap spared himself an ironic smile. They would never catch it now.

He could make out what could have been voices over the groaning ship. Laughter as cold as ice scraped his ears and set him shivering in the water. He could not work up the nerve to climb over. That way promised death.

However, staying also promised death. He could smell the sea still burning behind him. One death would probably be quick while the other ended in burns and weak drowning. Snap was strong, but he wasn’t the best swimmer. He made his choice.

The ship slowed, stopped, and shot forward away from the fire. His teeth yanked painfully against the rope. Nebula nearly tore free of his grasp. Time was running out. Soon enough, he would be torn free and left to drown.

He gripped Nebula’s shivering body and hauled on the rope. Bit by painful bit, he chomped and crawled closer to the cruising ship. It traveled at a good clip now. He had no idea how, but he had to fight it for every bite forwards.

Nebula bumped the hull. Snap took a quick breath and gathered every bit of his strength and heaved his friend over the edge. Nebula caught the low gunwale and flopped over like a boned fish. Snap almost gasped in victory.

Then the rope slipped. Now, the ship raced past him. He had no second chances here! Snap kicked with all his might and launched himself upward. His hooves brushed metal, caught, and began to slide. Desperately, he tried heaving himself up, but he couldn’t fight his loosening hold.

Pain shot through his legs as sword-like talons dug into his legs. Then, they pierced his shoulders. He felt himself hauled from the water and dumped onto a rough deck.

For a moment, he could only cough and breathe. When the deck finally stopped swirling so badly, he looked up directly into a pistol muzzle. The black bore wavered, and he even thought he could see the silvery ball inside.

He still wasn’t dead. Chancing a glance around, he saw more pistols and sabers held ready around him and the prone Nebula. He also saw the nightmare crew.

These weren’t demons. They were Abyssinians. They were minotaurs. They were griffons. Even a few ponies gripped weapons in mouth, wing, or magic. Savage paint covered their faces and lined their bodies. They could spawn demon legends, but they were anything but.

“Stow your arms. They will not cause a fuss.”

A griffon stepped from a stack of the Golden Hound’s plundered cargo. He was young, maybe only a few years older than Snap. His slate gray feathers lay almost immaculately groomed. He was also the most richly dressed of the assorted riffraff with a royal blue short jacket decorated with golden piping on the sleeves.

Impressive as the coat was, it didn’t compare to his glittering golden eyes that demanded absolute respect, nor the twin pistols strapped to his breast, or the saber tucked under his left wing. Without a doubt, this was the demon captain.

The crew obeyed without a word. They drifted back to their earlier tasks, though with some hesitation to get too far from the scene and miss something.

The griffon stepped closer and gestured a claw at himself and the ship. “I am Gideon, of the Hail clan and captain of the Yellow Rose, and you are now my prisoners.”

Author's Note:

Storyboarding, please get back to us ASAP. We would like to set up a meeting to discuss the possibility of setting up a meeting to meet with the author. We have noticed numerous oddities within the story that we are struggling to understand. Namely, what does port wine have to do with sailing and what swiveling is. Perhaps this is an innuendo on the author's part? If so, it is in questionable taste. Thank you. -Story Management Board

--RE: the last stupid letter.
Port and Starboard are the traditional sides of a ship, left and right respectively. The swivel gun is a small caliber gun mounted on a pivoting cradle and commonly used for close range anti-personnel purposes during hostile boardings. These are NOT fanciful and misplaced innuendo you drunken deviants! And I will not partake in your useless meetings to plan meetings. I have better things to do with my life. Slide all further lines of inquiry under my office door and I will dispose of them as soon as possible.
-The Author

Comments

[Eris Dis Harmonia]

This leaves me with but one question... do you see torpedo boats?