Chapter 35

Days 122-129:

When he was growing up, no ‘action’-labeled entertainment was complete without at least one chase sequence. As time went on, these scenes got more and more outlandish, with all manner of vehicles speeding, dodging, and swerving in and out of the most complex environments imaginable. The drama lay in the audience’s expectation that the main character would narrowly avoid disaster by the barest of margins, often with at least one glancing blow that they miraculously survived. In reality they would’ve crashed a dozen times over, and the single scrape actually would’ve been fatal.

John’s ship, while piloted by a formidable navigator, couldn’t afford even the tiniest of scrapes. The hull was wood, caulked and pitched, and needed frequent maintenance, both in scraping the bottom clean (careening) and in reapplying and repairing the waterproofing. So long as they were in sight of their pursuer, they had no time to do any of that. And should any planks be damaged, the time it would take to replace them was prohibitive.

As half the crew rushed to the gunwales, necks craning to look behind, Svend called Vasin over to consult on a new course. The pair traded Svend’s expandable spyglass as they discussed options. John, after a brief bout with his hammock, joined them.

“Take a look.” Svend handed over the spyglass while still pointing at various points of land ahead.

John found the process of getting the optic onto the trailing vessel, and keeping it there to be a frustrating one. By the time he got the hang of it, the Raider ship was already turning, with the navigator shouting instructions at different parts of the crew.

One advantage, John found was that his Sight seemed to work within the electromagnetic spectrum. If he could see it, he could See more about it. The ship tracking them looked to be the other Raider ship, the one Sygraid had left docked at Plunderer’s Rest. In the rush, she hadn’t even had the time to get the slaves off of it, something she regretted for as long as John knew her. The vessel was several miles back, so details were scant. John could just make out the white dragon’s-head bowsprit, below sails bulging with a full tailwind.

It was the elements around the vessel that caught John’s attention. A continuous wave, a hundred yards wide, and taller than the poop deck lifted and carried the stern forward at high speed. Now ships are not surfboards, so that shouldn’t have been possible. But given the way the crest whitewater ‘glowed’ with the same blue-green flavor as the entire water-filled bowl with throne and trident had back in the emperor’s prison, John assumed some manner of magic was animating and controlling the sea near the ship.

Also, a cone of air, feeding into the ship’s sails ‘glowed’ with the same flavor of magic power. The combined mechanisms were propelling their hunter forward at a furious pace. Given the fact that the two vessels were constructed identically, Svend didn’t even have the option of finding a route they could take, that their pursuer couldn’t.

“It’s that crazy emperor Nefiume guy.” John told the others. “He’s got a bunch of air pushing the sails, plus a constant wave to keep him going. Who is this guy?”

“The Mer-folk say that the royal clan of Athlantyis were peopled by powerful Aeromancers and Hydromancers. The Regent in Carfair Ait supposedly has records that show how the old empire worked. Clan members were selected from an extended collection of families, and only those who demonstrated mastery over wind or wave could be candidates for the line of succession. For hundreds of years, match-makers sought a pairing which would produce an heir with the united powers of both air and water. Nefiume was the first, and last to mate both abilities in a single person. Not only was he an immensely strong Aeromancer, and a powerful Hydromancer, they say he was possibly the most capable of each in over a generation. He was a clever, but ruthless ruler whose focus never wavered from his efforts to make both Athlantyis, and himself ever more powerful.”

“And that’s the guy chasing us?” John hooked a thumb over his shoulder.

Vasin nodded. “So great was his skill that his spirit transcended death during the cataclysm which destroyed Athlantyis. He now animates a body of fluid with bubbles continually floating to the top, as though he boils, but without any heat. Legend says that he can infuse a person’s corpse after death, once the tissues are dried or drained of water and blood, if the three Artifacts of Authority are placed on the body.”

John blinked. “Do you mean he was in the bowl, with that throne and trident?”

“He was, with the Crown and Gauntlet too.” Vasin agreed.

He’s a fucking soda now? Don’t laugh. Just don’t laugh, they’ll think you’re crazy.

“But, if he was so powerful at controlling water, how did filling his prison with it not help him out?” John wondered aloud.

Vasin shrugged.

“He is undead.” Svend said, as though that explained everything.

When John and Vasin gave him an expectant look, he continued, “Water traps the undead. They cannot move in it, or through it. That is why our walls have a water-filled moat outside. How do you not know this?”

Vasin shrugged again. “The Mad Emperor is the only undead in the entire Bay, that I know of. His prison was already built when I first arrived at the island. I was not permitted inside, so I only know what others have told me.”

“And I’m from another world, I keep telling you that.” John said to the Raider, exasperated.

“So you say.” Svend scoffed.

“Damn, you’re stubborn.” John gritted his teeth.

Svend just looked away, probably rolling his eyes too.

“But, if he’s afraid of being in water, how’s he chasing us now?” John wondered.

“He’s undead.” Svend sounded exasperated now. “He is not afraid, he just knows he’ll be trapped if he falls into the sea. So long as he stays on the ship, it is no different than being on land.”

“Minus the fact that he can control the water and the air to chase us.” John finished.

“That,” Svend acknowledged, “and he’s faster than us, with both working for him. We must hope he cannot turn quickly, or I do not know what we can do to escape him.”

“Make for those islands, there.” Vasin pointed slightly to port. “I will go up to the lookout and show the way. We are near the route I mentioned yesterday. It is not a straight path, so we may have a chance to stay ahead of him.”

Demonstrating he’d had lots of practice, the healer scampered up the rigging like a monkey going after a banana. He displaced the crew member stationed there, then started yelling directions down to the Explorer.

“I can’t understand what he’s talking about.” Svend complained.

A quick look around showed John he was the only one nearby. Everyone else was rushing to follow an order he’d given, or making sure each man had an opportunity to arm himself.

“Let me go ask him.” He told the navigator.

Climbing to the top of the mast was easier said than done. He must’ve slipped down a foot for every two he scaled. Panting with the exertion, he finally reached the lookout, knuckles white to keep from falling. With the crazy undead soda-mancer bearing down on them, one fall and he’d be left for dead.

Most of the day was spent like that: pulling himself to the top, having an in-depth conversation about their course and the obstacles ahead, then sliding back down to try and communicate what he’d learned to Svend who would translate his translation into actual ship action.

The one good thing was when he found a length of rope and tied himself a belt with two long tails so he could strap himself to the rigging when he got into the upper reaches of the mast. By dusk he was even able to slide down the last portion like a fireman heading for a call-out.

Unfortunately, by dusk the trailing ship had closed to within a mile or less.

“I know this area, but not well enough to navigate in the dark.” Vasin warned, urging John to have Svend slow the ship, or drop anchor somewhere.

“I can see in the dark, some.” John admitted. “What if I describe what’s ahead, and you go give the navigator directions?”

His arms were wet noodles, and his fingers looked like hamburger from all the rough wood and rope fibers tearing him apart. He really could use a break.

“In the dark, you’re sure? How?” Vasin asked.

John shrugged. “Same way I could tell about the curse, in that underground prison you guys had.”

“You must tell me, please?” Vasin begged.

“All right, but let’s figure out a way to lose our tail first.” John urged.

Vasin looked back, frowning. “A ... tail. Is that what you say in your ... world?”

John snorted. “Yeah, we do.”

“Well,” the healer thought for a moment, “there is a sharp turn we might reach, around midnight. Perhaps that would be an appropriate place to fool the mad emperor.”

“Tell me.” John nodded.

Vasin’s plan relied on Svend’s correct hope that Nefiume couldn’t turn very quickly, not and maintain his magic wind and conjured wave. In addition, Vasin hoped Hal’s illusion power could do what he imagined. The Cambion experimented throughout the evening and discovered that he could ‘throw’ an illusion into the air and direct its route of travel. Unfortunately, the farther away from him it got, the more difficult to maintain. But, if he kept the lantern he was duplicating lit, and just dropped a cloth over it, thick enough to completely shield its rays, he could ‘redirect’ the light already present to a more distant point without as much strain.

They doused all the lights on deck, leaving just a small lantern burning. It hung from a hook on the back rail behind the tiller, a convenient target for their foe to orient on. Of course, with the night being so dark, they couldn’t have sailed for very long without having some light. The group’s hope was that they would have just long enough to get over the horizon without incident.

“Eventually, it will be too far for me to keep going.” Hal warned.