With a sharp and sickening snap, the mast severed at the base and crashed forward, sending a deckhand plummeting overboard at the fore of the ship. The Lady of the Mist rocked forward violently, sending a second deckhand into the frothing waters. Aaralon clung to the railing as his footing failed him. Icy sprays of water washed across the deck as the Lady reversed position on it's keel.
The other magic students, he could see, were hanging on for dear life by grasping the handrail. Aaralon regained his feet as the ship righted itself.
The deck was slanted sharply under Aaralon's step as the heavy mast, not completely detached from its base, now weighed the ship down on her starboard side. The mast looked like a great tree felled by the wind, its stump now jagged and splintered. The Lady's proud canvas rested in the cold windblown waters of Wakabe. She had come to a full stop.
The deckhands were frantically casting ropes off of either side of the bow in a vain effort to recover their overboard shipmates. Aaralon, still recovering from the shock of the accident, led Olive, Nora, and Stanton forcibly by the hand to midship on the slippery, angled deck.
"Don't let them hurt us, Aaralon," Olive pleaded.
Nora, who was near hysterics herself, took Olive's hand in an attempt to soothe the frightened girl.
Aaralon could see the captain standing at the stern. The captain's knuckles were white, and clutching the wheel in a trembling grip. Behind him, the Red Demon closed the distance between her and the foundering Lady. The wren half-crest banner had vanished, and in it's place, a featureless black flag lashed out toward them in the strong winds.
"I'll be thrice damned if I let them take us without a fight," the captain announced, appearing to regain his wits and readying the bladed truncheon.
The crew had all but abandoned their efforts to rescue the overboard sailors and were now assembled on deck, waiting for the chunky man's orders. Aaralon marveled at the discipline of the crew, stalwart even in the most perilous of times.
"Foreman, break open the weapons lockers!" He thundered, "If the Lady is to go down, ye lads will show her the best fight of her life!"
The crew broke rank as weapons were distributed. The sailors armed themselves with an array of cudgels, and bladed weapons. They were close combat weapons, Aaralon noted, whose use required no training beyond the basic brawling knowledge of a sailor. The muscular lookout had readied for himself a more specialized weapon, a longbow and a heavy quiver of cloth-yard shafts with razor arrowheads barbed for maximum destructive effect on their human targets.
Olive clung to Nora. Small tears were making trails down her pretty cheeks. Stanton paced about the tilted deck helplessly.
The Red Demon had grown from a speck in the distance and now slowed as she prepared to pull alongside the crippled Lady. The galleon, Aaralon could now see, was enormous. Even with oars withdrawn, her width and length were several times the proportions of the Lady, and her triple masts dwarfed the yard now floating in the frigid, choppy waters.
The mammoth ship had pulled close enough for Aaralon to make out the individual figures who lined the outboard deck, some with grapplings in hand, and others brandishing torches and bladed weapons.
"See what a sorry bunch they are, lads?" The captain hollered, "We'll slaughter 'em all and take the Red Demon as spoils for his highness."
The captain's bravado slackened as the number of armed sailors on the deck of the Red Demon continued to grow. The fight would be, Aaralon estimated, at least five to one against the Lady of the Mists. Catcalls and hoots could be heard across the shrinking distance between the vessels.
Olive hid her face in Nora's chest, as the older girl attempted to comfort her. |