Chapter Seven Hundred And Seventy Seven – 777
"Mana engines are clear!”
“Sails and lines are set!"
Vess stood on the prow of the ship just behind the regal tenku figurehead and just ahead of Pit himself. He'd shifted into his Dire Hound form so as not to crowd the deck—the other soldiers did a good enough job of that. Dozens of Legion, Dawnguard, and Chanters were on his ship, with their fair share of the Frost Giants as well. The rest were split among the other eight vessels as best they could manage. The ships might have been big, but there was only so much room, and the crew needed room to maneuver.
Vess ran her hands across the walls at the edge of the ship's decks—the wales, Pit recalled—and a soft vibration rose up from beneath her touch. She lifted a hand, rubbing her fingers together curiously. "Helmsman.”
The Henaari Dawnguard at the helm straightened. "Yes, my Lady?"
"Take us out, slow and steady."
The helmsman saluted before pressing his fingers into the polished orb of amethyst that sat before him. It took the place of the modern wheel that usually marked the helm, though it was close to the same size. It was a Belais crystal, internally faceted so it shone with a purple light quite apart from the Mana that imbued it, and its surface was inscribed with a bunch of glyphs. Each one did something a little different, from adjusting the various sails to altering the output of the Mana engines below. In skilled hands, it effectively reduced the crew requirements down to one: a pilot.
The helmsman tap-twisted, each touch sending a chiming note into the air. In response, the hum that rolled through the ship sharpened, and the Mana engines below growled to life. Power surged through the deck, illuminating the tiny lines of sigaldry that covered every board and beam.
The ship rose up, higher than its brethren by nearly ten feet. Pit’s ears popped as air Mana rushed around them, catching the wisps of light pouring from the sails like cyclonic clouds, forming a roaring shell of incandescence. The howl rose to a fever pitch before the sleek hull rang like a bell, cutting through the noise and reducing it to a bare whisper. Illumination faded, the wisps no more than an ethereal glow upon the pale decks.