Chapter 156: Aella’s Journey
There was chaos on the deck. Matthias was ordering return fire, his normally jovial face set in anger. One of the railings was damaged, but none of the other shots seemed to have landed. They were at the limit of the cannons’ range, which bought them a little time. Epelda was perched in the crow’s nest. She was not yet singing, just waiting, her wings pressed tightly against her body.
“Do we suspect they have a Sylph capable of singing the wind on board?” the Grand Admiral asked as she trotted up beside Matthias. The man gave her a half-hearted grin before he turned his gaze out toward the grey, ghost-like boat that was following them. It was moving quickly, but not quite gaining on them.
“I suspect two,” he admitted after a long moment. “They made their turns wide and still caught us. They seem to be keeping pace on purpose at that distance, as if they are… they are planning something.” He puckered his lips and snorted. “If I was a betting man…”
“You are.”
“Ah. True enough, darling. Well, I’d bet they have some sort of nasty trick up their sleeves. An ace we cannot see.”
“We have a few,” the Grand Admiral did not look back toward the ladders down. Her stomach twisted. “And a pair of trump cards if things get rough.” She meant her dragon, Nereida’s dragon. Matthias dropped his shoulders, looking less tense.
“They are backing off!” One of the lookouts called out, waving at the Admirals to get their attention.
They kept at their quick pace, the distance between them and the hunter ship staying mostly the same. Epelda did not sing, as they wanted to save her for if they needed to escape quickly. An hour went by, then two, but their pursuers did not stop the chase, nor did they close. It was unnerving. Normally, chases such as this saw the ships gaining and losing with the tides, the waves and the wind’s favour. But she just plowed onward, as if tide and wind were of no consequence. Epelda climbed down from her perch, her hair escaping the intricate braids. She blew the wayward strands from her face, before she straightened up and looked to Aella.
“Grand Admiral, I have a suggestion,” she signed, her hands moving in a crisp, business-like fashion. She looked over at Evander, who was chatting with Gregors at the helm, adjusting course on the fly.
“I’ll hear it, Captain.”
“Get Evander to call up fog. We’ve… he was practicing, we had to use it once. Knocks him on his ass after.” She grinned a little at this. “But it should slow them. We can adjust course, maybe lose them. It’ll be sunset in two hours, an easy enough time.”
“He… alright, yes.” Aella was caught off guard by the idea of Evander using magic that the Cloud Dragon had woken in him.
Evander grinned when he saw her, but his grin faded quickly when she gave the order for him to call up the mists.
“I need a food break, then, Admiral.”
“Done.”
“Don’t be pokin’ fun o’ my songs, Admiral.” He added as he moved past her. She resisted the urge to clap him on the shoulder. Dragon’s snot-filled nostrils, she was getting soft.
“Never,” she promised. Her first mate offered her a weak half-grin, before he headed down below deck for food.
“Love songs,” Gregors said from the helm. He was smiling, but it was a wistful expression that looked down right odd on the large, muscled, bald man. “He sings to the mist with love songs.”
An hour later, Evander emerged from below. He looked strange, a calmness on his sunkissed face that had not been there before. The man had shed his shirt, and was only in his short trousers, his toes wiggling as he settled himself. He strolled over to the rails, holding the wood tightly. His eyes were closed. He breathed deeply for what felt like an eternity. The sound of the waves faded, and Aella felt her skin become clammy as her First Mate called to the clouds with his song.
“A love like this I’ve never known, I will not turn from you. You are my light, my breath, my heart, and I shall ever be true,” Evander’s pleasant tenor voice carried well, bringing with it magic. Aella felt a cool shock as her own magic responded. This wasn’t just a song. These were his wedding vows. She was plunged into a vision, not of the future, but of the past, of a younger Evander singing this to Dymion under an oak tree, tears streaming down Dymion’s face. He slipped a ring of silver onto Dymion’s thick hand, and the vision faded as the song did, as Evander-of-old leaned in toward his husband.
Aella turned to look away, her face burning. She’d had no right to that scene, to that tender moment. She stumbled toward the main mast, placing her hand on the wood, silently trying to ground herself in the now. Mist was rising up around them. Evander was still singing the verses of the song he had used as vows. Aella fought her power. It wanted to show her more, whether it was past or future she couldn’t say, but she would not risk another glimpse at Evander’s tender moments.
The overwhelming feeling of magic forced Aella to sit. Matthias and Epelda helped Evander over to her. The man was pale now, sweaty and only half conscious.
“I’ll keep my eye on him,” Aella said. She felt the ship lurch as Gregors was turning them hard to port. They could not move as quickly in the fog, but it could cover their change of position and buy them time to escape properly.
“Fog will hold for another two hours, if it keeps like last time,” Matthias said. He pulled off his own cloak, rolling it up and placing it under Evander’s head as the first mate slipped into unconsciousness. “Maybe less if they can conjure up winds.” He looked down at Evander with something like admiration. “You have good people, Aella.” There was a complicated emotion in his voice, and Aella wasn’t sure what, exactly, her not-cousin was trying to say. But the moment of sincerity passed, and Matthias gave her a familiar, lopsided grin. His tone was far more light and airy when he spoke next. “Of course, he’s no Spikey Griz. She’d peel the scales off a dragon to use as a paddle.”
They sailed along in thick mist as the sky above them darkened. Eventually she gave the order to furl the sails. They’d have to slow to a near stop, following at the mercy of the waves, until the light returned. None of them knew these waters. The mists were clearing, Evander was awake, grumpy and starved, and it all seemed peaceful. Aella was about to head to the bilges to get her wife, son and son-in-law before they mutinied, when she felt a shiver pass down her spine. A warning, though a faint one. She looked out over the sill waters. The waves were barely moving at all, as if the ocean was sleeping. Aella scanned the horizon, her eye pressing into the metal of the spyglass. Something felt wrong.
“Aella?” Matthias asked, his voice soft and low so it did not carry to the nearby crew who were working tirelessly. She waved him off, not wanting to stop until she -
“There!” she cried out. Mattias jumped back in surprise.
“Admiral, darling?”
“On the horizon… the stars are blocked out.” She held the spyglass so he could see. The taller man leaned down, his golden hair falling over his shoulder as he did so.
“They have a demon.” Matthias’s voice was flat. “Of course they do. Run or fight?”
“Fight. On our terms,” Aella stood, straightened her hat, and turned toward the busy crew. “To arms. All hands!”
“Your wife?” Matthias whispered.
“No, the sirens stay below. We can’t give the bastards a reason to burn the Tooth.”
They manned the cannons, turning so they’d have a clear shot once the Grey Death was closer. The atmosphere on the ship was tense; people moved about listlessly, the adrenaline making rest impossible as the other ship crawled toward them at a maddenly slow pace. But Aella would not give the order to get closer. Let them come! Let them see that the Tooth would not run any more. Caleb had joined the gunners, though he was, strangely, dancing to music no one could hear. As he danced, Aella felt the prickling of his magic, hot and terrible. He was preparing himself too. Any who stood near him began to sweat.
Finally, finally, the ship seemed to be close enough to open fire. Aella watched through her spyglass. There was something happening on the enemy deck, a shuffle of mad activity. She spotted a Sylph lifting off, fluttering up to their crows nest. She caught sight of commotion and saw a strange sight that took her a moment to understand. A siren, bound in chains and muffled. They pulled her gag off, and one of them hit the siren, hard enough she dropped to the deck. Aella dropped her spyglass as a wave of terror washed over her. It wasn’t her wife, but the image was still burned into her mind. It was only when her skin shivered as she felt the first tentative touch of both wet air and cool air that heralded magic from both a siren and a sylph that she understood.
“Block your ears!” Nereida had never used magic on anyone’s mind before, but the stories that sirens could sing their madness into you were old as time. “Wax, anything! Hurry!” People jumped to comply. Aella rushed over to help Caleb first; if the blasted Salamander was under their control there was no telling the amount of damage he could do. She grabbed her knife and cut some of the fabric from his tunic as he shoved it in his ears as best he could with one hand.
“Candle!” Matthias yelled, tossing a stubby candle to her. Caleb melted the wax slightly, putting the wax over the cotton. There was enough wax for five others. Epelda swooped down, grabbing the wax that was offered to her.
But they did not have enough candles, wax or time. The song crawled into their ears, slithering like an eel through the water. Aella could see it, feel the prickly, wet and terrible sensation steal over her skin as it invaded her crew.
“Get Nereida!” Aella signed frantically at her daughter. The young woman turned and fled below as the magic settled over the crew. Swords began to fall useless to the deck as nearly all of them succumbed. Cloth or hands were not enough to keep out the cloying magic, and once the magic seeped inside, hands fell away. The affected swayed to the songs, taking slow, almost dance-like steps toward the railings. Aella raced to Evander, who had secured wax in Gregors’ ears but not his own. Her first mate stared ahead, a sappy, sad smile on his face. She grabbed Evander’s shoulders, shaking the man as hard as she could, but he did not respond. Instead, he took another step, precariously close to the railing. Afraid that they meant to make her whole crew jump into the sea, Aella punched Evander. He crumpled as the air left him, dropping into a puddle on the deck, gasping for breath. The Grand Admiral then hog-tied her first mate. He did not fight, just stared into the middle distance as if he saw something beautiful.
While she, Matthias and Caleb worked to pull folks to safety, the other ship closed. Caleb looked at her, pointed to a cannon, then pointed to the grey ship. She shook her head. One cannon would not save them. A bright light flashed on the enemy ship, drawing Aella’s attention. Standing on the bow’s deck was the elf from before. She could see him clearly enough that she could read the words he signed. He was well lit by several lanterns.
“Surrender or they will jump.” He signed it three times, then waited, as if he wanted to know if she understood. Behind him, the emaciated siren, bound in irons, was singing. The sylph sang too, looming over the captive siren. Aella felt a prickling on her skin again as new magic swirled about. Not her wife’s magic, but Epelda’s and Jules’ magic. The magics went to war, and her skin crawled as she felt the two forces fighting. Jules and Epelda were a team, lovers, and had clearly practiced using their magic in tandem. One by one, the eyes of her crew began to clear. They blinked in surprise, taking steps back. Evander began struggling in his bonds. Caleb used his fire to light a lantern, showing Aella to the enemy.
“You’ll regret this,” Aella signed, her movements slow, precise and controlled. She would not let the other ship know how much she was rattled.
The Grand Admiral grabbed her whistle and blew the command to open fire. The crew jumped to obey. The other ship had come close, almost close enough to board, and not at all able to turn away from the sudden barrage of cannonballs.
“No mercy,” Aella yelled, her voice echoing oddly in her own, stuffed ears. The other magic halted as the ship was rocked by a strong hit. The Grey Death was taking on water. The other ship, unable to maneuver out of the way, did the only thing they could: they changed tactics and began rushing toward the Tooth to ram her. The ocean’s waves picked up near her, as if the siren was singing them onward. It was a suicidal maneuver; if they hit hard enough to hit the Tooth, they’d both go down.
Aella called for evasive maneuvers to be taken, trusting Evander to get the point to Gregors. She wanted to take the blasted wax from her ears; she could not hear the crew, the cannons, anything and it made moving about the ship harder. At least she could sign, though Matthias and Caleb did not know the language well and they mostly resorted to pointing to get their messages through. Caleb was itching to fight, but the other ship remained out of reach of his fire. Night had fallen, and the other ship was getting harder to see. They had extinguished their brightest lanterns, leaving only flickering candles that mimicked the stars in the sky.
One of their cannons struck true, crashing into the enemy’s main mast and bringing the whole thing down. The other ship rocked dangerously as it was set off balance. The Grey Death was dead in the water. She could chase no one. They could leave her, and all aboard would die, unless someone was close enough to save them. They were not taking on water fast. Epelda landed next to her.
“Fire again?” she signed. “Or board and take?”
But Aella did not get to answer her. Instead, she caught sight of someone in the water, the moonlight catching on her blue body before she plunged deeper. She looked over at Epelda.
“Nereida?” she signed, her chest tightening with worry. Epelda grimaced and nodded.
“Hold fire!” Aella cried. She could not risk hitting her wife with a cannonball. Dragons’ moss-covered assholes, Nereida was going to give her a heart attack.