base of the massive starboard ‘wing’ mast. It was masterful gunnery, and the damage done to the enemy ship was crippling; the structure that kept the mast in place exploded, releasing the whole thing from the hull of the ship. If not for the webwork of rigging, the entire mast would have fallen off into the abyss. As it was, the long mast rolled downward, ripping and straining at the ropes and making the mast and all the sub masts and yardarms into a breaking sail, slowing the ship and sending her reeling downward and to starboard.
The crew roared in victory. The tiller released the forward thrusters, unleashing the Lady’s Nightmare forward at breakneck speed toward the Vershani warship.
It’s hard to describe how fast we were going, and how quickly we were catching up with the reeling enemy ship. The damaged sail had the effect of not only slowing the Vershani warship, but also creating a heavy drag to starboard that no pilot could correct, making catching her that much easier.
Once our tiller, Dal’naeth, released the breaks holding us in place, our ship thrust forward like a shell shot out of a cannon. Once she sailed past us, we were perpendicular to her, and the captain did nothing to correct course and send us after her. Instead, she whispered an order to the quartermaster, Mr. Picklett, who yelled, “Man the starboard guns, open the gun ports and ready to fire.”
I half expected Skeetrix to run to the growing ruckus of men in the quarterdeck below, but he stayed at his post and watched as the men reloaded the bow chasers.
“We don’t help down there?” I asked, but he flashed an expression that I took for a confident grin, though it gave his feline features a more savage look.
“Gav is in charge on the gun deck,” he said, realizing that the answer was insufficient for me. “He is ... territorial.”
“Ah.”
“And besides,” Darmelia began, eyeing me closely, noticing the blades strapped to my waist, “we’ll be boarding her soon enough. That is the fun part.”
I looked at the Vershani ship, which was heeling to starboard, crippled by her fallen mast.
“She looks big,” I said.
“Crewed by a thousand or more,” Skeetrix said matter-of-factly. We had less than one hundred aboard the Lady’s Nightmare.
“Not good,” I shook my head. “It’s a suicide mission.”
“Afraid?” Darmelia said, almost scoffing.
I laughed, “That gold fellow we have onboard, if they have a thousand like him, then I’m afraid a lot of you might not live to see tomorrow.”
Darmelia exploded, almost drawing the wicked two-handed axe that lay in a strap across her back. “I am Darmelia of Kerduk, daughter of Krithnia, son of Dulaq. I am more than a match for–” she started, moving toward me with clenched fists, but Skeetrix and another crewman intercepted her.
“Hey, I’m sure you can handle yourself,” I said, “but what about the blue furball with the big mouth, or the red jizz guy.”
“Gav and Deglet,” Skeetrix said, identifying the two crewmen to quell Darmelia’s confusion.
She laughed, “Gav is as fearsome a warrior as you’ve ever encountered. And Deglet is a creature I highly recommend you never quarrel with.”
The tension somewhat lessened, Skeetrix and the other man let her step toward me.
“What about you? How do we know you won’t wet your pants and run at the first sign of trouble?”
I was about to talk about my encounter with the three Mist Lords in my previous visit to Shard World, or my victory over the superhero Epic on Hashima Island, but instead I looked over at the crewmen struggling to run out the bow chasers. Most had stopped what they were doing, expecting a fight between Darmelia and me, but a couple still tugged at the lines, slowly doing the job that many would have made easy. I reached over and picked up the gun carriage, cannon, ropes, and all, including a dangling crewman who threw himself atop the gun in fear when I picked it up. It was effortless, pressing the many tons of metal and wood above my head, then holding it there with just one hand. I smiled, as his expression of hostility and disdain faded, replaced with awe, and perhaps a bit of horror. The crewmen around us just gawked, amazed at the feat of strength, an effort that did little to tax me. Skeetrix alone was unimpressed and the only voice of reason.
“I hope you’re not thinking to throw the thing at the enemy ship,” he joked. Those