Rising tide 3

Wilkes stood at the starboard rail, the splintered bit now a falling hazard. He glanced back out across the waves, to where barry narrowly missed being skewered because he knocked Erik to the ground.

The captain stood calm and resolute. His hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He glared across the sparkling waters. A scowl set heavily on his face. They were close enough now to spot individuals aboard their crew. Towlines slowly dragging them in as they were spooled back.

Wilkes followed his gaze and the tow lines. At first, the ships looked like scattered working vessels, but the illusion broke as they closed distance. Thick oak hulls with black paint on the trim. Clipping around using oars. They were going too fast to be fishermen. No, they were circling like sharks. Yellow bandanas marked their crews like canaries.

“Pirates. Definitely tide reapers because of the insignia,” Wilkes said.

Barry appeared behind them, pipe gone from his mouth. “Aye. But not the usual lot.”

Captain Tellish was already at the wheel. “New crew. Look at their spacing. No discipline. They’re amateurs.”

Wilkes squinted as a ship swaggered through formation, they were intentionally shuffling the ships. Trying to keep them from getting an accurate count. “They’re fast though.”

“Aye,” Barry muttered, “fast and stupid ain’t always a gift.”

Tellish tightened his grip. “Erik adjusted the sails on my mark. Barry, get the powder ready. Rangpar-”

“The axe and Rangpar already know Captain.” Rangpar said, already smiling. Below deck, the apprentices were unseen but present in the tightening air. Rangpar put himself between the rest of the deck and the hatch. He would hold this line with everything he had.

Tellish watched the enemy close. Their movements were textbook bravado. “They want us to panic. Not a fight.”

Wilkes rolled his shoulders. “They picked the wrong ship.”

“Hold steady,” Tellish said quietly. He raised a singular hand at shoulder height. He slung his arm down for both visual and verbal signals. “NOW.”

Erik snapped the sails. Wind caught hard. The ship stilted hard. Not away, but into alignment. Grapples flew immediately. Iron bit wood. Rope went taut. Impact threw both ships together like boars in mating season. Men flooded the gap, some forty strong.

Wilkes met the first pirate at the rail. The man swung high and wide. Wilkes stepped inside it, drove an elbow into ribs, then struck the wrist. Steel dropped. Clattering across the deck until he stomped on it. He shoved the first to board into the cruel sea before kicking the sword up into his hand clumsily.

“Interesting. This may be quicker than I thought.” Wilkes said. The second attacker was already there. This one didn’t hesitate. Scarred face. Controlled movement. Not a recruit.

“You must be skilled, you’re the one that fought the raiders in blue. The bladed pup is what they call you” the man said.

“And you are?”

“Carden. The Steel edged plunderer they call me.”

With a formal introduction Wilkes began their clash. Two steps close the gap, a wide swing tested the pirate’s reactions. They were good, about on the level of Rangpar’s. He wasn’t overwhelmingly muscular though. His build was lean, Wilkes expected a very mobile fight from how he kept bouncing on his heels.

Carden fought clean. Efficient. Every movement answered Wilkes’ before it finished. Wilkes noticed the difference immediately. This pirate was trained, experienced, and dangerous. Wilkes had to find an advantage somehow, a favored side to attack, a weird stepping habit, or a flaw in his swing. Something, anything.

“You’ve got a reputation,” Carden said mid exchange. Their steel met a few times, but the two mostly circled one another. Thrusts and parries coming with every breath from both sides. Wilkes noticed a golden band similar to the last pirates he had an extended exchange with. Seven notches on this one, less experienced. “You see, rumors spread among pirates. Nineteen cuts on your name, Wilkes of Thellin. If you are who rumors claim.”

Wilkes parried. His snark came before he thought better. “You sailed into a boarding action… to confirm gossip?”

“I came to measure the truth and rumor.”

A feint slipped on Wilkes' guard. Steel sliced his sleeve, his old stitches exploded. Blood gushed and he growled as he swapped to the offensive. Aggressive jabs with a sword that was lighter than the one he had practiced with. The sword he’d left at home beneath his cot.

Carden pressed forward. “You’re a favored dog, aren’t you?”

Wilkes adjusted his grip favoring a one closer to the cross guard. “By women one and all.”

Above them, the ships groaned. A second Tide Reaper vessel turned in. Another shower of splinters as planks were crushed beneath the force of ramming speed. The two stumbled, foot work becoming difficult. Exactly what Wilkes needed.

“More of them!” someone shouted.

Carden smiled. “That changes things.”

Wilkes barely blocked, just enough to survive it, but he saw it now. A slight lag in Carden’s left step after his right-led drive. A rhythm flaw. A golden opportunity.

Wilkes answered with a feint of his own, forcing Carden to commit, then stepped inside the real line of attack, struck him hard with the saber’s pommel, and ruined the man’s stance at the knee. The pirate tumbled to the floor and rolled away into the chaos.

The deck was a sea of violence. Barry moved through it without urgency, only certainty. A pirate rushed him and went overboard without understanding how it happened, Barry simply stepping aside as if making room for him. Another came at speed; Barry caught the wrist, turned it once, and drove the man into the mast hard enough to silence him. A third attacker lunged. Barry didn’t look at him, only swatted the barrel of his pistol across his face, and kept walking. He was given a specific order and he’d be damned if he did not complete it.

A blade bit into Barry’s arm. He stopped. Turned at the hip. One of his pistols came up. It spoke once with a fury and the pirate dropped. “Still got it,” Barry muttered. The ringing in his ears still pronounced as he continued to Waltz along the deck.

Rangpar stood staunchly as the Tide Reaper pressed in on him directly. The first pirate struck and bounced back as if he had hit stone. An impossibly heavy kick launched the attacker into and through the crowd. A small pile of pirates lay at his feet. He turned toward them, taunting them with a raised hand.

“COME ON!”

A new rush came forward, roaring as they swung with all their might. Blades scraped across tattooed skin but failed to draw blood. They were trying to claim what lay beneath him, not realizing they had found an emerald bulwark.

“Good,” Rangpar allowed a full smile to bloom. He reeled his axe back. Muscle coiled. Tattoos flared brilliant sky blue. The orc roared.

“By Testero’s Might!”

And the line broke against him. Wilkes reset instantly, but the deck had already changed under him. Newly shattered boards proved to be potential pitfalls.

Carden retreated a step, recalculating. His balance was off, just slightly.

The roar hit a moment later. Not distant, but structural. Somewhere across the deck, Rangpar’s roar broke something fundamental in the fight’s structure. Men stopped advancing in clean lines. Pressure dissolved into scatter. The Tide Reaper crew was no longer a formation; it was in disarray.

Carden felt it too. His smile tightened.

“You’re not winning this,” he said again, but it lacked certainty now. Wilkes forced another bind. Steel screamed against steel. Too close. Too heavy. Behind Carden, movement changed too coordinated to be accidental. He recognized the salt and pepper hair in the pistol smoke. Barry was carving another through line.

Erik wasn’t just defending him anymore as the elf danced between pirates. His dagger was a blur of steel in a sea of crimson it left behind. The tumble of bodies to the floor revealed something. Swathes of the deck were blocked now… he was guiding spacing, forcing angles, pushing pirates away from clean routes.

Wilkes saw it in fragments:

Powder trails. Forced rotations. Clear lanes forming through violence. His stomach dropped slightly as the shape resolved. Not a retreat. Not defense. A map.

“More of them!” someone shouted again, but it was wrong now. Their communications were too late, and too scattered. Wilkes broke contact just long enough to think it fully: They weren’t surviving the ship. They were structuring it.

He parried another swing from Carden, forcing the man’s balance off-line again. Steel screamed in close quarters.

Wilkes stepped inside the opening and drove his blade through Carden’s throat.

“One and nineteen more for rumor,” he said coldly.

Wilkes glanced beyond the melee. Sails broke the horizon, another squadron bearing the colors of the greater island chain. Deep navy sails bearing a puffy white cloud clued him in on their specific regiment. Relief had arrived.

Across the Tide Reaper line, hesitation spread. The pirates had a choice now: finish the boarding and risk being trapped between two forces, or flee while the sea was still open. When Wilkes threw the corpse of Carden into the center, their option became clear. They scrambled and trampled over one another. Slashing at towing lines as they ran to guarantee escape. A handful remained on the ship, one still looked stubborn enough to fight. He lost the will for it when Rangpar wrapped his palm over the uppity pirate’s face. Rangpar's fingers curled into a fist with the man's face still trapped inside. Rangpar's fingers curled into a fist with the man's face still trapped inside. A dull crunch split the air. He shook the worst of the blood from his hand. The captain gave him an exasperated stare.

“He tried to hurt the lads. Rangpar ensured he hurt no one.” The orc answered plainly. He went to open the hatch and called gently to the lads below. They hugged his legs tightly, despite him being soaked in blood. Amy shuffled out a few moments behind, she had been crying from what he could tell. She ran directly into Erik’s arms. Wilkes stared at the corpse of Carden.

Naval officers hailed them from the deck of their ships, the captain walked to the broken gap in the railing.

“Come aboard, ye already missed the fun!” The captain called to them, extending planks from the deck. The naval ship returned the gesture, and a handful of their own men walked across. Wilkes never left the captain’s side. The borrowed sword still gripped tightly in his hand.

Their coats were a deep navy blue, hanging nearly to the knee and trimmed in bronze. The highest-ranking officer wore matching bronze upon his shoulders. Aside from the coats, their uniforms weren't so different from Wilkes' own work clothes.

"Good afternoon. Seems you got into a bit of a scuffle with the Tide Reapers." He nudged a corpse with his boot. "Yellow's a new color, isn't it?"

He kicked a few, and when no groans came he nodded. He then spoke quickly “We’ll pay you the usual rate for disposing of pirates. 5 coins per head. More if they have those gold bands they’re so fond of. Furthermore If your men are injured we do have a medicinal professional aboard. We won’t keep you for much longer otherwise. Any questions?”

“Just the one,” Captain Tellish spoke. He took off his old cap as he did, staring the naval officer down. “Why the hell did you take so long?”

“Well, we did come at full bore. The ships are built for a mix of speed and durability. Not to mention you never sent a flare to hail us, we arrived as part of our regular patrol.” The officer spoke calmly, his hands folded behind his back.

“What’s your name lad?” the captain asked

“Joseph of Frennor. Southernmost island in the Chain of Thellix. I'm as local as you are. ” The naval officer, Joseph, rattled off. “If you're after answers about Thellin’s protection specifically, you'll have better luck with our headquarters on Terial. I am only commissioned to patrol and give bounty.”

“Never said I was from Thellin.” The captain shifted, but Joseph raised a hand. He pointed at the visible chain to a compass the captain kept.

“You didn’t have to. That’s an admiral’s chain watch, recognizing one is part of the job.” He paused for a beat. “As well as, considering the waters we’re in, I know who you are.”

“Then pay us and fuck off.”

“Certainly.”

An hour passed, a tally was counted and argued. A second tally was made, agreed upon, and payment dolled out. The captain passed mops to Erik, Barry, and Wilkes. The three adults swabbed the deck down while Rangpar told the children more stories below the deck. Shielding the youth from such a horrific sight on the deck just feet above them.