Sara was woken by Evie before dawn, a gentle tickle under her chin from the catgirl curled in her arms. The worn hammock could barely support the both of them, and for a bleary moment Sara thought the creaking groan of timber boards was their hammock finally breaking loose.

  As she came to her senses, Sara realized that it was the entire ship groaning. Her hammock hung stable while the entire deck rolled around her, pitching back and forth at random. Drops of water drummed upon the ceiling, both from the growing storm and thrown from crashing waves. A peek around their privacy curtain showed through the portholes that it was still pitch bck outside. Despite the early hour, some of the rowers had begun to crawl down from their hammocks, probably veterans who knew what was coming.

  "Ready for a fight, Master?" Evie asked with a yawn.

  "Always," Sara answered, more confidently than she felt. The ship around her heaved to and fro, and Sara'd already decided she'd rather have fought on slick ice. Evie slid off of Sara's chest and nded on the deck, feline bance leaving her stable as stone. "That's not fair," Sara mented. "You're half cat, Evie. You should hate being on the water."

  "I don't have fur, Master," she sniffed. "A true catfolk might detest the ocean, but my only compint is what the salt does to my hair."

  "Fuck botha ya," Hurlish groaned from below. There wasn't a hammock on the ship that could hold the seven-foot orc, so she'd been forced to sleep on their rolled-out camping pad. "Dunno how I ain't puked yet."

  Sara hopped down beside the woman with a smarmy grin, clutching the hammock for stability. "Surely you mean you're gonna hurl-"

  "Can it, shorty," Hurlish grunted. "I ain't sick enough to not beat your ass."

  Sara ughed, though she made an effort to keep her voice down. She wasn't sure if any of the sves were still sleeping, but she'd rather not take the risk of waking them. Nora had said the Magecraft would attack at dawn, and Sara held that prediction like gospel truth. The rowers would need their rest more than any of them.

  Speaking of whom, Sara turned to the hammock beside her.

  "Nora, you awake?" Sara asked, poking the woman's curled body.

  "Aye, aye," she responded tiredly. "Never slept, matter of fact. Too busy getting ready."

  "For the fight?"

  "What else?" Nora rolled over, book still pressed to her nose. The title was Reports of Engagements with Carrion Magecraft, though why Nora was reading something she surely had memorized Sara didn't know. "Damnable job we got ahead of us, ssies. That skimmer ought to have this ship dead to rights."

  "That's what you're here for, isn't it?"

  "I ain't got magic powers like you, Champion. I know a whole lot, that's for damn sure, and most of what I know tells me to throw Tilisa overboard and haul up a white fg."

  "Y'don't think we stand a chance?" Hurlish asked from below, forearm thrown over her eyes.

  "Oh, there's a chance. It's a candle's chance in a hurricane, but it's a chance alright."

  "Wonderful," Hurlish grumbled.

  "Any of your books account for a Champion?" Sara asked, taking her hand off the hammock to give herself practice standing on her own. "I may not be tossing ships around on my own, but I've got some tricks up my sleeve."

  "Up your pants leg, more like," Nora chuckled, still reading her book. "Nae, Sara, they don't take into account someone like you, which is why I'm thinking we have a chance." She turned a page. "Though what I want to know is why a damned Carrion Skimmer is chasing the Crossed Glory, of all things."

  "Not hard to imagine why," Hurlish said. "Money, same as everyone else."

  "A Magecraft resorting to piracy?" Nora snorted derisively. "Cost of their ship could buy a fleet of ours. That's a proper Navy ship, too, so either the captain's gone mad or someone aboard our ship has a bounty on their head." Nora turned another page. "Probably you, Sara. Can't imagine Tilisa managing any victory that'd warrant a Magecraft sent after her."

  "Me? I've only been in this world for a few months."

  "You have been awfully busy, Master," Evie said. "Maybe Lord Andisan's family has seen through our lie."

  "Who?"

  "The Lord you killed shortly after leaving the capitol, Master. We cimed his guard was an assassin."

  "Oh yeah, that dickhead." Sara wobbled to one side as the ship rocked particurly hard, catching herself on a wall. "He was some nobody though, wasn't he? As much as a Lord can be, anyway."

  "Fairly irrelevant as these things, go, yes." Evie shifted to address Nora. "Just how exceptional are these Magecraft? Are they something one could bribe away for a personal grudge?"

  "The Carrion Navy likely only has a hundred or so, a fraction of their navy. As a group of them were already in the harbor, I suppose it's not impossible for someone with the right connections to set one after you, but it'd be impressive. The sort of favor traded between nations, not men."

  "Unlikely to be the Andisans, then," Evie hummed. "I was familiar with every half-important family in Sporatos, and theirs was never brought to my attention. I suppose some of my mother's old rivals could have been tracking me since my ensvement, still bent on revenge, or perhaps Nora unknowingly made enemies of some important captain in her travels."

  "Does it matter, though?" Sara asked. "They're attacking us. If it turns out it's Tilisa they want, we'll hand her over with a bow on top. If it's one of us? We'll get to killing."

  "Aye," Nora agreed with a sigh, shutting her book. "Y'make a good point, Sara. We can't outrun a skimmer, so it's at their whim that the battle begins. What happens after that we'll know when it happens."

  "You've got a pn though, right? You spent the whole night awake doing more than just lying there, I assume."

  "Oh, I've got more pns than I can count." Nora finally heaved herself out of her hammock, nding on her remaining leg. Though the ship swayed violently beneath her, her bance made Evie look clumsy. "Ready to hear 'em?"

  "So long as you keep the sailor jargon to a minimum," Sara said as she began pulling her armor from the bag of holding. The runes she'd had empced on it let the metal bend like putty while she slid it on, snapping into rigid shape as soon as it was in its proper pce. In a matter of seconds she was armored from head to toe.

  "So that's how you got it on so fast the other day," Hurlish said as she stood and stretched. "I'll have to get me something like that for my own gear."

  "It cost Vesta three thousand gold."

  "Huh. Maybe not."

  Sara tossed the orc her breastpte, setting her massive hammer on the deck. Evie began donning her own leather armor as Nora began outlining the first of several pns, a giddy excitement creeping into the woman's voice that was utterly unbefitting the dismal weather. Despite the way that each of her pns came with detailed caveats expining how likely it was for them to fail and die, Sara couldn't help but find Nora's mood infectious. The captain was finally living her dream, and if they succeeded today, her legend would start with a bang.

  Sara, on the other had, just liked fighting. She kept a firm grip on her sword, walking back and forth to accustom herself to the roll of the ship. Judging by the occasional curious flicker that passed over Nora's face when she gnced her way, Sara guessed that her smile was less 'encouraging' and more 'predatory'.

  Oh well. It was important to be honest with your friends. Sara smiled wider, twisting her grip on the sword's wooden handle.

  ---------------------------

  ------------------------

  ---------------------

  The whistle blew just after dawn. Sara and the others were halfway up the stairs before the shrill note finished, storm rain immediately cttering against the steel of their armor. Only Nora remained unprotected, the wooden stick she used for a cane her only defense. With how little the woman had used it for bance since being on the sea, Sara wondered why she even still carried it.

  Sara shaded her eyes from the storm, searching the bustling deck for Tangletooth. She found her atop the elevated building at the ship's back, spygss pointed towards the horizon while she shouted orders at the man driving the wheel. Sara stomped up the stairs to the sound of a ctter of wood, oar ports opening along both sides of the Crossed Glory.

  "Tangletooth!" Sara shouted over the rain. "They're attacking?"

  "Damn well looks like it!" The woman yelled back. "Ran messages up the mast saying they only want to parley, but I'm no damn fool. No one parleys in a storm."

  "The Carrion Navy follows the Salian Accords, Cap'n," Nora calmly said, guttural Irish accent crystal clear despite the wind and rain. "If they say they want to parley, they will."

  "You willing to stake your life on that, O'Gallison?"

  "Nae, I was just suggestin' ye get us all killed for the hell of it," Nora deadpanned.

  Tangletooth muttered something that was taken away by the wind, then dropped her spygss with a scowl. "Oars back in!" She shouted below. "We're gonna parley with a damn Magecraft, I guess!"

  The eyes of the officers milling about the deck widened, but none questioned the order. They began shouting out instructions to their various underlings, one jogging below to rey the order. In moments the sails had been adjusted and the oars pulled back inside, the ship slowing.

  There was a palpably nervous energy to the deck as they waited for the skimmer approach, and the reasons for it were many. The sun lit the clouds just enough to see the deck by, but achieved little more. The bck waves that pounded the hull were nearly invisible until they broke in a spray of white seafoam, making it even more difficult to adjust to the ship's rocking. The sails were sagging with the weight of rainwater, the sailors in charge of adjusting them having to heave with all their strength to achieve what should have been routine.

  Superseding the weather, though, was the Magecraft. It bobbed over the tops of the swells calmly as it sliced towards them in a neat arc, lining up to come just abreast of the Crossed Glory's left side. If Sara hadn't spent the st few hours getting lectured on all the dangers expected from a Carrion Skimmer, she wouldn't have understood the crew's skittish gnces towards the incoming ship.

  But Nora had expined in excruciating detail what fighting a Magecraft was like, and now Sara felt those same urges in her. By Nora's expnation, the skimmer was a wolf among sheep, a vessel that dozens of mages spent a year or more yering enchantments onto. It was this world's answer to a battleship, a single ship intended to fight dozens. It could fling chemical fire that burned underwater, accelerate like a sprinting racehorse, and was always accompanied by a veteran mage, whose spells fell like hail upon enemy ships. Like the rest of the crew, some animalistic part of Sara's mind seemed convinced that it was best to look at the ship only from the corner of her vision, like it was a predator that would lunge for her throat the moment she made eye contact.

  Sara fought through the impulse. She stood at the railing with both hands gripping the wood, watching the Magecraft approach. Evie and Hurlish were on either side of her, while Nora stayed on the opposite side of the wheel from Tangletooth, less than subtly implying their equal authority. The sver captain bit her tongue and allowed it. Only an idiot would ignore Nora's plentiful advice, and Tangletooth's crew recognized that. Ordering a seasoned captain tossed overboard in the midst of a crisis would start a mutiny on the spot, and Tangletooth knew it.

  Just as she knew that Nora and Sara didn't intend to leave her as captain for long. Every shouted order from Nora to the crew made it clearer, and Sara's continued presence on the upper deck was as much of a threat as it was practical positioning. They were sitting atop a power struggle powder keg, and the results of the parley would spark it easier than any fme.

  "They're running up new signal fgs, cap'n!" A woman cried from above, clinging to the rear sail with a spygss in hand.

  "What're they saying?" Tangletooth bellowed up at the woman.

  "Still raising 'em!"

  The entire deck waited with bated breath, watching the Magecraft creep closer. It was in pin sight now, and Sara probably could have read the message herself if she'd known the symbols. As one fg was run up after the other, the lookout began to call out their meaning.

  "Requesting... delivery of goods... person, not material..."

  There was a longer pause as the lookout screwed their face up, thinking hard. Sara could see that the st fg raised was pink, but little detail.

  "Who are they damn well requesting, woman?!" Tangletooth roared.

  "I dunno, cap'n!" The woman shouted down apologetically. "It's just the symbol of Amarat!"

  All around the deck looked at one another, baffled, save for four women. Nora shook her head in irritation, while Hurlish and Evie stepped forward to pce themselves between Tangletooth and Sara. Hurlish's hand reached up to rest on her hammer's haft over her shoulder, while Evie's rapier blinked into existence.

  "What in the thricedamned world does that mean?" Tangletooth roared, face reddening with rage. She spun to Nora, who was the closest person not obviously confused. "What do you know, O'Gallison?"

  "There's a Champion of Amarat on your ship, Tilisa," Nora stated in a bored sigh, "And the Magecraft wants to take her. Will you oblige them?"

  Tangletooth's head immediately whipped towards Sara, scar no longer responsible for the sneer crawling up her face. She took two menacing steps towards Sara before Nora's hand subtly caught her, the gesture hidden by their bodies from the rest of the crew. Though Sara couldn't hear what Nora said, she saw the woman tilt her head towards Hurlish and Evie, who still stood protectively before Sara.

  Tangletooth shoved Nora's hand off her coat and continued forward, though less threateningly. She walked right up to Sara, staring her in the eye over Evie's head. Sara looked down at the captain, waiting patiently.

  "Champion of Amarat, eh?" Tangletooth growled.

  Sara nodded.

  "You know what they damn well want with you?"

  Sara shook her head.

  "You going to py nice, or you going to stab me in the back the second you get a chance?"

  Sara cocked her head, thinking for a moment. "I'll py nice," she decided. "If it comes down to a fight, there's no point in having chaos with the crew in the middle of it."

  "And after?"

  "If we live?" Sara shrugged. "I don't see why it matters to you. You couldn't stop me from doing what I want anyway."

  The clenched muscles in Tangletooth's jaws jumped. Sara could see the burning desire in the woman to draw her sidesword and spill Sara's guts on the deck, but Tangletooth wasn't a fool. Evie and Hurlish were just waiting for an excuse. Sara took her hand off her sword's hilt to cross her arms, waiting to see what Tangletooth would do.

  "Fine," the captain finally spat. "But if I'm deciding between fighting a Magecraft and handing your holiness over, you're gone in a heartbeat."

  "That decision will kill you, Tilisa," Sara chided, shaking her head. "You're better off slitting your own throat than fighting me."

  "I'll have you in chains, Champion," Tangletooth whispered, rage turning her voice quavery. She spat on the deck between Sara's feet, then began stomping back to the wheel. "Prepare for parley! We're dropping anchor if the waves allow it, so get your zy asses ready!"

  Sara felt a tug in her gut, a preturnatural certainty filling her. She'd had pushed too far. Tangletooth would betray her the second it was possible, venomous spite overwhelming reason.

  Sara sighed.

  "Evie, kill her."

  Evie lunged forward, rapier reflecting the red fsh of her colr. The silvery weapon nced through the small of Tilisa's back, severing her spine. Evie retracted the sword before Tilisa's colpsing corpse could drag it from her hands, flicking the blood off with a twist of her wrist.

  The entire ship was silent for one second. Then two seconds. Then three. Everyone had frozen, all staring at the watery blood seeping from their old captain's corpse.

  Nora was the first to act. She stepped up to the helm, knocking aside the man who'd been at it. The moment her skin grazed the wooden wheel, time stood still.

  Sara felt a shiver run down her spine, a sudden weight pressing down on her shoulders. It was a mirror image of the moment she'd been summoned to this world, the force of a god's focus pressing down on the ship. Men and women stumbled, some dropping to a knee, while the wind rose to a howling pitch, the waves around the ship pressed ft as gss. Her nose was choked by the scent of brine and sulfur, ears popping painfully as a titanic pressure wrapped around her skull. Sara didn't know what was looking at them right now, but it wasn't Amarat. It was something that forced into her mind images of the bck depths far beneath the hull, and the slithering beasts that resided therein.

  The only one unaffected was Nora. Her voice rang out, echoing above the wind.

  "Raise every sail to full, tack to twenty-three degrees! Ready ballistae oil, and haul sand from below! Archers to the stern, pikes to the port! Run up refusal to comply!"

  Reality snapped back into focus. Rain fell once more, the pressure vanished. Most of the crew reflexively burst into motion, taking to the orders, while some remained frozen, petrified.

  The trio of officers closest to Nora, unfortunately, were among those who recovered their wits. They drew swords, marching up behind Nora, whose attention was focused ahead. Sara sprinted towards them, holding up a hand.

  "Drop your wea-"

  Hurlish reached them first. The uppercut of her hammer pulped the leading man's chest, flinging his remains over the railing. Evie appeared at the orc's side, the only one that knew why the second woman dropped bonelessly to the ground.

  Sara reached the third man just as he began to register the fate of his fellows, trying to skid to a stop on the slick wood. She threw out her boot, snapping the man's knee sideways. He dropped with a howl, rusty saber cttering to the deck. Sara booted it away, then began dragging his still screaming self towards the railing.

  "Want to see if you can swim with a broken leg?" She asked him over his screams. The man shook his head, uselessly battering at her arms. "Then I'd suggest you stay put," Sara told him. She pulled a length of rope from her bag, tying his hands to the railing.

  "Anyone else have objections?" Hurlish bellowed down at the remaining officers. Those few that had drawn their weapon looked from Tilisa's corpse to Hurlish's bloody hammer, then to the still-approaching Magecraft.

  They sheathed their weapons.

  "Ship is yours, Captain Nora!" Sara hollered, jogging past her. "Do whatever you got to do. I'm going below."

  Sara hopped over the railing, trusting Nora's continued protection to Hurlish and Evie, as they'd pnned. She made her way to the stairs, ignoring the stares of crew she passed.

  Sara was thrown against a wall by the ship's violent rocking as she descended, nearly tumbling headfirst when the entire ship pitched backward, rising up on a swell. It seemed the storm was getting worse, and they were suffering far worse than the Magecraft.

  When Sara stumbled down the stairs, holding a bck sword and dressed in esoterically styled armor, the woman at the drum nearly pissed herself. She fell off her stool, hands filing as she cwed away from Sara. She rolled her eyes, dragging the woman back by her coattails.

  "Chill out! I'm not gonna kill anyone!"

  "B-b-b-b-b--"

  "Are you a captain? No? Then rex. Sit back down and get ready to drum."

  Sara deposited her on her stool, then kicked the drum and drumstick back over. It was honestly remarkable that the drummer still managed to look boring while scared for her life, but even the way she cowered was unexceptional.

  Sara put a hand to the low ceiling, stabilizing herself as she looked over the rows of sves. Most were gripping their oars with fatalistic apathy, unconcerned with living or dying. Some few, the youngest or most recent additions to the crew, had the beginnings of fear on their face, but even they were kept passive by the ropes binding their wrists. The entire group waited with calloused hands on their oars, silent and dead-eyed.

  Sara's stomach twisted at the sight. She walked up to the first row, drawing her sword. The sves on the bench pressed as far away from her as their binds allowed, but Sara held up a hand.

  "I'm freeing you all, if you'll let me" she told them, reaching out with the weapon. "There's a Magecraft bearing down on us, and I'm not going to go into a fight with anyone in ropes. Understand me?"

  Though doubtful, the first man put his wrists forward. Sara cut the rope, jerking his hands a bit as she did so.

  "Why?" The man asked.

  "It's what any decent person would do," Sara said, gesturing to the next sve on the bench. "C'mon, show me your hands. This'll take all day otherwise."

  The next sve presented their wrists, then the next, and soon the silent dreariness that held the deck was lifted. People began whispering to one another, louder and louder, specuting about a million and one things. As Sara moved through the rows she overheard people questioning her armor, her reasoning, wondering about the approaching Magecraft, wondering if they'd make it through the day to enjoy their newfound freedom, all among bits of general cmor and excitement. As Sara was nearing the back row there was a whistle from high above, the sign for the rowers to make ready.

  All across the deck there was a ctter of wood as hand gripped the oars, unbound. Rope burns and fking skin were visible on every wrist, but not a single rope.

  "There's a Magecraft coming for us!" Sara bellowed as she jogged back towards the top deck stairs. "It's faster than us, stronger than us, and ready to kill us all!" She took two steps up the stairs, then turned around, flipping her greatsword out. "Anyone that has experience fighting, come with me! The rest of you are free to do as you please, but we'll need rowers if we want to live to see tomorrow!"

  With that she turned and ran back up the stairs, rain pelting her helmet once more. The Magecraft was nearly upon them, the deck dotted with a sparse assortment of heavily armed soldiers. They were a hundred yards away, closing fast.

  "Pikes make ready to repel grapples!" Captain Nora yelled. A line of sailors in tattered clothing had taken positions along the side of the Crossed Glory, holding an assortment of broken oars, pnks, sabers, and long knives. Hardly the pikes that Captain Nora had ordered be used, but Sara doubted there was much else on hand.

  Sara joined the line, greatsword out and ready. Around her former sves began to filter in, wielding an impoverished mix of cutlery and improvised wooden clubs. In thirty seconds or less the number of fighters on the two decks went from vaguely equal to massively weighted in the Crossed Glory's favor, Sara's allies outnumbering the Magecraft's troops three-to-one. Nothing could change how outequipped they were, but it at least made the fight possible.

  Sara watched the Magecraft glide towards them, bouncing lightly over swells that the Crossed Glory crashed through. The distance went from a hundred yards, to seventy, to fifty, now within bow range, if they'd had any. Sara bounced from foot to foot, waiting for Captain Nora's order. They'd pnned and pnned, but it all ultimately came down to Captain Nora's next order. She was the only one on the ship that had any idea what to do, and Sara had thrown all her trust behind the feytouched Captain.

  "Rowers, sails, hard to port! We're ramming the bastards!"

  Sara tensed, leaning forward. Captain Nora had told them that none but another Magecraft had caught a skimmer with a ram, but she was trying it anyway. It meant that Captain Nora thought their circumstances as desperate as one could get.

  Oars shot out from the hull, spearing into the water. The waves were fierce enough that there was a staccato ripple of shattering wood as the oars snapped, yet enough survived that Sara stumbled to the right, the ship's momentum arresting. The drumbeat began below, just as something fshed before Sara's eyes.

  Hidden Ability: Champion's Inspiration

  The Champion of Amarat reaches out to the souls of those around her. Whether through dance, speech, or song, she may show a truth that fans the embers of fading spirits into roaring bonfires.

  In a single motion every rower down below heaved, a hundred voices roaring in unison. Oars dug into the water like nails cwing at the edge of a cliff, dozens of whirlpools forming as they ripped chunks from the ocean's surface. The sudden deceleration finally threw Sara from her feet, as it did nearly everyone else. The ship creaked and groaned as it whipped about, waves crashing high over the bow. Only Captain Nora, up at the wheel, remained standing, eyes burning madly she watched the Magecraft.

  "Rowers full ahead!" She bellowed, words ringing over the storm like struck crystal. Even before the drumbeat changed, the oars shifted to a new rhythm, both sides moving in impossible unison. Sara stumbled backward as she tried to regain her feet, the Crossed Glory accelerating as the wind caught her sails.

  "Yes! YES!" Captain Nora exulted, an insane cackle bouncing over the waves. Sara saw why just in time to grab the railing, bracing for impact.

  The impossible happened. The Crossed Glory, a bastard child of discordant designs, became the first in history to strike a Magecraft. The skimmer had spun like a ballerina to avoid their ram, but no captain could have been prepared for a Champion's abilities to spread themselves among the enemy crew. The metal-capped ram crunched into the hull of the Magecraft, just at the rear of the ship. Sara could see water begin to spill into the exposed hull as the Magecraft ripped itself free, hook-tipped ropes flying from its deck. The collision was so violent that both ships were left spinning, slowing to a stop facing opposite directions, sides pressed to one another.

  "Pikes to starboard!" Captain Nora yelled, betedly adjusting for the new retive positions of the two ships. Sara joined the rest as they stormed to the opposite side of the deck, the grapples nding in a hail of metal thumps. Sara stumbled upon one, which had embedded itself in the deck, and swiped downward at it.

  Her sword scraped off in a spray of sparks, shearing away the fake rope exterior to reveal a thin metal wire. Sara took the weapon in both hands and swung again, harder.

  It was no use. Her sword scraped off the wire in another spray of sparks, the half-inch cable too tough to be cut. Sara looked up, seeing everyone else having simir results.

  "Captain!" Sara yelled. "The ropes can't be cut!"

  "Ready to repel boarders!" She hollered back, that cerulean madness still not quite gone from her eyes. In fact, Sara realized, it was literal. The Captain's eyes were being lit from within, her brown irises repced by a caribbean blue. Runes had begun to take shape across her exposed skin, flowing in neon eddies.

  Are those fucking Champion's Runes? Sara thought, gaping. She shook her head. Gonna have to unpack that one ter.

  Sara turned back to the Magecraft, which was rapidly being hauled closer. She spent precious seconds wracking her mind, trying to work her way down the flowchart of Captain Nora's orders from before the fight began. Premature mutiny? Check. Successful ram? Check. Grapples unable to be repelled? Check.

  Which told Sara what she had to do next. She abandoned her pce in line, repced by a muscled rower wielding an officer's stolen saber, and sprinted up the stairs behind the wheel, giving her the most height. Captain Nora was still fnked by Evie and Hurlish, who'd been keeping a close eye on the captain while Sara was away. Judging by the absence of any new bodies, nobody had tried anything stupid.

  Sara paced out a distance from the railing, stopping when she thought she had enough distance. Hurlish walked up beside her, putting a hand on Sara's shoulder. "Ready?" The orc asked, grinning down.

  "Hell no!" Sara replied, matching the grin. "You?"

  "Always!"

  Sara sprinted forward, Hurlish thumping along beside her. At the edge of the deck she hopped up, pnting both feet on the railing, then pushed off, sailing through the air with Hurlish beside her.

  At the apex of their leap Sara pointed her sword downward, aiming at the skimmer's deck.

  "Warp!"

  Sara fshed forward, thumping onto the deck with Hurlish at her side. She immediately ducked as the orc roared, throwing her hammer out in a circle. Sara felt the wet crunch reverberate through the decking, the closest unaware sailor dying with hardly a yelp.

  Sara stood, pressing her back to Hurlish, and raised her sword.

  "Champion of Amarat here! Come and get it!"

  A dozen heads whipped towards her, shocked expressions visible behind their helmets. Sara snapped her sword between forms at the front of the skimmer, urging her runes to glow once more. Though they'd never activated on purpose before, Sara was willing to bet Amarat had the same respect for dramatic fre as she did. As expected, her powers obliged her, pinkish-purple light leaking from the seams of her armor.

  Unfortunately, rather than rush her in a disorganized mob as Sara had hoped, the soldiers looked to their commanding officer. A man wearing a plumed helmet snapped his hand up, giving a series of signals Sara didn't recognize. Immediately the soldiers drew shields and gdiuses as they colpsed in on one another, forming a wall six wide and two deep. They began marching towards Sara in lockstep, swords hidden behind interwoven shields.

  "Uh, Hurlish?" Sara asked, taking a step back. "Any idea how to deal with this?"

  "Hmph?" Hurlish grunted, turning around. "Ah, fuck."

  "So that's a no?"

  Hurlish and Sara stood shoulder to shoulder, matching the formation's forward pace by walking backwards. They were at the front of the ship, and would be running out of room soon, but she didn't know what else to do. Sara had never fought a coordinated group before, and her inbuilt instincts only told her that she was fucked. Any attack on one would expose her to the others, and while her armor might protect her from a few blows, a weapon would eventually find its way past.

  Just as Sara began debating using another spell to escape, there was a shouted command from the Crossed Glory.

  "Ballistae, target those clumped bastards!"

  The formation of soldiers had just enough time to look to their right before a six-foot bolt of wood speared through their center, shattering into wooden shrapnel as it crashed against the deck. Three were dead on the spot, gaping holes torn in their torso, while several others were mangled by a gncing blow or fragments.

  The officer immediately began dragging the wounded away from the fight, a move that left her with an odd sense of respect for the man. He shouted a word Sara didn't recognize, causing the formation to break into groups of two, a less tempting target for the ballistae.

  Sara figured she could probably handle two.

  She charged forward, greatsword held to her hip with the tip bouncing off the wood behind her. As soon as she reached the first group, she swung it in a vicious uppercut, aiming for the legs.

  The woman soldier caught her sword on the edge of her shield, embedding the bde into the wood. Immediately her partner's gdius darted for Sara's throat, seeking the gap between her helmet and breastpte. Sara had to dodge back, tearing her sword from the shield.

  To her right, Hurlish had more success.

  The orc charged the closest group of two with her hammer held high, roaring the whole way there. Both soldiers raised their interlocked shields to block the blow.

  It didn't matter.

  Hurlish's swung carried her hammer through their shields, through their arms, through their shoulders, and then shattered the wooden decking beneath them in a fsh of enchantment light. The fresh amputees dropped into the hole with agonized screams, leaving Hurlish bent over the gap with bloodied hammer dangling from her hands. Her head snapped up, locking on the next closest group.

  The two soldiers gnced at one another before tossing aside their shields and gdiuses. Sara thought they were surrendering for a moment, but instead both armored soldiers drew fine naval sabers, removing helmets that obscured their vision. It was clear to everyone on the deck that blocking Hurlish's hammer wasn't in the cards.

  Sara, meanwhile, was still working at her first pair. She danced backward across the deck while exchanging blows with them, doing her best to keep the fight away from their fellows. They may not be in a formation anymore, but Sara bet the ballistae wouldn't risk shooting when she was near, so she had to avoid being surrounded.

  She kept throwing testing slices at the two soldiers, trying to find some break in their synchronicity. She had known from the start that a Magecraft would have only veteran fighters aboard, but she hadn't expected their rigid adherence to personal safety. She'd imagined zealots, soldiers chosen for their dogmatic loyalty to their nation or captain, their swordsmanship a secondary concern to brown-nosing technique. Instead, she was squaring off against hardened soldiers who never took a single risk, never broke from their stances, and never fell for her faked openings or feints. They simply blocked with their shield and stabbed outward with their gdiuses, waiting for the moment that their unflinching persistence would coincide with Sara's inevitable mistake.

  If Sara hadn't dueled in the Nine Pits, she'd have been fucked. They would have worn her down, her movements getting slower and slower until their weapons found a chink in her defense.

  But she wasn't the same fighter anymore. She felt the urge to ugh, realizing that she was fighting two mirrors of her old self, a warrior whose mastery of techniques was fwless, but entirely cking in originality. Perfect for formation soldiers, but dangerously predictable in a fight like this one. Though there wasn't enough time for conscious thought in the middle of a battle, her subconscious aligned itself to a new approach, trying to think of how she'd been beaten time and time again in the Nine Pits.

  As Sara recovered from her test swing, she dropped her sword a bit lower, letting it bite into the wooden deck. As sharp as she kept it, the bde's tip sliced through the pnk easily, leaving a nigh-invisible scar. She kept working her way backward, twisting as she fought, guiding the fight like she'd once seen Evie do in a burning warehouse.

  The right soldier's foot nded on the weakened board. The weight of woman and armor snapped the now unsupported wood, dropping her leg up to the knee. Sara, who'd been waiting for the moment, lunged forward, impaling the exposed thigh so deeply her sword bit into the wood behind.

  Their partner immediately seized the moment with a lightning-fast stab, knowing that Sara couldn't bring her sword around to block. Instead of trying to free her weapon, though, Sara released the hilt, both hands clutching the edges of the soldier's shield as she threw it to the left.

  The motion ruined the soldier's stab, letting it spark along Sara's shoulderpad, and then Sara rolled, taking them both to the ground. The soldier's gdius cttered out of her their hand, leaving them both disarmed, rolling on the slick deck.

  Sara jerked the shield forward and back, smming its metal-reinforced edge into the soldier's chin. She felt a gauntlet pound itself repeatedly against her helmet's temple, another reaching for her throat, but neither were effective.

  Sara kept smming the shield forward, metal against metal ringing like a gong. She felt the soldier's punches weaken, then stop, hands falling limply to the deck, but Sara didn't stop. She grabbed their helmet by the sides, lifting it up and pounding it into the wood one, two, three times. Only then, once she was certain her opponent was concussed or dead, did she finally stand, breathing hard.

  The Magecraft was a mess. The two ships had finally been pressed hull-to-hull, and the bulk of the Magecraft's soldiers were occupied by the effort required to repel the horde of half-dressed sailors and freed sves that were trying to rush them. If it had only been the original sailors on the deck, the fight would have already been over, the better armed and armored soldiers easily overwhelming the Crossed Glory's crew. As it was, they were facing a fanatically desperate crowd of club-wielding men and women, every one of them bolstered by the knowledge that a life of freedom could be found in the blood of the soldiers facing them.

  Hurlish, while Sara had been occupied fighting her pair, had finished off the other ten soldiers. She was currently standing with her outstretched hammer tapping the chest of the plumed officer, who had his hands held high. Behind him was a pile of broken and groaning soldiers, the healthiest among them tending to their companion's wounds.

  Hurlish, Sara realized as she approached, hadn't made it out unharmed. Dark blood stained the pooling rainwater brown, dripping off her body from a dozen cuts and wounds. Two Sara could see looked deep, a pair of cerations running up her forearm. The blood that welled there was a deeper crimson, and it soaked her arm from elbow to fingertip.

  Sara walked over to the soldier her greatsword had pinned to the decking, soccer-kicking her sword out of her hand, and retrieved her weapon. The woman screamed as it was pulled free, spasming as she fell to the deck.

  Sara couldn't bring herself to leave her there. She gripped the woman's shoulder and dragged her along, bringing her to the pile of wounded soldiers receiving treatment.

  "Hurlish!" She yelled. "Anyone seen the wizard?"

  "Right in the middle of the damn deck!" The orc called back, gesturing.

  Sara dropped the soldier beside her fellows, leaning around Hurlish's massive bulk to see.

  Standing in the middle of the deck, adorned in billowing robes, was a grey-eyed woman. She was surrounded by a transparent orange bubble, one that was partially pierced by a half-dozen ballistae bolts. Sara looked to the Crossed Glory and saw brilliant fire licking up the central sail, not the least bit bothered by rain or wind. It seemed that the only reason their ship even still existed was the ballistae's suppression of the mage, who could have blown it out of the water long ago otherwise.

  "We gotta do something about her," she told Hurlish.

  The commander of the soldiers, with hands still raised, chuckled. "You will not need, Champion." He spoke with a thick and halting accent as he nodded to the wounded soldier Sara had retrieved, the one now receiving treatment. "You fight with honor, Champion, and for this I will tell you you need not. Sves swarm our deck soon, and this will be the end. Carrion Mages are never captured."

  True to the man's words, Sara could see the Magecraft soldiers being pressed back, unable to answer the manic assault.

  "She's going to kill herself, then?" Sara guessed.

  The man smiled sadly. "She kills the ship. None survive to expose secrets. Leave, Champion, and fight with honor a ter day."

  Another bolt cracked into the mage's shield, adding to the quiver. Sara didn't know how much ammo the Crossed Glory had on hand, but if the ballistae was supposed to be its main defense from pirates, she'd guess a lot. Certainly enough to give the freed sves time to board the ship.

  "So she's just going to kill you all?" Sara demanded incredulously. "What about your soldiers? What's the point of trying to save them if some wackass wizard is going to blow up the ship?"

  "We did not want to lose, Champion," the man replied. He looked down at his soldiers, shaking his head. "They will die, but they will die with secrets not given."

  Even as they spoke, Sara saw the mage's hand creeping towards a robe pocket, drawing out a wand.

  "How do I stop her?"

  "If I knew, I would not reveal."

  "Shit!" Sara swore. She shoved past the man, running up to the mage. She flipped her greatsword out and raised it high, yelling, "Taze!"

  Blue lightning crackled through the air as her sword collided with the dome, a web of light encircling it in an instant. The mage stared at her passively, with minor interest, until the light faded.

  "Champion. What ability did you use to strike our craft?"

  "A rousing speech and decent morality," Sara sarcastically snapped, pounding against the shield again. "Soldier boy over there says you're gonna blow this ship to hell. Can I at least ask why you wanted to capture me, y'know, before you commit a warcrime?"

  "No."

  "Oh, you're real fun," Sara growled, smming her sword against the shield once more. The mage's eyes were lidded, near all her focus spent just to keep the shield up. "How about the crew? You care about killing them?"

  "No."

  "Bitch!" Sara smmed her sword again, harder. It bounced off.

  The mage gave her a curious look. "If you killed me, the crew would destroy the ship themselves and slit their throats, as is their duty. Do not pretend I am committing some atrocity, Champion."

  "Oh, sure, they totally want to die," Sara jabbed a thumb over her shoulder. "Which is why they're bandaging each other and muttering prayers over there."

  "To them, hope yet remains. Perhaps even to me. I have not destroyed the ship yet, have I?"

  "Exactly! So why don't you put the wand down, tell everyone to toss their weapons overboard, and then we'll both go our separate ways? That sound good?"

  The mage shook her head. "I am no fool. You would not leave a Magecraft untouched. Cities are ransomed for such knowledge."

  Sara swore, rolling her eyes. "Girl, whatever dossier you got on me is way out of date. You really think I give a shit about a literal sailing ship, of all things?"

  "Why else spend the time to speak to me like this?"

  "Why? Why? Because you're about to kill dozens of people for no goddamned reason! If I gave a shit about your magic doodads I'd be ripping them off the bitch right now, not talking to you! Now drop the wand and we can all live!"

  "No."

  The crystal tip of the wand began to glow, rattling the boards directly beneath it. Sara blew out another burst of profanity, then cupped her hands and yelled to Hurlish.

  "Grab anyone you can and get the fuck out of here!"

  With a final spiteful sm of her sword against the shield, Sara followed her own advice and began running for the Crossed Glory. She snagged a random wounded sailor as she went, dragging them along the deck. Just as she reached the blood-spattered railing, Sara felt the entire ship wobble.

  She lunged for the Crossed Glory's hull. Snagging a ledge with one hand, she felt the support disappear from beneath her feet. She turned around just in time to see smoking white light race along every nook and cranny of the ship, highlighting the innumerable wards that had been engrained into its body. With a final shiver the ship fell apart, every nail and joint undone. Anywhere that two objects had been connected was suddenly separated, a seventy foot vessel reduced to its base components in an instant. Sara watched as countless bodies dropped into the stormy waves, immediately buried in a ndslide of wood and metal. She shook her head, wishing the mage's corpse would bob to the surface close enough to spit on.

  With a limp person in her left hand and her right hand gripping a nub of wood, Sara had no way to begin climbing to the deck. She began shouting for help, repeating the cry until a head popped over the side and spotted her. A moment ter a rope was tossed down, which she grabbed. Inch by inch, she and her hanger-on were hauled up.

  She threw the person over the railing first, then crawled over and dropped onto her stomach. The deck was in a flurry of activity around her, but she couldn't care less. She just y with her helmet pressed to the deck, breathing hard.

  Eventually she found the strength to roll over, searching for Hurlish. The orc had two armored soldiers thrown over either soldier, giving stern instructions to a wide-eyed sailor. Sara sighed with relief, then turned her attention to the person she'd saved.

  They were still face-down on the deck. With as gentle a shove as possible she rolled them over, cradling their head to hopefully avoid aggravating any injuries.

  Their face was gone. Caved in, crumpled like tissue paper. Sara dropped the corpse wordlessly, staring up into the slowly warming sky.