Dragonfire Sea

Bennett ignored the sight of the Scattered Islands shrinking behind him. He stood at the helm, looking ahead, never behind. Opportunity called. All around him, the deck of the Lady Faith was a bustle of activity. The crew rushed about, managing the sails and rigging as they made their way to open water. Still near enough to land, the air was thick with the smell of rotting fish and salt, complemented by the cloudy sky, turning harsh rays diffuse.

Nearly five days had passed since departing from the drop point, since agreeing to Lord Bedelth's task. Now they were headed to Oshea at the king's request. The country lay across the Dragonfire Sea. It would take two weeks to get there, if they judged the winds correctly and made good time; it was important they did. According to Lord Bedelth, something was happening there, something that concerned Dragonwall. If the king wanted additional eyes and ears on the matter, then it must have been a serious concern.

He'd been offered good money for the job. So, to Oshea they'd go. Once they arrived, their work would begin—Cat's work, more specifically. He was relying on her pretty looks, mage abilities, and charm—feigned charm, obviously, since she wasn't a pleasure to be around—to gather intel.

Then they would return to Dragonwall.

He was more anxious than he let on. Oshea was a place he often avoided. He'd been born there, but felt no ties to the country. Still, money was money, and the king payed well.

As planned, he'd stopped off in the Scattered Islands beforehand. One last hurrah for his crew to blow off steam before getting stuck aboard the ship for an extended period. With part of the funds Lord Bedelth provided, they'd loaded the hull to bursting with supplies. Food and water, some ale for the harder days, extra supplies to repair the ship, should they run into a storm, and other cargo to maintain their ruse. The Lady Faith sat low in the water.

And yes, he'd gotten the list of items Cat had requested. He snorted, just thinking about it. Jonah, his first mate, turned to him, eyes searching. "Everything okay, Captain?"

"Oh, aye. Just godsdamn splendid," he growled, keeping his eyes on the activity above deck.

He hadn't been happy about the shopping trip, for which Cat had insisted on accompanying him. Turned out, the items on her list were damned expensive. After paying for the third item, he'd thrown her an accusing glare, as if to say she'd done it on purpose. She'd merely lifted a brow and shrugged. "It costs what it costs, Captain," she'd added. "You do want me to take care of your crew, do you not?"

It was her crew too, even if she didn't want to admit it.

She'd left him muttering under his breath, but he'd let it go, used the funds from the Shield to get what they needed. He hated to admit that she was right. Getting what was needed to help the crew would make things better. A healthy crew was a happy crew. Besides, he prided himself on being a good captain.

Speaking of Cat...he scanned the bodies on deck. "She's below," Jonah said, knowing who he sought. "Probably organizing and reorganizing and agonizing over all her new supplies, conjuring up all sorts of wicked concoctions. I'm thinking I might invent some ailment just as an excuse for treatment. Gods know, most of the crew will do exactly that, just to get her hands on them."

He snorted. "I hate to think it, but you might be right."

"Oh, aye, I am," Jonah said, throwing him a knowing grin. Dimples appeared in the man's cheeks.

His damned crew was smitten. He pulled his spyglass from his pocket, extended it, then held it to his eye. Open water stretched before them, and above it, far along the horizon, a mass of dark clouds. He didn't like the look of the storm they were headed towards. It wasn't the worst thing he'd seen. He'd been caught in some nasty ones, but it would certainly require careful effort. Collapsing the glass, he returned it to his pocket.

"We could try going around," Jonah pointed out, eying the distant clouds that would be upon them in half a day.

He contemplated. "It's a far cry from the worst we've seen. Remember that nightmare on the way to Holbeck?"

Jonah's face turned grim. "As if I could ever forget it, Captain."

"We endure, as we always do. Going around will cost us days. We'll be okay," he added. Jonah nodded, his eyes tracking the motion of various crewmen. Bennett slapped a hand on his shoulder. "Batten down the hatches, Jonah, and get her ready."

Overhead, the loud caw of a bird echoed over the cry of the gulls. "Ah, right on schedule," he muttered, squinting towards the sky. Beaky soared overhead, nipping at the gulls who flew too close. After circling twice, she alighted on the highest mast, up near the crow's nest, where she settled. She'd be down later to pester him. His bird was an independent sort.

A flare of warmth burst through his chest. He'd never meant to love the little creature. It would be a hard time for him when she grew too old to fly, when he lost her. She'd become a close companion to him over the years, and he wasn't sure what life would look like without her.

~

The evening rushed to meet them, the light fading, the storm close at hand. Bennett saw to the crew, ensured they followed their orders, preparing everything as needed, then headed below and sought out the healer's cabin, newly named. He rolled his eyes and withheld a snort when he saw the freshly nailed plaque on the door. Literally, Healer's Cabin. At least she took her new job seriously. He put his ear to the wood and listened. All was silent, so he rapped his knuckles on the door.

"Enter," called the feminine voice from within. He still hadn't gotten used to having a woman aboard.

He swept into the room, his eyes darting over everything, taking note of the newest changes, like the full jars on the shelves, secured in place for obvious reasons. Her back was to him, hunched over the small counter opposite the healer's table. Her stance was wide, to steady herself from the rolling of the ship. His eyes traced over the delicate lines of her neck and shoulders, down to her trim waist and long legs. Her tunic and pants outlined every generous curve of her waist, hips, thighs. His nostrils flared and he ripped his gaze away.

"Storm's coming," he said.

She whirled, frowning. "Oh. It's you."

He snorted. "Good to see you too, Kitty Cat." A wicked grin split his lips at the sight of her annoyance—a muscle twitch at her eyebrow.

"You're too late. Emmon's already been here to tell me about the storm, Captain, so unless you're here for treatment, you can clear off for those who have ailments."

His mouth opened—he snapped it shut. He made a point of checking over his shoulder. "Because you've got a whole godsdamned line waiting at the door?" He scoffed.

There was no one. The hallway was entirely empty.

"Exactly," she said. He allowed her snarky attitude pass him by.

"Things could get dicy above," he warned. "Might be good to have your magic for assistance, in case anything goes wrong."

"What are you saying?" Her eyes narrowed.

"What I'm saying is, if someone falls overboard, they'll be lost to the sea."

"And you can't fish them out why?"

"You ever seen how fast a wave pulls someone away from a ship, lass? That water's freezing. A human body won't last long with a head above water in a storm."

Never mind that during a storm, it was hard enough managing the ship without trying to go after downed crew. Losing a man overboard was rare for his crew, but it happened. He'd lost a handful over the many long years to various deaths, and yes, a few to their watery graves. Sometimes the sea god was merciful, and most times, he was not.

She planted her hands on her hips. "I'm busy making a concoction for Yerik's joints. After this, I need to mix up something for Zama—"

"I understand you got work aplenty, but if Yerik goes overboard, then that concoction you're mixin' on the counter there won't much matter, now will it?"

Her jaw flexed. The desire to argue flashed across her features, there and gone. At last, she nodded. "Fine. How long do I have?"

"Storm'll be here within the hour."

She hesitated. "And what is it, exactly, that you expect me to do? Because for your information, I doubt my magic will be enough to pull a man from the water."

He huffed. "Keep the crew from falling overboard and you won't need to. Keep things from going belly up. This ain't the kind of storm to rip a mast clean off the ship, but, you never know what it'll throw at us."

She rolled her eyes, as if to say, that's your job. "Right. Okay, let me just pull out my magic wand here—" She made a show of checking in her pockets, patting them down as if searching for something. "While I'm at it, I'll sprinkle some faerie dust in the air—"

"Faeries do exist, then?"

"Gods above," she cursed under breath. "You're insufferable."

"Insufferable's my middle name, lass. Glad you see that." He liked the way her cheeks heated in annoyance. Some of his greatest satisfaction these days came from bringing that kind of color to her skin. Burrowing beneath it, down to her very bones. Scraping around until she was spitting, claws extended.

She made a sound in the back of her throat, turning her back on him momentarily, moving a few items back into their jars, returning them to the shelves.

"Look, I'm just askin' yeh to do what yeh can," he said, resigned, his accent growing thicker by the moment. It always came out in full force when his emotions were heightened. "Help where yeh can—if yeh can. I know you care about the crew. And if not for me—because I know yeh don't want nothing to do with me—then for the crew. They're sweet on yeh, the lot of 'em."

She hesitated, her movements stopping. Then her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath and turned to him, pinning him with her fierce gaze. "I said I'd help, all right? I'll finish up here and come up when the storm starts. Should be finished in a few minutes, anyway."

He nodded, then turned on his heel, hesitating before he walked out. He wasn't about to say 'thank you.' For some reason, she made it seem like everything was such a chore. He only felt the need to say thanks for that reason alone, but had to stop himself from doing it. Frequently.

He dropped by his cabin and sank onto his bed for a few moments of peace—soaking up the calm before the storm. Beaky was on her perch, sleeping. "You'll need to stay down here," he told her. "No use in battering your feathers out there with the winds what they are." She opened a lazy eye, gave a chirp, then closed it. She already knew, and always stayed below during the worst storms. Her intelligence never ceased to amaze him. Spoiled creature. She lived a better life than most of them.

The waves were growing rougher. The ship rolled violently beneath him, slanting more and more with each. He sighed, stood, and readied himself before making his way to the deck. It was a rush of activity as Jonah shouted orders. He kept his stance wide as he made his way. A particularly large wave rose towards them, tall as a two-floor building. The Lady Faith rode it up, up, up, then plummeted headfirst.

His stomach dropped straight to his boots, lost among the planks beneath his feet.

The crew whooped, a few lifting challenging fists into the air, getting their minds amped for the battle ahead. He couldn't help the deranged smile that spread across his lips. Storms were always a battle, not so different from those fought with swords and knives and arrows. But this? This was a battle against the sea, against the salty grave beneath their feet, a fight with dire consequences if things went wrong. Their foe would try to swallow the ship, but they'd make sure that didn't happen. They'd do all they could. At the end of it, no matter how hard they fought, some things were simply out of his control. She wasn't called the Lady Faith for nothing.

"Everything's in place," Jonah shouted as he came up beside his first mate. Jonah nodded towards the hurricane force sails they'd hoisted, having swapped the others out, which would be torn to tatters in something like this. They could have reeled them entirely, but they needed the speed. It was important that they keep moving at an angle to the storm; their sails would allow for that. If this was a full blown hurricane—and thank the gods it wasn't, or they'd be in real trouble—Bennett would have done things much differently. Plus, that's why he'd requested Cat's presence on deck. He wasn't entirely sure what she was capable of, but he hoped she might keep things from going to shite.

Besides that, other precautions had been put in place. They'd had ample warning, time to run safety lines from fore to aft, giving the crew something to grab on to as they moved about. He'd done this so many times, and yet, his heart still raced. The exhilaration of it never faded.

"This'll be her first storm," Jonah shouted, pointing to the female figure emerging from below deck.

All around them, the wind whipped, slapping his face with icy spring air, mixed with the salty spray as the waves battered the sides of the ship. Cat stumbled for the closest safety line, waited for the ship to steady, between waves, then made a break for the stairs.

"I'm going to secure you so you don't loose your footing," he shouted over the wind once she was beside him. Her throat bobbed—a gulp. Whatever she might have expected, it wasn't this. Not with how pale her face had turned.

A sudden urge to reassure her washed over him, rising at the same rate as the Lady Faith cresting the next wave. He pushed it down, down, down. It wasn't his job to sugarcoat things. He wouldn't tell her everything was fine, because it wasn't. He might...perhaps...have underestimated the severity of the weather earlier. Not entirely his fault. It was unpredictable, and while he had plenty of experience with these things, sometimes nature simply turned wild.

Besides, everyone needed to experience one of these storms in their lifetime. It was a valuable lesson. Life was precious. Being reminded of that was important.

Cat nodded. To her credit, she didn't cower or whine. She didn't insist on going back to her cabin. She simply stood her ground. He admired that, was proud, even. He didn't want to feel it—hated thinking anything better of her. But...well, he could still admire things about her and dislike her. There wasn't a rule stating otherwise.

He found an extra spool of rope and secured it around her waist, securing her to the helm. Then he walked her through what to expect, talking about the wind direction, the waves, and the chance for things to go belly up—what she ought to do if that happened.

"So, basically, you need me to step in if anything goes wrong," she said, brow lifted.

"That's the gist of it."

"You do realize that magic doesn't fix everything," she warned.

"Well, it's a lot better than nothing!" he snapped.

She snorted but said nothing. They stood in silence, side by side, with Jonah at the helm, keeping a steady course at an angle to the storm. The breath before the plunge was always the tensest moment. He could already see the sheets of rain before them, a transparent curtain. He could also see the lightening within, hear the rumbles as they reached the ship. It started as a patter, first, splatters on the planking. Seconds later it turned to a downpour. The sound of the drops soon drowned out everything else, a roar that engulfed his ears.

He was drenched in seconds. It was a cold rain, but not as cold as the winter storms, and for that he was grateful. His crew would stay warm, working.

The activity on the deck turned frenzied. Everyone knew what was needed of them, and he watched with pride bursting in his chest. They operated like well-oiled cogs in a clock, each moving about the other, despite the rush of their bodies. The Lady Faith rose and plunged, rose and plunged. Beside him, Cat's hands clenched her stomach. "Take deep, slow breaths," he shouted at her. He wouldn't dare leave her side, even though he was tempted to, if only to scare the living daylights out of her. She only nodded, eyes wide, darting over each of the crew. To her credit, she kept her gaze watchful.

Lightening forked the sky and he flinched. Thunder followed. He counted the seconds in his mind, using it to judge the distance—a habit, more than anything. Gods, he hated lightening. More lightening forked around them, arcing between clouds and water, until the sky was alight with flashes of blinding white, thunderous rumbles mixing with the rain as the bakdrop to their current nightmare.

On and on they plunged, Jonah at the helm, the crew working to keep things in order. An hour passed, and then another, until his feet ached and his mood turned the better side of sour.

"Shouldn't it be over by now?!" Cat screamed at one point.

He all but snorted. "Storms like this can last hours, Kitty Cat. Days, even."

What little color her face had regained, faded entirely. She turned pale as a ghost. Her mouth opened and closed before her jaw clenched.

This one wouldn't be more than a few hours, he was certain, but he decided not to tell her that.

Another series of lightning bolts lit the sky, cracking and rumbling. He flinched again. His heart set off into a gallop. He kept his hands clenched into fists, his blunt nails biting into his palm.

The Lady Faith found another wave to crest, riding it up, up, up to the top. There was always a second or two, right at the highest point, where the sea spread out around them and time seemed to stop. It was a beautiful moment, in its own right. Glorious and terrifying. Dark, inky waves with little choppy bits of white, large rolling hills, some mountainous in appearance, laid out for them as far as could be seen. The majesty of the sea. The ship would start to tilt, more, then a little more, and then whoosh. She'd fly nose-first down the slope straight for the watery valley below.

He saw the edge of the storm in the distance, saw it like a hint of victory. But he wouldn't breathe easier until they were out of danger.

Another burst of lightening lit the world around him, temporarily blinding. The sound of it clenched his stomach. The second the world darkened, the ship had reached the bottom of the wave, righted, and was already riding the next one up. A frightened cry from the crew rose above the din.

His eyes darted over everything until they fell to the new chaos taking place. Peter. He must have slipped, lost his footing when the lightening struck, blinding all of them. His body dangled from the railing, hands like claws holding on, trying to climb back up and over to safety. Bennett's stomach lodged in his throat. For a single inhale, he could only watch as Peter struggled, as the crew attempted to battle the rough seas and high winds. Only two of his men had noticed, with the unfolding frenzy on the deck. Peter tried to lift himself up and over but Bennett could already see what was wrong. The rails were slick with rain. Peter would already be exhausted, left with little strength left after battling a storm like this for hours. For a brief moment, the crew who did see him, sprinted in his direction. But Peter's fingers were already slipping.

"Cat!" he shouted, as one of Peter's hands completely broke its grip, leaving him to dangle from the other.

"I see him," she cried. "I see him!"

Another second and the other hand—

Cat lifted her arm and shouted something in another language. It was instantaneous. Peter's body rose into the air, was flung back onto the deck, as if someone had wrapped a rope around him and yanked. His body sprawled, going limp, chest heaving, then quickly righted. He took hold of the safety line, head turning in their direction. Bennett's eyes met Peter's and Peter nodded, an indication that he was okay.

They were safe.

He turned to Cat, and this time he didn't stop himself. She was doubled over, hands on her knees, balancing against the rolling deck, as if the effort had cost her a great deal. "Thank you," he said, allowing his genuine relief to seep into his words. She stood. Her throat bobbed, eyes still worried, and nodded.

The break in the storm was approaching. He turned his gaze towards it, spotting the line every time they reached the top of a wave. Closer, closer, closer. Until at last, the rain decreased to a sprinkle, then a dull mist. Activity slowed, then ceased altogether, as tired bodies heaved each breath. A few collapsed to sitting, and even sprawling.

And then a victory cry split the air. Followed by another, and another. Fists lifted into the air. Once again, the sea had tried its damnest to claim the Lady Faith. Tried and failed.

He let his whoops of victory mix with the crews. Beside him, a feminine voice joined the noise. He glanced over to see Cat's face animated, smiling. His eyes fixed on her mouth, on the way it transformed her features. He lifted his gaze. Their eyes held and his stomach swooped. It had nothing to do with the wave they crested. He quickly looked away, then hefted his fist in the air and pumped it.

They'd live to tell another tale. 

⭐🌟 DON'T FORGET TO VOTE!!🌟⭐

Happy Friday, Bookdragons!

Happy new year! I hope 2023 is getting off to a great start for you. It's been a busy week, transitioning back to my usual work schedule.

This chapter was so much fun to write. I did have to do a bit of research about ships sailing in storms, types of sails they used, if any, and what precautions they took. That was enlightening. 

Next week's chapter, we return to Claire! Things are heating up and we've just about reached the "battle."

Today's artwork comes again from Grace. This is a depiction of Lady Tamara and Lord Byron. I love how she captured the icy blue of his scales. It's just lovely! And his unique twisting spikes. So cool! I hope you love it too.