The pirate vessel had done enough damage that they were quickly overtaking the wounded
Storm Runner
. They had ceased firing chain into the rigging and sails and now flung small stones and shards of metal in an attempt to clear the deck of their prize of as many sailors as they could before boarding.
Only Captain Giles, Zeb, and a handful of sailors, hidden behind the ballista and the aft railing, remained on deck since the Captain ordered the rest of the men safely below but ready to rush back topside to defend against a boarding party.
Captain Giles used the empty floating barrels as reference points to time his attack. He let the pirate vessel get near the first barrel before ordering his men to light the torch and fire the ballista bolt into the shimmering, oily stretch of ocean between them and their pursuers.
The highly combustible liquid floating on the surface of the water burst into flames when the torch struck the oily sheen. The pirate vessel plowed through a blazing river of fire that seemed to course atop the rolling swells of the sea.
The flames stretched only a few feet in the air but adhered to the hull of the attacking ship and quickly ignited any wood above the water line. Left to its own devices, the demon fire would even burn below the water line. The pirate captain quickly realized the mortal danger he and his vessel were suddenly in and ordered his crew to swing hard to starboard to get out of the narrow channel of deadly flames.
“All hands on deck, man the catapult. You men resume firing that ballista. Zeb, bring us broadside to that ship!” he ordered as men scrambled from below decks to follow the Captains orders.
The pirate crew was futilely trying to extinguish the flames lapping up the side of their burning ship when the
Storm Runner
tacked alongside them and unleashed volley after volley of bolts, stones, and crossbow quarrels at the now helpless pirate ship and crew. The pirate captain realized that between the fire and the vengeful crew of the
Storm Runner,
his ship was lost and ordered longboats cast over the side as far away from the all-consuming flames as possible. The pirate crew leapt from the sides of their doomed vessel and swam to catch their longboats, two of which had hit the water at a bad angle and capsized.
“Bring the ship around to those longboats,” Captain Giles ordered.
“You want us to finish of the pirate scum with crossbows, Captain?” a sailor asked eagerly.
“I’ll not murder a helpless foe, even a pirate, but I won’t go out of my way to help them much either. Throw a grapnel to right those capsized longboats and drop three barrels of fresh water over the side,” he ordered. “Who is captain of this filthy crew?” he called out to the pirates now treading water or sitting in a longboat.
“I’m the captain of what used to be the
Insidious
that now sits and burns to her water line,” came the reply of a heavyset, mustachioed man standing at the prow of one of the longboats.
“I am Captain Giles of the merchant ship,
Storm Runner.
Remember the name of the man that not only defeated you but also gave you and your men a chance to live. Zeb, order us on our way as soon as you get those longboats righted. I want men repairing that rigging and replacing those damaged sails immediately.”
“Aye aye, Captain, and may I be the first to say HUZAH!” Zeb cried, pumping his fist in the air.
The rest of the crew quickly took up the cheer for their captain and resumed their heading back to Southport.
“I know I complained about taking that demon fire on board but I take it all back now,” Zeb said sheepishly.
“Yes, it was fortunate that we had it this time, but that maneuver just cost me a small fortune. That stuff was ridiculously expensive. Better than losing the entire cargo, ship, and crew, so I suppose it was a good investment after all. Looking at what it did to that pirate ship, I still don’t know if I’ll ever carry on my boat again.”
“You’ll do what’s best, Captain, you always do," Zeb assured his captain.
CHAPTER 2
Storm Chaser
arrived at the bay of Southport early in the afternoon just two days after the attack. After nearly three weeks at sea, they waited impatiently at anchor several hundred yards from the dock and would remain there until customs officials inspected their cargo, collected their tax and fees, and the harbormaster granted permission to dock.
They waited nearly four hours before the customs officials came to inspect their cargo, appraise its value for tax purposes, and ensured that they were not smuggling anything illegal into the kingdom.
Two officials and their guard compliment of ten soldiers from the city watch boarded his ship and went immediately to the hold to inspect the
Storm Runner’s
cargo. The officials tallied up the value of the cargo and wrote down the amount and the tax to be applied in a ledger.
“Do you have anything else to declare, Captain?” the official with the ledger book asked.
“I have a crate in my quarters that is a special shipment but is granted customs immunity by His Majesty,” Captain Giles offered as he pulled out the special writ.
The second official read it over before handing it back to the captain.
“Very well, everything seems to be in order, Captain. If you will give us just a few more moments of your time I’ll give you the tax receipt and the harbormaster can clear you for docking so you can unload your cargo.”
The two officials and their guards made a cursory inspection of the rest of the ship to ensure there was no hidden cargo stashed away before handing Captain Giles the tax receipt.
“Since you are registered in the city of Southport you have seven days to make your payment at the tax registrar’s office. You are a local merchant so I assume you know where it is.”
“Yes, I know all too well where it is located,” the captain replied with an exaggerated wince.
The officials left with their guards and
Storm Runner
was given leave to dock by the harbormaster within the hour. The crew spent the rest of the day unloading their cargo onto wagons, which were carted away to the warehouses where it would be stored until it was sold to local merchants for resale or caravan traders to be hauled across the kingdom to be sold.
Darius Giles’ own company would commission several of those caravans. Profits from those ventures were the mainstay of his trading company. It was evening by the time they everything was unloaded and transported to the secure warehouse that Captain Giles owned.
He gave his crew leave once everything was safely unloaded and stored. Darius waited impatiently on the deck of his ship for whoever was supposed to pick up the mysterious crate that still sat in his cabin. He wished fervently that they would hurry up and relieve him of his burden so he could surprise his family with his early return.
It was nearly midnight when six cloaked and hooded men approached the boat.
“Hail, Captain, I understand that you have a delivery for us,” one of the men called up.
“That would depend on your ability to prove who you are, sir,” Captain Giles replied.
“Lower a basket and I will send up our credentials, Captain.”
Captain Giles lowered a bucket by a tether down the side of his ship to the men waiting below. The man who had spoken dropped a folded sheet of paper into the bucket, which he reeled back up. Darius compared the seal to the missive already in his possession. They were identical. He broke the seal on the new writ and read the contents. The new paper identified that the bearer was authorized to take possession of the crate and its contents immediately and was signed and stamped with the King’s seal.
Captain Giles extended a gangplank from his ship to the dock. Two of the cloaked men secured it in place before all six crossed over.
“Welcome aboard the
Storm Runner,
gentlemen. I’ll take you to your cargo so you can take possession of it,” Darius greeted warmly. “I don’t mind telling you I’m glad to be rid of it. I don’t care much for this secrecy stuff, but a man’s got to do what he's asked for the betterment of the kingdom I guess. I nearly lost it to pirates but we were fortunate to get away.”
One of the cloaked men brought a pry bar out from the folds of his cloak and rammed it into the seam where the top of the crate was nailed into place. With a screeching of nails being drawn out of wood, the top was pried up and wrenched off. Captain Giles stood near the door with three of the cloaked men who hung back just outside the door behind him, the other three pulling aside straw to examine the contents.
“This is it, arrest him,” the man who appeared to be leading the group ordered.
“What is going on, what’s the problem?” Captain Giles asked as his arms were seized and forced behind his back.
One of the men standing near the crate turned with a clinking of chainmail. “Captain Giles, by order of the King, you are placed under arrest for attempting to smuggle illegal artifacts into the kingdom. By my authority as a member of the King’s Blackguard, you will be held in a detention cell while a special magistrate is summoned from the King’s own court.”
“No, there must be some kind of mistake! I have a document signed with the King’s own seal requesting the transport of that box!” Captain Giles exclaimed in fear and confusion.
“Release one of his hands,” the King’s guardsman told the man holding him. “Produce the document slowly and give it to me.”
Darius carefully reached inside his vest, drew out the missive, and handed it to the guard. As soon as the man touched it, it burst into flame, incinerating itself in an instant. The guard quickly released the burning paper and withdrew his hand. Only a large, smoking flake of ash floated to the deck to show any evidence that it ever existed.
“Vile magic!” the guard cried out.
Darius barely registered the blow that caught him in the back of the head, plunging his world into darkness.
*****
“Your Grace, the ship captain that was hired to transport the item your men located in the wilds of Lazuul has been arrested by a contingent of the King’s Blackguard. The ship and your property have been impounded,” Lord Alton nervously informed his liege.
“What of the forged document authorizing transport?” Duke Ulric asked, masking his outrage with iron discipline.
Duke Ulric Stanbury was the ruler of Southport, a once wealthy city and still one of the more prosperous in the kingdom despite the economic turmoil that several years of war with their southern neighbors had caused. He was of average height but solidly built for a nobleman. His hair was solid black without a hint of grey on his head or in his short, neatly trimmed beard.
“It was consumed by fire the instant one of the arresting guards touched it, just as it was enchanted to do,” the old stooped chamberlain answered.
Duke Ulric nodded thoughtfully. “That is good, that would be a rather damning piece of evidence, and it would not do to have the King’s men gain possession of it. Tell me of this ship captain.”
“His name is Darius Giles, a reasonably wealthy merchant who has just recently come into his fortune over the last few years. He has many loyal friends within the shipping business, but most of the nobles and the affluent are little more than customers, so he lacks any sort of real power or support. He is said to be loyal to the King however and known as an honest businessman,” the chamberlain dutifully reported.
“What is the disposition of the captain at this time?” the Duke inquired as he paced about the room, his hands clasped behind his back.
“He is currently being held in the city magistrate’s jail awaiting the arrival of one of the King’s own magistrates.” The old chamberlain responded.
“He must not be allowed to speak with the magistrate. It is unlikely that he knows anything about us, who gave him the artifacts, nor who was to receive them, but if he were able to deflect guilt away from himself it could help point the King’s Blackguard towards our agents in Lazuul, or worse, here and that would definitely not do. Contact the black tower and have them send the Rook to take care of the good captain.”