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Salt and Blood - Chapter 33
🕑 Added 2024-10-06 09:00:00 +0000 UTC<< Chapter 32 | Table of Contents | Chapter 34 >>
1.33 - Titans of the Ocean
Most people get really, really good at one skill. They might even hit the cap and earn themselves a star before the end of their natural life. You wouldn’t consider an old codger who’s an unnaturally good butcher to be a superhuman, though. What if he’d also spent his life running through the forest near his home? Earned a second star. Fella can run faster than the wind and carve you up with a wave of his hand—is that superhuman? At what point does the tide turn you from a man to a monster?
-Excerpt from ‘Charting the Tide: Mortal Limitations and the Divine Spark’ by various contributors
“Madman,” muttered Rose.
She had already turned back to face the wheel, though. Trent would be fine. He always was.
The naval ship was bearing down on them from the starboard side. Keeping course for Eastfel Bay—directly down The Aetherstone Strait—was Trent’s original heading.
Rose spun the wheel towards the other ship, cracking a smile when she saw Felix stumble and curse while grappling with the rigging.
Changing direction would add time to their journey, but her manoeuvre was genius. The Crown of Salt leaned to the right, cutting ahead of the naval craft.
There was still a roaring tailwind and they shot away from their pursuers, who had to war with their own sails and the storm to regain the lost ground.
Too late, Rose realised she had miscalculated. While her move had earned them some breathing room, it had also lined them up neatly for the navy’s cannons. A deafening volley of cannon fire roared into the morning sky, accompanied by a gentle splash.
Your profession has advanced!
Apprentice Scholar 4 > 5
It seemed that tactical sailing decisions counted as scholarly enough for the tide.
The first few shots fell short, but a nasty crunch followed—the rest hit true. Releasing the wheel briefly, Rose ran to the back of the deck to peek over the edge.
Luckily, the damage was minimal and not near the water’s surface. That meant they wouldn’t start taking water on and sink. However, another volley was sure to follow.
BOOM.
Before her eyes, the ocean parted and a colossal wave was launched at the naval ship. The cannons were drowned out and she saw a flash—a thin white line severing the air.
It dissipated. Moments later, the entire world shook and cracked. It filled her ears and she grimaced. A splintered web of cracks had carved open the side of the enemy ship.
Standing in front of it, walking on the surface of the sea as though it was a grassy field, was Trent. There was a silver flash in his hand—his cutlass. He raised it above his head and flicked it downwards.
Instead of the expected crunch of wood, the melodic clang of metal against metal rang out over the thundering rain. A man wearing far more tassels than seemed practical was balanced on the railings of the ship, a blade of his own screeching for dominance against Trent’s.
He wore a two pointed mauve hat with a gold trim and a crest that Rose couldn’t make out at this distance. His uniform was the same design, adorned with tassels, golden buttons and large shoulder pads. Rows of medals were pinned to his breast and his face was more hair than skin—bushy eyebrows and a full beard were all she could see.
“At last, the villain shows his face,” the man roared in an all too recognisable tone. This was the annoying bastard who’d been yelling at them for the past few hours. “I’ve chased you across the Bluestone Sea for half a year, Blackheart! Lost good ships, and better men. You’ve got nowhere left to run. It’s time to face your end, at my hands or on the executioner’s block—the choice is yours.”
The epic clash of blades was the least surprising part of the whole ordeal. He’s walking on the ocean…
Discovering the tide had been a whirlwind journey, opening her eyes to endless possibilities; the things she could achieve, the things she could already do with just a few weeks under her belt.
As she watched the two men clash, leaping across the sea and the sails of the other ship, Rose understood how little she knew.
One swing of their cutlass was enough to cleave the ocean in twain, sending waves large enough to drown her home village careening into the two ships and rocking them vigorously. Neither held a definitive advantage. Both fought with fury—Rose had never seen such a serious expression on Trent’s face.
On the deck, Felix was slack-jawed and glassy eyed. His grip on the ropes was still firm, but his gaze was locked on the magnificent battle.
Everyone’s gaze was, from the two kids on board The Crown of Salt, to the last naval officer on board the enemy vessel. Bang.
A flash of flames cut through the storm. Louder than a thunderclap; brighter than a bolt of lightning. The commodore was blown away, his steps faltering as he slipped under the waves.
Rose watched the main mast of the other ship start to lean. It groaned as it collapsed onto the ship, crushing the men on board as they scattered like ants, tearing another sail in half as it did.
The commodore broke the water’s surface, leaping back into the fray. His face was twisted like a bushy-browed demon. However, Trent gave him no quarter.
Skating across the sea as though it was a sheet of ice, he carved into his foe with relentless fury. The cutlass flashed faster than she could follow, but every strike drew blood.
His dominance didn’t last long. Seeming to be impervious to fatigue, the naval commander sparkled with green motes of light, causing Trent to hop back and cease his onslaught.
She could taste the arcane energy in the air. It didn’t crackle, as it had in the convergence. It caressed her, a psithurism that paradoxically found a place on the open ocean. Rose could guess what came next—Trent knew.
Skill up!
Arcane Attunement 1 > 2
Light gathered in the man’s palm, then blasted outwards—a dance of infinite blades of wind that scythed through the waves and raced towards her captain.
In response, his arm—no, his ARM—crackled with cyan power. From the tip of the seasteel limb, a net of light blew forth, intercepting every single one of the blades.
Wind clashed with light in a kaleidoscopic battle of dazzling proportions. Neither won—they fizzled out, leaving nothing behind save for the two battle-worn men.
Rose felt helpless. All she could do was steer the ship to safety, her fate resting on the outcome of their duel. Is there truly nothing I can do? No matter her feelings, the scale of the fight was far beyond her ken.
Once again they were evenly matched, cutlasses flashing and clanging, sparks flying, and pistols cracking. An orchestral backdrop of thunder and pelting rain completed the scene. Rose did her utmost to commit it to memory—if she survived she wanted to depict the epic battle in her sketchbook.
Skill up!
Focus 13 > 14
An audacious, reckless, and possibly life threatening idea crossed her mind. No, there would be no point. Rose decided to take a leaf out of Trent’s book, and do it anyway.
She left home for adventure, so she would throw herself into every single one—even if that adventure was poking at a man who could dice her into a thousand pieces with a single slash.
One hand on the wheel, she reached into her waistband and drew her flintlock pistol. The varnished wood had a single scratch, courtesy of the alpha wolf, but the metal shone like a mirror. Rose cocked the hammer and raised the sights to her eye, letting the world fall out of focus.
Her skills had advanced in leaps and bounds since her last time shooting. Her vision zoomed in, enlarging her target. Only by a fraction, but every little helped. Click.
Skill up!
Precision 4 > 5
Skill up!
Pistols 8 > 9
Skill up!
Firearms 4 > 5
The commodore’s arm flashed and his gaze flickered to her. For a second, it felt as though she was a mouse standing against a savage tiger. Her shot had failed to even chip his blade.
However, that momentary distraction was all Trent needed. In a battle unfolding at that speed, a millisecond could decide one’s fate.
His arm crackled with lightning and moved in a blur, landing ten blows on his opponent in under a second. The final punch blasted the naval commander into the side of his ship, smashing the hull open and almost splitting the vessel in two. Trent’s cutlass sliced through the air, finishing the job and blasting the two pieces into the distance, where they started to sink into the icy depths.
Wasting no time, the man raced back to The Crown of Salt. From afar he had seemed unassailable, but up close the damage was obvious.
Cuts everywhere, blood leaking from two gunshot wounds, and lethargic steps were all Rose needed to see. She let the wheel fly and rushed to hold him up.
“You’re incredible, Trent. I’ve never seen anything like it. You… You sliced a ship in half! That was the Commodore Saff—and you wiped the floor with him. Who the hell are you?” she exclaimed. “Never mind, let’s just get you patched up, Captain.”
“That has a beautiful ring to it. Say it again, my dear Rose,” he said, his signature smirk decorating his face once more. “That brat’s been after me for six months now. Every time he catches up I send him packing. You’d think he’d have learned his lesson by now. I’m glad you had fun. Fantastic shot, by the way. You’re getting good at that.”
She really was, but that fight had shown her how little her meagre skills mattered. To make a name for herself—to carve out a legend—Rose had a long way to go.
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