The Battle of Dragon's Bay

He shrieked in pain and terror, and the men around him fell back. Batting futilely at his flaming clothes, the man ran away, back from the gunwale and out of sight. Above Caeruthir, his own marksmen in the rigging were firing away at their opposite number on the junk's main deck.

"Watch for more firepots!" he shouted up at them. "Don't let them get close!"

Tempest bumped against the junk's sides, sending some crewmen aboard teetering. Another firepot tumbled over the gunwale, but Caeruthir conjured a gust of wind to carry it back up to explode in the faces of the soldiers.

"More shooters to the rigging!" he called. "Clear the decks and prepare grapnels for boarding!"

"There's already a party climbing through the gunports," Linanthras called, pointing to where a group of elves were doing just that. "More grenades," he called. "Grenades to the rigging!"

"Gather my guard," Caeruthir told him, looking up to the enemy deck. "I'll take them and prepare the way."

"By sorcery?" Linanthras asked, and Caeruthir nodded. His lieutenant smiled and moved to rally the guard. Caeruthir closed his eyes and marshalled the power of the spice he had taken already. Focusing his mind's eye, he called forth the power of the red steel sword and poured his sorcerous might into the blade. It thrummed with power, quivering in his hand with anticipation of the kill. Caeruthir opened his eyes again and smiled.

Ten elves in glittering armor of silversteel joined Caeruthir on the quarterdeck in short order, armed with swords and pistols and ready to kill. He was almost prepared to take the fight to the enemy, but he would need more power. Caeruthir took a large flask of spice from his swordbelt and swallowed it all.

He convulsed. Stars exploded through his vision and his head swam through space and time. He saw the great cities of the empire burning, a citadel choked with smoke, and himself atop a throne of spice. A dragon hung from a noose, and beneath it lay a great blue jewel that cracked open to reveal two sapphire hatchlings that took wing to devour the corpse above it. They tore through the scaled hide to feast on the dragon's innards and grow in size until they were together a third of the dead wyrm's size.

Caeruthir came to on the quarterdeck, kneeling and clutching his sword which was driven point down into the deck.

"Are you back, Captain?" asked Belathir, one of the blademasters in his bodyguard. Caeruthir smiled.

"Hold on, we're taking a little ride on the wind."

White winds swirled around them. His long hair whipped around his shoulders like a cloak, and the wind formed a wall until he could see nothing beyond it, only his ten finest swordsmen and himself. They smiled. Swords and the ready, they turned toward the outer edge of the windwall and waited for it to subside.

It died away as quickly as it had come, vanishing in a cold breath of air to reveal the deck of their quarry. A great pavilion towered above them and they were surrounded by stunned soldiers now caught between Caeruthir and his strike force and those pirates scaling the hull.

A grapnel flew up from below to snag itself on the gunwale.

"Attack!" Caeruthir cried, and his men lashed forward like striking hawks. The first to die was a young man in the emperor's colors, who cried out and raised a firelock in defense, ramrod still in its muzzle. Caeruthir gave him no mercy, slashing the terrible red steel blade clean through his chest and out his hip. The man died with a horrid, strangled scream and his remains fell wet to the deck with a splat.

The blade screamed in his grasp, drinking in the rent soul it had claimed and hungry for more. The enchantment he had laid upon it cut the very air with its ferocity and Caeruthir pressed forward in search of more victims.

His men were no less eager, hacking down and apart the stunned enemy in all their finery. Caeruthir quickly discerned he was fighting two distinct groups, common sailors and soldiers of the fleet, and an elite guard. The former were slain easily enough, but the latter might have given him pause in other circumstances. The resplendent costumes of the guards gave Caeruthir no doubt that he was in the right place, and for all their surprise they fought as well as any other mortal soldiers he had encountered, but there were not enough of them.

Another unfortunate sailor found his way into Caeruthir's path and was cut down. He surged onward to the gunwale, where his men were climbing up from below. One of the emperor's guardsmen had taken a grapnel in his hand and raised his jian to slash the rope, but Caeruthir reached him first. The guardsman saw him coming and turned just in time to deflect Caeruthir's killing stroke with his blade. He backed away for space and time, and the grapnel remained in place.

It drew taut as someone began to climb, and Caeruthir positioned himself to defend it as his men began to scale the hull. The guardsman glared hatred at Caeruthir, his eyes going from the red steel blade to the offending grapnel and back. Caeruthir beckoned tauntingly, and the guardsman lunged for him.

Steel clashed with steel and the blade was turned aside. Caeruthir riposted, his thin light blade darting forward to pierce a gap in the guardsman's armor and draw blood. The man grimaced in pain, but turned his own sword back toward Caeruthir and stabbed. The elf twisted and turned to avoid the point, all the while driving his own blade deeper into his foe. The guardsman grabbed the red steel sword in a gauntleted fist and held it back, but he was unaware of the enchantment Caeruthir had laid upon it.

He wrenched the blade back, tearing through the man's hand. Armored fingers fell to the deck and this time he screamed in pain. The red steel blade stabbed forward again and pierced the guardsman's armor below the shoulder, where Caeruthir drove the blade into his heart.

As the guardsman slumped to the deck, another sailor came screaming at Caeruthir. His attack was panicked and clumsy, and the elf stepped back from the charge and swung the blade down at his head as he passed by. For all its light construction, it was an awesome cleaver and split this man from crown to navel in a single blow. He tumbled forward and crashed into the gunwale, his life's blood spilling across the deck.

Resistance was crumbling, and all around him lay the bodies of his foes, slain by his hand, the blades of his bodyguards, or struck down by marksmen in the rigging. Corpses, discarded weapons, spent arrows, and a severed hand lay scattered across the deck, scorched in places where the firepots and grenades had landed. More pirates swarmed over the gunwale, and the remaining sailors looked desperately for a place to flee. Caeruthir turned his avaricious eye to the grand pavilion at the center of the deck.

But there he found one who would not flee. A tall, proud man in gleaming armor, he wore a golden plume of horsehair in his helm and readied a jeweled jian with one hand. The other hand he thrust forward at Caeruthir in a challenge, and he called in the low Leiyani language of sailors and merchants.

"You there! Pirate dog! I challenge you to single combat! Will you face me like a man of honor, or flee like a filthy dog?"

Caeruthir smiled under his silversteel helm. Belathir stepped up beside him and leveled a pistol at the brave man. Caeruthir put a hand on his arm.

"No," he instructed. "Let the man show his bravery. He wants a fight, I'll give him one."

Belathir looked disappointed. "Instead, strike their colors," Caeruthir said, pointing to the enormous green and gold banner that flew behind the ship. "It will break their will to fight and confirm our control of the ship."

Still nonplussed, Belathir obeyed, taking two elves with him. More pirates were swarmed up to the deck from the grapnel lines and he was determined to give them a show. Turning to the impatient man blocking his path to the pavilion, he replied in High Leiyani, the language of the imperial court.

"Come, try your blade against mine and we will see if your bravado holds."

The man's eyes widened in surprise at being addressed in High Leiyani, but they quickly narrowed again as he set his feet for battle.

"Your tongue is not fit to speak such refined words," the guard spat, "I will cut it from you."

"You have quite the mouth on you, impudent mortal," Caeruthir taunted. "I'll teach you a lesson you won't forget as long as you live."

The man's eyes flared, and he gripped his sword in a white-knuckled grip. With hatred on his face, he sneered a furious reply.

"I am Li Gang, captain of Her Highness' guards. I tell you this that you might tell Kanaron who sent you to his halls."

"I tire of your blather," Caeruthir said with a theatrical yawn. "Let us end this."

He raised his blade high before him and the guardsman came at him. Their blades clashed with a ring of steel, and they parted again, each eyeing the other with an expert swordsman's eye.

The captain was skilled, Caeruthir would grant him, but he paled in comparison to the elf's speed and vision. Caeruthir advanced on his foe again, blade forward at the ready, and Li rushed to meet him. The guardsman cut high and Caeruthir rose to meet him even though he detected the feint. Just before their swords clashed, Li turned his strike low to thrust at the midsection.

Caerutthir expertly stepped aside, allowing the tip of the blade to skip off his silversteel cuirass, and hacked at his opponent's head. Li ducked the blow just in time, instead sacrificing his horsehair plume, which was slashed off his helm and fell lazily to the deck. Caeruthir grinned tauntingly at his foe, who pulled away again to evaluate his position for a few brief moments.

Li was beginning to understand his predicament, though his arrogance would prevent him from truly grasping how outmatched he was. He gnashed his teeth in frustration and returned to the attack. He cut and thrust over and over again, each time defeated by Caeruthir's parries or dodges. A crowd gathered around them, pirates to the last as Li's fellow guardsmen were cut down, thrown overboard, or taken prisoners while the captain fought futilely.

He stepped forward with his blade ready to thrust, then darted back as Caeruthir started to respond and stabbed at the elf's face. It was a move that would have fooled a lesser opponent, but though Caeruthir was quick enough to respond with his sword, instead he chose sorcery.

A gust of wind and a spray of sparks burst in Li's face, causing him to cry out in surprise and back away in fear. But Caeruthir now pressed his advantage, stabbing and slashing at his enemy as he drove him back against the wall of the pavilion. Li bumped against the wall, then dove aside as Caeruthir tried to run him through. He hacked at the silversteel cuirass as he retreated, but the blade was defeated without leaving a mark.

Another spray of sparks burst in the air before him, and he was so surprised he lost his balance. Caeruthir snapped his hand and a flaming whip flared into being. It wrapped itself around Li's leg and yanked it out from underneath him. The captain tumbled to the deck and Caeruthir darted in to stab him in the knee before he could recover.

Li cried out as the blade pierced the thin armor around his knee, grabbing at his wound. He slashed wildly at Caeruthir, badly missing his mark. The captain was losing patience and hope now, and Caeruthir danced away with his arms spread wide.

"Such big talk," he taunted. "What's the matter? Can't hit a dog?"

Li snarled with unconstrained rage. "Pirate!" he roared, getting to his feet again, though obviously favoring his wounded knee. "Barbarian filth! You waste the gift of immortality that your ancestors stole from the gods!"

"Stole? We are gifted with life, while you and your alchemists poison yourselves seeking to steal our gift. The elder kindred are masters here. You and your stunted kin are mere playthings for us, as I play with you now."

"I will may you pay for your arrogance," spat Li. "Now die!"

He charged at Caeruthir, faster than the elf had expected given his wound, and his jian thrust forward like a viper's head to pierce the elf's heart.

Li's blow landed square on, but the point was turned aside by the cuirass and his sword shrieked along the armor before cutting harmlessly through the air. Caeruthir seized his moment, and clamped down his arm to trap the blade. He slammed his red steel sword's hilt into Li's face, and the captain fell back with a grunt of pain, leaving his sword behind. He staggered back toward the pavilion's door, seeking only the briefest of respites as he clapped one hand to his bruising face and reached for a dagger with the other.

Caeruthir allowed him no rest, and drove onward. The red steel blade hummed in his hand, he readied Li's lost jian in his off-hand, and attacked with ferocity. Li tore his dagger from its scabbard to fend off the twin strikes, but the red steel blade batted it aside and the jian stabbed him in the arm as he tried to defend himself. He gasped in pain, tilting off balance, and Caeruthir compounded his troubles with a kick and a blow to the head. The captain staggered further, and Caeruthir poured sorcerous power into the red steel blade.

He cocked both blades back, then they plunged ahead and met their points at the sternum of Li's cuirass. The terrible red sword pierced the armor like cloth, and Li cried out as the two blades ripped through his armor and out the back of his cuirass. Caeruthir did not relent in his victory, driving the swords onward, lifting Li off his feet and pinning the hapless man to the door behind him.

Impaled on the two blades, nearly insensate with pain, the captain screamed with defeat and agony, then slumped down. The blades were caught fast in the door and, balance under his rib, held him aloft with his feet off the deck.

A murmur of appreciation went through the crowd, then a smattering of applause. Caeruthir turned and took a theatrical bow before retrieving the red steel blade. Li whimpered in pain as the blade was withdrawn, but remained pinned to the door, alive.

"This is mine," Caeruthir declared as he tapped the jeweled jian in his defeated foe's chest. "But I prefer it where it is for now."

"Well fought, captain," said Belathir. "To the victor go the spoils."

"Indeed," agreed Caeruthir. "Now, let us see what spoils lie within this pavilion." He grabbed the hilt of the jian and, grinning wickedly at Li's continued cries of agony, levered the door open to peer inside.

---

Daiyu held her robes tightly around herself as she waited inside the pavilion. Freshly bathed, shaved, made up, and perfumed, she was as anxious and afraid as she had ever been. The sounds of battle raged outside, cannons thundered, and the hull shook, but she was determined to be resolute in her course.

On that matter, she was receiving no help from Lady Shi and Lady Jiao. Both women were in hysterics, still in shock at the revelation of the princess' prayers.

"Stupid girl," Lady Jiao muttered for the thousandth time, rocking back and forth on her knees where she sat. "Stupid, stupid, stupid girl..."

"Shut up, Zhenyi," Daiyu snapped with cold familiarity. "Zhi, if she speaks again, cane her."

"You overstep yourself, princess!" Lady Shi growled. "You cannot trust your father to protect you here! It is you who should be beaten for your stupidity!"

"All you had to do is keep your pretty mouth shut and marry the barbarian!" Lady Jiao wailed. Daiyu felt her anger flame, now overcoming her persistent fear.

"Zhi, beat her!" she commanded, pointing a condemning finger, and Zhi moved to obey. But there came a cry and a cracking of wood at the door, and two blades pierced through the thin wood. Daiyu froze, her anger abandoning her. The whole pavilion went silent, and she realized that the battle outside had grown dim. Somewhere distant, cannons roared, but her ship was deathly silent. The women huddled together in fear, and Daiyu felt an icy hand closed about her heart. Her knees grew weak, and her hands unclasped her robe, letting it fall open to reveal her naked body beneath. One of the blades retracted, leaving a bloody trail beneath it. Daiyu heard someone whimper in fear. It might have even been her, but she was too out of her mind to know.

The door moved, and Daiyu felt about to faint. Regaining enough presence of mind to pull her robe closed, she inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. I must be strong, she told herself. I made this happen, I can shape it to my favor.

The door swung open, and her eyes were at first drawn to the macabre spectacle of Captain Li hanging from the door, impaled on his own sword and only barely alive. But she had only the briefest of moments to take in the sight, for her gaze was then drawn to the figure before her.

Tall, proud, gleaming in the light of the morning sun, it was a terrifying figure to be sure. From under a visored helm of silversteel, two deep blue eyes glinting with sparks of starlight fixated on her, and under their gaze she felt naked, not only in body but in mind and soul.

She swallowed hard, minding to keep her robe closed about her, and raised a hand to command her attackers to halt.

"I command you to halt," she ordered in the High Leiyani tongue, relying on Zhi to translate into the baser tongues of the foreigners, "I would negotiate with your leader."

Zhi began to translate, but just a few words in, she was cut off by the lead figure, who replied in perfect High Leiyani.

"Negotiate?" he asked in a melodious voice that Daiyu found at once soothing and deeply unsettling, and not merely because this strange barbarian spoke her language as well as she did. "Why would I do that? I've taken your fleet. Your soldiers are now my slaves, as are you."

"I would be more than that," Daiyu replied. Her fear was nearly overpowering, but she pushed herself to deliver the offer she had rehearsed in the bath and under Zhi's brush, all while the sound of battle grew nearer. "I offer myself to you as your wife, with the treasures of the fleet as my dowry, in exchange for the safety of myself and my maids."

She stepped forward and doffed her robe to stand naked before him. A murmur went through the room, and Zhi and her other maids followed suit. Lady Jiao and Lady Shi had not been apprised of this plan, and their mouths dropped open in shock.

"Unthinkable," Lady Jiao gasped, "A princess with a pirate? The heavens weep for this debasement of the royal blood!"

The foreign pirate eyed her through his helm's visor, and she could feel the cold blue eyes drinking in the sight of her naked body. He reached up and removed his helm, long brown hair spilling from the silversteel casque to drape across his powerful shoulders, and Daiyu looked into the man's eyes.

To her surprise, this was no mere man, but an elf. Now that she looked upon his face, she chided herself for not realizing it before. His eyes were not those of a mortal, and his face was impossibly handsome. She felt herself blush, and clenched her fists at her side as she forced herself to stand up straight instead of cringing before his lustful gaze. He moved closer, his armored sabatons clanking on the wooden deck, until he towered head and shoulders over her, looking down into her eyes.

---

Caeruthir considered the bold, yet terribly afraid, princess before him. She was beautiful, with wide brown eyes, long raven hair reaching her knees, and full breasts. She had been freshly bathed and made up by her maids, and he smelled her fragrant perfume as he stood before her. She trembled in his presence, but still tried mightily to control herself. Her shaking stopped and, her delicate jaw firmly set, she stared back at him as he studied her up close.