Chapter 17 Svenn
The deck lurches beneath my feet, slick with seawater and blood. Three days of this maritime hell and still the fae come with their cursed dragons, endless as the tide itself.
The fae ships loom ahead like floating fortresses. Their hulls are carved with Eirik Bloodhound’s dark sigils. Each vessel teems with countless fae warriors, their voices lifting in harsh battle hymns.
Seadragons rise from beneath like nightmares along with Myrkheim’s fiend-orcas.
Their serpentine bodies ripple with muscle beneath glittering scales, each edged in razor-sharp frills reminiscent of ancient creatures born from storm and legend.
The heads are elongated like seahorses with rows of needle-sharp teeth.
One surfaces beside us, water streaming from its fins. A set of intelligent eyes stares back at me.
“Brace for impact!” Red’s voice cuts through the chaos as the creature’s throat sac inflates.
Venom sprays across the deck and hisses where it lands. A soldier to my left takes the spray full in the face. He claws at his throat, trying to scrape away the burning poison. But it’s already soaking into his skin.
“Get him below!” I shout at the captain. “We need water.”
The captain drives a knife straight into the soldier’s heart instead.
“Water won’t help.” He shakes his head. “I’ve seen this venom before in the deep places where dragons make their lairs. It liquefies prey from the inside out. Makes them easier to swallow.”
Rhianelle stands tall at the helm of the Stormbreaker, silver braid whipping in the wind. Her eyes blaze with unyielding determination.
Volundr’s sailors are born to the sea. They’ve faced storms and sea monsters since childhood. They move deftly amid the chaos, hauling ropes with blistered hands and adjusting torn sails.
The harpoons are Volundr engineering at its finest. Compressed air chambers built into the launchers give them range and power enough to pierce dragon scale.
Each harpoon trails chains attached to metal weights heavy enough to drag even seadragons down into crushing depths where they cannot survive.
“Ready!” The weapons master calls, hands steady on the harpoon controls despite the ship’s violent pitching. “Aim for the gill slits!”
Three harpoons sing through the air. Two find their mark, punching through the softer tissue around the gills. The chains go taut as the creature thrashes.
“Cut it loose before it takes us down!” someone screams.
“No,” Rainer Wiolant commands. “Deploy the depth charges. Secure those chains to the capstan.”
The crew moves to obey despite their fear. Depth charges splash into the water around the thrashing dragon. They detonate and the concussive force combined with the creature’s own struggles drives it deeper into the ocean.
One dragon down. Dozens more still in the water.
“Your Highness!” A lookout’s cry draws our attention starboard. “The Kestrel’s Rage is taking water!”
Through the chaos of battle, I spot one of our smaller vessels listing badly. A seadragon has its jaws clamped on her stern, shaking the ship like a cat with its prey. Fae warriors swarm her decks.
“Bring us about,” Rhianelle orders. “Signal the Secondson to provide covering fire.”
Volundr’s fleet moves efficiently. One ship baits dragons into kill zones while others strike from the flanks with specialized weapons. The complexity of this naval dance staggers me. Every captain and crew has probably drilled these maneuvers for years.
But the fae have numbers. For every dragon we bring down, two more surface. I watch as the Sunrise Dream goes down with all hands, pulled under by three sea dragons. The screams are brief and the silence that follows is deafening.
A Myrkheim warrior mage stands atop a massive fiend-orca. Chains of light extend from his hands to guide the beast. He sends it ramming into our smaller vessels.
“We can’t hold much longer, Your Highness,” Admiral Torven says quietly. “The crews are exhausted. We’re running low on depth charges. Silver Fin hasn’t responded to signals in an hour.”
The sailors of Volundr are some of the finest I’ve ever seen but they’re exhausted. Three days of constant battle will wear down even the best warriors. Their movements are slower now, dulled by fatigue.
There’s no end in sight.
A fae ship pulls alongside us. Grappling hooks fly across the gap. I meet the first batch of warriors with my shadow, tearing through their throats before they can draw their blades.
But more keep coming.
Rhianelle’s knights rally around her.
“For Aelfheim!” Eyepatch shouts, sword drawn to protect his queen.
The deck becomes a slaughterhouse. I plant myself between Rhianelle and the tide of fae warriors pushing forward.
Shade and the wolf work in brutal silence beside me, tearing apart any fae warrior who gets close to Rhianelle.
The grimsbane moves like living shadow, striking low and vanishing beneath swinging blades.
His wolf is a blur of teeth and fury, dragging shrieking fae warriors from the press before they can close in.
No one reaches her.
And still —
Ship by ship, the Volundr fleet is being destroyed. I watch the Morning Star crack in half as a dragon surfaces directly beneath it. Sailors pour into the churning water. Some are pulled under immediately.
“We can’t hold,” Red says, appearing at my shoulder. “They’re wearing us down.”
We can fight with everything we have but with three to one odds and dwindling supplies, we’re going to lose.
A fae blade slashes toward Rhianelle’s unprotected back. I blur across the deck, intercepting it with my claws. The impact sends tremors up my arms but I hold. The fae warrior snarls and presses harder.
A sailor points toward the horizon, his voice breaking with despair. “More ships!”
My heart sinks. More fae reinforcements.
We’re fucked.
But the sails that appear through the smoke aren’t Eirik Bloodhound’s black sails.
They’re golden.
More sails rise from the mist to the north, marked with the crest of the seagods.
Kashran ships.
“He came…” Rhianelle whispers, her exhausted face transforming with hope.
Kahedin’s flagship, the Silver Crown, cuts through the water. At the prow stands the warrior himself. Kashran’s fleet crashes into the enemy line like a tide reborn.
The impact is devastating. Frost and flame rip across the sea as Kashran mages strike.
A wall of water rises between Eirik’s fleet, cutting off their coordination.
Sea dragons caught in the divide shriek as they’re pulled in different directions by competing currents.
Fae ships shatter, unable to withstand the assault.
Kahedin raises his arms and the sea responds to him. A circle of mages on his ship chant in unison. They’re calling to something old. A being that sleeps in the deep trenches where sunlight has never touched.
“They’re calling to Kraethys,” Rainer mumbles in awe.
The water between the fleets begins to churn. Something is rising from below, massive enough to displace entire ships with its approach.
Tentacles break the surface.
The creature that rises is no natural beast. This is Kraethys answering the call of his worshippers.
A seadragon tries to flee but a tentacle catches it mid-dive.
The limb coils around the dragon’s serpentine body.
Scales crack under the pressure and bones splinter.
A shriek escapes the seadragon but cuts off as its spine snaps.
The tentacle opens and the corpse sinks into darkness.
Another tentacle reaches for the next victim.
Three more dragons die in quick succession, plucked from the water and crushed. The fiend-orcas fare no better. One tries to ram the god-beast but Kraethys catches it. The seagod slams it against the ocean surface over and over until the orca’s skull caves in.
The water around Kraethys begins to rotate. A whirlpool forms, pulling fae ships toward its hungry center. Warriors scream as their vessels are dragged sideways into the vortex.
But then the god-beast’s attention shifts.
A Kashran vessel strays too close to the whirlpool’s edge. A tentacle rises from the water and smashes across its deck, crushing sailors and shattering the mainmast. The ship lists dangerously as another tentacle wraps around its hull, pulling it toward the vortex.
“Release Kraethys before it turns on us completely!” one of the Kashran mages screams.
The circle of mages breaks their chant, severing the connection with desperate haste. Kraethys pauses, its many eyes blinking before sinking back into the deep.
The whirlpool continues spinning before slowly dissipating.
“Now!” Red shouts, exhaustion burned away by sudden hope. “Press the advantage!”
The combined fleets surge forward. I join the chaos and lose myself in the battle. One of the seadragons rises and I leap into its mouth. The creature swallows me whole. For a moment, there is only darkness and teeth.
I fucking hate fish breath, Coinneach whispers. Let’s get the fuck out of here.
I explode outward in a burst of shadow. The creature tears apart from within, sending scales and flesh raining across the deck. Dragon blood steams on my skin against the cold air as I reform.
Red is staring at me with undisguised horror written across his face. “Remind me not to piss you off.”
The bastard pisses me off all the damn time.
He is Rhianelle’s knight, Coinneach reminds me. Leave him be.
I force myself to turn away and focus on other enemies. The battle rages as more ships burn and sink on both sides.
Caught between Volundr’s innovation and Kashran’s old magic, the fae fleet begins to retreat. Their organized formations break apart. The seadragons’ retreat calls reverberate through the water, calling for their allies to fall back.
“They’re running!” the captain shouts. A cheer goes up from Volundr’s exhausted forces.
I watch Eirik’s black sails disappearing toward the horizon and fiend-orcas carrying their wounded orkan riders away from the slaughter. The seadragons dive deep and vanish into darkness.
I reach for Rhianelle and pull her close, wrapping my arms around her battered armor. She leans into me to hide her relief tears.
The knights and soldiers around us start celebrating.
They embrace each other with joy. Someone has produced a flask and is passing it around, embellishing their stories of the battle.
I can see Kahedin accepting congratulations from his crew on his ship.
They’re clapping him on the back, their faces split with exhausted grins.
We’ve won.