Strong winds battered the cargo vessel just days after departing the Isles. The storms came on abruptly, almost without warning, or so the sailors said. The boat, a medium-sized ship built for speed, bucked over the giant swells. Norek felt minuscule in the vast waters. While easily dwarfed by warships, it was built to outrun them before ever coming within range of their cannons. The slick design meant less wood, less support, less protection from the roiling water. Every breath that went by, the mage prayed in silence, beseeching whatever gods who listened. The storms raged for ten days of their normal fourteen-day voyage, but the storm pushed back their port call by half a week. More than once, Norek wondered whether King Godfrey had sent him knowing of the storms on the horizon. He dismissed the notion out of hand, but with each hammering blow, the thought came back anew.

  Norek’s tall frame came in handy while the boat rocked and bucked, latching onto ropes or beams overhead. He could add nearly fifty pounds before starting to look fat. Thin but strong. He kept his brown hair cropped short, the ends sneaking past the lobes of his ears, but the rain matted it to his face, getting into his dark brown eyes. A matching goatee rounded out his appearance.

  Since hearing the complaints and suspicions of the crew, Norek made a point to come out more during the day. At least until the storms started. While topside, he helped with odd jobs that required little skill. Perhaps they didn’t trust his lack of experience? Conversing gave him vague insight into their lives, and their attitude towards him changed, but then the storms came. From there on, he stayed below decks. In the galley, between mouthfuls of food, they retold stories of their perils and adventures on the Golden Sea, the Eastern Ocean, and the lands that lay beyond.

  On the tenth day, the tempest calmed, and a thick fog obscured the remainder of their trip. Past due at port, the winds confounded their problems and antagonized the weary sailors.

  The call to arms broke through his light doze. The book he had been reading lay against his chest. With a crisp, audible snap, he shut the book, discarding it with a toss. Clutching his staff and satchel, he hurried through his cabin door only to be knocked down by crew members making their way topside. Norek almost reached his feet before the second stampede shoved him back down.

  “Gangway, gangway!” they shouted, passing without helping him to his feet.

  Norek followed in their wake, climbing the slick, narrow stairs, gripping the railing to keep from slipping. Though the storm passed, nasty swells pestered the ship, and Norek, in its wake. Several times, Norek made acquaintances with the walls, usually face-first, but every once in a while, he managed to hit his shoulder instead. Breaching through the last door, land tickled the edge of his vision. The haze started to break, and in the distance, Norek detected a brown-grayish blot on the horizon.

  The Golden City!

  Above and behind their destination, a massive sheet of blue-gray hung ominously, the impressive Vikal Mountains tipped with snow. The ship swayed with gentle ease, the mountains dipping and rising. His line of sight dropped level, and several ships stood between them and the port.

  “Kaptyn!” he called. “Kaptyn? What’s going on?”

  “Pirates!” the other bellowed. “Hard about! Take us back into the fog.”

  “We’ll never make it! They’ve seen us,” a young sailor cried.

  “We were built for speed. Evade. Even if we can’t outrun them, it doesn’t matter, we can lose them in the fog. Hurry it up lad!”

  “I can help,” Norek offered.

  “Help? Fine! Go to the crow’s nest and tell me how many ships there are.” The man in the crow’s nest had impeccable timing as he called out.

  “Thirteen ships, Kaptyn!” Norek couldn’t blame the kaptyn. The officer knew someone was stationed in the crow’s nest but wanted Norek sequestered. The mage could contribute more than they knew. Stepping to the guardrail, he planted his staff on the deck and held out his arms like an embrace. With eyes closed, Norek sought the well of magic within him.

  Norek’s affinity with magic marked him as rare, but not as rare as a Rumigul user. He was a combination of two different branches of magic: Owlen, his primary, with Mussari as his secondary, a broad-based power commonly referred to all staff wielding mages. Like a wand, the staff acted as a focal point. Wands enabled acute and delicate work with pinpoint accuracy. The rod endowed the user to wield for a wide area.

  Norek dug deep, knowing his stunt would expend most of his energy. It would either drive the buccaneers away or give the vessel time to escape. He could do more than one, but if the pirates boarded, he’d need a reserve.

  Less is more, I think.

  As it was, the raiders turned to give chase. Finding his breaking point, Norek opened his eyes and waved his staff.

  Five of the leading vessels exploded. The wood bowed and rippled, like a heat mirage, gushing out like petals of a blooming flower. Cannon powder ignited in a secondary explosion, flinging debris and shrapnel in all directions. The ships broke apart, some cleaving in the middle, others opening up at the bow and nosediving into the water. Shattered wood cartwheeled through the air, soaring almost as high as the oily black plume. Mangled bodies and barrels floated in the water. Judging from the distance of the other ships, the wreckage would sink long before the pirates closed. They were in no position to help their comrades. Now, the question remained: would they stop to help their friends or give chase?

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Shouts of awe filled the air behind Norek, the crew enthralled. Though suffering the loss of almost half their fleet, the marauders never faltered, determined to seek revenge on the merchant’s craft. Norek’s knees grew weak and his head light, the sudden rush of power leaving him drained.

  “That was bloody great, lad!” the kaptyn cheered, clapping him on the back. “Can you do it again?” Swaying, the mage shook his head to clear his vision. “Damn!”

  “Wait, there’s one more thing I can do. Send one of your men to my quarters. In the trunk under the bed, there is a giant glass orb. Bring it to me.” The kaptyn turned and relayed the instructions. The shipmate disappeared below.

  The nearest vessel broke away from the pursuing fleet, intent on catching them before they reached the haze. Fast and small, similar to their own, the outcome would come down to moments. The advancing vessel was almost upon them when the crewman returned, bursting through the doors with a large sphere the size of a cannonball. In another few moments, the pirates would be able to pull alongside and board. Norek held no delusions that the merchants would not be able to repel the invading force.

  “Finally!” Norek exclaimed, taking the globe in his hands. “I need a few volunteers, three will do.” Tentatively three people stepped forward, including the kaptyn. “Not you. I need you to have your wits about you.” The officer stepped away and another took his place. “Place your hands on the orb,” he instructed. They complied, their hands palming the glowing sphere, before collapsing to the deck.

  “What the bloody hell was that?” the kaptyn barked. Spittle flew from his mouth, landing on his beard.

  “It was necessary.”

  “Are they going to be alright?”

  “In a few hours, a day at most. They’ll be fine.”

  “What did you do to them?”

  “Kaptyn, you’re distracting me. If you want your men to see tomorrow, stop heckling me.” With his free hand, Norek fumbled in his satchel for his palm-sized orb. “I leeched their life energy and converted it to magical energy. I made it into a bomb.”

  With the smaller globe in his hand, he released the larger. It floated, hovering. Guided by his rod, the larger rose into the air, sailing above the mast. With a gentle coaxing, he motivated the floating crystal toward the nearest pirate ship. The smaller sphere acted as a guide, relaying a bird’s eye view of the larger. Once aligned, the orb plunged down, plummeting to the deck of the nearest pursuer.

  The sphere ripped through the deck and exploded outward with blue energy. A bubble expanded, formed around the vessel, and bent inward like a giant hand folded it in half before exploding out. The concussive blast was powerful like before, and the black powder burned with a frenzy. A dark, oily plume of smoke and ash rose as another marker of destruction.

  The shock wave buffered against the merchants, some falling to the deck. Norek gripped the railing, steadying himself. By the time they recovered, only the churning of water remained, the ship devoured by the deep.

  Norek turned to the man at the helm. “You there!” he said, pointing. “Turn us back to the heading to the Forgotten Isles.”

  “Belay that order,” the kaptyn yelled. He turned to Norek. “I’m the kaptyn, not you. I give the orders. We’re not going back to the Isles.”

  “I know that, Kaptyn. I have one more trick, a simple deception. If you’ll permit me?” Norek waited, letting the words germinate. After his initial hesitation, the officer nodded, and Norek repeated his order. The helmsman complied instantly and Norek, with the kaptyn at his side, watched as their adversaries altered course to engage.

  “Good. They’re falling for it,” Norek muttered.

  “Now what?”

  “Now, Kaptyn, we wait for nature.”

  “Underworld’s Homugons! What are you talking about?”

  “The fog. It will obscure us from view. They will most likely think we are headed to the Isles. Under cover, we can alter course.” The minutes trickled by. Sometimes it seemed as if they weren’t moving at all, but Norek could no longer distinguish the Golden City against the thin ribbon of coastline. Even the Vikal mountains diminished. The pirates closed the distance but still out of cannon range when the first wisps of fog reached out with its tentative embrace.

  In short order, the fleet was swept from sight. “Hold course for half an hour and then hard to starboard. Take us south!”

  Norek witnessed a grin crawl across the kaptyn’s face. They showed the buccaneers they were running back the way they came. The misdirection would have them sailing for a ghost quarry on an incorrect heading, and it would be more than a day’s worth of travel before they realized they were duped.

  “Interesting little tactic there,” he complemented Norek. "I haven’t the knack. Never was a military man."

  “Let’s just hope it’ll work, and we won’t encounter anymore today.”

  “Indeed,” the kaptyn agreed. “Helmsman, after half an hour, lay in a course for the Eastern City,”

  “The Eastern City?” Norek balked. “No, no, Kaptyn. My stop was the Golden City, I must reach it. To take me to the Eastern City would put me well behind schedule, two months of extra traveling I didn’t plan on.” Panic erupted in his mind. There would be no way to reach Meristal in time to warn her of King Godfrey’s intentions. He had to arrive before the vile man descended upon her unsuspectingly. The added urgency of meeting his mother didn’t temper his disquiet.

  The kaptyn nodded gravely. “I understand that was our original deal, but we can’t while it is being blocked by those pirates. I’m sorry to inconvenience you. Truly, I am. Our original destination was the Eastern City, and we altered our plans to accommodate you. Since we are unable to keep our end of the bargain, I’ll return half of your fee once we reach port. Additionally, since you saved our skins today, I’ll reimburse the remainder from my own account. The men have already been paid. That’s the best I can do unless you want to jump overboard and attempt to swim. I wouldn’t recommend it; you’d freeze to death before you got too tired to drown.”

  Despite not wanting to agree, the kaptyn was right. With his energy depleted and the cold water, the effort would usher him to an early grave. Had Norek not expended himself, he might’ve tempted fate. But he couldn’t. It’d be foolish and reckless. The officer turned and left.

  Damn. So close.

  He sighed, resigned, and returned to his hammock below.