Malnaj stared them down from the rail of the ship, swaying with the motion of the swells. The orlan doffed her hat in greeting, though her eyes were flinty in the shadow beneath the brow. Her rough, tawny fur was crusted with sea salt.
"'Eard you was around here, Watcher. Interesting, seein's though I tracked that shit-swillin' traitor Remaro 'ere. You wouldn'ta lied to me, would ya lassie?"
The Watcher held her gaze as she felt the scurrying of men and the shifting of cannons underfoot. She hadn't written off the possibility of running across Malnaj again, though she hadn't expected for it to be so soon. And she was madder than a kicked hornet's nest, no less. But The Watcher had fought bigger, had killed nastier and was woven into the cloth of the gods. If she wants to fight, she will get the highlight of her life.
"I told you what I knew. Remaro's long gone. I would advise you to look somewhere else," the Watcher said, mustering a little iron in her voice. "We are due back in Neketaka. I would hate to be late."
Serafen stands at her side, his suppressed rage hovering over the ship like a noxious black cloud. His hate was palpable. She could understand why. Malnaj was the profoundly unpleasant sort.
"So sorry, lassie. 'Fraid you're gonna be a little late. On accounta bein' dead an all," she says, pulling out her pistol and squeezing off a quick shot that whistled by The Watcher's ear. The crews of both ships explode into action, crewmen swarming the decks to subdue the other party. The Watcher throws herself to cover, lining up Malnaj in the sight of her pistols.
Serafen moves like a man possessed, a furious blue blur weaving between bodies and his blunderbuss is pouring fire and lead. He wears a mask of blood spray as he cuts them down with his hatchet, his eyes a cold lance of hatred. He's gonna put a bullet between Malnaj's beady eyes. He deserves the kill and The Watcher lays down covering fire to give him his chance.
Eder hurls bodies into the paths of the enemy, his burly arms yanking them off their feet and slinging them into the path of the enemy. The confusions is tripping them up as they try to cross between decks and hop on the Defiance, but some miss their mark, slipping between the ships to be smashed between the hulls.
The air is rank with gunpowder and smoke and iron. Fireballs bound across the deck from Aloth's bespelled fingers, splashing onto the deck and slinging liquid fire on all beneath it. The screeching of the men was horrendous as they roasted alive.
Malnaj had scurried to hide behind a barrel, apparently shell-shocked by the ferocity of the Defiance's crew. She hadn't expected this. She was supposed to just walk in and win the day handily. Maybe fight a little, but lose? No, there's no way it could have been happening at all! Her powers abandoned her in her rising panic as she sees her crew cut down like wheat at harvest. Her attempts to weaponize her will failed in the face of her fear. She had taken a shot to the thigh in that storm of lead. There would be no more running.
A pair of bloody boots stomps into her listing field of view, shoddy leather that's seen months of wear at sea. The hot barrel of the blunderbuss kisses her forehead and she looks past the barrel to greet Serafen's fierce, unyielding eyes.
She expects a quip, but there is none. Only rage on his face and a murderous glint in his eyes.
A lance of brilliant pain shot clean through her head in a flash and it was gone. The world turns white and fades away like mist. Now it is only her in the swirling grey, lost and unsure of herself. Is this death?
She sees nothing else but the Watcher now; she glows.
She feels a pull in the fog and follows.
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