{tales} A Change in the Wind
Finally they had her. The Rising Tempest. Her captain thought it was funny to take prizes that didn’t belong to him. Thought because he was young and reckless and had one of the finest ships in Mag Mell’s fleet that he could get away with things like this. The whelp needed to be taught a lesson that only an elder captain could bestow.
The captain of Red Sky at Morning stood at the prow of his ship, arms folded, watching the distance close between his cruel sharp-edged frigate and the full-rigged beauty all fat and slow, her hold filled with stolen flesh and treasure. He remembered the day the little orphan shit had walked into the court, back from the dead, and cleaved his captain’s head from his shoulders. He’d proved his worth and his right to a ship, but not every lord appreciated that sort of thing. Especially when it happened to their friends.
The Red Sky’s captain hadn’t been there for it, but he’d heard stories of Airn Rhymer—as he called himself. And from the burning wreckage of the village they’d left behind. Stories. A ship with sails of gold-trimmed ivory and a hull of red wine. A ship with cannons like thunder and a terrifying speed. A ship full of ruffians and scoundrels with cold-hearted grins. And, of course, their iron-ringed captain who could wield a sword like most men breathed. A captain who was a walking storm. Who destroyed wherever he went. Unthinking.
But they had her. Sails at half, coasting along, not a care in the world for the bounty they’d snatched right out from under him. They’d care soon.
Red Sky hooked into the Tempest with practiced ease. The bigger girl attempting a surge forward at the last moment that failed spectacularly. One of the iron boarding hooks had torn her mizzen sail. Without a nod or an order, one of Red Sky’s sailors dove off the side, disappearing before shots fired, and destroyed the rudder beneath the waves.
It wasn’t much of a fight. The Tempest’s crew were already drunk and celebrating. Humans scattered in fear before the red-cloaked pirates and refused to even look at their captain when he strode across the deck. His crew had the Tempest’s on their knees, huddled together in groups, disarmed and glaring. But their captain was on his feet. He still had his pride—the bastard. That would have to change.
He was taller than the stories had said. Beyond tall, almost a giant, and built like he’d actually put work into his life. The scars and tattoos matched the tales of recklessness, and he dressed finely enough to have that youthful swagger, but there was something about his demeanor that did not work. The anger was there. The defiance. But he was too…quiet.
“You’re Captain Airn Rhymer?”
“What the fuck do you want?” the giant rumbled.
Straight to the point, then. The Red Sky’s captain closed, teeth gritted. “What the fuck do I want?”
“S'what I asked.”
Again. Too quiet. Angry. Seething with it. But so calm. This was not a Tempest. Or if it was, the Red Sky's captain was almost wary what the next level of intensity could be.
“You stole what’s mine. I’ve come for it.”
“The village?” The giant’s eyebrow arched. A gruff laugh escaped, jerking in his big barrel chest. “Wasn’t aware you laid claim.”
“I stated my intent in court.”
“Since when is that a claim?”
The captain gaped silent at the calm giant’s simple train of thought. With a hiss, he drew his sword, intending to begin exacting his revenge. The giant leaned back slightly, but his arms remained crossed, his countenance neutral.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of Rhymer’s crew shift. A handsome lad, strong shoulders and dark eyes, as much ink and scar tissue as any of the others. He was stripped to the waist and barefoot. A vivid blue bandanna the color of a clear sky kept thick dark waves out of his eyes. He sat docilely enough, forearms on his upraised knees, but something in his eye caught the captain’s gaze. TheTempest’s giant captain pulled his attention back.
“You throwin a pissfit because we showed up before you?” the giant asked, a smirk twitching under his beard. One of his ears was pierced with simple gold. The other had a chunk torn out of the top edge.
“It’s not a—You’re a child. A child who must be taught his place.”
The captain lifted his sword to the giant’s throat. The man’s size did not put him off his plan. A master swordsman the fabled Rhymer might’ve been, but he was not armed now.
“I’m going to empty your hold into mine. Then I’m going to flay your crew while you watch.”
Now the giant’s temper seemed to have stoked. Dark eyes sparkled with fire and his arms uncrossed, his shoulders squaring as he leaned forward, seeming to loom somehow taller. The Red Sky’s captain grinned. He almost wanted to give the man a sword and see how he really stacked up. It’d be a battle to put in the legends, he was sure. Ranging for days across the deck. If the fury in the set of the giant’s jaw was any indication, it’d be worth the risk.
“Touch any of this crew and I’ll scalp you with my bare fucking hands.”
The Red Sky’s captain flicked his sword and nicked the giant’s collarbone with an expert slice. Golden blood slipped over sun-darkened skin. The giant didn't flinch, but before the Red Sky’s captain could laugh or breathe, there was a blur of movement to his left.
One of his men howled, then gurgled, and then a bloody cutlass slid under the captain’s ribs and punched out through his back and he’d frozen staring into the handsome face and dark eyes of the boy with the blue bandanna.
“Mr. Renner is very protective of my crew,” Airn Rhymer murmured, almost intimately quiet. “And I’m rather protective of him. You understand.”
The Red Sky’s captain could only cough and choke, confusion and epiphany dancing in his eyes as they searched the sailor. Airn waited. And then smiled when the captain groaned in realization and pain. The red crew began to surge out of shock then and Renner took a step forward, still bleeding, still raging with protective fire, to cover his captain's back.
“You are still alive, captain,” Rhymer pointed out, clapping his free hand to the stabbed man's shoulder. He shifted his grip on the cutlass and the man groaned. “That can change if your crew step wrongly.”
“S-Stand down.”
The order came with a hacking cough and golden blood flecked the young captain's bare chest. His smile widened when the Red Sky's crew faltered back again, gripping their weapons but lost and gazing at their captain with thoughtful detachment. Airn moved closer to his skewered would-be attacker.
“That was a good trick with the rudder. I’ll have to use it in the future. Would you mind kneeling?”
The Rising Tempest released the hilt of his sword and the body it was stuck in and the captain dropped to his knees without the support. He started to sway, to tip to one side, and Airn casually laid a hand against one side of his skull to readjust his balance.
“Thank you.”
Then he paced away, to the pile of confiscated weapons, and none of the Red Sky's crew budged. He glanced at a few of them, curious and ready for a lunge. But they only stared back. Smirking, the young captain took his time selecting weapons from the stockpile. A thin dagger and a heavy cutlass. Both obviously richer than the rest.
“Your crew, of course, were only following your order, so I won't be touching them. I admire loyalty, you see.”
He strolled back to the kneeling captain who'd made weak attempts to pull the red-hilted cutlass from his chest to no avail. It was a difficult angle and even worse when kneeling. Without further ado or any pomp and circumstance, Airn sank to one knee, curled a fist in the captain's hair, and stabbed the stiletto in one side of the man's neck and out the other.
The captain exhaled and coughed and groaned behind gold-washed teeth, his already-labored breathing now sounding akin to a man drowning from within. Gold had dripped over young Rhymer's hands but he was grinning now.
“But you gave the order. So I'm going to kill you.”
And then, he did something worse than stabbing both blades into flesh. He turned his head, still crouched, and studied the Red Sky's crew.
“Do any of you lot object?”
No one breathed a word. They believed the stories now. And seeing their captain so easily and swiftly bested had struck their own sense of loyalty to its core.
“Would you name any of your number captain who'd make better decisions?”
They glanced amongst themselves, but most seemed to focus on one green-eyed young woman with elegantly-carved iron claws fitted like the fingers of gloves over her hands. She looked back at the expectant gazes and then to the Tempest and her captain.
“Aye,” she said.
Airn stood, spun the cutlass in his hand and offered her the hilt. He said not a word. Neither did she. She studied him a moment. It wasn't hesitation but a simple cautious curiosity. Then she brushed past him, ignoring his offering, drawing her own cutlass. Airn's eyebrow rose and he watched her approach her captain.
“U-Ulathra—”
The knife in his windpipe made speaking difficult, but the captain struggled all the same. He'd also resumed trying to stand or move away or scrabble the blade from his chest. None of these he did fast enough. The iron-clawed crewmember brought her sword across cleanly, slicing just above the dagger like it was a guiding line.
The former captain's head bounced along the deck and then rolled to a halt. The new captain cleaned her blade on the front of his shirt, then sheathed it. Closing her fingers on the hilts of the two blades within him, she yanked both free, kicking his body over in the process. She handed the larger weapon back to its owner—only just now getting up off the ground—and crossed for the Tempest's captain.
Still no one spoke. Airn watched her almost like a wolf might, focused and intent and something eternally hungry behind his eyes. She cleaned the knife on her own shirt and handed it back to him with a dip of her head.
“I owe you nothing, but I am appreciative. Remember this.”
Both impressed and intrigued, he nodded back, accepting the returned dagger. This was the way of their kind. No debts owed. Only opportunities given and allies gained. The new captain brushed past him yet again and gave a shout for her crew to remove their hooks and return to their ship. They moved to obey in an instant. In the flurry, she commanded the diver back into the water to repair the rudder chain.
The Tempest's crew began to gather the headless body to heave it over the side when Captain Ulathra stopped them with a hand raised. She glanced to Rhymer and said—
“He was a good captain for his time. Let us send him to the deep.”
Airn jerked his head and the crew reversed their course, shifting the former captain in their arms to have some dignity as they hauled him across to the Red Sky's deck. They laid him near the main mast, brushed hands to their hearts, and returned to their own deck.
“Fair winds, Captain Ulathra.”
“Fair winds, Captain Rhymer.”
Red Sky at Morning broke free of the Rising Tempest and sailed off. Zafi appeared at the captain's side and Airn took a deep breath of sea air, sighing it out happily.
“I thought for sure you'd kill them all.”
“That was the plan. But I like making new friends.”
The way he said friends drew Zafi's gaze from the horizon to his captain's profile. It wasn't a “friend” like he called Zafi. It was a “friend” like a soldier in an army. Like the young captain had once again set his eyes higher. And with the determination and unstoppable force of a storm at sea, he'd drive straight for his goal.
Orphan to sailor, sailor to captain.
Captain to lord.