Tevun-Krus #50

Into the Noxious - @LeighWStuart

"Into the Noxious" originally appeared in Tevun-Krus #30: PiratePunk

Into the Noxious

by LeighWStuart

Silence fell on the Coral Cutter as the bold form of the king's ship, the Belle Luce, darkened the horizon. Wind and updrafts filled her white sails and gliders as she rolled closer, riding high on the Mermists.

Every pirate aboard stilled in his duties to watch with dread, but also a keen sort of anticipation. Her presence spelled their doom; never would their dwindling supply of powder and cannon balls win the day. They had been sailing in circles through the seas of Revis' Reefs for weeks doing nothing but waiting for a king's ship to find them, wondering if today was the day the limping Coral Cutter would sink into the Noxious.

It was today. Their ship would sink, but if possible, they would drag the other down with it into the deadly fumes.

Captain Black-Eyed Pete Belfroy pocketed his spyglass. "To yer posts, lazy dogs or I'll put the shrieker barbs to yer backs! Bring out the red guns and ready the blasted cannons or I'll be bedding yer sisters, ye sons of whores." He hooked his steel fingers onto the helm to steer them straight to their fate, sneering at his men. "Whelp, the readings!"

Cassandra, known only as Whelp to the Captain, hopped to her duty and slid open the filigree box lid behind the helm to announce the readings. "Two hundred twelve rings altitude, eighty-five north by three hundred sixty-six east, Captain. Sailing at twenty-one and a half beats."

He grunted and hurled curses at his men. "And brace yerselves, brainless merslugs!"

"Captain, the Belle Luce is at two hundred sixty rings, or I'm a slippery star monger. Our single cannons will bounce useless off her sides," Cassandra said.

"She's at two hundred fifty-five rings and I'll pull out yer guts to be feeding the kriks if ye tell me how to fight these tarve infested king's men!"

Their stores of Hesa's gold – the precious, lightweight gas the Hesa plants made – were low as the plant herself lay in her death bed. The Coral Cutter would sink in a few weeks without a new plant in the hull, but now the question was moot.

Captain Belfroy pointed his sword at the Belle Luce still approaching on a high wind. "Fire the red guns if ye be men!"

The crack of a dozen shots split the air. Smoke plumes rose from the ship's starboard, followed quickly by the wooden thumps of hand pumps to recharge the long range guns. The Belle Luce continued her approach unperturbed.

"Whelp, to the scufbox," the captain snarled. "Aim for the gliders. We bring the strumpet to us."

"Aye, Captain!" Cassandra shouted, running for the main-mast and nimbly climbed the rope ladder to the high-perched box.

She strapped the scuf gun to her right arm and around her shoulder, setting the barrel in its notch. From this height, she could see their own gliders jutting from the sides of the Coral Cutter like wings. They were rent and torn in many places and only slightly buoyed from the updrafts that swirled from the Noxious up into the Mermists.

A ship normally sailed on the fine white mists, but these foul days they were sailing through them, Cassandra thought. Her chest rasped with every breath from weeks of sailing too low. The fumes came up on the drafts, stinking and carving the wholesome air from her lungs.