**
The Thresher pulled alongside her big sister and the two ships sailed in tight formation. All hands lined the deck as Commodore Gunrow passed command to Pria. Gunrow drew the glass kris blade from its sheath. It was the symbolic weapon of command. The deck chief shouted, “Commodore Gunrow!” The sailors aboard the Thresher and Moontide roared for their beloved Commodore.
The mages and ship movers launched columns of water in salute. The water crashed down and Gunrow passed the blade to Pria. The deck chief roared again, “Commodore Pria!” Another salute washed the party in salty mist. Gunrow saluted Pria. Pria saluted back. The unexpected impact knocked her and half the crew to the deck.
Pria looked at Gunrow confused. Gunrow looked at her and shrugged, “They’re your ships now Lady Pria.” Pria jumped to her feet and ordered the crew, “Get to your stations! Chief, I need eyes on what hit us!” The deck chief sent one of his sailors up to the crow’s nest while he moved to the bridge.
Andin, Fake, and the Dean stood on the bridge trying to stay out of the way of the hurried sailors. Pria turned to the Thresher, “Captain Dohm break off and move ahead of us!” Dohm anticipated her order and had his ship movers already positioned on the side of the Thresher.
The ship movers sent jets of water into the bow of the ship, she turned sharply. They moved to the stern to increase her speed. The sailor in the crow’s nest saw it first, “Big silhouette ma’am, can’t make it out yet.”
Pria nodded, “Harpoons and drums chief; bring the beast to the surface.” The deck chief carried out her orders.
There was a lull in the action and Fake moved alongside Pria at the helm, “What’s happening? What hit us?”
“Sea monster, we need it to surface again so we know what we’re dealing with,” Pria’s voice was commanding and precise.
“Port side, fifty yards!” shouted the lookout. The harpoon men swiveled their guns towards the dark patch of water. “Fire!” ordered the deck chief. The sailors used powerful jets of water to launch the harpoons. Coiled line whipped angrily as the harpoons careened towards their target.
Two of the harpoons connected. “Splash drums!” shouted the deck chief. The sailors shouted back, “Splashing drums!” They hooked two steel drums to the taut lines. The linkage on each drum had angled teeth allowing the drums to slide freely towards the harpoons but not away.
“Break off chief, let’s get the beast between us,” ordered Pria. The Moontide maneuvered aggressively to port. The sea monster dove dragging the drums beneath the waves. “Give her a wide berth until she resurfaces,” said Pria.
One of the harpoons broke free and its drums floated loose to the surface. The second set surfaced next, still attached to the beast. Twin dorsal fins cut the water. “Hollis shark, at least forty yards long,” shouted the lookout. The shark turned towards the Moontide. “It’s coming in to ram us; ready the harpoons and prepare for evasive maneuvers,” ordered Pria.
The Hollis shark’s weapon of choice was its flat bony head which it used to ram whales and ships alike. The shark closed the gap between it and the ship at great speed. “Brace!” screamed the deck chief. Pria angled the ship as best she could to minimize the blow but the impact was tremendous.
Three sailors were sent flying into the water. “Men overboard! Three off the starboard bow!” yelled the lookout. The mages rushed to the bow to bring them back onto the ship. The massive shark spun to eat his quarry. Arcing currents of water hauled two of the sailors back aboard. The third screamed as she was devoured by the shark.
Andin saw his opportunity. “Fake, make a body in front of the beast; draw it away from us,” Andin shouted as he moved amidships and conjured his sickles. Fake uncorked his bota and his black sand swirled into the shape of a sailor flailing in the water. The shark took the bait and turned away from the ship.
Harpoons from both ships sent more steel spikes into the beast. With a fiery burst Andin launched himself off the ship onto to the massive creature. He buried his sickles deep into the shark’s backside. It writhed in agony. Andin clung to the twin dorsal fins as the shark tried to shake him off. Gunrow shouted from the Moontide, “The back of the head, quickly!”
Andin left his sickles and ran up to the shark’s leathery head. He placed his palms together and sent a pillar of piercing fire into the monster’s skull. Its death throes knocked Andin into the water. Steam engulfed the fire prince.
When the steam cleared Andin was treading water wearing a smug grin. “Nice!” congratulated Fake as he jumped overboard to join his friend. The violent conclusion to the Hollis attack was so unexpected that the crew of both ships stood frozen in disbelief. Pria snapped out of the stun when she realized that Fake couldn’t swim.
Andin swam to help his struggling friend. The mages aboard the Moontide were quick to respond and hauled the flailing illusionist out of the water. “Me next if you don’t mind,” asked Andin. The fire prince wrestled his smug grin under control and resumed his role as Beldurian stoic.
Andin turned to his friend, “When we get back to the Academy we’ll get you some swimming lessons.” Fake smiled, “I’m not really sure what I was thinking there.” Gunrow approached the pair with some towels, “Not bad at all you two; those devils can cleave a ship in two if they hit head on.”
“At least in Beldur we can see the beasts we hunt, you don’t have it easy here,” said Andin. Gunrow and Pria helped the two young men up to their feet. Swimmers dove in to cut open the shark’s gullet. They pulled an unconscious and slime soaked sailor from the shark’s stomach, no lives were lost that day.
All hands felt the pleasing numb of narrowly escaped danger. The Thresher rigged the massive shark for towing. Pria turned to Gunrow, “Where’s the nearest place they can harvest it?” Gunrow looked at the surrounding islands to get his bearings, “Opposite of that island is a good beachhead; there is a modest dockyard nearby as well.”
The Moontide pulled alongside the laden Thresher. Pria sent her orders across in the glass jar. She shouted to Dohm, “You’ll have to meet us back at the Academy; it will take the next week just to butcher the shark.” Dohm nodded and ordered his sailors into formation on the deck of the Thresher.
Dohm reflected on the years he had spent with Gunrow. together they had sailed their ships through every danger Pelagos could throw at them. The blue-eyed captain stared at his friend and leader. Gunrow locked eyes with his counterpart and gave him a nod of approval. “Goodbye, friend,” whispered the retiring Commodore.
With a voice that defied the wind and waves Dohm shouted, “For years as our faithful protector and leader, we humbly salute you. Clear skies or angry squall, may the stars guide you home.” Dohm paused to quell the lump in his throat, “Commodore Gunrow!” The sailors saluted.
The Thresher broke off in a lazy arc and headed towards the beach head, Hollis shark in tow. Gunrow watched the Thresher sail off from the bridge. Pria nor his brother knew how to comfort such an abrupt goodbye.
Pria ran the Moontide and her crew through their paces. Her plan to run trials with the Thresher had been postponed. Andin and Fake stuck to themselves for the rest of the journey. After the fourth day Breakwater Island was in sight.
The Moontide pulled into the small port in the early evening. The reverence held for Gunrow was endemic and the whole crew enjoyed royal treatment. Fake and Andin had more formal attire prepared for them from the island’s tailor. Andin clad in the dark greys and reds of Beldur, Fake in a white and silver tunic of his own design.
The retirement ceremony was made bearable for Gunrow by the hero’s welcome he received and continued to receive from his hometown. His crisp uniform was comically overburdened with medals and awards. As he desired, the ceremony was short and the celebration long. The drink flowed into the early morning.
The deck chief and Andin conspired to make sure Fake’s bed wasn’t empty that night. Fake enjoyed the attention – but enjoyed the rum more. The deck chief leaned to Andin as Fake began
dancing with the locals and the crew, “Fire prince I think we may be rigging sails on a sinking ship.”
Andin sipped his rum and shrugged, “We have a saying in Beldur: sleeping volcanoes have no hot springs.”
The two continued enjoying watching Fake’s drunken spiral until a buxom woman stole the deck chief away. “Fire prince,” said the deck chief tilting his cup as a goodbye.
“Chief,” nodded Andin raising his glass.
“When we’re not on the ship please call me Sorrel.”
Andin wished Chief Sorrel a good night and left after Fake’s company guided the stumbling illusionist to the inn. The prince wandered around the village until the festivities finally died down. He sat alone at the edge of the docks stargazing. “Feeling out of place fire prince?” asked Gunrow who joined him.
“Trouble sleeping Commodore?” asked Andin
“I can’t sleep on land, not since I first stepped foot on a ship.”
“I’m no stranger to portal crossing, but this will be my first time away after the closing,” said Andin answering Gunrow’s first question.
“I’ve been to every corner of Pelagos, but I’ve never crossed through.”
“Why not?”
“The Navy was my life, any free time I had I spent with my family. Besides, my skill is at the helm, not in foreign planes.”
“Will you go now?”
“I hope to, I don’t think I’ll keep my sanity if I stay idle for the rest of my days.”
“Good, I don’t think your work is done just yet,” Andin said looking at Gunrow worried.
“You feel it too?” asked Gunrow. The old sailor had felt the feeling of doom at the portal site as so many others had.
“It’s not just here; it is the same in Beldur and Ventisma.”