“We’re under attack!”
My-re followed Lady Sheila Greywand up the flight of stairs from below deck of the Nightie and to the night sky. She heard a multitude of feet behind her as the mass of Lord Protector rowers were following.
“Return to your posts!” My-re ordered pointing back to their oars.
Rao of the Skull Squadron stable said, “The battle is joined. The Rirorni are not ones to-”
Sheila interrupted him. “Do as commanded!”
The Lord Protectors hesitantly went back to their stations.
As My-re emerged onto the main deck, she took in everything in an instant. The contingent of Primus warriors had backed significantly away from the railing, covered with lanterns and torch sconces for light, and formed a defensive circle. Captain Phetmolge was manning the navigation wheel, as four plate armored, shield warriors took a defensive stance around him. Silence encompassed the entire area. The only sounds were the wood cracking from the sconces as she smelled the burning oil from multitudes of lanterns.
“Report,” Sheila said just above a whisper.
Captain Darien, Lady Shelia Greywand’s military attaché broke from the ranks of Primus warriors and approached. He wore well-oiled leather armor. His golden-brown arms and legs boasted perfectly carved muscles. His round helm covered his entire head, including a nose guard with thick rivets around the opening, so only his scowling mouth was visible. His helm hid his eyes in shadow.
“Lady Greywand. Two men have been taken and dragged overboard.”
“By what manner?” Sheila asked.
“Unknown. The speed of it was incredible. Nothing was seen.”
In the distance, something large was heard moving through the water. The warrior tensed and griped their weapons tighter and their armor clinked.
My-re looked to her own light clothing and then to the heavily armored warriors. “Strip out of your armor, now!”
All heads turned to her with expression of shock that clearly asked if she was mad.
A scream emanated from the navigation wheel. The blurred form of one the plate armored, shield bearers protecting Captain Phetmolge was swiftly pulled overboard by his feet. The source was unseen.
“Do as My-re commands!” Sheila barked.
A mad scramble ensued spurred on by the thought of being pulled overboard. Specifically, the armor dragging them to the bottom of the lake. Pieces of mail dropped like metal rain.
The defensive circle reformed. Darien reached to take his helm off, but adjusted it and kept it in place. He patrolled the circle reassuring the elite tower guard.
“My-re, take the position next to Captain Phetmolge,” Sheila pointed to the spot where the Primus warrior involuntary vacated.
My-re hesitated. What in the nine hells was Sheila asking her to do? A warrior vastly more skilled than herself didn’t last a moment against whatever was in the water. What chance did she have? She didn’t even have a weapon with her. It was below deck. Sheila wasn’t asking her to help defend the captain. She was being asked to be a meat shield. She wanted nothing more than run below deck, grab an oar, and start rowing back to the Isle of the Eye.
“Go,” Sheila said as she clasped her shoulder, gave a squeeze of reassurance, and slightly pushed her to move. Sheila knew what she was asking and she understood My-re knew it.
Moving up the stairs, as if walking to the gallows, she saw Captain Phetmolge and the three Primus warriors. They gave her a nod. My-re saw the remnants of deep scraps on the deck left by the heavy, plate armored warrior being dragged overboard. His finely crafted broadsword lay near the broken and splintered railing. At least it was a weapon she knew how to use. She slowly moved towards it and creeped down. Not wanting to show her head over the side, she ducked and stretched her hand. She lightly touched the hilt, grabbed it, and retreated back toward the captain’s station.
Silence traveled along the ship as they all strained to see against the brightness of the torches, the darkness of night, and the surrounding thick mist beyond.
A series of dull echoes came from the water. Thud! Thud! THUD!
Rao emerged from below deck bellowing, “It’s trying to break through the hull!”
“The perfect stationary target. This creature is intelligent and not some dumb beast. It is attacking where we can not reach it,” Sheila said more to herself as she moved to the navigation wheel. “Get the Nightie moving. Maneuverability is essential.”
“What about saving the Lord Protectors overboard?” Captain Phetmolge asked.
“The concern is saving the remaining Lord Protectors onboard.”
“Course?”
“The Isle of the Eye.”