Amelia Thornheart
Chapter Ninety-Eight: The Blackhorn

Serena felt her blood run cold.

Perhaps it was just her imagination, but the cargo bay’s aetherlights seemed to dim, as if the Vengeance itself was echoing her disapproval. For the first time since the Arakian man had climbed aboard, his overly-confident façade slipped a little; the faintest flicker of nervousness flashed across his face as Serena’s gaze drilled holes into him.

“I suggest…” Serena began, every word dripping with as much venom as she could muster. “You think very carefully about what you say next”–she tightened her grip on the sword–”as they might well be your last words. Tell me, who are you, and by what authority do you dare to accuse me and my crew of piracy?”

“Ah…” the large Arakian man mumbled. He exhaled slowly and muttered something in Hakian. Before Serena could ask what he said, the man continued in Imperial saying, “My sayyidah, it is only a jest, yes? You see”–he wiggled his raised hands, gesturing to the surroundings–”this is all a big misunderstanding. We are not enemies, but friends, right? And besides, I have surrendered, remember?”–the demon’s eyes narrowed–”I am not… used to introducing myself under such threats. Unless this is the level of respect the Eastern Admiralty trains its officers, mmm?”

Serena didn’t say anything for a long time. Instead, she kept her eyes on the mysterious demon. She could feel the gaze of not only his men – a few dozen Arakian men filling up the cargo bay’s cells –  but also the gazes of her own crew. They were all waiting for her decision.

With a flick of her wrist, Serena pointed her yellow-aura-coated sword downwards. A small trickle of blood dripped from under the man’s chin. For a few seconds, only the sound of the blood splashing upon the cargo bay’s floor was heard.

“Name?” Serena asked.

“Menes Bastet,” the Arakian man said, inclining his head and tapping his heavy-set horns. “Faithful worshipper of the Red Moon, loyal sayyid of the Southern Overlord, Saladin the Mighty. Humble servant of my beloved wife, the beautiful Nef–”

“Stop,” Serena commanded. The Hakian word had forced her to interrupt. “You claim to be a sayyid? A Cascadian Lord?” She shook her head slightly in disbelief. “You’re no Lord. You’re a renegade. A pirate. Your attempt at masquerading as a Lord just guaranteed you’ll face the rope.”

Menes frowned, tilting his head. “...Masquerading?” he muttered. “Why must you Samino women use such complicated words? What is–oh!” The demon’s eyes widened with understanding. “You think I lie? I would do no such thing!” Menes protested. “On what grounds do you accuse me of lying!?”

“On the grounds,” Serena spat through gritted teeth, “that you attempted to blow us out of the damn sky.” Her patience was wearing thin. “You attacked us first.”

“This is the misunderstanding, you see?” The man pointed at Serena and then at himself. “We were in a dangerous situation. You were acting suspicious! I thought you were him. You behaved in the manner he does!”

“He?” Serena questioned. “Who are you talking about?”

“The Blackhorn!” Menes exclaimed. “Darkblades!” His words prompted his captured crew to mutter prayers in Hakian, with a few even making the sign of the cross.

Serena blinked.

She felt a headache coming on.

“Explain everything,” she instructed, not knowing whether she was about to be told an elaborate fiction or not.

Menes Bastet, or Sayyid Menes Bastet, as he claimed to be, was apparently in charge of Ishaq’s perimeter defence. According to him, he and several other light ships were mapping the Southern Passage when they encountered the Indefatigable hovering by itself, under threat of being sucked into the lumina.

“It was scary!” the large Arakian emphasised. “A mighty Imperial vessel, sitting there in mid-sky, in complete silence! When we turned our aetherscopes on it and received no reply, we all knew then! It was a…” Menes struggled to find the word, relying on a Hakian word to explain himself. Seeing that Serena didn’t understand, he frowned, trying to find the right Imperial word.

“Anathor!” Serena called. “Get Tomes down here. He knows some Hakian.”

“Aye, Captain,” came Anathor’s gruff reply, throwing Menes and his crew into a state of confusion. The sight of the stuffed wolfhound speaking and its glowing red eyes prompted them to panic, chattering amongst themselves in Hakian while performing religious gestures. Menes himself maintained some composure, but Serena could see his eyes had widened in genuine surprise.

Instead of acting in fear, the Arakian man bowed politely to where Anathor spoke from, uttering a long phrase in Hakian. He then turned to Serena and said solemnly, “I did not expect to see one of her children here.” He clapped his hands, his face breaking out into a wide grin. “This means we must be friends, yes? If one of her children trusts you, it is a sign!”

“Her children?” Serena questioned.

“The Great Spider!” Menes said enthusiastically. “There is another child nearby, you know? A mighty beast, slumbering in the storm. However, he appears to be angry at the moment. That is why travel in the passage is so difficult, yes?”

“You’re… talking about Rhaknam?”

“Rhaknam! Yes!” Menes muttered a quick prayer. As he finished, Tomes appeared. When Menes saw the quartermaster, his eyes widened. “A Northerner!” he exclaimed. “A Wami brother!” The Arakian man turned back to Serena and said, “You have many different people in your crew. A strange ship.”

“Tomes,” Serena greeted, ignoring Menes’ commentary.

“I see you’re having a party down here,” Tomes said, casting his eyes around the cargo bay. He looked at Finella and her squad, all glowing with hues of colour as they maintained aura and wards, and he examined the dozen sailors with rifles, ready at a moment's notice to aim and fire. Then, he cast his eyes slowly over Serena’s sword. She saw his eyebrow raise when he saw the splattering of blood on the floor, and the red trickle that ran down Menes’ neck.

“Making friends already?” he asked.

“Tomes.”

“Sorry, Captain.” Tomes rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at Menes. “I only know bits of Hakian, but I’ll do my best, Captain.” He gave Serena a nod, prompting her to instruct Menes to repeat what he said about the Indefatigable and the strange Hakian word he used to describe it.

“He’s saying,” Tomes began, “that it was a ghost ship.”

“Ghost ship!” Menes said. “That is the word! It was a ghost ship! Just like in the tales of children, yes? Only for us men, it meant something far worse.” Menes leaned forward slightly, causing Serena to reflexively tense her body in preparation for an attack. “It was him!”

“Him?” Serena echoed. “The Blackhorn?”

“Yes,” Menes nodded, his face tense. “That is what he does. Attack ship, loot, then leave.”

“And not take the ship with him?” Serena asked dryly. “I struggle to see why he would leave the Indefatigable behind. It would bolster his forces greatly.”

“Bah!” Menes waved a dismissive hand. “You’re not thinking like a pirate!”

“Then why don’t you educate me on how a pirate thinks, Menes?” Serena asked, already regretting not stabbing the man earlier.

“The Blackhorn is different!” Menes declared, crossing his arms. “He values different things! He thinks different! He knows if he loots an Imperial ship, he will be criminal, like any pirate, yes? He knows he can just hide in the island fields, in the storms. But”–Menes raised a callused finger–”if he steals one of her ships, then he knows he will hunted. The pride of the Empire would not allow one of her ships to be… to be…” Menes trailed off, muttering in Hakian.

“Disgraced?” Tomes offered.

“Disgraced, yes! It would disgrace the Empire! The Blackhorn is smart, you see?” Menes nodded encouragingly. “He takes transport and fishing hulls, but leaves military ones. He sneaks near, but never crosses the line. So, when we board the ghost ship, it was as expected: looted! Rifles? Gone! Shells? Gone! Crystal? Gone!”

“And Captain Matthews?” Serena asked. “The crew?”

“There was blood,” Menes said solemnly. “No bodies.”

“What happens when we check your sword?” Serena asked, her expression darkening. “And the weapons of your men? Will we find blood there?”

“Look all you want!” Menes declared. “I tell no lies! I would not tell a lie in front of one of her children!” The Arakian man inclined his head at the stuffed wolfhound head. “But there is good news! The… the…” Menes glanced at Tomes, saying something in Hakian.

“Lifeboats?”

“Lifeboats! The lifeboats were used! All twenty-four of them! My guess?” Menes jabbed himself with his thumb. “They run away! Abandon ship! Somehow, the Blackhorn got onboard. I wonder how? Perhaps he is a Speaker, like you…” Menes grinned, showing his chunky white teeth. In his eyes, Serena could see that the Arakian didn’t believe she was a Speaker.

Ignoring the man’s disrespect, she quickly processed his information. Soon, she would send people down to the anchored Indefatigable and verify everything this man said. For now, she needed to acquire as much information as possible. If his story was purely fictional, or even partially true, then she would peel away any deceit and find the truth herself.

And if that didn’t work, she would use the singular truth-telling crystal she was allocated.

“Why would they abandon ship?” Serena challenged. “Even if they were boarded, Captain Matthews and his subordinates were capable warriors. Unless this Blackhorn is a Speaker, then what you describe should not have been possible.” She held the Arakian’s eyes, but he was not deterred.

“Ah, but he is no normal pirate,” Menes countered. “He is a man of great will and ambition. He united many of the desert tribes, yes? When that didn’t satisfy his desire, he took to the skies. In the skies”–Menes waved a hand in the air–”a man can become anything. In the skies, the Blackhorn choose to become… become… sky-sayyid,” he said awkwardly. “His Pirate Republic. Men have been flocking to him, believing they can become something great. Foolish men…”

Serena’s lip curled. She tapped the floor with her sword. “And are you one of these foolish men, Menes?” Before the Arakian man could reply, she continued, “I’m struggling to believe will and ambition alone prompted the crew of the Indefatigable to abandon ship.”

“The Blackhorn has a sword,” Menes said.

“Good for him,” Serena replied flatly. “I also have one.”

“No, no…” Menes waved his hands. “It is different. It is a sword of shadow. There are sailors in Ishaq who say they’ve seen him! It is a weapon of darkness, that no aura can withstand! It is evil magic.” Menes brought his hands to his horns, gesturing. “They say shadow pours from his horns, darkening any room he enters. It is with this magic that he must have defeated the unfortunate Captain Matthews, yes?”

Serena blinked twice, her mind racing.

A sword of shadow. A weapon of darkness.

She vividly remembered what happened in Shimashina, where she first met the mild-mannered Chesterfield. He had brought with him a small box, within which was something impossible–a black moon crystal. A crystal that spewed hate and shadow. A crystal that unmade aura. A crystal that could be used as a weapon. A weapon wielded by the Darkblades.

“You mentioned the Darkblades,” Serena began. “Are you claiming that the Blackhorn is one of them?”

“That is what I believe,” the Arakian said, nodding his head thoughtfully. “Or they are allied, yes? But I do not know what his purpose is in claiming the passage as his own. While many rogue factions have joined him, they still fight amongst themselves. It’s as if… only chaos is the goal…”

Sounds like Darkblades, Serena thought.

“So the Blackhorn boards the Indefatigable, prompting the crew to abandon ship. He loots it and leaves it empty for you to find, which you and your men”–she flicked her sword in the direction of the cells–”do. Where is the rest of your crew? Where is your ship and the ones you said were with you?”

“The rest of my boys are with my ship,” Menes said. “The frigate Nefertari. A beautiful ship named after my beautiful wife. It is a precious thing! A sleek Ishaqian hull, carved from white oak with Yameni sails–you will never set your eyes upon a finer ship! Alas”–Menes shrugged–“the ghost ship was captured in a terrifying tri-cone. We managed to board, but I ordered my Nefertari and the rest to escape before they were lost to the storm. I imagine they are out there now, waiting for the weather to clear to come find us!”

“And you escaped the storm, how?”

“We quickly realised we did not have enough fuel to escape! We were doomed! But then I realised the way out…” Menes paused momentarily, raising two fingers. “Me and my boys perform not only one, but two storm assists! We escape and, by the blessing of the Red Moon, avoid being hit in the island fields! We slow down and anchor, only for you to appear!” Menes laughed softly. “How lucky am I? To find a friend in such terrible weather?”

Serena blinked slowly.

Was this man insane?

“You expect me to believe you performed two storm assists? With an unfamiliar ship you had just boarded and with a crew”–Serena flicked her gaze to the thirty other captured sailors–”one fifth the recommended minimum number an Orb-class needs to stay in the air?”

A storm assist required a captain to divert their vessel into a storm, riding the faster winds on the inside to gain speed without needing to burn more crystal. Serena had never performed one herself, and she had a hard time believing this Arakian managed to do two with a tri-cone. She especially struggled to believe that thirty men could do the work of a hundred and fifty.

“My boys are good!” Menes protested, not losing a moment of stride against Serena’s challenge. “One of mine is worth five of yours! But yes”–the man rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly–”it was difficult. Why do you think we could only turn a few turrets against you! It took a long time to figure everything out! All the words were in Imperial! Most of my boys only speak Hakian!”

“Ah. Yes.” Serena’s voice regained its sharp venom. “I was wondering when we would get to this point. Could you kindly explain how you expect to avoid the rope after firing at us after we accepted your request to render aid!” No matter the validity of Menes’ story, the fact remained that he attacked the Vengeance. Even if everything he said was true, a court martial would struggle not to pass a capital sentence. Only the man’s sanctioned Lordship would save him.

If he wasn’t lying about that as well, of course.

“You say we attacked you first,” Menes began, “but that is only from your… your view. From my view, you attacked us!”

“This is going to be good…” Tomes mumbled.

Following Tomes’ comment, Serena heard a series of amused murmurs from the rest of her crew. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who found the Arakian’s claims ridiculous.

Still, the man’s confidence was evident and he clearly had more to say.

“Go on,” Serena said dryly, once again regretting she didn’t stab him earlier.

“There we are, flung into the depths of an island field, desperately trying to anchor ourselves before we run out of crystal, and then”–Menus pointed at Serena–”you appear! A signature we pick up! At first, we are excited, yes? But then, our excitement quickly ends. We think to ourselves, ‘Who would be sailing through the island field in this weather? On this day?’ We ask this question and we can only answer; no one good! What madman would be searching the passage, risking their ship? There can be only one type of person…”

“Pirates,” Serena answered flatly.

“Yes! Pirates! But then we think, maybe the Red Moon has blessed us, and my men and my Nefertari have come for me, yes? So we look out the window, and what I see sends shivers down my spine!” To emphasise his point, the large Arakian shuddered dramatically, rubbing his upper arms as if he were cold. “I see a black ship. Not just any black ship, but a black ship with no hull shape I can recognise! This is scary! You know who else sails a black ship around these parts? A flagship of unusual shape that is said to bring terror to all those who witness it?”

Serena sighed. Her headache was only growing.

“The Blackhorn?” she guessed.

“Yes!” The man nodded enthusiastically. “But I say to my crew, ‘Why would the Blackhorn be here?’ It still didn’t make sense. Then you sent your message, and I thought there was a chance we were saved. I tell my boys to answer with the truth, but also to prepare for the worst, yes?” Before Serena could answer, he continued, “And then you ask about the supply ship. This, I could answer! There were notes in Captain Matthew’s quarters. The frigate Myrmidon was lost to a storm two days ago! So we answer, and then you become quiet, and I become more worried, so we start preparing the guns. Then… then you attack us with dark magic! The same that the Blackhorn uses! We–”

“Menes,” Serena interrupted. “We launched no such attack. There is no–”

“There is evidence!” Menes shouted firmly, his loud voice filling the cargo hold. “The aetherfield went wild! We were blinded! Our aetherscopes become useless. It’s exactly how the Blackhorn’s flagship, the Chameleon, hunts! It uses the codebooks it loots from other ships to pretend to be someone else, and when it gets close, it uses its dark magic to blind its prey! The evidence is in the paper record! You can check it below!” The large man tapped the floor of the cargo bay with his foot while glaring intently at Serena.

Instinctively, Serena wanted to dismiss the tale outright, but she couldn’t deny the sudden chaos that happened aboard the Vengeance. The ship had reacted to Amelia’s surge of magic; it had screamed. And… Finella had yelled out about the aetherfield spiking, hadn’t she? Back then, the lack of response from the Indefatigable had only made Serena more suspicious. What if… what if they couldn’t respond?

And then, another memory clicked into place.

What happens if this touches a normal crystal? Amelia had asked about the black moon crystal in Shimashina. It won’t explode, will it?

No, Chesterfield had answered. But it’ll cause an awful amount of aetherfield interference. The Enemy had been using these to create a new type of aetheric-warfare ship.

Was it possible… that the interaction between Amelia’s magic and the ship had produced a similar phenomenon? Had the Vengeance inadvertently blinded the Indefatigable’s aetherscopes?

Serena flicked her eyes to Finella to see that the Northern demon was looking back with a complicated expression. While Finella wouldn’t know about the black moon crystals, she would be connecting Menes’ claims with the disturbance on the ship.

“Even if that’s true,” Serena began, turning back to the Arakian. “I sent you a message, informing you that I was a Speaker and was coming to meet Captain Matthews. Why didn’t you inform us then that you were not him?”

“Are you mad!?” the Arakian protested with wide eyes. “Our aetherscopes only recovered just as you sent your surrender demand! I only read your request later in the battle, and that was only because my boys had figured out how to get the recording equipment to work! We had to decode it while you were shooting at us! There was so much interference that it was a miracle it was readable! But, regardless, you attacked us with a black ship in the same manner that the Blackhorn does! We were at battle stations! But!” Menes raised another finger. “Even after we were blinded, I had hope. We were in a mighty vessel, yes? With thick armour and large cannons. In this weather, what captain would be mad enough to try and fight? I thought we could scare you off. I thought that not even the Blackhorn would dare to try and get close in such a dense island field! So I gave the command, yes? To fire. But… but…” Menes’ voice grew exasperated as he gestured to Serena. “I did not expect you to be so… so…”

“Careful,” Serena warned.

Menes swallowed. “I did not expect you to continue the battle! To sail so fast in such weather! It is crazy! I remember thinking that this captain must be a great man! Who would have thought it was a woman!”

“You don’t like female captains, Menes?” Serena asked, tightening her grip on the sword.

“It is not how things are done in the South, but, but”–the demon’s eyes widened as he came under Serena’s glare–”I have no problem surrendering to a woman? Yes? My dear Nefertari is a sharp woman, with a sharp tongue! I find myself surrendering to her all the time, ha!” Menes chuckled nervously. “And she has a fierce look that will make any man shiver. Although… perhaps even my wife’s glare might lose to the look in your eyes, my saddiyah.”

“What look!?” Serena snapped.

“...Nothing, my saddiyah…” Menes said quietly, before his face suddenly brightened. “But we are friends, yes? Not enemies? It was just a misunderstanding! Your actions were reasonable, my actions were reasonable. No one got hurt, and the Inde–the Inde–,” Menes frowned, his face contorting with effort.

“Indefatigable,” Tomes intoned.

“Yes! The Indefatigable is saved. When the weather clears, I am sure we will meet up with my precious Nefertari. Then we can return to Ishaq! I will show you my home, and treat you as fine guests! We have a special type of spicy loqua you cannot find anywhere else! Once you taste it, all will be forgiven, yes?” Menes nodded happily, as if the matter was settled.

“Menes,” Serena said coolly. “Even if I pretend to buy your story, why in the Seven Hells would we spend two weeks continuing to Ishaq when the Andalus fortress is half a day’s sail to the east? Regardless of what happens with you, we will be returning there where your Lordship can be verified, and a rescue operation can be planned.”

“No, no,” Menes shook his head. “We must search ourselves. The fortress cannot know.”

“Why?” Serena asked dryly. “Because whatever trap you have planned wouldn’t handle both the Vengeance and the fortress ships?”

“No,” Menes answered, shaking his head. He looked at Serena, his expression darkening. “There is no trap. I swear this on the Red Moon. But, there will be a trap if you return.”

“...Why?”

“Because,” Menese began.

“The Blackhorn controls the Andalus fortress.”