Interlude - Thunder on the Water

    “Keep swinging! Hack the bastards up until they let go!” Henry shouted, following his own advice as a thick, grey tentacle curled itself around the mast behind him.

    He'd joined up with the fleet at the port city of Massey a few days back, just before it began to sail north. The voyage along the coast had been meant to be safe, taking refuge at harbors along the way. As it turned out they’d been lucky the fleet was comprised mainly of troop transports because the manpower had been sorely needed. Several times they’d had to defend themselves against sea beasts that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere and they’d been forced to spend time in port several times for repairs. Henry had sent a bird early on to both the capital and Last Harbor anticipating further delays.

    He ducked, narrowly avoiding a smaller tentacle that swept across the deck searching for prey. The man behind him wasn’t so lucky, letting out a short, strangled scream as the force of the tentacle’s progress snapped his spine on impact. It wrapped around him and ripped him from the deck. Morbidly, Henry couldn’t help but be reminded of a ravenous party guest monopolizing a tray of morsels.

    His blows weren’t having much effect on the limb attached to the mast. The seasoned timber groaned under the pressure of the sea beast’s assault, but held. Taking the hint, Henry left off striking it with his blade and picked his way up the deck to the aftcastle where the ship’s artillery was positioned.

    Taking stock of the men in his vicinity he made a decision. “Harold, Perre, Francis, with me!” He shouted, climbing the stairs and avoiding more of the questing tentacles. After a few moments he reached the ballista mounted on the right side of the structure. Francis and Harold followed closely behind him, taking some meager cover against the gunwale.

    “Perre?” Henry asked.

    Harold shook his head. “Taken on the way up the stairs. What’s the plan, your Highness?”

    “Passei’s tits!” Henry cursed. “We’ll have to make due. Harold, you get on the winch and bring the ballista around. We need to get that tentacle to let go before it snaps the mainmast in half.” He pointed at the stacks of ammunition secured near the war machine. “Francis, you’re in charge of loading the machine. I’ll take firing seat and handle the string’s tension crank. Now get to it!”

    He and Harold got the ballista repointed and ready to fire. As Francis scrambled back towards them, carrying several arm-length broadhead bolts, the deck pitched beneath them.

    The tentacle on the mast pulled in concert with several of its smaller fellows, tilting the vessel towards the surface of the sea. All along the deck men grabbed whatever was to hand, trying to avoid being flung into the sea.

     Henry was securely seated behind the ballista, but Harold and Francis weren’t so lucky. The former fell back against the gunwale, bracing himself against the short wooden wall. The latter lost his footing with a yelp, sliding down the deck towards a splintered gap in the edge of the aftcastle.

    “Shit, shit, shit!” Francis swore as he tried to slow his progress without success. “Lord, catch!”

    Passing close behind Henry, he tossed two of the bolts up towards the ensconced prince. Henry stretched with a groan and caught one of the darts, the others tumbling back to the deck with a clatter. With a practiced motion he turned, slotting the missile into the firing groove, sighted down towards his target, and fired.

    The bolt snapped forward, the sea air whistling through its flights. It made a meaty thunk, burying itself in the massive tentacle threatening to overturn the men’s vessel. Its head slid through muscle and rubbery sinew before lodging in the wood of the mast.

    A shriek pierced the air as the primary tentacle unfurled, the force of the motion tearing the ballista wound wide. It was answered by a cheer from the men still aboard. With a grisly tearing sound the top third of the beast’s tentacle severed from the rest, falling into to sea with a splash.

    The mass of the ship strained against the smaller tentacles’ grasp, its boards creaking as it fought to right itself. The soldiers near the offending appendages laid into them with axe and sword, often one handed as they hung on against the already softening slope. Suckers the size of dinner plates failed to maintain their grip on the ship, releasing with a pop as the ship finally came level.

    Henry let out a sigh, glancing over towards the gap Francis had been hurtling toward. To his surprise Harold was helping the other man back aboard. Francis grinned at his prince.

    “I managed to wedge one of the bolts in the gap, your highness. The sea goddess won’t be having ol’ Francis over for dinner today!”

    All three men laughed, but alongside relief there was a certain note of hysteria in the sound. Henry looked over the fleet, many of them still battling whatever beast they had stumbled upon. Some, like his own, had suffered losses among their crew. Others were untouched, proving the beast’s tentacles to be finite. Here and there, however, he saw the floating hulks of overturned ships and men that were even now being sucked under by the massive predator.

    He felt his skin prickle, all the hairs on his body standing on end. Before he had time to tell his men to brace themselves, a white streak lanced into the sea. Thunder boomed across the water in almost the same instant, a shock wave knocking Henry back in his seat. All around them the beast’s tentacles spasmed violently before slipping back beneath the waves.

    The surviving vessels moved smoothly from battle to recovery. Smaller longboats swarmed off the transports and began to shuttle any survivors still in the water back to safety. Where feasible, sailors started to hack holes in the quickly sinking wrecks to reach any of their fellows trapped within.

    Henry leaned back in his seat, wiping spray from his brow. A much larger ship pulled up slowly alongside his vessel. Unlike those of his host fleet this ship was ornately decorated in dark blues and gold. The warship’s name was engraved and gilded on its bow: The Iron Witch.

    He got up from his perch and made his way down to the main deck, where liveried crew from the other ship had already boarded and were busy securing the two together. A young woman in a loose navy tunic and black broad-brimmed hat was directing them. She turned to yell something to a man behind her, but stopped short on seeing Henry. Instead, she swept her hat off and flowed into a formal bow, her golden blonde hair glinting in the light of the sun.

    “Your Highness, Her Majesty the Empress sends her regards to her wayward son and bids me inform you that your message was received. The Iron Witch and I have arrived to escort your forces to the staging area.”

    Henry strode forward towards the woman as she straightened. With a lunge, he gathered his wife into his arms and kissed her.