Waves crashed up upon the shore, worrying at the waiting longboat filled with sour-faced pirates of Vanilla Bonnet’s crew. Dawn’s sun hid behind a mountain to the East, casting the world in a bluish quasi-darkness.

In the sand stood Bonnet herself, flanked by two of her own. Frostbite and Broadhead stood before her with two others, a crate between the two parties.

“You will find it all there, rest assured, Captain Bonnet,” Frostbite gestured to the crate, “I will not be offended, should you wish to count—”

“I’ll count it,” Bonnet cut in, giving a jerk of her head to her two earth ponies, who hefted and carried the crate to Bonnet’s waiting longboat, “aboard my own vessel,” she smiled, “and if it just so happens that there aren’t fifteen hundred bits in there…”

Frostbite gave an annoyed snort, “I am a stallion of my word.”

“Of course you are,” Bonnet smiled, not unkindly, “You’ll have word from me by the end of the week. Until then, farewell.”

And with that she was gone, flitting to her longboat as it was cast off, oars paddling against the occasional wave towards the waiting Blackjack.

“Come, back to the ship,” Frostbite ordered, his unarmored Guards following.

“Orders?” Broadhead inquired. Even outside his armor he was a good hoof taller than his captain, his coat coarse and silver with a mane of copper.

“Take aboard what supplies we need and have us off at dusk. I will not wait here, if that is what she expects,” Frostbite ordered.

“We aren’t going to follow her?” Broadhead said more than he asked.

“No, that might spook her into breaking her bargain. We will head where the winds take us until she replies. Then we head in for the kill.”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

Powder Burn sat brooding over his whetstone and dagger when the letter came by magic fire, popping into existence and dropping to the floor before him.

He scowled as he opened it, the elegant hoof-writing looking familiar. When he glanced at the bottom to discover the sender he gave a low growl.

Sincerely,

Captain Vanilla Bonnet

Reading over the letter did nothing to lighten the scowl he wore as he strode out and gave the command to change course.

“The nag wishes to meet us off some old isle,” he growled to Slow Match when asked, hoofing over the letter, “she makes no mention of any Navy ship.”

“You think it’s about that gold we owe her?” Slow Match asked as he read it over.

“More than likely, stupid cunt,” Powder Burn snarled, “It’s on our way to Prance, should be but a quick stop to tell her to fuck off about that debt.”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

It only took three days for the message from Bonnet to arrive.

“That was quick,” Boardhead commented as he read it, “Do you think it’s a trap?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Frostbite replied, “She will want the rest of her payment I am sure. We will approach this island with caution,” he stabbed a hoof down on the charts before him, “it is high enough to hide a ship if you get the right angle, though the waters about it are filled with reefs, making approach difficult.”

“Good traits for a trap, I’d think,” Broadhead commented, “get us in where we can’t maneuver without hitting the reefs and strike us with cannon fire.”

Frostbite nodded, “Though a trap for who?” he looked up across the chart room’s table, “if she has gotten Powder Burn into the jaws of this trap, perhaps he is prey for us and not vice versa.”

“Scouts would be a good idea, find out if Powder Burn is indeed there. Approach from an angle that he can’t see us from until it’s too late,” Broadhead planned, getting a nod from Frostbite.

“His cannons have more range than our spells, but if he is stuck amidst a maze of reefs he will be a sitting duck. How long to reach this island from here?” Frostbite asked, looking about for measuring tools.

“No more than two days, I’d say, to get in range where we can deploy scouts,” Broadhead said, eyeing the map keenly.

Frostbite nodded after a few quick measurements, looking up to Broadhead with a smile, “let us serve out this cold dish and bring Powder Burn to justice, then.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Broadhead saluted.

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

Pushing hard, the Crown’s Judgement made it in just under two days, the island a mere speck on the horizon. The scouts returned with good news, sweeping so low over the water that they practically touched it.

“He’s there alright,” one of the scouts reported, “big old galleon with anchors dropped. He’s got tents set up on the beach, enough that I’d wager only a skeleton crew’s left aboard.”

“And any sign of Bonnet?” Frostbite inquired.

The scout shook his head, “No, captain. Unless she’s sunk, we’re the only two ships for the horizon around.”

“She’d said she’d be near,” Broadhead observed, “though she also said she’d give us word in a week.”

“We will keep an eye out,” Frostbite said, “but so far it would seem she has Powder Burn maneuvered into a perfect spot to kill,” he considered for a moment, then spoke, “at dusk we strike. Move in quickly and take him as the sun sets, before they can load cannons we will be aboard and in control. If Powder Burn is not aboard, we will strike the beach and move to the island.”

“To be safe, I can have a force field up as we move to attack his ship. Any cannons he can get off will do nothing as we advance.”

“Make it so, Lieutenant,” Frostbite nodded, “then rest up. I fear we will not be getting any sleep tonight!”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

The sun would aid them at their backs as the Crown’s Judgement slashed through the water towards the backside of the isle, a jut of rock drowned in palm trees and sand. The sails billowed, full and as taut as could be so they wouldn’t snap about and make noise.

A large group of ponies massed on the deck, spear-wielders and mages alike, prepared with an assortment of spells waiting at the ready.

They slowed just enough to begin maneuvering through the reefs about the island, coming around to make their final approach. No doubt the pirates would be drinking themselves to sleep, lighting up bonfires on the shore that would do nothing but blind them until it was too late.

Then the Sacrilegious Saint came into view. She was a modified galleon, sharper of prow and swifter with three great masts sprouting naked of sails from the deck. They had caught her with her pants down indeed.

“Shall we call for their surrender?” Broadhead asked.

Frostbite shook his head, “No, up with the force field, casters fire at will when we get in range.”

Faster than he’d thought, the enemy ship began to turn towards them using her anchor chains. One chain grew loose as the other went taut, turning the large ship around to show its broadside to them.

But even if she were able to load up any cannons, nothing short of a full barrage would be able to break up the shimmering wall of magic before them. The beach to their broadside was suddenly full of pirates, caught with their pants down as they’d prepared for sleep.

The trap was sprung.

Tents fell across the beach in something close to unison, revealing the black iron and wooden cradles of what looked like a full broadside of cannons. In an instant they roared to life, a rapid fire *BOOM-BOOM-BOOM.*

The shots flew across the water, many hitting water, far more hitting their mark with the smash and crunch of impact.

“Guns on the beach!” somepony cried out, too late.

Two shots pummeled into the upper deck, blasting great clouds of splinters into the Guards. Some of the closer ones went down, crying out. In the sudden chaos, the force field flickered as those holding it up were forced to redouble their efforts as their comrades went down.

“What on earth!?” Broadhead yelled.

“Status report! Keep that force field up!” Frostbite called over the cries, “get the injured below and—”

Then the Sacrilegious Saint herself opened up with another blast of broadside fire, more accurate than the shots on the beach had been. The first few shots ricocheted off the force field, but the next ones smashed right through it and tore into the Crown’s Judgement.

Frostbite threw up a shield of ice in front of him, many others doing the same with fire and frost spells alike. Others ate splinters and chunks of pulverized wood that smashed through their personal shields and knocked them off their hooves.

“They’re shooting at us from two sides!” one pony screamed.

“What do we do!?”

“Fire!”

“We’re not in range!”

“Full ahead!” Frostbite yelled above the din, gritting his teeth. Had Bonnet betrayed him? Had Powder Burn known he was coming, gleaned the information somehow? “helm! Correct course! Put us between them and the shore!” A series of ‘Aye aye, captain’s went up, “They are reloading, get our injured below and get that field back up! Casters, open fire!” Even if they weren’t in range, dropping spells on the pirate’s heads would hopefully suppress them and keep their heads down, “Give me a status report on our ship! Damage to hull!?” An upwards glance told him that none of the shots had hit the masts, though the sails had a few newfound holes.

The air between the ships and the shore filled with magic, most of the shots falling short. The more seriously wounded were dragged below, Frostbite was thankful none of their wounds appeared mortal. The Crown’s Judgement turned hard to one side, coming up towards the rear of the Sacrilegious Saint. Even if the other ship did turn, the cannons on the shore wouldn’t be able to hit him there.

Many of the magical shots began to strike the other ship as she drew nearer and nearer. Another blast of cannons roared from the beach, but Frostbite had expected it and a full force field to their starboard side deflected the ones that would have otherwise hit.

“Field forwards!” Frostbite called, though the next volley from the pirate’s ship went wide, she was unable to turn fast enough to keep up with Frostbite’s approach, “Prepare to board!” he called. With as many ponies as he had on shore, Frostbite doubted the pirate would be able to fend off so great an attack to his weakened ship, he smiled, tasting victory in the air.

Pirate heads appeared over the aftcastle of the pirate’s vessel, lobbing explosives, spells, and shots from rifles and pistols. The force field held against them as Frostbite’s own ponies fired back tenfold what they received in spells. The heads quickly ducked back.

“Get ramps and board!” Frostbite cried out, the first to charge across and onto the now deserted aftcastle of the Sacrilegious Saint.

As his hooves touched down an inferno blasted up around Frostbite, roiling walls of flame boxing him in. Cries of surprise came from his own ship, none of the others making it aboard. He immediately cast a frosty cloak around himself, the chill acting like a shield against the heat of the flames. He squinted as he charged back the way he’d come, he needed to get more of his own aboard.

But as he reached it, a ball of flame leapt from the wall, smashing across his face and puttering out against his frost cloak. He blinked, stumbling back a few steps as he tried to get his eyes to adjust.

“Royal Guard!” a gruff voice snarled from behind him, “You’re the one with balls enough to challenge me!”

Frostbite pivoted where he stood, a feral snarl etched across his face as he met the eyes of the pony he’d sworn vengeance upon.

“Powder Burn,” Frostbite spat.

“Aye, and you’re Frost—” Powder Burn was cut off as Frostbite hurled a trio of glistening ice spikes at the pirate’s face. A wall of fire leapt from the deck, cold water splashing across Powder Burn’s face. He roared a challenge, charging as he launched a stream of fire at Frostbite, stabbing forth with his knife.

Frostbite knocked the jab aside with an armored hoof, draining the heat from the air around his front so that the firesteam choked and sputtered before him, unable to harm him. He leapt and rolled to one side, letting Powder Burn charge past as he fired a series of icy blasts at the pirate, using the cold he’d drained from the air as fuel.

The attacks melted as they pelted Powder Burn’s face, forcing him only to blink cool water from his eyes as he thrust forth his dagger again. The weapon danced around Frostbite’s hoof as he tried to knock it away, jabbing at his belly and ricocheting off Frostbite’s blue forcefield.

Frostbite lunged forwards, smashing a hoof into Powder Burn’s face as the dagger tried to follow him. The weapon clattered to the deck as Frostbite fired a stream of frigid air and frozen particles at Powder Burn’s face. He kicked the weapon away as he kept up the cold attack, forcing Powder Burn back as he conjured up a few more icy spikes.

Lunging to the side, Powder Burn checked Frostbite with another snarl, knocking the Guard back as his shield flared up brightly. Frostbite rolled with the attack, flinging his icy weapons at Powder Burn as he hopped back to his hooves. The icy weapons stuck true, biting into Powder Burn’s hide and drawing blood before his own heat cloak melted them.

Growling, Powder Burn forced another eruption of flame from his horn as he dug two small grenades from his hammerspace. Frostbite began to counter the firestream as Powder Burn launched the twin black orbs directly into the stream. They detonated in unison right in front of Frostbite before he could knock them away.

Frostbite’s shield, finally overcharged, shattered like glass as his ears were filled with a steady, nauseating whine. He shook his head in an attempt to clear it, scrambling back. Powder Burn whirled about, bucking out with his hind hooves at Frostbite’s face.

Frostbite reared up, grabbing the bucking hooves and wrenching Powder Burn off balance before stumbling back himself.

“You’re better than that last one!” Powder Burn snarled with a grin, horn glowing at the ready, “He hardly lasted half this long!”

Frostbite hesitated, still recovering from the explosives. A line of blood trickled down from one ear as he selected and charged his own spell.

“Let’s see if you’ve got double the guts he had!” the pirate snarled.

Only Frostbite’s peripherals and reflexes saved him from the dagger that flew in from his side. He dropped one side, letting the weapon clang off his armor as he fired an icy blast that caught the pirate on the horn.

powder Burn gasped, surprised by the attack. His magic faltered, the dagger dropped as he stumbled back a few steps, holding a hoof to his head. The pirate’s magic flared, and Frostbite felt his icy creation melting. He fed it more magical energy, grabbing the dagger in a hoof.

Powder Burn faltered, the wall of flame about him dropping enough to see what was going on elsewhere on the deck. He ignored it, all his rage-fueled magic directed at keeping Powder Burn’s horn on ice.

He put every last ounce of willpower into his attack, fueling it with his rage. His rage at the trap he’d fallen into and that for the death of his brother-in-law at the hands of this pirate. The ice hissed as he began to approach, horn down and dagger in hoof. Rage blinded him to all else but the pirate as he closed in, the other struggling to melt the ice around his horn. But for every extra ounce of heat the pirate made, Frostbite countered with a pound of cold.

He brought the dagger to his mouth, the leather grip foul against his tongue as he advanced, pouring more and more magic into the attack until it felt as if his horn would explode.

“Enough!” the word cut through everything as Powder Burn seemed to literally explode, a blast of heat throwing Frostbite away. He hit the deck with a thud, dagger clattering away. But he threw himself up, running on his fury, right into a stream of white-hot flame.

Frostbite barely had enough time to throw a frost shield up around himself, protecting him from most of the heat. Surprise killed the rage inside of him, the sudden nagging tiredness of magical fatigue making itself known.

‘He could not have just brushed that off like he did!’ Frostbite thought, squinting against the blaze berating him as he leapt to one side. But the deafening whoosh of flames followed, the heat growing and growing in spite of his frost shield.

He stumbled away, trying to find some piece of cover. His butt hit the railing, and he considered hopping away into the water. Had he jumped without hesitation, he would have made it.

The knife drove up into his gut like a fiery punch, forcing a cry from his lips. His magic faltered, but a burning hot hoof was all that hit him as his frost shield faltered. He hit the deck, stunned, and the knife pulled free, a fast gush of blood following it out.

“Fucking scum!” Powder Burn roared.

Frostbite looked up, startling at the sight. Powder Burn’s body wavered in waves of heat, eyes blazing white and mane waving madly like some demonic black fire from hell itself. The heat scorched Frostbite from a mere yard away, the charred remains of the pirate’s clothes drifting off him in a trail of ash.

‘He rage shifted!’ Frostbite thought, alarmed and in pain with the stab in his gut. Emotions tied into spellcasting, and if powerful enough they could cause a pony to have tremendously more powerful abilities. If a pony grew so upset that their rage blotted out all else, as Frostbite had nearly done, they could ‘rage shift’ and, if for only a short time, become like gods.

“Die!” Powder Burn screamed, hell itself descending down on Frostbite. In an instant he was shredded apart on a molecular level...and with a pop of teleportation magic, he was reassembled on the deck of the Crown’s Judgement. A great red pool began to stain the deck beneath him. He rolled onto his side, pressing his hooves to the wound as he grit his teeth against the pain.

“Captain!” Broadhead was above him, “We’re taking on water, we need to retreat!”

Frostbite coughed, and blood splattered the cool deck beneath him. After the inferno he’d just faced, the warm wood was like ice to his coat.

“Medic!” Broadhead roared, “Captain’s been stabbed!”

“No! He rage shifted! Once he snaps out of it he will be in no condition to fight!” Frostbite declared as a medic rushed to him with bandages in hoof, “Turn us around! We attack again!” Yet nopony moved, “That was an order! Lieutenant Broadhead—”

“Captain, you’re in no fit shape to command this vessel,” Broadhead said as the medical pony wrapped him in bandages, “Until such a time as you’ve healed, I’m taking command of the Crown’s Judgement.”

“Damnit, Lieutenant! We can finish this now!” Frostbite snarled, “I nearly had him as it was, if we get more of our own on board—”

“We won’t have a ship to return to!” Broadhead snapped back, “We’re sinking! We need all hooves at the pumps and medical stations or else we’re going to lose the Judgement! I’m not letting you emulate your brother-in-law! There are greater things at stake here than vengeance and until those things are taken care of—”

“Sails!” came a cry from above.

Frostbite’s first instinct was to look back the way they’d come, but the Sacrilegious Saint sat where she was, sails furled up against their yardarms. Longboats were being readied at the shore, no doubt she would follow soon.

“Northeast of us,” Broadhead clarified, looking through his spyglass. Frostbite tried to get to his hooves, but the medic pressed him back down.

“Sir, please stay down! We’re getting you a stretcher to take you back to your room for further treatment.”

“Two masts, brigantine rigging,” Broadhead said, turning back to Frostbite with a concerned look, “Captain Bonnet, no doubt.”

“I do not doubt she had something to do with this,” Frostbite growled. A stretcher was finally brought out by two ponies and he was loaded on, unhappily, “keep us away from her, with force if needed.”

“We can’t outrun her,” Broadhead said, following as he was carted away to his room, “too many injured or at the pumps. We’ll be able to keep ahead of her, but I’d wager she can overtake us if she wants to.”

“Do everything you can to stop her, if she so much as shows us her broadside...”

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t come to that,” Broadhead replied, “get some rest, captain.”

<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>

Frostbite got little rest. Pain made him squirm about once his adrenaline faded, leaving him feeling badly sunburnt and with a sharp pain in his gut. The medic had soothed him as much as possible, but using magic for a wound to internal organs was no easy task, he would have to let the injury heal on its own.

He was nearly asleep when another knock came from his door.

“Enter,” he growled, the medic had only left a minute ago…

“Captain Frostbite,” Vanilla Bonnet greeted as she strode in, two ponies at her sides. All that stayed his wrath was the fact that the ponies flanking her were his own Guards, “I’ve been told you took a wound.”

“She came aboard via longboat, and requested permission to speak with you—” said one of the Guards.

“Alone,” Bonnet cut in, “and don’t worry, my ship is out of range of your own, I’ve no interest in finishing what Captain Powder Burn started.”

“Then what do you want?” Frostbite demanded.

“A word,” she glanced to his Guards, “alone.”

“You’ve stripped her of weapons?” Frostbite asked the Guards.

“And my armor, as you can clearly see,” Bonnet spoke up for them, grinning at him in bed. The Guards nodded in unison when Frostbite looked to them.

“Fine, leave us, wait outside the door,” Frostbite said, waving them off, ‘there’s nothing she can do that won’t end with her in chains.’

“I recall you said you were a married stallion, yet here I find myself stripped naked by your lackies and you in bed awaiting me,” Bonnet grinned a sultry grin when the Guards had left.

‘She’s comely enough...’ a part of his mind said, but he locked that part of his mind away, “If all you came here for was mockery—”

“Not mockery, money,” Bonnet cut curtly in, trotting about the room with a bored look, “the rest of my four thousand?”

“You’ll get it when I get Powder Burn,” Frostbite replied, forcing himself to sit up, the pain in his gut making him grimace.

“Captain Powder Burn,” she corrected as she poked at a bookshelf, “and, as I recall, my part of the bargain was to get you to said captain. It’s hardly my fault if you can’t handle him.”

“He was waiting for us!” Frostbite snapped, letting the accusation hang silently in the air.

“So he’s paranoid,” Bonnet scoffed, growing tired of the books and heading to a window. Black night poured in through it, the sea glowing with the reflections of the stars, “perhaps whoever told you where to find me was in league with Captain Powder Burn,” she shrugged as she cast him a look over her shoulders, “Who knows? You owe me.”

“I don’t have it,” Frostbite gritted his teeth, “and even if I did—”

“Oh, I know,” Bonnet threw open the window, “your second in command told me that much.”

“Then why—” Frostbite began, frowning.

She was on him in an instant, a flash of feathers moving faster than he could have yelled out. Her forehooves pressed into his throat, silencing his cry as one of her hinds rammed down hard between his legs. He choked, tasting bile as the pain nearly put him under. His horn ignited on instinct, but a hoof to the head fizzled it out.

His covers were drawn around him, stuffed into his mouth to quiet his cries. Then suddenly he was falling, the night air cool even through the blankets. He never touched the water, head impacting against wood, and then darkness.

Author's Note

Whew, one more chapter left after this one. Finally I can get this finished and get back to working on stuff people don’t hate so much. Yay!