Holy Land

The Infidel was nearly as invisible as the Spectre when the fleet assembled under a light snow. Flakes drifted past the few lanterns on deck, all of them soon to be extinguished.

Morning Breeze, wearing black wool under his jumpsuit and a holstered pistol on a sash, stared down from his perch halfway along the bowsprit. There were two sea ponies idling just below the surface, swimming in a tight loop. For ten minutes they had been silent. Then out of the depths appeared another, with dark blue scales and iridescent black fins. All three breached the surface silently and looked up at him.

“The guides are assembled,” said the newcomer. “One every five miles leading to the Snow Queen. We are tracking your target from far below, and four leviathans standing by. We can pass a message to the front line in a few seconds.”

“Good,” Morning Breeze said. “Lead the way. Are you sure your ponies are safe? Yellow Jack has no idea you’re tracking him?”

“Yellow Jack is just a pony,” she said. “He has limits; things he can’t do, no matter how hard he tries. Everything below the surface is out of reach to him.”

“Alright,” Morning Breeze said, glancing quickly to the horizon where daylight was nowhere to be found. “Lead the way.”

The fleet moved awkwardly at first; for miles they could not fall into formation. The Spectre was entirely invisible, sailing a full mile starboard of the others to avoid collision. The sea ponies could feel her displacement and wake and would warn him if anything was amiss, but Morning Breeze could not supress the suspicion that the ship had abandoned his cause. Most of the pirates had experience in large naval operations, and had brushed off the training program that the Children of the Night had introduced. But with decades of experience on their side they were at least competent sailors.

The sea ponies guided from a distance, regularly raising their colorful tails out of the water for the ships to see. When they reached a guide station a new set of sea ponies took over. They chased these ever-changing flags through the morning at a rate that must have seemed painfully slow to their guides.

Other than the ponies watching the sails everyone else was preparing mortars. Every griffin had a rifle and a whole crate of ammunition each. Mortars were set up all along the deck, angled sufficiently low that they could never hit a mast. On the smaller ships floating mines were being primed and cast afloat on a long tether. None of these things could damage the Snow Queen considerably, but they would certainly be distracting.

The fleet sailed into the dull grey morning, into waters remote to all the main islands. A stiff cold wind drove them along. In bigger expanses of water they were thrown about by the gigantic waves of the open ocean. Younger sailors struggled to keep their footing.

It appeared suddenly, a black spike on the horizon. Across the fleet spyglasses were being unfolded. Morning Breeze looked too, and saw a pair of griffins peering out from a spacious enclosed crow’s nest, one of them looking straight at him through a pair of binoculars while the other made her report on a radio. There was no sign of alarm at being spotted; a fleet could not be hidden in daylight on open water. But at this great range they could do nothing except stare at one another, minds making up stories that ears could not confirm.

“We see her, Captain!” Hornpipe called from middeck. “You can come back now.”

“I’ll be fine,” He replied as loud as he could. With the spring-loaded hooks on his gauntlet he opened the snaps on his holster and took the pistol in his right hoof. He tapped the thigh pockets where he kept four extra magazines. Without a real hand the weapon would always be a little awkward for him, but there was no denying its efficiency, frightening even to him.

The Snow Queen appeared bit by bit. Like a white mountain its sails emerged, glistening like silver, sheer as silk. Each of the three masts was a tower unto itself, with balconies and snipers’ nests wherever there was room between sails. The dark blue hull bore the silver crescent moon and stars of the Children of the Night, clearly discernible to the naked eye from beyond the range of even a landlocked cannon, an insignia as big as some of the ships in Morning Breeze’s current fleet.

“Tell the others to start firing as soon as they’re in range,” he said, abandoning his perch for a moment to address Hornpipe. “Keep your distance and keep moving. She can ram any of us if she gets the chance. It won’t even slow her down.”

It was one of the sloops that fired first, the griffins leading with rifles before the first barrage of artillery. The others soon followed. The deck of the Snow Queen was quickly smothered with smoke. The lowest set of sails were torn, though they did not catch fire. High in the riggings the Snow Queen’s crew set up their defence. The yards had broad walkways built across them, and on these stood dozens of griffins with guns aimed at the attackers.

Bullets struck the ships intermittently. The gunners on the Snow Queen had to keep their balance as the mast swung back and forth in a gigantic arc. Clearly her pilot was attempting evasive manoeuvers, but orders did not travel well across four hundred metres of deck during a battle. The stern-most sail fell slack and began to luff. The force was strong enough to shatter a block, destabilizing the sails further.

A unicorn on a neighboring gunship fell backwards. One of his shipmates caught him and he was promptly taken below, leaving a trail of red on the otherwise pristine deck.

Suddenly half the gunners on the Snow Queen turned towards the port side. A rifle fell straight to the deck. The sound of impact was horribly loud and protracted. Morning Breeze could see the freshly-caulked boards on the Spectre splitting open in his mind. For an instant the ensign of the Spectre flashed against the grey sky.

Morning Breeze ran now, down the centre of the deck to the radio room. The operator, an old griffin with dull greying feathers, was waiting for him with one hand on the frequency dial and another on the microphone.

“Try the radio again,” Morning Breeze ordered as he closed the door behind him. “Hail the Spectre. Get a full damage report.”

“I can’t do that sir,” said the griffin, his frown deepening as he turned the dial. “Listen to this.”

He flicked a switch, and the large speakers at the front of the unit buzzed to life.

“Hello Breeze,” said a crackling voice, its delivery interrupted by the gunfire outside. There were snippets of other voices on the channel, but this one drowned them all out. “I know this broadcast isn’t up to standard, and frankly I don’t care. I see your ghost ship and your boarding party, and I have to thank you for the new prisoners. I was wondering when you’d show up. Now where are you? You know where I am. Don’t make me look for you. I am much too old for that kind of hunt.”

Morning Breeze looked to the griffin, who seemed to grow more and more concerned as he looked at him.

“You should stay here, sir,” he said, glancing between Morning Breeze and the radio. “Jack’s baiting you. This will be over in an hour or two.”

“Of course,” Morning Breeze replied, forcing himself to smile. He was breathing rather quickly, and his heart was racing even though the battle resembled a weapons test more than a major engagement.

Back on deck, he returned to the bowsprit. The Snow Queen’s topsails were still intact, each one bigger than all the sails of the Infidel combined. They were full of wind, and the sloops on their wide-arcing paths were hard-pressed to catch up. Squinting into the water, he could make out the shape of a sea pony lingering at depth. He tapped a code on the gunwale. In seconds the sea pony surfaced.

“Get the leviathans,” Morning Breeze said, hanging low on the bowsprit to get closer to the water. “See if the Spectre is in trouble. Take down the Snow Queen’s masts if you can. I want to do some real damage. She’s not getting away again.”

The sea pony saluted and sank back beneath the waves. Morning Breeze heard the whistling and clicking of the sea ponies underwater. Within seconds the order was carried out.

They sent columns of foam as high as the deck of the Snow Queen when they breached the surface. White streaked with red and iridescent blue, each scale the size of a rowboat and hard as stone. Their mouths were full of milky crystalline teeth, and even their flailing tongues were barbed. Their bodies seemed endless; indeed, Morning Breeze had never seen a single leviathan from head to tail. These ones latched onto the deck of the Snow Queen and began thrashing, rocking the gigantic ship a little at first, and then more and more.

Griffins and pegasi fled the Snow Queen in a big flock. Morning Breeze could not tell his marines from Jack’s. As the rocking grew to a dangerous amplitude, earth ponies and unicorns leapt overboard. All the while the bombardment continued from the fleet. Even mortars did little to disturb the serpentine giants.

Morning Breeze eyed the scene anxiously. His spyglass did not leave his eye for minutes at a time. Jack was doomed. His crew was scattered, being dragged away by sea ponies or else fighting in the sky. They were hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned, and the leviathans would get through the hull eventually…

He saw the face appear beside the head of a leviathan. The crystal-studded eyepatch, the feathered tricorn, and the pleated mane were all present just as he remembered.

His ear popped, and as he lowered his spyglass he was confused for a moment by the sight of Yellow Jack standing before him, looking even bigger than he had through the lens.

“Kneel.”

The rough hemp ropes slid around him with alarming speed. Morning Breeze screamed as they tore through his tough clothes and ripped into his skin. Between the gaps in the coils strips of fabric burst into flames and filled his lungs with smoke. The ropes dragged him down, and his cheek was pressed against the splintered deck. He could smell the leviathan’s vile hot breath surging across the deck and hear the deafening screech of its teeth grinding through wood and metal.

“It doesn’t feel good, does it?” Jack said, leaning down to look him in the eye. His horn was glowing white as brilliant as the sun. “You’re just doing your own thing, having a great time, living your life, and then somebody comes at you with a big fleet and says, ‘you belong to me now.’ That’s not fair, is it?”

The ropes snaked higher, over his muzzle and then across his eyes. Then they started tightening again. Morning Breeze held his breath. The crushing power was worse than the pressure from his deepest dives. He felt as if his ears had exploded. His skull would be next.

“Hey, look here,” Jack said. The ropes slackened slightly as they forced him to kneel. Another coil snaked its way around his neck and directed his face upwards.

When the dark crimson blotches faded from his vision, Morning Breeze faced a scene that made his skin crawl. Ropes, each one as thick as his leg, writhed and flailed from the riggings. Nests of hemp worms had infested every juncture of the mast. They squirmed along the surface of the sails and climbed down the mast, and probed tentatively beyond the edges of the deck.

Two leviathans flailed in the air, suspended nearly fifty metres overhead. Thick black globs dripped from the many places where ropes disappeared beneath their scales, falling to the deck in deafening crashes, sending up clouds of sawdust and splinters. Their gills flared angrily, exposing bright red membranes. But ropes could not be intimidated.

“This is making you uncomfortable,” Jack said. Reaching into his heavily-adulterated Equestrian Navy jacket, he produced a pipe and a rusted lighter. “Well, at least tell me you’re not surprised.” He turned sideways and pointed at his cutie mark; a square knot outlined in white. “You know it meant something.”

Morning Breeze tried to speak, but only got a mouthful of tobacco ash when Yellow Jack emptied his pipe into his mouth. He bit down defiantly, shattering the head of the pipe and spitting the bits out before his mouth was covered once again.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Jack said. Looking out to sea, he smiled. “Looks like they’re leaving. We’ll finally have some time to ourselves. And before I forget…”

A dozen ropes shot from the second yard of the midmast into the water. Their target screamed in protest, but it was not the scream of any living thing.

The Spectre lurched slowly into view, raised entirely above the deck. Her bow was smashed open, her bowsprit gone. White sails fluttered in the wind, and only the first mast remained intact. As it dangled bits of furniture fell from the many ruptures in the hull; duffle bags, boxes, crates of food, entire cannons dropped into the water.

His eyes were just starting to glow, but Jack did not break a sweat. He loaded the stub of his pipe as well as he could and lit it again.

“You honourless swine!”

At the sound of that voice Morning Breeze felt a wave of rage burn through his veins. With a grunt he threw his strength against the ropes. His joints popped painfully, but the ropes slackened a little. In the newfound airspace the remains of his clothes and his coat burst into flames. The ropes retreated like living things. But before he could touch the deck they were back. The fire was smothered, and this time large swaths of burnt skin were rubbed away entirely. He screamed, and the coils squeezed him until his lungs were empty.

“Don’t you kill him! Don’t you dare! He’s ours!”

“Shut up you numbskull!”

Jack frowned at Morning Breeze.

“I don’t recognize these ones,” he said to Morning Breeze as if the intruders were some abstract concept. He did not even look at them. “They’re not your friends, I can tell. Old enemies then? But not very old; from your generation. Definitely not your brothers, though they too have a good reason to want to crush you with their own hooves.”

“We’re no brothers of his!” Cried the insolent voice. “We’re here to kill him! Give him to us!”

“No! Be quiet! He doesn’t mean it!”

There was a sickening wet crack, followed by shrill screams. Even through all his pain a part of Morning Breeze was thankful.

“The rest of you shut up!” Jack was breathing through his ruined pipe like a diver through an air hose. “Don’t you worry, Breeze. I won’t kill you. That wouldn’t be right. I just want your word that you won’t come after me again. I like you, I really do. I wish you the best. But it’s poor form for a pirate, what you’re doing. If I can’t count on you to help, at least you can leave me alone. You don’t work for Celestia anymore. You rebelled against Equestria and everything it stood for. That part was good. You could have done literally anything after that. Instead you went and found yourself a new master, the first one that would have you. Not that the Children of the Night don’t pay well, but you think we’d just fall in line because you told us to?”

Jack gasped sharply. His eyes widened in surprise; now fear.

His horn flickered. Then he stumbled.

The ropes moved him so quickly that he nearly slid out of his skin. When he finally blinked away the tears Morning Breeze saw the world turned upside-down.

Balanced precariously on the slanted and crumbling deck of the Spectre was Snowsong. Six crossbows floated around her, three on either side. The one by her left shoulder was reloading itself.

Morning Breeze could hear Jack gurgling. He stumbled as a small red dot appeared on his chest. Yet the ropes held Morning Breeze as firmly as ever. Overhead the leviathans had stopped struggling. Water still dripped from their collapsed gill plates.

“Brace yourself,” Snowsong cried, looking straight at him.

Jack regained his footing and swallowed forcefully. He coughed, but already the shock had passed. His eyes glowed a little brighter, and the bloodstain on his jacket started to recede.

The crossbows fell. To Morning Breeze it seemed the Snow Queen and Jack and the dead leviathans disappeared instantly, replaced with dark blue waves that rushed towards him at an alarming rate.

The water turned red around him. He could not keep his eyes open, and did not think to cover his ears. He would never forget the sensation of falling apart. The water dragged him around, ribbons of skin moving in ways he had never thought possible.

Something grabbed him around the shoulders. Whether it was a sea pony or a sailor he could not tell. He closed his eyes; somehow he thought he could blink the water away and clear his vision. What he got was even better as all his pain and discomfort went away instantly.