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Exaltation, with more salt.

The captains meeting was an excuse to relax, undo the top button on one's chest, take the piss out of a few crew members, with nobody but your peers watching. There were seven men seated around the table. Tamahagane, captain of the Surfrender, was telling a story about the wyldspawn of a an air kraken and a certain Seaman Westflow, a story that was potentially false (nobody was too sure about that seaman, though) but always got laughs. He was cut off as their commander stepped into the room. The men were instantly sitting up and ready to listen. When a prince of the earth talked, everyone paid attention. “At ease. We've got a message from command on Coral. They've heard that there is going to be a Lintha goods drop on a useless little rock of an island to the south about half a day's sail away. Now, the dropping ship is a contracted pirate, so we may be able to convince them to surrender. We are to intercept them, have them either surrender or destroyed, and then destroy the Lintha ship when it arrives two days later for pickup. Tamahagane, Flowing Winters, as usual our triremes will be the forwards attack after we move out of the blockade; Dejer, your Seaflash will tack along the block line, run sweep for anything that tries to escape. We aren't expecting trouble on this first one; these are apparently freelancers with something to sell, not Lintha fighters. So back to your ships, we sail at dawn due south-by-south-east.” “Ay, Water Light Sir!” A dozen captains all said in time.

It took a brave man to ride a little skiff like that into firing range of two pirate ships. More so when the pirates were blockaded into a small cove by a superior force of three triremes and nine support. Pirates are never big on going out gallantly, but they are always up for a little random desperate violence. “Harspear, I expect trouble. Make sure the ballista men are out of their damn hammocks and ready to load their weapons. Tessock, the central ship there will try to row back into the cove for shallower ground where Water Light charges. Be ready to sweep in for a broadside when they move back. Ready the archers at the other side for boarding from the cargo vessel, but they aren't a real threat. If they make a move to escape around our flank, make no effort to stop them. Our rear lines can deal with it. We are ready for this.”

“And Tama, if the negotiator succeeds and we get out of this intact?”

“I'll buy you a head of ale, and accept that I was wrong. Now you know that's not going to happen.”

Tamahagane smiled, left his officers to their work and stepped up to the prow of his ship. Through his glass, he saw the negotiator reach the pirate ship and get lifted up on the deck. He then watched as the negotiator was thrown overboard, and as his head followed shortly. “Crew, ready for orders!”

They were not long coming. From three ships down the other end of the blockade, a voice bellowed out. Water Light's voice rang out over the entire length of the blockade, sounding clear orders that all the men would follow anywhere, drilled into them thoroughly. “Triremes, advance three quarters full. Supports, hold reserve line. Seaflash, sweep. Mark.”

Standard trireme line, with their own unconventional twist to finish, a cross pass astern. Nobody expected it. Tamahagane leapt back down to the deck of his ship and walked its length issuing orders, keeping the crew ready and occupied. “Port rowers, haul steady. Archers, nock arrows and brace. Linesman, what's our depth?”

“12, sir.”

“Good. Hold course.”

Tamahagane looked back up from his own ship to reassess the situation. The line was imperfect. That idiot Winters on the far end was moving the Deepthorn in too quickly – the whole line was going to be shifted off kilter, and the pirates' main vessel would have a chance to squeeze out if the other ships weren't there to cover. Plus, he was exposing his side to--- the front of the pirate vessel flared with a sort of flash of darkness. The Deepthorn shuddered, and then the bow collapsed and the sides buckled explosively outwards, as if it had hit a stone wall. A fraction of a second later, it was halfway under water, rolling to port, sending the lit firedust cannon rolling under the deck. The entire ship went up violently, a huge sphere of fire sending tiny specks that could have been men flying upwards. It made a massive crater in the water around the ship that flew out, felt its own pressure, and collapsed back in, smashing the hull to splinters. Tama was thrown to the deck as the sound and heat hit them. Harspear, his weapon officer, was yelling at him; he couldn't hear through the pounding pain in his ears. Then the wave struck, soaring over the gunwales and filling half of the hold. Tama stood up, started shouting orders. “Helm, hard astarboard. Rowers, support and speed. Let's get him for that before he takes a move through the opening! Row, for the Deepthorn!”

A surge moved through the hull of the ship as the rowers again took up their work and propelled the boat forwards at the enemy. It didn't look good, but they were back into formation with Water Light and his Wavespear. The enemy ship was still doing what they had predicted, backing away from the charging Wavespear, unaware of Tamahagane's ship slashing in from the side, its ram pointed amidships. “Brace for impact! Archers ready!” He glanced back. Thousand hells – the rear lines were breaking. They weren't even threatened, and the light cruisers were breaking. The Seaflash was the only ship left in formation. No time left to change plans, though. Tamahagane stood back against the railing, and a second later his vessel plowed into the side of the pirate ship, smashing half way through the timber. His ship was bigger; the archers had height on the deck, and their flurries of arrows started to fly nearly unanswered, clearing the ship below. One man stood alone at the prow in black armor. He looked up, and Tama dove for cover, almost before he had realized it. Something flashed behind him, and with a roar he was showered with sharp shards of something. He looked back to see the whole side of his ship torn to shreds, shards of black glass embedded in every surface, every archer on that side fallen.

There was nothing he could do against this anathema. Tamahagane could only hope to distract him long enough for his dragonblood commander. He stood, fired his bow, dove back down; the anathema paused for a moment to flick it away before shaping another spell, started to mumble as the arrow pinged off of his armour. Tama scurried along the deck under the railing, stood up at a different point, again dove back down before it had a chance to respond. He heard a grunt, and was sure that his barb had struck.

Then, the shattering crash of another trireme delivering a ramming blow. Tama sat up to watch, as Water Light leapt from the deck of the Wavespear, landing on his feet next to the abyssal, glorious in his black jade armour and blue daiklave. They stood perfectly still for a moment. The dragon, waves crashing about his head in his black armour, and the anathema, bone white in his armour of matching black. And with a flash, Water Light dove forwards with an upwards slash; the anathema dove back and barely managed to avoid the blade as it clipped the greaves of his armour. Light pressed his attack, pushing the man back to the edge of his vessel, and with a powerful kick launched the monster, black light swirling around his head, off the prow of his ship. The man bounced off the figurehead with a crunch, and fell down into the deep water. As Water bounded after, and in his full armour dove gracefully, Tama remembered his duties. “Boarding parties, assemble on starboard!” His best troops, fewer than they should have been, assembled at the rail, taking cover from the few archers on the crippled vessel below. “Mark!” The boarders threw their hooks to the mast and spars of the other ship and leapt, swinging down to the deck with swords flashing as they landed. They moved across the vessel, clearing the deck quickly and cleanly, dispatching the few defenders remaining above decks, Tama following right after them.

As they moved across the deck, the anathema was launched up out of the water, flailing as he flew into the air and collapsed in a heap onto the deck. Water Light soared out of the sea as if he were swimming through the air and landed on his feet next to the fallen anathema, only to be knocked back by a crushing kick from the man on his back.

Tama felt a rush of loyal rage, and rushed the deathknight as it stood up; the thing didn't even turn, but flicked its hand up, producing from somewhere a thin, curved blade. Tamahagane fell, the whole left side of his face in searing, throbbing pain. Somehow, he pulled himself to his feet. The deathknight and his commander stood, face to face, not moving. They each waited for the other to move, blue waves crashing against a black spider of essence that towered over his head. The injured sailor was less patient. Tama leaped forwards, and before the knight knew he was being attacked, he was pummelled about the back of his head. He bore him to the ground and grabbed his arm, twisting it around his back. The deathknight tried to roll away, and Tama kicked his twisted limb, shattering it at the elbow, and stepped away from the thing, leaving the anathema on the ground. Water light stepped over and drove his daiklave through its head, and the black cloud of essence blinked into nothingness.

Tama opened his mouth to speak, and found the gleaming daiklave at his throat.

“What are you going to do if I put down this sword?”

“I'll... what? Sir? It's...” He trailed off as he realized. The dragonblood was lit up bright, with a glow coming off of his own forehead. “What – happened?”

“Anathema!”

“Sir! It's – I'm... Tamahagane, Captain of the Surfrender, reporting, Sir. I'm still here.” His voice was cracking as he spoke, and so was Water Light's resolve. He sighed and stepped back, lowering the daiklave a second later.

“We need to talk.”

Water Light stood over him, pressing a cold compress onto his ruined eye socket. “You aren't the first anathema I've known. I had a captain about thirty years back. Best man I ever worked for. He was a beastman; big fuck-off gills under his ears. I never had to much of a problem with that sort; I've never been to the realm, and their immaculates are assholes. He could breathe underwater, he could fight as well as I could, and he once actually held the ship together together long enough to get fixed when it cracked in a storm. Tore his arm half off, but he held those two halves in place while they riveted the crack shut. And then one day, a ship showed up, floated over and moored against ours. The man – name was Westward Breathing – looked over to me, said “We aren't what they'll tell you,” and walked up to parley. They hurled a spell, and so he turned into a huge shark-man thing. They stabbed him a couple of times, so he leaped overboard and swam away. Never heard what happened to him.

“So I know you anathema – I don't know where your power comes from. But I've seen demons, and you aren't it, I think. Sorry 'bout earlier, though. Look. You can't stay here. Nobody's talking yet, but some of them saw what happened. You can't stay. Someone will take that anathema reporting award, and then they'll come and kill you. Take your crew, at least, the ones as is most loyal, and leave. Afore you go – take that armor that thing had. You might put it to good use. And here. I use my sword. I looted these a long while back; I don't need em. A gift. For good favour.” He reached into a drawer, and pulled out a set of black jade smashfists, chased with red jade through the joints. “Now, of course I can't let you have one of our triremes. Take one of the back-line clippers – it'll serve you better anyway when you need to run. Captain Lathetongue deserted; take his. Go up on deck. Tell your crew. If they want to go with you, leave. Good luck. I need to go tell Coral that the Lintha were working with that thing – did they tell you? Zombie crew? Anathema? I worry. Dragons guide you, and stay in touch.”

Tamahagane stood before his assembled crew. “Many of you saw what happened. For anybody who didn't, here.” His anima flared brightly, etching a golden circle onto his forehead. There were a few gasps from the crowd, but nothing else. “This is what I am now. I am the same man I always was, the same commander you always had. I am leaving. I am taking this ship with me. You have two options. Leave my ship now. Get off, go back with the rest of the fleet. Or, you can come with me. We are still a crew, and there are things to do on this sea. You have one hour; then we sail north. Make your decision.” A few proved pious immaculates, but only a few. As they sailed away north, Water Light saluted in the distance.