Runnin'

Cautious merchants knew better than to hire Stormriders. Merchants that valued dependability and concern for their cargo avoided Stormrider ships. The family was daring and good at what they did, yes, and could fend off pirates and other dangers of the ocean like no other. But they got sidetracked. Often. And dangerously so. It was an ingrained family trait as deeply rooted as the physical traits, a tendency for ‘mancers, and of course - the lack of self-preservation instinct.

Langley and Sabreur liked to think that they were practical Stormriders. They did their best to deliver their cargo on time and keep out of trouble. If trouble found them the twins would ensure that it never stayed longer than it had to. That’s what they told themselves and occasionally the merchants, who would just nod nervously, break into a sweat, and start calculating damages. Despite their best intentions, however, the twins were Stormriders by blood and bone.

“So tell me about the Black Pebble,” Sabreur asked as they settled into the helm, Langley at the wheel. Sparrow was sleeping in his cabin.

“You know as much as I do, I’m sure. There’s nothing authoritative in my books as no one trustworthy has been aboard the Black Pebble to confirm the rumors.”

“Academic standards of integrity mean Academy staff or Cadre. Pirates don’t let those aboard.”

“So all we have is rumors.”

Sabreur sighed and settled back in one of the chairs near the rear of the helm. It was late, past midnight, and the sky was clear. One of the things Langley loved about the ocean was the bowl of the sky above her head, stretching from horizon to horizon with just the stars. The constellation of the doe-goddess had rose; some figure from a religion now extinct.

“Well, tell me the rumors. I don’t remember that sort of stuff too well sis.”

She sighed and drummed her fingers absently on the wheel.

“The Black Pebble is an infamous pirate ship that has been preying on ships for twenty years now – which I doubt is accurate as any ship that has been that destructive would be high on the Cadre’s priorities.”

“And they’re concentrating on shutting down the smuggler Serpent,” her brother finished.

“The stories say that it is captained by a man so evil that the underworld is afraid of him.” Behind her, Sabreur sniggered.

“I would like to introduce the creators of that particular myth to Mihos.”

“As would I. The ship itself is a matter of great speculation. It’s said to be a skimmer although some people claim that it’s an old-fashioned ship from pre-skimmer days. I find the latter highly suspect as well.”

“No ship built with traditional mast method could launch a raid against a town and make it out before retaliation hit.”

“But that’s the catch – the Black Pebble is supposedly immune to any attack. So, supposing that rumor is true and that no one dares shoot at it, wouldn’t it be possible that the Black Pebble is indeed an old-fashioned ship?”

He considered.

“Possible, but highly unlikely.”

“I agree. Anyways, we’ll assume it’s a skimmer. So, legend goes, the Black Pebble was created to be the biggest ship in existence. There are about a dozen different stories as to its creation but I hold to the one where it was commissioned by a greedy merchant, created by a voidmancer with no sense of consequences, and stolen by a pirate with not enough knowledge of ‘mancy to know better. Some stories hold that it was a lone elf that did the actual theft as no one else could have fired upon the thing and lived.”

“Suspect as every other story about the Black Pebble is.”

“The only thing that remains consistent through any telling of a Black Pebble story is that it contains within its hold the largest void room ever created on a mobile object. So large, in fact, that anyone who punctures the hull of the vessel will break the seals holding in the compressed space and set off an explosion large enough to destroy both the Pebble and anyone near enough to be firing at it. And that’s why no one wants to tangle with the Black Pebble and would rather surrender than risk blowing everything – including themselves – to the clouds.”

Sabreur scratched his beard thoughtfully.

“I suppose I can work up an algorithm for how big a void room can actually be without becoming unstable,” he said, “and use that to calculate a safe firing distance.”

“You think we’ll need that?”

“Do we have anything better to be doing with our free time?”

According to Starling the island the Black Pebble made its lair wasn’t too far off course from the Ark’s intended destination. It was located in a cluster of islands that were edged in red on Langley’s map, indicating mortal peril and that they should be avoided.

“Looks too narrow to house an island, Starling,” she said disapprovingly as the three of them stood around her map in her cabin.

“Aye, but it does missy. You just have to know the way through.”

“It’s surrounded by dangerous islands.”

“And you call yourself a Stormrider.”

She glared at him from beneath the brim of her hat. He just flashed her a cheeky grin.

“I use what works, mate. And you Stormriders can never resist a challenge.”

Starling ambled off to inspect the contents of her cabin. She stiffened and Sabreur chewed his bottom lip and wondered if he should play protective big brother and throw Starling overboard if he so much as touched any of his sister’s possessions.

“Don’t, Sabreur,” she whispered. The twins knew each other supremely well and she had seen his fingers twitching.

“I suppose you’ll want to know about the Pebble itself,” Starling said languidly.

“Not particularly. I’ve heard all the rumors already.” Langley turned her attention back to the map.

“Ah, but what if they are true?” He was standing in a corner, spinning a coin across his knuckles.

A horrible thought occurred to Langley.

“Jeff Starling… you use the title Captain. What was the name of your ship?”

Three things happened at once. Langley’s cat came streaking out from the back of the room and made a dash for the door. It managed to startle Jeff, who dropped the coin, which promptly went rolling merrily along the floor behind the cat. Jeff, running after it, managed to upset the stand for Langley’s flute and sent it clattering across the floor. When she finished diving for it, cursing, Starling was nowhere to be seen.

“I may not be very good at it,” she growled, “and I may not even play it very often, but I like this thing.”

Sabreur blinked and looked around the room while she inspected it for dents.

“Langley, promise not to get any madder,” he said.

“No promises.”

“Ah, well. I think he somehow managed to swipe some of the whiskey from your cabinet.”

Langley’s swearing could be heard across half the ship, or so the crew would later say. Up on the top-deck, with nothing above them besides open sky, sat Jeff and Crystal. The necromancer had a particular expression on her face and appeared to be trying very hard not to cough.

“Ah well, it’s not for everyone I suppose,” Jeff said regretfully and took a drink from the flask himself. “Now, Catherine, right? Let me tell you about that sea turtle raft and then you tell me about those penguins I keep hearing about…”

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