A Change in the Winds

The catapults shuddered as they fired, the huge projectiles arcing out over the water and heading towards the red and golden ship fleeing in the distance. Two of the shots missed entirely, splashing in the water and sending up huge plumes from the near misses. The third projectile hit the the target ship's mainmast, cracking some of the wood and sending rigging and elves plunging down to the deck below or into the sea near the stricken ship. The vessel shuddered, turning slightly as its crew desperately attempted to correct its course. While they were successful, the action served to slow the ship's speed and allowed the two pursuing vessels to gain ground on their target.

Aboard one of the pursuing ships, the Sin'dorei captain raised a spyglass to his fel green eyes, nodding to himself as land appeared in the distance.

“It won't be long now,” he said quietly to himself. “They have no place to go except the cove if they wish to repair the damage. They can't escape now.” He nodded in satisfaction and glanced at his subordinates nearby, inclining his head. The elves moved quickly and gracefully at the unvoiced command, beginning the preparations for a boarding action.

In the distance, the stricken vessel grew larger as the two pursuing Sin'dorei vessels caught up with it, the land behind it also coming closer and revealing a natural cove on a deserted island. The target ship was heading directly into the cove, and its fate was sealed at this point. The captain raised a hand, signaling to the artillery crews to stay their next shots. There was no point in wasting a fine vessel after all when it could be captured by force.

The three ships moved into the cove, the pursuing vessels slowing as they blockaded the entrance, their hulls turning to allow their deck catapults in the bow and stern of each vessel a clear shot on their victim. As they came to a stop and began preparing boarding ships, both vessels raised their flags, the red banners flapping in the wind and unfurling atop the mainmasts. The flags were large, the image of a golden sun rising over the waves on a red field clearly depicting House Dawnsea's colors.

The captain smiled to himself, leaving the bridge to one of his underlings as he joined the boarding parties preparing to disembark. Both Sin'dorei vessels launched their boats, dozens and then hundreds of hardened House Dawnsea fighters preparing to row over to the trapped ship and take it. House Dawnsea had been plying the seas for many hundreds of years, and they knew this business well. The captain smiled as the serene waters of the cove slipped beneath his boarding boat, the sandy shores of the deserted island surrounding the small body of water. Ahead of him, the Sin'dorei vessel he sought to capture awaited him like an unlocked treasure chest.

They had been told that the vessel carried a valuable cargo, and that High Priestess Seluna Dawnsea would tolerate no failure on this venture. It would be a simple matter to take the ship, execute the elves aboard and then indicate that they found it wrecked on the rocks. Whatever House owned the vessel would simply write it off and business would continue as usual. House Dawnsea knew THIS business equally well.

As they approached the vessel, he could see the elves that crewed it running in a panic. They were trying to untangle the damaged rigging so that they could make repairs on the ship, while others were hastily grabbing weapons to repel the boarders. They would stand little chance against so many boarders though; it was only a matter of time now.

As they drew closer to the ship's hull, the captain noticed one figure amongst those on the deck that was not moving about in a panic. Wearing a dark robe with a cowl that covered its form, the figure stepped towards the edge of the hull. Two delicately manicured hands reached up, resting on the ship's gunwale. From beneath the cowl, the captain could see two glowing green eyes; clearly she was a Sin'dorei passenger that the ship had been transporting. It mattered little now. She would die along with the rest of the crew.

Even as he thought this, the elf on-board the enemy vessel brought her hands up, lifting her cowl and letting it fall behind her. Flame red hair cascaded around her face, blowing in the winds coming off the sea. She looked out into the distance, towards the blockaded end of the cove. As she stared, the captain could swear he saw the burning fel in her eyes glow brightly, as if the legion itself marched in her gaze. Her hands rose above her head, and flickering embers began to dance in the air around her as the captain realized she was casting a spell.

He tried to call out, but it was far far too late. With a rushing FOOM! sound the air in the distance superheated, flaming balls of fire forming in the sky and raining down upon the surface of the sea. The two vessels that he and his boarding parties had left were the target of the spell, and even from the distance the heat coming off of their burning hulls tightened the skin on his face. He could see elves in the distance hurling themselves from the burning wreckage as the vessels began to sink, the flames so intense that they burned to the water line. It was no ordinary fire, and the captain could swear that amongst the dancing flames imps cackled and played.

With wide eyes, he turned his gaze back to the target vessel. The elf that had cast the spell stared down at the boarding boats, a smirk playing across her red painted lips. One of her hands reached up and casually tucked a few errant strands of her red hair behind one long, tapered ear as her eyes roamed over the boats bobbing in the water below her ship. Her eyes still glowed brightly, the fel magic she'd been using dancing there like a threat. That she was a warlock was now beyond a shadow of a doubt.

After looking over the elves that were now trapped in the small boats below her vessel, she raised a hand, snapping her fingers. Elves raced across the deck, weapons at the ready and two of them raising a banner on the mainmast. As the flag rose above the ship, the captain gasped and many of the elves in the boarding boats began to mutter. The flag flapped once in the breeze, its colors plain for all to see.

A golden sun rose above the waves on a red field.

The warlock turned, gazing down at the elves below her, her voice carrying out over the water like a sensuous whisper. There was an underlying threat in it that was unmistakable.

“My name,” she began, smirking at the elves that she could now burn alive at will, “Is Calexa. Calexa Dawnsea. And I am one of House Dawnsea's true heirs. That you dare to strike at me is a testament to the depths that our House has fallen to. The High Priestess may direct your hand, but when you strike at me, you strike at the pure blood of this House. This will no longer be tolerated.”

The captain opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was forestalled as the flame-haired Sin'dorei brought up one of her manicured hands again. She smiled at him, as one might an old friend. “Your excuses are not necessary. You have already committed the act and thus anything you may say would simply be a lie. You don't wish to contest my word or will, do you?”

The question hung in the air, the threat obvious now. Slowly the captain shook his head. He was rewarded by beautiful laughter that was, to his ears, cold and callous. “Excellent. You have already learned a valuable lesson. It is shameful that such learning came so late in your life.”

Calexa turned, smiling at her own ship's crew. “Repair the damage and get us underway. I have much to do, and the High Priestess must be greeted properly. It is high time that the survivors of this House come together for a long...chat.”

One of the crew stepped forward, bowing before the warlock, “M'lady? What of the survivors?”

Calexa smiled again, the malice on her face obvious now. Embers danced in the air around her, and in the water just beyond the hull of the ship fires began to rain down upon the boarding boats. Horrific screams rose up, and many of the crew winced as the elves began to burn alive upon the surface of the sea.

Calexa tilted her head, her glowing fel green eyes boring into the crew-member that had asked the question. Her voice was soft and casual, as if nothing at all had happened, “What survivors?”

With wide eyes the crew-member bowed, turning and running to attend to his duties. All across the ship elves rushed to their stations, making the ship seaworthy again.

Calexa leaned on the railing, watching the remaining flames as they danced upon the surface of the sea, a smile on her face. Soon she would return to the mainland. She had been in exile for far too long, but she had the power she needed now to ensure that her rightful place in House Dawnsea would not be denied her by usurpers and liars. The High Priestess and High Scion would be obstacles in her path, but she would find a way to work beside them, and slay any of their agents that blundered into her path.

House Dawnsea would regain the glory that it once held. She would see to it herself.