The Sixth School Book II Ch. 021

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All Characters in the story are 18 years of age and above...

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Chapter Twenty One: Opening Moves...

Calyn calmly took out the two strange-looking gauntlets from her storage ring. Rather than gloves that covered the whole hand, the gauntlets in her hands looked like someone had carved a skeleton of the human hand out of metal and attached it to a thick metal ring. The metal skeleton hands hang down loosely even as Calyn sent her mana through the metal ring causing it to open up into two semicircles. Bringing the opened ring to her wrist she snapped it shut around it. Immediately, the skeleton hand which had been hanging loosely from the ring, shot up and attached itself to the back of her hand. Calyn clenched her hand into a tight fist, watching with satisfaction as the runes along the bones glowed from the mana flowing through them.

"Ardinium, that's a hard metal to come by," came the comment from Olivia's clone as she watched her put on the second skeleton gauntlet.

"It was a gift from my father after I was betrothed to Deriel," Calyn answered, looking lovingly at the gleaming metal now perfectly attached to the back of her hands. "I've trained long and hard with them, but this will be the first time I use them in battle," she said, lowering her hands to look at the pirate ships that had already cut the gap between them in half. The captain was making a show of trying to run away by pushing the airship to go at its maximum speed. In reality, however, his objective was to buy the defenders as much time to get ready as possible.

Calyn took out the next piece of her armor. Despite the oncoming fight, there was no speed or urgency in her movements as she sank to one knee and took off her shoe. A third ring was clasped around her leg just below the knee. What looked like a sheet of liquid silver flowed out from the ring, covering her leg down to her foot in metal. Despite looking and flowing every bit like a liquid, the metal didn't puddle on the floor around her foot, rather it crawled under her foot covering every inch of her skin below the knee in metal. Lifting her foot just a bit off the ground, she let it fall back down. Calyn couldn't help the smile that crossed her lips at the deep 'thunk' sound that reverberated throughout the deck.

Had she been a mundane human, the weight of the metal covering her legs would have been enough to keep her feet forever pinned to the ground, if not outright crush them. As a first-tier body enhancer, she would have struggled a bit but still been able to move in them. At her current tier, she could move with ease and that ease would only grow the higher her tier climbed. Despite the weight of the metal, Calyn couldn't help but wiggle her toes, marveling at how easy it was to move them despite the metal covering them. Her feet were now more protected than if she'd kept her original shoes, and were heavy enough that any kick that connected would likely shatter bone if blocked and outright kill if someone failed to block. And yet, it didn't impede her mobility in any way.

The boons the liquid metal offered, however, didn't end there. The smile that had been playing on Calyn's lips turned vicious when, with little more than a thought, she caused the metal to extend from her toes into sharp claws. She could easily cause spikes to grow from the soles of her feet to anchor her to whatever surface she was on. In the same way, she could cause a sharp blade to form along the top of her foot transforming each of her kicks into the swings of an axe!

Rising back to her feet, Calyn turned to Olivia. "Shouldn't we warn Roka about this?" She asked even as she pulled out the final piece of her armor set. An ornately carved circlet appeared in her hands which Calyn gently brought to rest on her head. Unlike the other two items, this one was the only purely defensive part of her armor set. Apart from being able to form a shield around her head to protect her from any projectiles aimed at her head, the circlet could ward against any mental attacks like illusions, telepathy, mind control, and other such attacks that she couldn't physically block or fight off. Of course, being a tier-two item, Calyn knew that it had its limits and that she couldn't throw caution to the wind just because she had it on.

"No need, there are three copies of myself outside the door to the room he's meditating in. Believe me, no one will be disturbing him," Olivia replied to her question.

Calyn couldn't help the slight chill that coursed through her at the guard's cold tone of voice. Only death awaited anyone foolish enough to try and go after Roka. "How many of you are there?" Calyn asked, a brow arched as she looked at Olivia with curiosity. Over the past few months, she had grown used to seeing Olivia and one copy of her always hanging around Roka's family. But just now, a copy of her had led Roka's mother away and another was standing next to her. If three copies were currently guarding Roka's meditation room, that made for a total of five. Calyn naturally found herself wondering just how many there were of the guard.

An amused smile crossed the guard's lips; "My master has found himself in trouble enough times that he has developed a number of instant plans that he can implement at the drop of a hat to help him deal with any danger that might come his way. To be honest with you, most include finding a way to escape the situation and live to fight another day. There are a few, however, that don't involve running. Of those, my favorite one is one he calls, impromptu army! Through slow accumulation over time, my master has left me with enough hive scrolls to make a thousand copies of myself. Should I ever find myself in a situation where he is for some reason incapacitated or we can't just run away, then he trusts me to decide what size army we'll need to get out of the situation," she laid out.

Calyn couldn't help but look at the Olivia for a while before looking down at her gauntlets. "Will I even get the chance to fight?" She couldn't help but ask wryly. She had seen this woman in action over her many training sessions with Roka. And even more scary to consider was the fact that, in all those sessions, she was holding back, looking to teach, rather than kill Roka. From the predatory way in which she was regarding the approaching ships, no such quarter would be given to the approaching pirates.

"Twenty," Olivia finally answered her question. "Two copies for each enemy ship, and six to remain on board our ship. So fret not, whether you decide to jump over to one of the approaching ships or to stay here and fight, you'll have plenty of targets to test your gauntlets on," she informed her.

"You were serious?" Calyn couldn't help but say, as it now occurred to her that it hadn't been a figure of speech when Olivia spoke of taking the pirates' ships. With the murderous air that had been about her as she spoke of it, Calyn had been certain that she was more interested in killing than taking their airships. It would seem, however, that she'd been wrong.

"Don't be preposterous Calyn. These nice people have so graciously come to give us their airships, it would be rude of us to not accept," Olivia said, looking at the airships as if they were already theirs.

Calyn couldn't help but momentarily feel sorry for the poor bastards who had chosen them as their target. Before she could say anything, however, a new voice chimed in. "I hope I'm not too late."

Both Calyn and Olivia turned to find the woman Roka referred to as 'teacher' approaching them from behind. Calyn couldn't help but do a double take, unable to hide her shock when she felt the mana coming off the woman. Being a body-enhancing mage, Calyn had been injured more times than she could count. As such, she could easily recognize the mana signature of a healer. But it wasn't the fact that this woman was a healer that shocked her but her tier. When Calyn first encountered her, around five months back, this woman had been mundane, with not even a speck of mana to her, and yet now, she was a second-tier healer. She had somehow done in months, what it took others decades to achieve!

Turning to regard Olivia, Calyn couldn't help but note the complete lack of shock on her face. This was like watching a child being born today and having them turn fifty a week later, and yet, Olivia remained placid as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Over the past few months that they had been traveling, she hadn't encountered Roka's teacher all that much. Given that Roka himself was in closed-door meditation that was expected to last almost a cycle or more, it wasn't too far out of the realm of possibility to believe that his teacher was doing the same, as such, Calyn hadn't given her absence much thought. She, however, had been doing something that would turn the whole of the magic world on its head if it ever got out. Olivia somehow knew what it was the healer had done, that's the only way her indifference to this monumental event made any kind of sense.

"Healer Alena," Calyn greeted with a respectful bow. Given the fact that they were now at the same tier, there was technically no reason for her to bow to the healer. But even back when she was still a mundane human, the woman carried herself with the same air as other high-tier mages Calyn had encountered back at her clan. If there had been any residual doubts about whether this woman was more than met the eye, they had been eliminated. Whatever was going on with her, Calyn would treat her with the same respect she accorded her clan elders, if not her clan head.

From the small smile that crossed the healer's lips, Calyn could see that she had picked up on the change in her attitude. Still, there was no arrogance in either her tone or expression as she answered with an acknowledging nod. "Calyn," she acknowledged before turning to Olivia, to whom her original question had been addressed.

"No, you are just in time to greet the first of our guests," Olivia said, her gaze turning to the figures rising off the different ships using various techniques and flying treasures. Against the massive ships, the individual mages looked like little dots zooming about. From each of the seven ships, ten or so figures rose into the air shooting directly for their ship. Given that each smaller ship could hold up to three hundred people, Calyn immediately understood that this was the vanguard force, meant to test their defenses and give their enemies an idea of what to expect. Calyn didn't fancy herself a genius tactician. As a member of a prominent clan, however, she had been taught enough that she could recognize what their attackers were thinking. This first force was probably filled with cannon fodder, with more than ninety percent of them expected not to return.

But just because she recognized that these were throwaway forces meant to test them, didn't mean that they could be ignored. If she were the one commanding these forces, she'd have them carry something dangerous on them like poison or explosives. That way, even if her enemy knew what she was trying to do and chose not to engage the throwaway forces, they'd live to regret that decision. Whether that was the case with this vanguard force or not, they couldn't take the risk.

"Explosive crossbows," a beefy-looking man in heavy armor seemed to be thinking the same as she was as he called out loudly to be heard by everyone on deck. "Ready, aim..."

"Wait!"

The eyes of everyone on deck turned to the healer as her voice was magically carried to everyone on deck without her having to shout like the beefy man.

Calyn watched as her hands moved through the air in intricate patterns lines of light being left behind even as she weaved together an intricate spell. Yet again, the woman proved that she was no simple healer. Calyn watched the healer, who only a few months back had been a mundane woman, wove together in a matter of seconds a spell matrix complex enough that even a fourth-tier mage would have had to take their time with. With a final wave of her hand, the spell matrix shattered like glass. Calyn couldn't help but wince thinking that the spell matrix had somehow unraveled and that Alena would suffer backlash from it. The pieces from the matrix, however, turned into runes that flew like butterflies to the tips of the crossbow bolts the guards had aimed at the fast-approaching vanguard force.

"A life-seek rune," the healer spoke even as her hands continued to move weaving another similar spell for their next volley. "Aim it in their general direction and let the bolt do the rest," she explained.

Calyn was almost certain that a true second-tier healer would have had to enchant each bolt individually. Something that would have taken a few days and many rest sessions between. A fourth-tier healer could have replicated her feat but would have needed a lot longer, making it a suboptimal move in the middle of battle. While it would have taken them a lot less time to do it, they still would have had to do it before the fight began. The beefy man who seemed to be the captain of this squad, had initially scowled at the interruption from the healer. After hearing the explanation, however, a vicious grin spread on his lips as he shouted. "Fire!"

It spoke to how well-trained this squad was, as despite not being given the lead-up this time, every guard still turned, aimed, and fired in almost perfect synchrony.

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Deep inside the pirate ship that was at the furthest back, the sat a grizzled man with a face crisscrossed by scars. Some said that each scar represented a battle he had fought and won. Others said each scar represented a time he'd almost died and lived to tell the tale of it. Still, others claimed that he had done it to himself in a fit of madness. He, on the other hand, killed anyone who spoke of his scars in his presence. That said, not even kings could control what men said once their backs were turned, and so he had gained the moniker 'Scar'.

The pirate captain was a powerfully built man with cords of muscle rippling all across his body. His was a form honed through grueling training and countless combat encounters. Having run away from home at a young age and grown up on the streets, he was a man who had faced down death many times before and come out on top through unrelenting brutality. Looking at him, most people would think him a bloodthirsty brute, and while this was true, what most would fail to notice was the keen mind hidden behind his cold gaze. Much as his outward appearance spoke of someone not unfamiliar with savage brutality, he had over the years learned that a keen mind often allowed one to punch above their weight far more than raw strength did. Which was why he always tried to calculate five steps ahead with every move he made.

Scar was currently on the navigation floor of his flagship. All around him, he was surrounded by his underlings, each controlling a different aspect of his ship. He was right now standing behind a large table on which, he watched the proceedings. Arrays all over the ship allowed him to monitor everything that was going on not only on this airship but on the other six airships in his fleet and the skies around them. With cold detachment, he watched as the death-slaves he'd purchased just a few weeks earlier rose off the various ships in his fleet. Most pirates saw no point in training dead men. As he watched them rise off the ship in perfect formation and start moving toward their target, Scar, however, would beg to differ. More than half of them would die still, but replacing half was far cheaper than having to replace ninety percent. It was this meticulousness that he credited with his success as a pirate. Most others in his line of work thought that violence was the be-all and end-all of a pirate. Most of them were just memories now. With him, everything was planned as best as he could, with contingencies upon contingencies to ensure that things went his way.

Take this attack for example. While to those on board his target airship, it might seem like this attack had just been sprung on them, in truth, it had begun more than two months ago. Scar had men in all the major ports of this region. He had bribed the people who worked at the ports to notify him of all vessels that didn't have mages at the fourth tier and above. As a fifth-tier mage himself, Scar could easily handle a fourth-tier mage. But he was the captain, not one of his underlings, if he was forced to take the field himself, then something had gone terribly wrong. Besides, he had fourth-tier mages under him, if they could have the advantage of tiers when they took the field, then even better for them.

Scar had been skeptical when he'd gotten the report that an airship of this size didn't have any powerhouses on board. If anything, he'd suspected that the guards he'd bribed were trying to set him up for an ambush. Perhaps one of his many foes had gotten to them and tried to set this up. However, the three sets of other spies that he had back in Kelden had all reported the same thing. None of the three groups knew about the other so it would have been impossible for them to conspire to set him up. When other channels had told him the same thing, he'd immediately began his attack. False passengers.

People tended to have images in their minds that blinded them to the truth all around them. When they thought of pirates, they tended to think of a gruff bunch, unrefined in manners and ready to resort to violence at the drop of a hat. A perception Scar was all too happy to reinforce. With this image in their mind, the targets wouldn't even think to associate those who looked to be members of high society, dressed in refined robes and decked with jewels with pirates. Scar had been careful in handpicking his saboteurs. They not only had to look the part but had to carry themselves with the refined air of those from the upper crust of society. That way, when they boarded ships, no one would even pause to regard them twice.

Once they were in, each of his fake passengers had their role. One needed to map out as much of the ship as possible. That way, any attacking force could find the quickest way down to the navigation floor of the ship. The next passengers were to study any formations on the ship that they could access. That way, they could know what to expect when going in. None of the formations were to be tampered with in any way as there were alarms that would be tripped if one tried to do that. The remaining passengers were a mix of fighters and explosion experts, be they the alchemical or runic kind. The fighters were there to attack from behind when the backs of the guards were turned. The explosives experts, on the other hand, were a last resort force, one that Scar was often loathe to use. After all, no one wanted to go through the trouble of trying to hijack a ship that was already blown half to pieces. That being said, if things were going really badly for him and his crew, then explosions were always a sure way to take the attention of the defending crew away from the pirates, giving them room to either run away or rally a comeback.

Scar, however, didn't see them needing to make use of the explosion experts this time. His infiltrators on the airship had spent the past two months since they left Kelden carefully investigating, trying to figure out if there were any hidden powerhouses on the airship. However, everybody on board had been picked up at Kelden and they were all accounted for. Unless some powerhouse had for whatever reason chosen to remain hidden from all perception, then he was certain of their victory.

"Bombs or poison?" Bloodhound, his first mate, questioned. Standing beside him, the man was a summoner and one of the most sadistic people Scar had ever had the displeasure of knowing. He was the kind of person you wanted fighting beside you but never behind you. Ferocious almost to a fault, the man enjoyed making his victims bleed and if allowed would drag out the deaths of his victims for as long as possible. Even if he was an ally, you always had to ensure that you had one eye on him at all times, lest you find yourself on the wrong side of his blade. Whatever his eccentricities, however, Bloodhound was still a tier lower than himself, meaning he had to lower his head, lest he lose it. Scar was perfectly aware of the fact that the man would betray and kill him if he ever was in a weakened position. But meticulous planner that he was, Scar had contingencies upon contingencies prepared for any such eventuality.

"Poison, there is no need to damage our new ship," Scar replied, both his tone and demeanor relaying that he already considered the airship his.

His first mate spoke into a crystal, relaying his words to every ship in the fleet. Signal flags was waved and the death-slaves in the air reached into the pouches around their waists to pull out orbs full of a thick, green liquid. With a last signal from their respective ships, the death-slaves shot forth toward the far larger ship. Even if most of them would die, Scar couldn't understand how anyone could fail to see the beauty in how organized they were. Twelve from each ship, they moved in tight lines, spreading out so that they wouldn't be an easy target. They each would attack the ship from different angles not only to minimize the concentration of fire from the defenders but to also avoid collateral damage when any one squad was hit. The poison vials in their hands were meant to clear the decks. If any single one landed and broke, the liquid would quickly turn into a thick fog that would quite literally melt the flesh off the bone of anyone who came in contact with it. Every member of his crew had an antidote, so while it would be lethal to the defenders, it would only be smelly to his men.

"Once they clear the decks, I want every..."

Whatever else he'd been about to say was lost as more than half the death-slaves in the air exploded into crimson mist halfway to the target ship. Explosive crossbows were a common enough anti-air defensive tool for most airships. As such, it wasn't the weapon itself that shocked the pirate captain into wide-eyed disbelief, rather it was how they behaved. The death-slaves didn't fuck up in any way. They had seen the volley coming and performed the evasive maneuvers he'd trained them on, executing it perfectly. But rather than fly by as they were supposed to, the explosive bolts just turned in mid-air and followed the men like metal being dragged around by a magnet. His death slaves, well-trained, executed a number of evasive maneuvers, doing their best to preserve their lives. In the end, however, it only bought them a few more seconds of life as the bolts connected and reduced them to smithereens.

With twelve rising from each of the seven pirate ships, there had been eighty-four death slaves in the air. With the first volley, more than half had been eliminated. Scar couldn't help but grind his teeth in impotent rage when a second volley cleaned out what had remained of his vanguard force. Rather than the slaves, it was a few errant bolts that were left in the air whizzing about as if looking for prey. The loss of the death-slaves didn't bother Scar, that is, after all, what they were for. What galled him was the fact that he had lost eighty-four death slaves for nothing. Even without them, he could have easily guessed that they'd have explosive crossbows, given how standard a means of defense for airships they were.

"Get the backup squad!" Scar shouted, his anger boiling over. As someone given to planning for every possible outcome, he had of course planned for a scenario where all his slaves were eliminated. This backup squad wasn't as large as the original group of death slaves, unlike the original group, however, this group was only composed of those death slaves that had survived ten or more raids. They were far more skilled than the regular death-slaves he'd sent out.

"Captain, movement on the target," one of those who were monitoring their target called to him. Given that the arrays on the ship were all keyed to him, all he had to do was will it, and an image of the airship they were after appeared on the table before him. For a moment, Scar thought he'd pulled up the wrong airship as he noticed figures rising into the air like his death-slaves. A look of surprise crossed his features briefly when he realized that this was indeed their target. The look of surprise, however, quickly turned calculating as he watched the airborne assault group split into groups of two, and each shoot for a different airship. After going over all the possibilities, he settled on only one viable reason for sending two individuals after a whole ship, suppression.

Apart from trying to tease out any defenses their targets might have, one of the functions the death slaves were meant to serve was to clear out the deck of the defenders and give his men time and opportunity to board the target airship. Clearly, the captain on the other airship had thought to give them a taste of their own medicine by sending counter-suppression troops after all, if his men were forced to go below deck and stay there, they'd be as ineffective as a bow with no arrows to shoot. A cold smile tugged at the edges of his lips. Despite the threat that this move posed, Scar found that he appreciated having a strategic mind on the other side of the battlefield. After all, this was a novel strategy for overcoming a numbers disadvantage that he hadn't encountered before. "Shoot them down!" He ordered calmly. Respect for a worthy opponent didn't mean that he had any plans of showing them any mercy.

When the first volley flew, Scar immediately knew that they weren't going to be knocking the enemy squad out of the sky. Any time the bolts were shot, the enemy fliers would turn into motes of light the size of fireflies, allowing the bolts to whizz by harmlessly. At the speed they were moving, they would only be able to get off one more volley of explosive bolts before the first pair of enemy fliers were over the closest airship. Already having noted how ineffective the first one had been, Scar was already giving new orders, "Get ready to counter anything they throw at..."

Scar went silent as, rather than throwing some sort of alchemical or poison bomb on deck, the two fliers landed on the deck of the ship leading the fleet. At first, Scar thought that he had overestimated his opponent. There was a crew of almost two hundred and fifty pirates on every airship. If his information that there were no powerhouses in the airship was correct, then what were they hoping to achieve by pitting two low-level attackers against such odds? But, that's when a detail he'd not picked up on jumped out at him. At first, he thought he was looking at twins. A feeling of unease, however, pushed him to check back with the arrays that monitored the skied around the airships. "Hive scroll," he muttered, immediately making the connection. "Kill them!" he roared into the communication crystal linked with the other ships. "They are throwaway for..." The word 'forces' died on his lips as once again the battle went in a completely unexpected direction.

Given that they were about to launch an attack on the larger airship, more than half the crew on every ship was on the deck. Scar had been expecting an explosion or some sacrificial play that would take out several of his men at the cost of the mana copies. The two figures that had landed at the front of the foremost airship didn't explode, however, instead, they turned into blurs!

In the cutthroat world of piracy, having an underling that was just as if not more powerful than you was a death sentence. Even having enough underlings that they could come together and rival your strength was a recipe for disaster. No, in their world, you needed to have absolute strength over those under you. Otherwise, you might as well extend your neck and have them slit it just to get the inevitable betrayal over with. This was why, apart from his first mate, Scar only had six other fourth-tier mages under him, the captains of the other airships. Even if the seven came together, he could easily crush them. Unfortunately for Scar, as far as this fight was concerned, the same philosophy held with his underlings. Each of the six captains had never allowed the number of third-tier mages under them to grow to a point where a mutiny could prove a real danger to them. This meant that while the third-tier mages under them held high-ranking officer positions on the various airships, they were few and far between. Most of the remaining crew on those ships were a mix of second and first-tier mages. A fact that he immediately realized was a problem when in the first five seconds of the fight, ten bodies fell to the floor headless...

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