Chapter 350 - Sky Pirate (Patreon)

Tucker adjusted his tricorn hat, which brought a hiss of derision from his companion. He glanced to his right to see that Athis was just as pale as he’d been when last he looked at the giant Kirran five minutes before. And considering that the big dragon-man was covered rigid scales, that was quite a feat.

“What?” he asked, putting his hands on his hips.

“That hat looks ridiculous,” Athis stated. He scratched the spiny protrusions on his chin, then added, “In fact, that whole outfit is embarrassing.”

Tucker gave a wry smile before responding, “If I’m going to be a sky pirate, then I’m damn well going to look like one.”

And indeed, he did. With the thigh-length, leather coat trimmed in red, his tricorn hat, and heavy boots, he was the spitting image of a swashbuckler. The effect was especially potent when he drew his blunderbuss, which somehow qualified as an alchemical tool and fit in his spatial storage. A good thing, too, because he hated toting the thing around.

“I hate that term,” Athis grunted. He shook his head, muttering, “Sky pirate. It makes us seem like…like we’re the bad guys or something.”

Tucker leaned back against the railing, trying to ignore the fact that that thin piece of wood was the only thing separating him from a fall of more than a thousand feet. Idly, he wondered if, with his enhanced endurance, he could survive such a plummet. Probably not, which was why he’d created a potion specifically for such a situation. The [Feather Fall] potion wasn’t pleasant – people were meant to have weight, and anything to counteract that left the body feeling…weird – but it was preferable to ending up splattered all across the rocky ground below.

“From the perspective of our victims –”

“Don’t call them victims, either. Gives the wrong impression.”

“Then what would you call them?” Tucker persisted.

Athis shrugged. “Business associates,” he said.

“Seriously? They’re not going to be willing partners, you know.”

“If they know what’s good for them, they will be,” Athis said. “Nobody’s got to get hurt. They’d be stupid to turn down any deal we offer.”

Tucker just sighed. It wasn’t that he endorsed piracy. Certainly, he didn’t. In fact, he’d always prided himself on staying on the right side of the law. Genocides notwithstanding, of course. But those situations were war, and as such, he didn’t think laws really applied. Pointedly, he ignored the reality that, back on Earth, he would have been labeled a war criminal.

In any case, he didn’t see as he had much choice. Most of his research had hit dead ends, and drastic measures were required to stave off whatever consequences came from failing the fearsome dragon-people to which he’d hitched his wagon. Athis wouldn’t hurt him – probably – but the rest of his kin wouldn’t show such restraint, should Tucker fail to accomplish the goal set before him. So, he’d been forced to throw his objections to piracy aside in favor of basic survival.

Plus, if everything went according to plan, he’d obtain enough materials to fuel his research for weeks to come. Months, if he rationed the storm cores that were the primary target of the impending heist.

“Think this is worth it?” Athis asked.

“You’re not having second thoughts about your chosen life as a criminal, are you?”

“We ain’t criminals.”

Tucker just shook his head. The Kirran – or maybe just the ones he’d met – seemed to have a strange sense of morality. So far as they were concerned, a person’s possessions weren’t really theirs if they weren’t strong enough to hold onto them. As such, when they chose to hijack various caravans and ships, they weren’t really stealing. Rather, they looked at it as setting the world right.

Of course, the people they stole from didn’t have the same attitudes, but the dragon-people were very careful not to kill unless absolutely necessary. So, when most merchants saw them coming, they rarely fought. Instead, they either made a deal with the oncoming horde, or, if they thought they could get away, they ran. Most escapes proved unsuccessful.

“Sure, sure. And I’m just a harmless alchemist,” said Tucker.

In truth, the current mission wasn’t strictly necessary. In fact, it was probably safe to say that it was objectively a bad idea. Their target – a local cabal of alchemists that worked for one of the low-level gnome factions in Westport – was well-connected and respected within the city. Normally, attacking them would be the height of stupidity.

Perhaps it still was.

But mitigate that risk was one major factor – a mana-storm simply known as the Vortex. At nearly four-hundred miles across, the thing was bigger than most hurricanes, and it was infinitely more deadly than any mundane storm. Not only was it equipped with all the normal wind and rain of a powerful typhoon, but inside, the mana was thick enough to accommodate powerful elementals that would ravage anything in their paths. Even if one managed to avoid such a calamitous encounter, there were still the lesser storm spirits to worry about.

The idea was that the storm would act as a sort of camouflage for their piracy; after all, venturing into the Vortex was an incredibly dangerous proposition, even when you were prepared for it. Nobody would bat an eyelash if any ship stupid enough to explore the depths of the storm went down.

But just like Tucker, the alchemists of the Westport Alchemical Association were desperate for ingredients. And the storm cores that could only be harvested within the Vortex were incredibly potent as well as versatile. Any alchemist would pay a fortune for even one.

According to all their intelligence, the alchemical association ship was supposed to have hundreds, which made it too juicy a target to pass up.

So, after telling Athis what he needed, the Kirran had somehow acquired a working airship and enough dragon-people to man it. From what Tucker understood, the latter had been the more difficult part. Kirrans, Athis was fond of saying, were not meant to fly. If they were, they’d have been given wings.

In any case, Tucker was on a floating ship – and it looked like a regular sea-going boat, complete with billowing sails, a wooden hull, and actual oars that could push the vessel to truly frightening speeds, especially under the immense physical strength the Kirrans could bring to bear.

“I don’t know how you can be so flippant with that thing hovering over your shoulder,” Athis said.

Tucker didn’t need to turn around to know that he was referring to the Vortex, which had been visible on the horizon for almost two days. That, more than anything, was evidence of just how huge it the storm was. Perhaps his estimate that it was four-hundred miles across was woefully understating its size.

“Practice,” Tucker said. “I’m used to living with an execution sentence.”

“That’s not fair,” Athis said. “I can’t help –”

Tucker waved his hand. “I know. I know,” he said. He’d heard it all before. Athis wasn’t the one threatening him with execution if he didn’t come through with the potion meant to change the fate of the entire Kirran race. A tall task under any circumstances, especially considering they’d long sought a cure. In reality, none of them really expected Tucker to succeed. “Water under the bridge. I’m past it.”

“How do you get past that kind of thing?”

“Like I said – practice,” he stated. Indeed, he’d lived under similar restrictions a couple of times in the past. First, with the frost giants, and then with Micayne. If he hadn’t learned to live with the threat of death, he would’ve long since gone insane. “Nothing like a few death threats to light a fire under you, you know what I mean?”

Athis muttered something noncommittally, and Tucker took that opportunity to turn around and study the Vortex. Even from dozens of miles away, the roiling mass of blue clouds and blue lightning was beautiful – so long as it remained so far away. Up close, it would progress well past beauty and into terror-inducing.

Tucker continued to watch the storm as they drew closer. Below, the ground was rocky and barren – the Vortex, which often expanded and contracted had stripped it of any life – and few were the monsters who could call such a place home. They were down there, Tucker was certain. No matter what else, life would find a way to exist even in the most desolate conditions.

Eventually, the sailors – all Kirrans – began to emerge from belowdecks. The ship could sail through the skies without much input from its crew, but heading into the storm required that all hands be on deck. Soon enough, the ship passed into the outskirts of the storm.

It was like passing into another world.

Immediately, the air seemed alive with mana, crackling with white lightning that clung to every surface. It was only dangerous to those with rock-bottom endurance, and no one on the ship could be counted among those unlucky few. Even Tucker only felt a few tingles. Still, he summoned a potion he’d created for the occasion and downed it. After swallowing the curiously airy mixture, he glanced at Athis and asked, “Want one?”

“Nah,” said the dragon-man. “Not necessary.”

Tucker shrugged. “Better safe than sorry, I always say,” he stated. Indeed, he trusted his own constitution to see him through the outskirts of the storm, but once they passed into the heart of the Vortex, he’d need a little help. Luckily, the aptly named Vortex Immunity Potion was there to fill the gaps, raising the appropriate resistances – arcane, nature, wind, and ice – by two full tiers. Unfortunately, it required a trade-off, lowering his remaining resistances down to the G-Tier, meaning that if they encountered, say, a fire elemental, he’d be roasted before they even got close. It was a good thing, then, that no such thing could exist within the storm-attuned Vortex.

The crew remained silent in anticipation, and as they progressed further into the storm, the ship was rocked by steadily increasing winds and struck by hundreds of bolts of white lightning. However, the ship was well-chosen, and it was equipped with dozens of enchantments specifically created to protect it from such an environment.

But as terrifying as it was, the storm wasn’t the real issue. Rather, the creatures that made it their home were the true problem as well as the source of the Kirran sailors’ anxiety. For his part, Tucker finally summoned his blunderbuss and checked that it was still tied to his spatial storage. It was, which was still as surprising as it was when he’d first taken possession of the miraculous weapon.

With a flick of his mind, he loaded it with a storm-dispersing grenade. He’d spent days getting the recipe just right, but once he’d cracked the code, he’d made hundreds of the things in anticipation of this trip.

It was just in time, too, because almost as soon as he hefted the weapon, a storm spirit descended upon the ship. The creature was of a size with the Kirrans, which meant that it was half again as tall as Tucker. However, it lacked solidity, instead being composed of lightning and clouds.

Tucker wasted no time before taking aim and firing the little, potion-filled globe. The glass shattered the moment it came into contact with the lightning, dispersing the liquid metal in a wide arc that enveloped the entirety of the creature. With a sound like howling wind, it screamed as it was ripped apart. It died – if such a creature could ever have been considered to be alive – howling in agony.

“What the hells…”

Tucker turned to Athis, who had barely had a chance to heft his great hammer, and said, “Liquified earth mana mixed with infused mercury. Extremely cheap, but very effective against storm-attuned creatures,” he said.

“Do you have any more?”

“Lots,” Tucker said.

Athis held out his hand, but when Tucker didn’t make a move, he said, “Come on. We could all use those things!”

“But we haven’t discussed the price, have we?” Tucker said.

“You’d charge us? This whole boondoggle is for you!”

“Technically, it’s for you and your little hatchlings. I’m just here so I don’t get killed by giant lizard people.”

At that moment, another storm spirit – this one in the form of a giant bird of prey composed of blue clouds – swooped in, charring a portion of the deck. A half-dozen Kirran sailors went skidding across the deck, their bodies wreathed in stark white lightning that melted their scales into hideous deformities. A couple lived through the impact, but four were slain before they came to a stop.

Tucker responded by taking aim at the elemental creature and opening fire. The first grenade, which discharged with an airy thump rather than the expected sound of a gunshot, hit the avian storm spirit in one of its huge wings. The limb – if a wing composed of clouds and lightning could qualify for such a label – dissipated under the earth-infused onslaught, but it managed to avoid being completely dispersed by the grenade.

It screeched, then turned its attention on Tucker. His grenades could be summoned to hand in an instant, but adding the gun to the process slowed it down by a second or two. So, by the time Tucker was ready to fire again, the Kirran warriors had begun to respond. They all wielded weapons of black iron – the bane of storm-attuned creatures – and they fell upon the thing with surprising viciousness.

Even Athis had discarded his affable demeanor in favor of the purest fury. As Tucker watched his friend tear into the wounded spirit, he was reminded of the Kirrans’ supposed origin. In that moment, he could readily believe that they were descended from dragons.

However, Tucker didn’t have long to consider the origin of the dragon-men, because, at that moment, a flock of spirit birds descended upon the airship. Tucker took aim at the densest clump of the avian attackers and fired. He didn’t bother to notice the result, instead immediately loading another grenade into his blunderbuss and firing again. Over and over, he repeated the action, all the while using his Trajectory path to subtly guide his shots.

Meanwhile, the Kirrans continued to show their worth as they fought off dozens of birds. They took wounds that would have felled even stout warriors, but on they kept fighting. If Tucker would have had a moment to think, he would have been reminded of Zeke. The half-demon warrior would definitely have found kindred spirits in the dragon-men.

In the end, the battle lasted for less than twenty minutes, but in that time, Tucker nearly exhausted his prodigious supply of grenades. By the time they fought off the last of avian spirits, three more Kirrans had died. But such was the cost of victory.

After the battle had ended, Athis returned to Tucker and said, “This had better be worth it, Tucker. We’ve been in the storm for an hour, and already, we’ve lost seven. I hope their sacrifice was not in vain.”

“Me too,” Tucker admitted, sitting on a bulkhead. For his part, he hadn’t been wounded, and he’d managed to more than hold his own against the creatures. However, the cost had been steep for him as well. With a sigh, he said, “I need to brew some more potions.”

“You have anything for the wounded?”

Tucker nodded, then summoned a parcel of clinking vials that were filled with red-and-white liquid. “Use them sparingly,” he said.

Athis cocked his head. “For free?” he asked.

“This time,” Tucker answered. “Take care of your people. I’ll be below decks. Hopefully we’re through the worst of it.”

With that, the alchemist retreated to the cabin he’d been given, preparing for the worst. Hope was all well and good, but he knew better than to depend on fate’s good fortune.