The aftcastle stair rose like a guillotine’s spine, slick with sea spray and moss. Kade took it two steps at a time, cutlass low, revolver at the ready, boots biting into the warped planks with each ascent. The shouts and clashes of steel below faded. Not vanished. Just distant, as if the fight on the main deck belonged to another world entirely.

  The fog rolled between the stairs like breath from a rotting lung. Figures clung to the rails, hunched and unmoving. One had been split from collarbone to hip, its ruined torso still wedged against a post. Another lay sprawled across two steps, the back of its skull crushed flat, jaw twitching in the wind like it was still trying to chew through seawater. None of them wore the colors of the Portland factions. These were other former survivors the ship had claimed. Ghosts the sea hadn’t let go.

  At the last step, the helm loomed above like a throne carved from wreckage. The deck was wide, raised half a story, enclosed by a cracked quarterrail and rigging that hung limp in the breathless air. At its center stood a figure behind the warped wheel, motionless, as if he’d been waiting there since the ship died.

  [Analyze] Captain Maulore of the Blacktide | Level: 13 Elite | Status: Hostile | Class: Dark Captain

  His coat looked as if it had once been the deep blue of naval command, now bloated with water and stitched in seaweed. Rusted pauldrons curled over his shoulders like coral blooms. Barnacles clung to his chestplate. One eye socket was hollow. The other stared straight through her.

  The cutlass in his hand appeared forged from anchors and shipwrecks. Its black blade was longer than hers by half again, broad as a butcher’s tool, and dripped seawater from a dozen notches along the edge. Steel didn’t bleed, but this one hadn’t gotten the message. The water hissed where it struck the deck beneath him.

  Kade stepped onto the helm deck. The wood groaned beneath her.

  Maulore didn’t move. He tilted his head only slightly, as if studying her weight.

  "All captains answer to the will of the sea," he said. His voice did not come from his mouth. It pressed into her head like the tide itself. "The tide of the undead horde will sweep aside all who resist."

  Kade let the words roll over her without answering. Her pistol stayed raised, just high enough to ruin his face if he tried something clever.

  "The sea doesn’t command me, Maulore," she said, leveling the barrel. "I’ll cut down your horde and make the tide itself bleed before I bow."

  A flicker passed across the drowned captain’s features. Amusement, maybe. Or some ancient muscle remembering a smile. Then he stepped down from the helm and brought the cutlass forward. The sound it made dragging across the deck was part rust and part funeral bell.

  Kade fired first. The revolver cracked once, then twice. Sparks jumped off his armor, iron ringing where the rounds struck. He didn’t stagger or bleed. Only metal scraped where the bullets hit something that used to be flesh. Maulore kept coming.

  The first swing forced her to dive aside. His reach was obscene, the weight behind the blade turning each strike into a battering ram. Kade rolled, came up under his left flank, and slashed toward his ribs.

  Maulore twisted. His elbow crashed down toward her head. She ducked under it, pivoted, and struck low again. This time he blocked with a plated forearm and caught her second blade with his own. The clash sounded like a cannonball tearing through anchor chain.

  Then the boot came, catching her square in the chest. She flew backward into the port side rail, shoulder smashing into the beam hard enough to buckle it.

  She staggered upright, wiping the blood from her nose, jaw tight, vision swimming. But she wasn't out of the fight yet. Not by a long shot.

  The Captain came again.

  This time, she waited. Let him close the distance, baited the overhand cut, and then snapped forward with a twist of her hips as she triggered Blade Whirl.

  Her cutlass blurred, striking high, low, then high again in tight arcs meant to force any opponent back or bleed trying to stand ground. Maulore raised his weapon in a brutal two-handed block, reeling a step as steel rang against barnacled plate. Kade kept moving, pivoting through the arc of his body, slashing twice more. She could feel the rhythm shift. His control wavered.

  Then Maulore’s free hand struck like a siege weapon, ramming into her side with enough force to lift her off her feet. She caught the edge of the quarterdeck before she went over, teeth gritted, and fired blindly over her shoulder.

  Another round struck his chestplate, tearing a patch of barnacles loose. Still not enough.

  He advanced like a wave in armor.

  Kade ducked the next swing and let the ship’s motion carry her under his guard. Her Deck Fighter ability kicked in. She didn’t resist the roll. She used it, letting the tilt of the hull whip her sideways and bringing her cutlass up in a tight arc that clipped his knee.

  Maulore grunted, a raw sound that gave no hint whether it came from pain or habit. Didn’t matter.

  She stepped left, sword ready, drawing him toward the broken railing where his reach wouldn’t mean as much. The helm loomed just behind him. The fog swirled above, thick and churning like a storm’s eye.

  Below, the battle raged on. But here, the outcome was narrowing fast. One captain stood. One would sink.

  They circled.

  Maulore moved with the slow certainty of a creature that had never needed to run. His cutlass dragged a thin line of seawater across the deck, the dark liquid hissing and bubbling where it touched wood.

  Kade kept her weight low, pace measured. Her boots skidded on patches already eaten away by rot. Brine laced the air, with an undertow of something worse. It clung to her tongue and filled her lungs with the stink of old anchors and deeper graves.

  Then he struck.

  The blade came from high and arced wide. She caught the blow on her cutlass and twisted, taking the force on the flat, letting the impact roll across her frame. Steel screeched. Rot-slicked water sprayed her cheek, burning like acid. She turned with it, deflecting the momentum, then countered with a quick lunge toward his ribs.

  He met her halfway, blocking with a rusted vambrace. The metal sparked as her blade scraped across it, then hissed as seawater dripped from the contact. Maulore’s next swing forced her back. The deck beneath her feet hissed and popped where his blade passed, leaving a wet scar that smoked.

  Kade adjusted. Her footing slipped, then caught.

  He came again.

  She parried, ducked, tried to circle. But the moment she stepped right, something yanked at her ankle. Hard. She couldn't risk the distraction, but she glanced down to see what had her.

  A hand. Pale and half-formed, rising through the planks as if it had always been there. Its fingers clawed around her boot. Another followed it. The deck groaned under the weight of the dead reaching up from below.

  Maulore was grinning as he surged forward, blade sweeping low in a two-handed arc that would split her open at the waist if it landed. She caught it at the last instant, both arms bracing against the blow. The force rattled through her body, and her knees bent.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Her boot was still caught, spectral fingers locked around her ankle like iron soaked in brine. She dropped the pistol and brought her free heel down hard, smashing the hand once, then again, until it burst into a splash of smoke and salt. Kade rolled left, broke contact with the deck, and surged upright in a single motion, slashing wide to clear space. Her blade carved through fog and empty air, buying just enough distance to breathe.

  Maulore stepped through the gap as if it meant nothing and brought his blade down again.

  Kade ducked, retreated two steps, then turned the motion into a sprint. She angled toward the rigging, where a length of torn line hung from the mainsail and coiled across a spar blown loose in the earlier broadside. She kicked the slack free, yanked it across her body, and dropped low just as Maulore closed in. His blade came down in a heavy arc. She braced and pulled the line tight, turning it into a tripwire.

  Maulore’s legs hit the rope. His stride staggered. The blow missed her head by inches, gouging another wet scar into the helm deck.

  She lunged, blade leading.

  The point glanced off his plating, skipped across his hip, and cut through a length of rigging behind him. He twisted fast, backhanded her in the shoulder with a mailed fist, and sent her sprawling.

  She hit the helm housing hard, the edge slamming into her spine and sending a sharp jolt through her ribs. Pain flared hot but didn’t stop her. She rolled again, spotted the pistol near the deck edge, and swept it up as she moved. By the time she came up in a crouch, the weapon was holstered and her cutlass was still in hand.

  Maulore advanced. He didn’t bleed or breathe, only moved forward with the sound of his boots on wet wood and the steady drip of his blade onto the deck.

  Kade’s eyes darted past him. One of the helm’s wheel spokes had snapped in the chaos. A jagged length of it lay near the edge of the deck. She reached for it.

  Maulore raised his blade.

  She grabbed the broken spoke and flung it in one motion, not bothering to aim. The jagged wood spun end over end and struck him square in the face. It didn’t pierce, but it staggered him, his head snapping to the side as a spray of water burst from his jaw like bile.

  Kade was already moving. She crossed the distance before he could reset, slashing hard. Her blade bit deep into his arm, cracking barnacles and slicing through soaked fabric. He didn’t cry out. Just turned back toward her and brought his own weapon to bear.

  Then, the air above them split with a mechanical thunk.

  A ballista bolt screamed down from the Talon’s crow’s nest and slammed into the deck between them. Wood exploded. Shards flew. Kade twisted away from the blast and dropped low behind a section of broken railing, one arm up to shield her face as splinters rained down. The deck shook beneath her, but she held her ground, boots skidding slightly as she pushed back into a ready stance.

  The captain stood in the center of it all, unmoved. The bolt had clipped his side and torn away part of his coat. It hadn’t stopped him.

  His head turned toward the crow’s nest in a slow, deliberate motion. For a long moment, he stared upward, his eye fixed on Mercer as if he were lining up a shot. Then one arm dropped to his side, fingers closing around a sizeable chunk of splintered railing torn loose during the fight.

  Without ceremony, he hauled it up and hurled it toward the Talon.

  The jagged timber spun end over end, trailing sea mist as it arced through the air. It struck the crow’s nest a breath later, tearing through the platform with a violent crack that echoed across the water. Wood and iron burst outward in every direction.

  Mercer didn’t wait to see if it hit. She dove, clearing the edge just before impact. Her boot missed the railing by inches as she dropped out of sight.

  Kade caught a glimpse of her twisting midair, coat flaring as she vanished into the sea with a sharp splash. The ballista went silent. The crow’s nest was gone.

  Maulore turned back toward her and resumed his advance.

  Kade shifted her position and raised her blade again. Her arm throbbed from the last block, and her ribs lit up with every breath, but she kept moving. The duel was hers now, but it needed to end before she gave him anything else to break.

  Fog curled along the quarterdeck in uneven swells. Behind her, the railing loomed. She didn’t glance at it. She didn’t need to. A few more paces and she would run out of ship. Below, the sounds of combat rose and fell like a tide. Screams and steel clashed with the muffled report of distant gunfire hopefully from Robin's pistol. The fight was still alive, but none of it mattered if she lost here.

  He pressed forward with the steady momentum of something that had never needed to chase its prey.

  Kade cut left and feinted low, trying to bait him into a rush, but he didn’t bite. Instead, he lunged without warning, and the sudden speed forced her off-balance. His blade swept in high, nearly catching her collarbone. She parried on instinct and stepped back again, straight into open air.

  Only her toe caught the lip of the deck.

  She recovered just in time, weight shifting forward as her boots found purchase again. The drop behind her wasn’t high, but landing wrong in a fight like this would mean the end.

  Maulore raised his blade and paused.

  "You cling to wood and your final breaths," he said, his voice crawling back into her head. "The sea takes all captains in time."

  Kade kept her stance, but didn’t answer. At least not with words. She let her pistol speak instead.

  The final round punched into his chest, just below the collar. Right where barnacle growth had split the plating into uneven seams. The shot didn’t drop him, but it staggered him. Water burst from the wound like a broken pipe.

  She dropped the pistol again and grabbed her cutlass with both hands, driving it into the crack her shot had opened in the captain’s armor. The blade scraped through warped plate and into decayed flesh. Maulore lurched forward, arms rising as if to catch her, or crush her, or drag her down.

  Kade stepped aside and let him stumble past. As he reeled, she planted a boot squarely against his back and drove it in with all her weight.

  He staggered toward the edge.

  For a moment, he looked almost alive. One arm reached forward. His mouth opened, but whatever curse had formed never left his lips.

  Then he dropped.

  The body fell from the aftcastle and crashed onto the deck below in a burst of metal and rot. The sound cracked across both ships like a bell. Crew on both sides turned toward the impact. The drowned went still. Talon marines looked up.

  Kade stood at the top of the aftcastle, shoulders squared against the fog and her boots planted on planks that still shuddered from the impact below. Her revolver was empty, her cutlass covered in ichor and rotten flesh, and every muscle in her body trembled with exhaustion. She forced her stance steady anyway. The crew was watching.

  Below, the drowned faltered. What had been a relentless tide broke into confusion. They slowed, their movements less certain, black eyes flicking upward toward the fallen body of their captain. Some froze outright, as if the absence of command had hollowed them out even more than death already had. Talon marines seized the moment. Steel flashed, boots thundered across the planks, and the clash of close combat turned into a one-sided rout.

  Kade kept her gaze fixed on the corpse sprawled across the main deck. Maulore’s ruined armor steamed where it struck, water leaking from his chest in thin streams that bled into the boards. He had been the weight behind this ship, and without him, it should have gone still.

  The deck beneath her feet trembled again, harder this time. Rigging rattled against the masts. Fog curled tighter around the rails. Somewhere in the hull, wood groaned as if the belly of the sea itself was dragging at the timbers. The ship was sinking.

  Kade looked down the length of the ghost ship. Victory was theirs, but the ship wasn’t finished. If they didn’t move soon, it would drag every last one of them into the depths.

  "Briggs, cut those lines. Now."

  The big man didn’t hesitate. His axe came down on the first harpoon tether still holding the Talon tight. The line snapped with a violent recoil, whipping across the deck and tearing a chunk of railing loose as it recoiled into the sea. He was already on the second before the first had settled.

  Kade swept her cutlass in a short arc to clear the space around her and shouted toward the Talon.

  "Hooks off! Retrieve your gear!"

  Her voice cut through the fog and chaos. Sailors on the Talon moved as one, hauling in the thick boarding lines and ripping the claws free of the ghost ship’s planks. Metal shrieked as the last of them tore loose.

  "Fall back!" Kade barked.

  Marines disengaged, step by step, covering one another as they crossed the planks and leapt the widening gap back onto the Talon. A few staggered, armor battered and blades dulled, but every one of them made it across.

  “Did she just solo the elite captain?” someone whispered.

  “Why do you think we call her the Eye of the Storm?” another answered.

  A splash rose on the far side of the Talon. For a heartbeat Kade tensed, thinking another drowned had come for them. Then Mercer’s voice cut through the mist, raw and strained.

  "Someone throw a line."

  Two sailors hauled her up a breath later, soaked to the bone and cursing under her breath as she dragged herself over the railing. She gave Kade a sharp nod, then shoved past the gawking deckhands to get back to her post.

  Kade planted herself at the starboard rail, cutlass still in hand, and gave the only order that mattered.

  "Get us clear."

  The Talon shifted away under Bishop’s steady hand on the wheel. Masts strained, sails filling with summoned wind as the gap between ships widened. The wreck groaned louder as if the ocean itself was pulling it under. Suddenly, the ghost ship’s spine finally cracked. Water poured through the broken hull, dragging the wreck under in uneven jerks. The masts tilted, rigging snapping as the ocean claimed its prize. Fog swallowed the last of the drowned who hadn’t already fallen, their pale faces slipping beneath the waves without a sound.

  The sea closed over the wreck in a boil of white foam and rising bubbles. Then, it was gone.

  Only the Talon remained, sails stretched taut, her crew standing bloodied and breathless across the deck.

  Kade tightened her grip on the railing, chest heaving from more than the fight. She'd made a mistake that had nearly cost them the Talon and the crew. It wasn't one she intended to make again. She let the silence hang just long enough, then straightened her shoulders and forced her voice steady.

  "Set course. We still have a dungeon to conquer."

  The crew moved, and the Talon carried them on, leaving the dead and Captain Maulore to the deep.

  The Grand Crusade. Around the same time, I was already kicking around ideas for an age-of-sail style spin-off. Once those two ideas collided, it felt inevitable. Of course there would be ghost ships out there. Of course the sea wouldn’t be safe just because the land wasn’t. And of course, someone like Kade would end up swinging steel on a rolling deck against a drowned captain who refuses to stay dead.