For more than a week, the long days under sail roll by in a steady and practical routine. The winds are variable, but their direction is almost always favourable. Each evening the captain comes into the saloon and moves the little red pin a measured distance further out into the open ocean.

The seasoned travellers of the group slip back into their comfortable associations with ease while trying their best to accommodate both Chao and Tarmon as welcome new additions. Chao’s obvious skill in hand-to-hand combat is matched by his considerable ability with the sword that he wears at his belt. Even such seasoned fighters as Alex and Garvan, both well aware of their own skill with their bare hands, are keen to learn from the northerner.

Tarmon, however, seems to take to this strange way of fighting immediately. Within a few short days he is voluntarily getting up early to join Chao on the deck. Here, standing on the foredeck in the breeze, often with Shara watching from his place on the rail, the two men move through a series of formal movements together. A form of shadow-boxing that Chao explains is used to make the fluid movements become second nature to the student.

For all of them, language lessons are much harder to advance through. Alex at least seems to be grimly determined to learn, even as he struggles with the grammatical maze that such a different language presents.

On the afternoon of their ninth day at sea, the wind drops away, leaving them to drift on a sea that’s an almost mirror-smooth deep azure blue. The sun stands directly overhead and the heat is depressingly oppressive. Alex cuts practice off early, as everyone feels the effect of the blazing sun, suggesting that they all retire for a few hours and reconvene nearer to sunset.

Alex and Jamie are resting in their cabin when the captain calls the crew to their stations, a loud bell being rung repeatedly on the after deck. Rushing onto the main deck, joined from the neighbouring cabins by their companions, Alex immediately spots the reason for the alarm.

“Friend or foe, captain?” Lee Shan calls as he makes a more sedate appearance and takes in the scene.

“Two galleys, this far out and flying no colours, my lord,” the captain replies as he comes to the rail in front of the ship’s wheel. “It can only be corsairs.”

“I imagine that they pray on becalmed vessels,” Cato suggests. “With no need for a wind they are at the advantage here.”

“It is a common tactic,” Lee Shan agrees. “However, it is unusual for them to consider attacking such a large vessel. Either times are hard or they are over-confident.” Turning to the sergeant of his guards he continues. “Prepare your men, sergeant.”

Alex nods at an expectant Brion and Garvan, the former already stringing his bow. “If you have a spare bow for Garvan, that will give you two more archers,” Alex tells Lee Shan.

“Master Brion is already like having two archers,” the ambassador suggests with a grin. He stops one of the guards and gives a sharp order in their native tongue that Alex catches the gist of easily enough.

“We should be able to handle this,” Lee Shan continues. “Once they see we are armed, they may choose not to engage.”

“Well, let’s hope things don’t get out of hand,” Alex agrees. “An hour ago I might have wished for a little excitement, but this would not be what I would have had in mind.”

Each of the two approaching galleys are similar in size, perhaps half the displacement of the Mekallan flagship. They are low and broad platforms with a single mast, sails furled. For propulsion they each have two rows of long sweeping oars per side, perhaps eighty in total per ship, indicating a substantial number of men at their disposal.

Their approach seems purposeful, spreading apart to approach from the bow, one galley on each side of the becalmed ship. As they come within hailing distance a tall, strongly-built man in steel breastplate and helmet calls out to them across the water. “Lay down your bows and prepare to be boarded!” He speaks the language of the southern continent with the accent of a native.

“We are on imperial business,” the captain bellows in response. “Be on your way in peace.”

“Then we’ll have an imperial prize!” The man bellows in response before yelling to his crew. “Ship oars and prepare to board!”

The two galleys are now close enough that they will drift into contact, even as the oars are abandoned. Dozens of men swarm onto the deck of each galley, heavily armed with swords, axes, knives and short bows.

As the first arrows fly, one of the guards nearest to Alex and Jamie is hit high in the shoulder. He gives out a yell and drops to his knee behind the rail, but Jamie is on him in an instant, Alex very close behind. The arrow vanishes from the wound, appearing in Alex’s open hand moments before Jamie’s hands land on the profusely bleeding hole and he heals the injury with practiced ease.

Arrows are flying overhead thick and fast, but Brion, having found himself a clear space on the foredeck is having a devastating effect on the second galley. His first shot takes out the commander of that ship, neatly avoiding his armour and helmet with a direct shot into his left eye that drops him instantly. His almost immediate second shaft takes the man at the steering oar of the same galley in the throat, blood spraying across the deck as he releases his hold on the steering and tries in vain to hold his life-blood in.

Within moments, however, several of the guards are down, either injured or dead and the numbers of the corsairs are looking likely to tell in their favour.

“With your leave, ambassador?” Alex yells.

“By all means, my lord,” the ambassador replies with equal calmness.

“Tarmon!” Alex yells. “A little distraction, if you please. Burn them down!”

The young mage appears to be terrified, unsure where to stand or what to do, but at Alex’s commanding tone he gathers his wits and nods once. Choosing the gathered sails of the galleys as a starting point he concentrates on the leading vessel and Alex feels the unmistakeable force of magic being used.

Almost instantly, the great bundle of canvas begins to smoulder, before bursting into bright gold and orange flame that leaps along the spar and up the rigging of the mast. Within a few moments, the second ship follows suit and masts and rigging are ablaze.

By now, however, the two galleys are drifting into contact with the great ship and the first of their crews are throwing hooked lines over the rails in order to board. Still, the blazing rigging has them confused enough to make their attack a disorganised one, giving Jamie time to rip through their numbers with devastating effect. Each bolt that leaves his hands, accompanied by the cracking bang that Alex now knows so well, finds its mark in an attacker, almost every hit being instantly fatal.

Concentrating on the leading ship, the captain of which is still screaming almost incoherent orders to attack, Jamie decimates the crew around him in less than a minute. Jamie’s attack leaves the bow-wielding guards, Brion and Garvan every chance to concentrate on the other ship, balancing the odds considerably.

What had been a possible force that outnumbered the crew of the ship by more than two-to-one is now in danger of being wiped out totally, but still able to put up a fight. As an arrow from that second galley thuds into the mast by the side of Alex’s head, his restrained rage bubbles to the surface. With a bellow of one word, “Enough!” the second galley vanishes from beneath the attacking crew, reappearing more than half a mile away, upside down and more than a thousand feet up.

Dozens of screaming corsairs plunge into the hole in the ocean where the ship had been an instant before, swallowed by the surging waters. A few of them bob up to the boiling surface of the ocean moments later, but many are drawn down to the deep blue oblivion.

The leading ship is now firmly ablaze; the remaining crew attempting to form a bucket-chain and douse the spreading flames. All pretence of continuing the attack is gone. Their captain, red with rage seems intent on pressing the attack on his own, but his disorientated men are totally ignoring him.

“I need a little quiet, dear,” Alex suggests to Jamie over the noise from the remaining galley. “Would you put that fire out and quiet them down?”

Jamie merely smiles, grabbing a huge ball of water from the ocean and dumping it over the blazing galley. The flames die instantly, water washing the remaining crew off their feet and into the scuppers. Only the screaming, incoherent, raging captain remains on the steering platform at the stern.

“Oh, do be quiet,” Alex says calmly as the man appears a couple of paces in front of him. “You’ve lost this battle.”

The man ties to reach for his sword and attempts to take a step forward but, before he can complete even a first step, Jamie takes hold of him, magically lifting him a few inches off the deck. As he flails about with his sword impotently, Alex makes it vanish from his hand, leaving it a few feet away to clatter onto the deck.

Shara, having remained on the rail at the bow until now, walks down to stand at Alex’s side, sniffing the corsair captain with a wrinkled nose. “Why do we always seem to get the stupid ones?” he asks simply in the minds of the whole crew.

“I’ll admit,” Alex agrees with a grin, “it does seem that way, doesn’t it.”

“I’ve never even been on a ship before,” the leopard continues. “Yet, even I can see that this was going to end badly. Surely a seasoned pirate should know better?”

“Let me go, you bastard!” the pirate leader snarls.

“Well, not unless you’re more polite than that,” Alex suggests amiably with a twinkle in his eye.

“You’re Varga, the mage?” the pirate asks, calming considerably.

“Yes, and you might live if you tell me who sent you to attack us.”

“There’s nothing you can do to me that will make me talk. Let me go and fight like a man.”

“That statement alone tells us all we need to know,” Lee Shan tells him. “Someone ordered you to attack and told you where to find us. That tells me much.”

“He might talk if I take an arm or leg off,” Shara suggests, baring his teeth in a chillingly suggestive snarl.

“Fuck off!” the pirate spits between gritted teeth.

“I thought I told you to be polite,” Alex admonishes. “My young friend isn’t used to such obscenities.”

Tarmon manages a grin in response. “Can I have his armour? I want to make some throwing stars like Chao’s.”

“Sure,” Alex agrees as he shifts the breastplate and helmet off the man and onto the deck. “He’s not going to need them for some time.”

“Just fucking kill me then,” the pirate practically screams.

“Will you stop swearing,” Alex tells him with a stern tone. “I’m not going to kill you just because you ask me to. Now, when you manage to make it back to port, I want you to tell whoever sent you to let it go. This is your collective one and only chance. Next time, I won’t leave any remains bigger than apples and no survivors. Without warning.”

The pirate simply glares at him, but he finally seems to come to his senses, now aware enough to remain quiet.

“Now, we are leaving and you are going for a bit of a swim,” Alex tells him with an even broader grin.

With a wave of his hand in dismissal, the man vanishes once more, reappearing about a hundred feet beyond the smoking galley, several feet above the water. “I think it is time that we continued our journey, gentlemen.”

“It would appear so,” Lee Shan agrees. “Captain, if you would set a foresail?”

“There’s no wind, my lord,” the captain mutters.

“Might we join you on the aft deck, captain,” Jamie asks with a smile. “I should be able to do something about a breeze for you, at least for a little while.”

When the captain nods, Jamie takes Alex by the hand and leads him up the steps onto the stern deck, positioning the two of them against the rail at the very stern. “You’ve shown off enough for one day, my love,” Jamie tells his husband. “Now, it’s my turn to use a little power while we still have it to use.”

Jamie closes his eyes and takes two long, slow cleansing breaths. Alex feels the immense surge of magical energy as it begins to channel through the Flame that hangs on its simple chain at Jamie’s chest. The merest hint of moving air begins from behind them, growing quickly into a steady moderate breeze that washes the heat and smoke away from the decks of the ship.

The captain stares at the two of them in wonder for a moment, but composes himself quickly, ordering the crew into the rigging to quickly set some sails. “Such power,” he mutters to the helmsman at his side at the wheel. “Such incredible power.” Even Alex can understand what he says, for the first time since they came on board.

“I should be able to give us a couple of hours, Captain,” Jamie suggests as he opens his eyes and relaxes. “That will get us almost to sunset and far enough away from these pirates to be safe from a repeat attack.”

“Yes, highness,” the captain agrees. “I’ll set all possible sail and hope for better winds tomorrow.”