Chapter Text
Seagulls are soaring overhead, wind is whistling in the rigging of ships all around. The sun is hanging low in the west, casting her last rays of light over the pirate city of Leviathan.
Side by side, Fabian Aramais Seacaster, son of Bill Seacaster, and Adaine Abernant, Oracle of All, are walking the docks, in search of a ship. They’ve passed many already, Fabian dismissing them all as unfit for their purpose.
Then again, it’s a bit beneath Fabian to go about asking for a ship.
Had he more time, he would have just taken one, conquered it as it is a pirate’s right. But the Hangvan is stranded at sea with most of his friends on board and time is somewhat of the essence.
This time, he’ll pay the golden price, not the iron kind.
“Hey there, dearies, what brings you by?” an old satyr jeers, hanging from the rigging of a small ship. The smell of wet goat wafts off her.
Adaine smiles, lifts her tricorn in greeting. “Ahoi. We’re looking to charter a ship.”
“A ship, you say? I have a ship. I have the best, the fastest.” She waves a hand over the planks, dark and smooth and well-kept. It’s a beautiful ship, if not as impressive as the Hangman. It looks in good enough condition, too. A lean racer to hunt down prey at sea, but never to go too far from a safe harbour, not fit for larger hauls. “What would you be willing to pay for it?”
“Oh, he has gold,” Adaine replies immediately, pointing at Fabian.
On the ships around them, all of similar make and model, the members of the rag-tag crews turn to listen to the conversation at the mention of gold. They all fly the same colours, a small flotilla made to hunt as a pack.
Fabian shakes his head, pulls his friend along. “I’m afraid this isn’t the right fit. Have a great day, madam.” Once they’re out of earshot, he lets go of Adaine’s arm. “That ship was way too small to help us with the Hangvan. And besides, you don’t just tell pirates that you’ve got gold on you.”
Adaine rolls her eyes. “She seemed nice, though. Maybe she would have pointed us in the right direction.”
Fabian doesn’t need anyone to point him towards an appropriate vessel in a harbour full of ships. He’d needed Adaine to get him off the Hangvan and onto the city in the first place, true. But he can do this part himself.
He regards each ship they pass with a trained eye, takes stock of the size, the condition, the possibilities to get the Hangvan to safety.
“What about that one?” Adaine asks, pointing over to a ship just inside harbour limits. It’s a stunning ship, if Fabian is being honest. 200 feet long, with a shimmering bronze hull and an intricate dragon’s head as its figurehead, it almost rivals the Goldenrod in magnificence. Tall, shimmering letters at its stern proclaim it to be the Argo II. It doesn’t fly any flags, no colours to mark its allegiance. But Fabian has seen enough ships in his life to know that this isn’t a pirate’s ship. It’s an adventurer’s pride.
A goblin with mussy black hair and goggles over his eyes is wiping soot off the dragonhead as they approach. The kid looks about a year or two younger than Fabian.
Before Fabian can say anything, Adaine has already spoken up. “Ahoi!”
The kid whirls around, revealing sharp teeth as he grins at them. “Ahoi to you!” His shirt had once been white but is streaked with oil and soot and other substances Fabian doesn’t bother thinking about. His dungerees are patched in multiple places, his socks mismatched.
He might be a goblin, but he’s the furthest from being similar to Riz as one could imagine.
“We wish to speak to your captain,” Fabian announces. “Are they available?”
“Don’t really have a captain.” The guy is still rubbing his oily rag in big circles over the dragon’s head. If it wasn’t just a piece of machinery, Fabian might almost call it petting.
“Well, whoever is in charge around here, then?”
The guy shrugs, turns his head towards the stern of the ship. “Annabeth, Percy!” he hollers. “You got a minute?”
First to pop up from the ladder to below decks is a blonde human girl around Fabian’s age. Her leather armour and sword at her hip mark her as a fighter just as much as her sure steps and attentive grey eyes do.
After her comes a water genasi in a wide coat and a spring in his step. His dark hair is just short of falling into attentive green eyes, a single white strand matching him to his companion.
“What’s up?” the guy asks. When his gaze falls on Fabian and Adaine, his easy smile remains firmly in place.
“Those two wanted to talk to ‘the captain’,” the goblin replies. He doesn’t take his hands off his task for long enough to draw the quotation marks into the air, but they linger strongly in his tone.
The blonde looks at her crew-mate for a second, a smile playing around the corner of her mouth. “Well, we don’t really have a captain. But there’s the three of us you can talk to,” she offers. “I’m Annabeth. These are Percy and Leo.” She nods first to the water genasi to her right, then to the goblin to her left. The guys raise their hands in greeting at the introduction.
Some of the tension seems to seep out of Adaine’s shoulders as she speaks up. “Nice to meet you. I’m Adaine, this is Fabian. We’re looking for a ship.”
“Good call, coming to the harbour of a pirate city,” Percy remarks. It earns him an elbow to the ribs from Annabeth. He doesn’t even flinch.
“What do you need a ship for?” she asks, taking the lead of the conversation.
The ship looks well-suited for their purpose, Fabian can freely admit that. “We were attacked in our vessel out at sea. The helm got damaged during the fight, and we need someone to tow us into port.”
“Attacked by whom?” Percy asks.
At the same time, Annabeth says “I hope the rest of your crew are alright.”
“What kind of ship have you got?” Leo talks over them.
“We were attacked by a large whale that seemed to take issue with us crossing its hunting grounds. Our friends are well enough, if a bit exhausted, thank you,” Adaine provides. Then, she turns towards Fabian, yielding the conversation to him to talk about their ship.
Their ship, which isn’t really a ship, because it’s the Hangvan. Because their boat is a van and their van is a boat. But to explain this to a bunch of kids who’d grown up on Leviathan, who’d never been to Solace would be useless. Better to deal with their surprise once they’re out there and it’s too late for them to turn around and refuse the trip.
“It’s a rather small vessel,” Fabian says instead. “About fifty miles south of here.”
Percy checks the watch at his wrist, looks up into the top of the mast, around the harbour. Probably checking direction and force of the wind, making estimations on how long it’ll take them to get there and back.
Leo, likewise, is scanning their ship, taking in the state of half-finished tasks, taking stock of ongoing projects and lapsed maintenance work. “I don’t see why we shouldn’t,” he finally says. “I can do a few things on the way.”
The water genasi shrugs. “We should be able to make it there and back before the next check-in.”
Annabeth turns from her friends to Fabian and Adaine. “You’ve got yourself a lift, then. Hop aboard.”
And so, the Argo II sets off.
Leaving the harbour, it quickly becomes apparent that this ship has nothing on the original Hangman. Fabian does what he can, adjusts the sails, fastens ropes that are too loose and loosens rigging that’s too taught.
Percy frowns at him – probably in awe of his knowledge of a ship he’s never been on. But before he can say anything to that effect, Annabeth comes over, whispers something into his ear. And Percy just shrugs, leaves Fabian to run the ship and sits next to Adaine, striking up easy conversation while dangling his legs over the water sloshing below .
Once he’s dealt with the rigging, Fabian relieves Leo at the ship’s wheel. Leo exchanges a quick glance with Percy, then gets out some tools to tinker with one of the repeating crossbows in the middle of the ship.
“A strong ship needs a strong hand,” his father used to say. And so, Fabian holds firm on the wheel, picks his course and sticks to it.
To their left, the sun sets, and the darkness of night falls over them. Percy – without bothering to get up to do so – lights some lamps around the ship, throwing cantrips around with ease.
The water gurgles underneath the ship as it cuts through the waves, splashes as they stomp into the oncoming waves. Leo is muttering to the ship, Percy and Adaine’s conversation has dwindled down. Annabeth has gone under deck a while ago. There is a rhythmic flapping sound from the sail, each time they go down a wave, a soft whirring in the rigging.
Everything is peaceful.
Then, two things happen almost simultaneously: Adaine shouts out a warning and a heavy bolt thuds into the wood just next to Fabian’s feet.
A nnabeth races up the ladder from below decks as Fabian whirls around to face their attackers. What he sees doesn’t fill him with confidence: coming out of pitch darkness, just in reach of their ballistas are half a dozen of the racers they talked to earlier tonight. The crew, rag-tag and thrown together as the y might be , scream in delight as they ready their next attack.
And they’re gaining on the Argo II.
“We have to fight,” he hollers. “Your ship is too slow to outrun them!”
He makes to turn the wheel – to turn the ship and go into frontal assault (the racers might be faster, but the Argo II is by far sturdier) – but something blocks the motion of the wheel.
No, not something.
Someone.
Leo’s gaze is hard, his smile shows teeth.
“Oh, you just wait and see how fast this ship can go.” He nudges Fabian away from the controls, jerks his head towards where Annabeth is getting her hands onto one of the two crossbows. “Go make yourself useful.”
Indignation courses through Fabian as he hurries to get to another station. As if it matters who mans the helm – there’s no outrunning those racers with a ship as idle as this.
“Percy, see that she moves, will ya?” Leo shouts.
Percy doesn’t reply, is already hurrying across deck, resetting ropes, turning winches, changing a barrage of little adjustments. Against all odds, little by little, the ship gains speed.
Annabeth shoots a bolt at their followers. “Adaine, are you able to do a lightning bolt?”
Too stunned to properly reply and clutching Boggy like her life depends on it, Adaine just nods.
“Good,” Annabeth replies. “On the signal.” She turns to the boys. “Patras Escape,” she decides.
Both Percy and Leo just nod, hurrying about their tasks.
As Fabian goes to pass Percy, the water genasi grabs him by the arm, pulls him further towards the helm, puts a rope into his hand. “On the signal, you pull on this as hard as you can, and don’t let go!” he says, then hurries off towards the other side of the ship.
The rope goes up to the foremost mast, vanishes into the darkness of night. Fabian doesn’t know what it’ll do once he pulls. He doesn’t even know the signal. But he has a feeling he won’t miss it.
Percy reaches the other side of the ship, grabs a rope that runs parallel to the one Fabian is holding just as another barrage of bolts thuds into the wood of the Argo II.
“Ready!” Percy yells, one hand on the rope, the other holding materials for some sort of spell.
Leo widens his stance on the deck of the ship, grasps the wheel tightly in his small hands. “Set!”
The glint in Annabeth’s eyes is nothing short of dangerous. “ Go.”
Adaine is the first to react. The spell she’d had at the tip of her fingers releases, hurdling towards the enemy ships. For a moment, the dark of night is pushed aside, the lightning casting harsh shadows as the blinding light gives stark contrast to the world around them.
The lightning connects with a thundering boom, splintering wood and making people cry out in surprise, in fear, in pain.
A little screen flaps down in the lamp just next to Fabian as Annabeth activates some mechanism, shielding the flames from the world. It reminds Fabian that he has a job to do, too, and he pulls.
He pulls and he pulls and he pulls. Feet upon feet of rope land around his boots until he meets resistance. There is a sudden pull on the other end of the rope that makes him stumble a step forwards before he manages to plant his feet and stand his ground.
The bright light of Adaine’s lightning bolt still dances through his vision, making him blind in the sudden, all-encompassing darkness.
Fabian is thrown into the ship’s railing as the ship lurches to the side, cutting a sharp corner from their previous path. The pull at the other end of his rope becomes stronger, and Fabian isn’t quite sure how long he’ll be able to hold this.
When he opens his mouth to ask, though, no sound comes out.
Overall, the world around him has become perfectly silent.
He cant hear the sloshing of waves below him, nor the whirring of wind in the rigging above him, or the cursing of pirates behind him. He can’t even hear his own breath, let alone his voice.
Before Fabian can start to panic – he is on someone else’s ship, blind and deaf – Percy appears out of the darkness. Fabian startles, but retains his hold on the rope.
Percy smiles and points at him, the familiar feeling of a message cantrip appearing in his mind. “You alright?” Percy asks as he takes the rope from Fabian’s hands. He ties it to the nearest post, makes sure the knot is secure.
Fabian nods dumbly.
Now that the blinding light has mostly cleared from his sight, his eyes are getting used to the darkness. He still can’t see far, mind you. He can just make out the dragon’s head at the bow of the ship, but Leo on the wheel at the stern is already swallowed by the darkness.
When he looks up, however, he finds something that hadn’t been there a minute ago. Where before, they’d been cruising along with only one sail, there is now a second, much larger one above their heads.
Much larger than the first, made of a thin material Fabian can’t place, a darker figure within the bright fabric.
A moment later, he feels the less familiar sense of telepathic bond being cast in his mind, and Percy’s voice a second later.
“Sorry about that,” he says, right into Fabian’s mind, his face apologetic. “Had to be fast to get away from them before they managed to set us aflame or something.”
Fabian shrugs, follows the other guy towards the stern of the ship. “No worries. What exactly did we do?”
It’s Annabeth who answers, her body hidden somewhere in the all-encompassing darkness, but her voice clear in Fabian’s mind. “ Patras Escape. Adaine blinded them, I cut the lights, Percy cast silence on the entire ship, you two got us the second sail, Leo veered starboards to get us to broad reach.”
“Or in other words: we vanished in a flash of lightning,” Leo supplies helpfully, a laugh in his voice, even through the mental connection. Fabian can feel Adaine, too, in this telepathic bond; her thoughts gently pressing against his own.
They’re a good bit faster now than they’d been before, but unfortunately also heading in the wrong direction.
“I know,” Leo agrees when Fabian brings it up. “But we had to get away from them fast if we wanted to get away all all. We’ll turn the ship around once we’re sure we’ve lost them.”
They wait until the silence spell wears off and then some, idly chatting about nothing in particular in the meantime. Annabeth vanishes below deck once again, Adaine nods off in a corner of the ship, Boggy in her arms and a blanket over her legs.
“I think this should be far enough,” Percy finally decides and gets up. “Lend me a hand?” he asks Fabian as he nods over to the large second sail.
The first idea of dawn is creeping over the horizon and Fabian can’t help but marvel at the craftsmanship. “ I’ve never seen a sail like this,” he admits, and isn’t talking about the garish orange colour he can just barely out in the dim light nor the large pegasus displayed on it.
P ercy smiles, and there is something like pride in his gaze as he looks up. “I imagine not,” he says. “That’s the Whomper.”
“The what?”
“The Whomper. One of Leo’s inventions. It…” he lets out a small laugh, shrugs his shoulders. “It goes ‘whomp’ when it’s being set.”
Even with the silence spell already having been cast by the time the sail was set, Fabian can imagine the sound. A sail of this size, with as delicate a material, as high a mast – it’s no wonder the ship lurched forwards with it.
A s far as seafarers are concerned, Fabian is used to pirates. He grew up on a ship full of fighters an d rangers and rouges. He wonders what would have been had they added an artificer to their crew.
He’s looking forward to seeing what Gorgug has to say about this.
Percy watches him taking in the ship, his stance open and friendly and relaxed. “You’re not used to sailing triremes, are you?”
Fabian shakes his head. “Grew up on a caravel,” he replies.
Percy beams at him. “Nice! Way better suited for the open seas than our Argo, I’ve got to admit, but she has other perks.” He grabs the rope he’d earlier taken off Fabian just to offer it back to him. “You want me to show you?”
And there is something so genuine and open in this question, a complete lack of condescension over Fabian not knowing everything from this kind of ship off the get-go, that he can’t help but smile and accept the rope – and the lesson.
Percy is a good teacher. He’s patient, talks Fabian through any and all questions he has. He has anecdotes and little mnemonic rhymes and he in turn listens to what Fabian has to say about the adventures he’d had with his father. Once they’ve gone over the ship bow to stern, they walk up to Leo, and Percy gently pokes him in the side.
“Why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll take over watch for a bit.”
Leo looks like he considers arguing, but then his jaw cracks open with a yawn. He hands the wheel over without much argument and heads below deck.
Percy stands next to Fabian, shows him how to steer the ship through the waves, how to make it surf on the backside and avoid stomping into them. His is a softer hand at the helm, flowing with the motions rather than powering through.
Fabian watches, and he learns.
