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Deacon Drake

The Long and Winding Road, Part III
As Told by Excelsius

Since he was sixteen, Steel had a passion for sailing. In the end it served him well, as at the age of eighteen he enlisted in the Royal Britannian Navy. In less than three years of training and action, he achieved the second highest rank in the Navy and wore his Commodore badge with pride.

But he didn't manage it alone.

When Steel was nineteen, he was on leave for a few weeks (having recently attained the rank of Captain and been assigned his own ship, the Celtic Wind) and celebrated by meeting up with some old friends from the Trinsic Guard. He spent three weeks catching up, as he had not seen any of them in almost three years.

Then the tragedy occurred, and Steel was left alone, with only one goal to keep him going: find and kill the Dreamer.

One week after his comrades were murdered, Steel was released from the Healer's. As he walked down the dirt roads, the new scars on his face turned more than one head, but he didn't choose to hide his face. Instead he chose to hide behind the alcohol at a local tavern.

Sitting down for a drink, he blocked out all the noise and sights from the room, thinking and thinking what he was to do next. He sipped at his liquor for about five minutes, ignoring all sound, until one voice broke his concentration. It was a familiar voice, he wondered if it was someone he knew from the Navy. He concentrated on this voice for what seemed like hours, maybe days, when everything became clear.

The voice introduced itself as Aika Skye.

Steel stood up instantly at this name. Aika... he heard his uncle mention the name. Aika Skye... the name given to his twin brother, before he supposedly died soon after birth. Steel walked into the crowd, half-drunk, trying to find the voice. He wanted to find this person, whether he could possibly be his brother, or even an imposter - he just wanted to find the face behind the name. The crowd refused to part for him, and he finally found the source of the voice. Near the front door, a small table was occupied by four people. Steel disregarded all but one of them. Sitting in the chair nearest the door, standing up to leave, was a large man, standing about six foot, eight inches tall. Steel looked into the man's face and was momentarily under the impression the tavern had installed a new mirror by the door.

Aside from Steel's new scars, this man was identical to him in every way. As the man excused himself and left the tavern, he turned to his comrades and told them the good news. "I'm going back on duty tomorrow, boys. I've been promoted." The men cheered and congratulated him on this. "Tomorrow I'll be a Commander on the Celtic Wind."

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The meeting was awkward to say the least, but after Steel and Aika finally believed who they were to each other, both of their lives seemed to improve drastically, knowing they had something Steel hadn't experienced since he was five, something Aika had never had the opportunity to experience: family. But that changed two years later.

Steel and Aika ascended through the Navy quickly with each other's help. Less than two years after they met, Steel was appointed Commodore of a small fleet, including the sister ships Celtic Wind which he commanded, and Norse Wind of which Aika had been named Captain.

The twins were twenty-one, Steel being the youngest Commodore ever to exist in the Navy. His skill in sailing and warfare seemed perfectly match by his brother, who in a vast number of battles lost fewer men than any ship in the service.

In the late summer of that year, the sister ships were patrolling the waters near Britain (having been brought in for repair and reconstruction) when a fleet of thirteen ships appeared on the horizon. They sailed under a strange flag, unrecognized by anyone, and made no hostile action or formation in their approach. The few ships battle-ready changed direction to face the newcomers. Looking through his spyglass, Steel could see that the crew of the ships carried no weapons or manned no cannons on the deck. They seemed to be, by any account, sailing for leisure.

Nobody can recount exactly how the battle started, but within minutes, half the ships of Steel's fleet were burned, sunk, or in any other way completely devastated. Mages and archers lined the decks of the oncoming ships, cannons came out of holes in the side of the ships that were previously hidden by banners. Once the defending crews were finally ready, they sailed forth in a well-practiced and tactical formation, completely annihilating every enemy ship they crossed. In the first pass, they wiped out four ships, losing only one of their own to a broken mast.

Ordering the damaged Norse Wind near shore, Steel directed his own ship toward the largest enemy vessel, the one flying the massive flag, the ship that apparently lead the attack. It began as a chase, but the vessel rounded about itself, its large port side and its many cannons staring the Celtic Wind in the eye. Steel could see the word Bloodmoon painted in crimson letters on the side of the black bow. Cannonfire rang out, but the Celtic Wind took minimal damage on the first volley. About a minute later, as the Wind approached, another volley was fired, this one completely missing the ship.

Steel quickly sensed what was wrong. He had let himself become lured away. He cursed himself, almost expecting what he heard next. "Fire ships!" someone screamed from the stern of the ship. Steel looked toward shore, where the enemy had been completely fended off, but only two ships were left of the fleet - the others had also been led away from shore. Five small, low-sitting vessels skimmed at phenominal speeds across the water toward the two ships at the shoreline. Though they appeared weak, that they could easily be defeated, the veteran crew members knew their intention. Manned by as few people as possible, the cargo holds were loaded with black oil and black powder, intended to spray fiery oil onto their target ships and finally plow into the sides, destroying both themselves, their target, and heavily damaging any nearby ships.

Two fire ships sped toward the Norse Wind. A cannon ball sped from Aika's ship, landing dead center on one, and a deafening roar rang out as it exploded on the surface of the water; but it wasn't near enough to the other to divert its course. Steel watched in horror as it flared up, consumed quickly by the fire, and crashed headlong into the Norse Wind's side. They weren't near enough to shore to safely unboard, so all that could be seen in the distance through the smoke and fire were little black dots falling from the sides of the ship - men jumping overboard to save their own lives.

"Sir!" A fellow crew member broke Steel's concentration. One of his Commanders stood at attention. "We can reach the others if we go now, but--"

"No!" Steel commanded. "The fire ships have done their damage already. We must catch that leader!" He turned to the rest of his crew. Running toward the wheel, he gave his orders simply. "Follow the Bloodmoon, and destroy it as soon as we come into range!"

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The battle was a tragedy. Steel's fleet of nine ships was reduced to cinders, only four remaining, and all of them still managed to take heavy damage. The ambush was completely unexpected. How the ships came into range without the scout ships seeing them, nobody could figure out.

A few days later, a funeral was held for the sailors lost in the battle. Special honors were given to high-ranking officers - the captains of the ships, as well as a Commodore who was captured and hanged from the boom of one of the marauding ships.

Steel did not weep for his twin brother. He didn't know if it was because he had only known him for two years, or because he simply couldn't weep. But he felt more sorrow for his decision than he ever thought possible. Although he saved the fleet and destroyed the enemy, he let his own brother die before him to do so.

Although Steel was promoted to Admiral for his performance - fending off a fleet of thirteen ships with no warning and potentially saving the city of Britain - he resigned from the Navy. Somehow, he could no longer feel compelled to stay. He had a lot to catch up with. Even after two years, he could not forget his vow to seek out the Dreamer.
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