The story of the Elf Queen

* * *

With a curse, Darendil waved his hand briefly, activating one of the amulets. At the same instant, Vinatir, bound to the chair, twitched and fell asleep as he opened his mouth again. Closing the door of the interrogation room the elves rushed to the roof of the Vicious Rose. Meanwhile, the tolling of the tolling bell was supplemented by the tolling of the bells of a couple of the city's temples. There were several very loud explosions. A couple of them were unpleasantly close. Luaval jumped onto the roof and instantly activated the amulets enchanting his magical vision. The darkness of the night, multiplied by the pouring rain, dissipated, and the world around him turned black and white. A second later, Darendil ran out onto the roof, his eyes burning with magical fire. Two of his subordinates were already there. For a few moments, the elves gazed at the night city, growing more and more gloomy. Then Twilight briefly expressed his general opinion, in a not-at-all all elvishly straightforward manner:

"Crap."

Under the cover of night and rain, two dozen ships of various sizes approached Morgrave Bay. In front of them was a giant, a behemoth whose top deck was as tall as the coastal walls of the fortified promontories that made up the city's bay. Its central mast towered above most of the houses of the Upper City, just short of the top of the magical tower. It was impossible not to recognize this masterpiece of shipbuilding, the likes of which had not been built for half a thousand years, especially for the elves who had been living for centuries. "Conqueror of the Seas." The only survivor of the ten similar giant ships built by the masters of the Island Empire, which made up its "Great Armada". Each of these ships was built from the wood of the whole Tree of Life, for which the islanders earned in their time a particularly fierce hatred from the light elves and a considerable part of humans.

Thanks to this sacrilege each of these ships was in many ways like a living creature itself. Its wood knew no rot or deterioration, its holes and damage healed over time. It could sail over the waves without wind in any direction at a speed unimaginable for such a huge ship. The draft of such a ship was ridiculously shallow, allowing it to enter the shallowest waters. In terms of total magical power, it was not inferior to a full-fledged fortress, reinforced by more than one magical tower, and even standing on a source of energy. It is clear the rulers of the Island Empire could not allow such power to fall into the wrong hands, so each of the ten ships was intentionally tied to the blood of the ruling dynasty through a variety of rituals and rites. No one but they could control them and fully utilize the power of these colossi. But such things came at a price.

The future captain of a ship was obliged to be born on the ship, and could not go ashore from it until he was sixteen years old. After his majority, he could set foot on land, but for every day on shore, he was obliged to spend at least three days on the ship during each year. After his kinsman died, however, and he took the captain's place, the ratio changed to one to eleven. One month ashore, eleven aboard. It's not an easy burden. But the captain of such a ship was almost impossible to kill as long as he was on the ship and the ship itself was intact. Almost any wounds would heal, and the spells. and curses would wear off. At the very least, the ship was capable of literally reviving its captain. The wood of the Tree of Life allowed for many things. In Luaval's memory, who had seen the foundation, rise, and fall of the Island Empire, there had been no more than three cases of captains of similar ships dying on board. And in one case there was a documented direct intervention of the Lady of the Seas herself, the goddess who had been patronizing the islanders for centuries. In the second case, there was an internal dynastic dispute between the rulers of the Island Empire. In the third case, everything was very murky, and the elves were not able to find out how exactly the captain was killed, or who was exactly on his ship at the time of death.

So when the Conqueror of the Seas was seen, it wasn't hard to figure out who had decided to pay an armed friendly visit to Morgrave tonight.

"That's why the King of the Isles decided to come here today," Twilight exhaled tiredly, looking at the approaching fleet of islanders.

"Be optimistic, it could have been a lot worse. Like Erdoras, for example, when the Baulrung visited and burned it to the ground."

"Have you been there?"

"Not far away. I watched from afar. With black dragons, it's the best."

At that moment, a blindingly bright bolt of lightning exploded from the bow of the Conqueror of the Seas and struck Morgrave's magical tower with a deafening roar. Or rather, the magical shield surrounding it, which was visible to normal sight. The shielding held, absorbing most of the impact, but several lightning bolts bounced into neighboring buildings. One had a wall breached, another had its roof caved in. Cursing, Darendil grabbed the binding amulet.

"Rustle! I need a connection to the Palace! Immediately."

"I'm on it. I'm setting up a shared network. It's done!"

Touching his linking amulet, Luaval activated it, joining the general network of Twilight agents. His consciousness immediately sensed the presence of the other elves on the floor below. An agent Darendil sat at the table with the mirrors, frantically awakening them one by one. After a moment, images of the Queen and the Head of the Secret Guard were added to the images of the agents. Sivila was tense but collected, a luxurious waterfall of platinum hair quite simply gathered into a ponytail. It was obvious that she had been pulled out of bed. The head of the Secret Guard was as unflappable and in full parade as ever. Which means, in his gray clothes. Barely plugged in, they spoke at the same time.

"I'm listening."

"I'm listening."

"We have an unforeseen problem. Morgrave is under attack," Darendil began his report.

Touching the communication amulet, he synchronized it with his tiara so those in the Palace could see what he saw. For a second, the Palace looked at the approaching armada.

"Level of threat? Is the defense chain up?"

"Preliminary Hurricane threat level. Chains are up, they can't get into the bay yet. King of the Isles ships are approaching the city, likely to attempt a landing to seize the watchtowers and open the passageway. The garrison is already on alert..."

At that moment, three fireballs roared from the spire of the magical tower and from the tops of the watchtowers that flanked the promontories that formed Morgrave's sea bay and struck the raiders' flagship. But as they approached the ship, moments before impact, the rainwater pouring down from the sky in front of the Conqueror of the Seas rapidly gathered into a dense wall, absorbing all three projectiles. With a rumble that could be heard throughout the city, all three fireballs exploded in all directions with liquid fire, vaporizing the sea and rainwater with a hiss. But not a single spark touched the ship. Almost simultaneously, from the top of the magic tower of the city, as well as from the towers of the ducal castle, several glowing orbs flew into the sky, bursting with bright sunlight, dispelling the darkness of the night. Immediately, it became bright, almost like daylight.

Silently, the elves standing on the roof of the Vicious Rose began to blink, adjusting their magical vision to daylight. And almost immediately a very unpleasant point became clear. A massacre was already simmering in Morgrave Bay and the waters of Dantra. Almost half of the ships and small boats in the bay had already been captured by the serpent folk, a subspecies of their race that had adapted to life in the water and had inhabited the Middle Sea Islands for thousands of years. They differed from their land-based relatives in having flat tail tips and noticeably stronger venom. Their relations with the humans who inhabited the islands were not easy, but for centuries they had been united against the land-dwellers. In no small measure, this alliance was facilitated by the fact the Lady of the Seas patronized them. And now the islanders' allies had successfully penetrated the bay by swimming underwater and bypassing all defenses.

And engaged in a brutal massacre. Or rather, a hunt. Because, as far as Luaval can see, the Tailed Ones were not killing, but capturing, using trap nets. And a paralyzing poison, to be sure. Tritons and mermaids, which could not leave the water but were quite skillful in throwing their harpoons and nets, dragging the people on the ships into the water. They were not drowned there but rather quickly tied up and transferred to the captured ships, which was understandable. The slave trade was one of the islanders' favorite trades, one in which they competed with the same Southerners and a couple of Confederate cities. Seeing this, Darendil spoke up:

"Threat Reassessment. Threat level - Storm. Requesting backup."

"Copy that. Two task units will be ready in fifteen minutes, and two more in an hour. Can you receive them covertly?" The Head of the Secret Guard clarified.

"Intake is possible, confirmed. Let's start preparing the portal."

"The Forest Guard duty company is already on alert. The Third and Second will be ready within half an hour. We're contacting August now. We need him to give the go-ahead and help us set up the city portal," the queen said.

At that, in Luaval's mind, her eyes darted back and forth, it was obvious that Sivila was not only keeping in touch with them but with someone else as well.

"Good. Awaiting the arrival of..."

"Eternal Darkness, what are he doing?!"

The elves turned their attention back to the islanders' flagship. It was speeding, driven by the sea wind, straight into Morgrave's bay. A chain of enchanted metal stretched between the two watchtowers. Darendil raised his eyebrows in surprise:

"What the hell is he doing? Is he crazy? Not even his ship could..."

"No. He's not insane," Luaval said grimly, sensing that the night would be very difficult.

"He fucked us. The water's rising!"

"What?!"

As the Secret Guard agents took a closer look, they silently cursed in disbelief at the burnt forests and rotted trees. The queen in the distant palace followed suit. Only the Head of the Secret Guard remained unperturbed. Only his eyes became even more cold and focused. And with good reason. The sea that the Conqueror of the Seas was traveling on began to rapidly rise upwards. And with it rose the ship, as if on the crest of a wave. A wave that was heading straight for the city.

"Did he personally lick Calisto for this?!"

"Don't mention her in vain, she'll hear it! He must have a full clergy of her priestesses on board for that."

"At least the Supreme and a dozen Seniors. Most likely, no less than two relics of the First Order, - said one of Twilight's agents through the communication network."

"Overestimating the threat level," Darendil hissed in a grim voice.

"Threat level - Forest Fire. Request authorization to prepare for evacuation of the squad. And the most valuable agents."

There was silence for a few seconds, then with a quiet curse the queen spoke:

"Authorizing evacuation preparations. Luaval?"

Understanding Sivila without words, the dark elf let out a tired curse and spoke:

"I'll do my best. But I can't guarantee anything. And I'm gonna need all the support I can get."

"We'll do our best."

"Let's work."

At that moment, the wall of water coming at the city struck the protective capes, surging upward and showering the walls and towers on them. It washed away the defenders who had not had time to take cover and, more dangerously, most of the magical defenses. The Conqueror of the Seas, riding on the crest of the wave, flew in through the passage of the cove, not noticing the chain hidden beneath the water. When he was exactly in the middle of it, the watchtowers were struck at point-blank range by two powerful lightning bolts. Their defenses, weakened by the miracle of the sea goddess, could not withstand the impact of the magic and the pressure of the water. The left one collapsed and its upper floors were washed away. The right one held, but a torrent of water rushed through the hole in the wall, knocking out the defenders inside. The islanders' flagship, which flew into the center of the bay, immediately fired another volley. The main blow came on the magic tower of the city, but the Duke's castle was also hit. However, the Conqueror of the Seas' defenses endure the attacks without much difficulty. Meanwhile, the rest of the ships began to level the weakened fortifications. They were doing very well.

The wave swept across the bay and splashed onto the quay of the Middle City. The ships that were not anchored were blown away, some of them badly damaged. Riverboats were tossed upstream of Dantra, piling up in a heap that made a monstrous pileup at the first bridge. But Luaval, who was rushing across the rooftops, did not care. The alchemy was boiling in his blood again, the renewed set of amulets was activated and ready for use. It was the second time in one day, which was not good. It would take a long time to clean up afterward. But there was no other way.

The dark elf jumped across the street, and without even noticing the distance, and rushed onward, toward one of the bridges. Below, in the streets of the Middle City that overlooked the waterfront, a fierce battle was raging. The water level in the bay continued to rise, the priestesses of the Lady of the Seas continued to beg for help from their goddess, and the goddess had so far answered them. As a result, the lowest and closest streets to the waterfront were flooded, and the serpent men, newts, and mermaids were doing well there. They were now aided by the boarding parties that had come down from the Conqueror of the Seas, which had come close to the quay and dropped its gangplanks. At the same time, he continued to conduct an active magical duel with the Duke's palace and magic tower, which could not help the defenders. Lightning bolts, volleys of magical arrows, streams of fire, enchanted shells of flamethrowers, and ballistae continuously struck in both directions.

As he accelerated, Luaval swung from the edge of the roof of a house on the embankment to the roof of a house on the bridge that connected the Upper and Middle Towns. The bridge was still standing, largely because it was spanned on both sides by walls with gates that were closed at night. Now the inhabitants of the houses on the edges of the bridge were thanking all the gods for this foresight and were desperately fighting off the boarders and serpent-men who were advancing on them. So far, they were succeeding. The dark elf flew across the bridge in a matter of moments and swung to the roof of the nearest building on the Upper City side.

It was a little calmer here because this part of the city was on the high bank of the Dantra, and it was much better defended. As if to confirm this, the Conqueror of the Seas struck another lightning bolt, collapsing part of the wall of one of the buildings that stood close to the waterfront and had a direct descent to it. Into the resulting breach immediately rushed the raiders, most of them snake folk. They were supported by at least two sea spellcasters. As they rushed past, Luaval tossed a small, round vial of black liquid at them without looking. The liquid evaporated with a loud hiss as it smashed against the stones of the collapsed wall, turning into a thick black cloud. An extremely poisonous cloud. The dozen human attackers collapsed to their knees, grabbing their throats and shaking convulsively. Snake folk had a greater resistance to poison, but even they were affected. A couple went into convulsions, twisting their tails in knots, and the rest threw themselves back into the water of Dantra with a desperate hiss. And the defenders of the Upper City got a brief respite and a chance to plug a gap in their defenses.

Luaval didn't see it anymore. He grew more and more gloomy as he approached his destination. The quarter of the trading house of Vaar Gras had one part of it adjacent to the bay and had direct access to it. A very favorable and useful location from the point of view of commerce. But fatal from the point of view of defense under attack from the sea. Stopping two buildings away from the edge of the neighborhood, the dark elf cursed quietly. The representative office of the Vaar Gras trading house had already been captured. The fortifications and houses on the bay side had been partially destroyed, and dozens of raiders were scurrying back and forth through them, carrying loot from Vinatir's mansion, warehouses, workshops, and dwellings. At the same time, their comrades were successfully fighting off their neighbors, taking up defenses along the perimeter wall that separated the block from the rest of the Upper City. They were doing very well. Much because none of their neighbors were rushing to their aid, more concerned with protecting and preserving their own goods.

Activating the cloaking amulet to the maximum, Luaval once again intensified his magical vision, gazing intently at what was happening. Bad. Very bad. Touching the communication amulet, he whispered with just his lips:

"Do you see?"

Yeah. Wait a minute. We're giving you a lead. Take it.

The world had faded again, even though the lightning orbs floating in the sky made it seem brighter than daylight. All but one color had disappeared. A distant female silhouette glowed bright red against a dark gray background.

"Not good. She's already aboard the ship."

Damn.

There was a tense silence on the general network. In the meantime, the city itself was a mixture of shouts, the rumble of explosions, and the clanking of weapons. The magical tower of the city went into defense and stopped any attempts to attack the islanders' flagship, concentrating on the defense of the Upper City. And the city portal, which was slowly awakening. The ducal castle was still holding, and quite confidently. It was due to its more favorable position and more impressive arsenals. The dark elf who was watching this only grinned. A colossus ship like the Conqueror of the Seas could defeat a city like Morgrave alone, albeit with great difficulty. If there were ten of them here, as there had been in the heyday of the Island Empire, the city wouldn't even need to be stormed. The citizens would have raised the white flag when they saw the Grand Armada on the horizon. Then they'd rush to collect tribute to pay them off. At the height of its power, the Island Empire didn't even need to fight. Its navy circumnavigated the Middle Sea once a year, collecting a huge tribute from every coastal city. No one could even think of resisting them at sea.

Luaval?

Touching the binding amulet, the dark elf switched to a separate line of communication, directly with Sivila.

I'm listening.

Can you get her off the ship?

Luaval was silent for a few moments, then shook his head:

I can't get her off the ship. There's too much security on the ship itself. There's even more in the water. There's no room to spit from fish and sea serpents. Even if I get her out, we can't get away.

And from the Islands?

There was a tense silence. In his mind, the dark man groaned doomfully. The islands were a very inhospitable place for outsiders. Especially for elves. Or rather, elves were always welcome there, but only in a known capacity. No one would do that. The risk was too great. Except for him. But that's why no one but him can afford to bend and love the powerful and beautiful queen of the Forest like a humane slave for bed pleasures.

Luaval?

Without a word, the dark elf sent a mental image to Sivila. She stood stone-faced for a moment, then sighed and nodded.

I agree.

With a grin, Luaval reconnected to the general communications network.

I'm going to need additional supplies. All the support I can get. And as soon as possible.

Now. Four houses away from you, in the attic with two chimneys. The stash is in one of the chests in the far corner from the entrance. We'll work out the rest as we go.

Copy that. How are you doing?

We're holdin' on. I managed to get a direct portal in without anyone noticing. We had to leave the bottom two floors, but so far we've managed to fight back without giving away our presence. The bastards are coming in here like it's the small treasury of the Undermountain, not a brothel!

They're going to one of Morgrave's finest brothels to get his workers. You know how much it costs to have a pretty slave and one who's good in bed.

Talking! We don't have much time!

Of course.

When he reached the house, Luaval made his way inside. The alarm strings had been triggered, but he could ignore them. Half of the front of the house had already collapsed, and there was a fire that the inhabitants were desperately trying to extinguish with magic and fire alchemy. On the whole, they were succeeding. Finding the right chest, the dark elf shook out its contents on the floor of the attic, opened the double bottom, and began to pull out its contents. At the same time, in the bay, the captured ships were hooked to the "Conqueror of the Seas.". The entrance to the bay was completely destroyed and free. The ships at sea were taking out the last of the defenses on the headlands. Luaval whispered:

"I hate the Islands."

* * *

It was dark in the small room aboard the ship, the only illumination amulet under the ceiling barely dispelling the darkness. It was also stuffy and hot. The only saving grace was the amulet embedded in the ceiling, which ventilated the air somehow; without it, there would have been nothing to breathe. The only furniture in the room was a single bench that stretched from edge to edge against the wall. Most people were seated on it, while the rest were on the floor with their backs against the walls. Covering her eyes, Amalia clasped her hands and whispered the words of a prayer long ago memorized to automaticity. An affectionate warmth rose habitually from the bottom of her belly to her breasts and traveled in two waves to the palms of her hands, which rested on the slightly rounded belly of a mature woman but still had a fair share of cuteness. She was half lying on the floor, leaning back against a young girl with short hair. The resemblance made them look like close relatives. Both were dressed in good nightgowns of once snow-white fabric, now hopelessly ruined and tattered. The pregnant woman wore a thin nightdress, once white but now stained with soot and grime.

The invigorating warmth flowed into the pregnant woman who breathed often and heavily, spilling over her entire body. She let out a relieved groan and leaned back against her relative, her breathing evened out. The pallor and blush returned to her face. Relieved, she licked her parched lips and whispered:

"Thank you, Reverend...."

"Hush, you need to rest. Save your strength. Healing isn't my primary focus, but I've done what I can."

"Thank you..."

Amalia gestured to the woman who had tried to rise to her feet, straightened up, and wiped the large drops of sweat from her face. The heat and humidity in this room were unbearable. Her light green-and-white nightdress, the one she'd been kidnapped in, was soaked with sweat and clinging to her body. Her long blond hair, which reached the middle of her back, was sticky and tangled, making her look humiliating and indecent. How thirsty and sleepy she was. But not yet. She must be strong. Not for her own sake. But for the sake of those whose lives she was responsible for. At that moment a thin, maidenly hand rested on her shoulder.

"Mistress Amalia!"

Turning to her trusty assistant, she raised her eyebrows questioningly:

"I think she needs help too. She just sits there motionless and doesn't react to anything. I've tried to talk to her, but it's like she can't hear or see me."

Amalia raised her eyebrows and looked at the one her assistant was pointing at. The kidnappers had brought seven other captives into the room besides the two of them. All of them were either beautiful or very richly dressed. Or both. Amalia didn't pay attention to the woman in the darkest corner at first, busy helping those who needed it most. She simply took her place, and sat down with her hands on her knees, staring at nothing in front of her. It could be written off as shock from the events, but... Something was wrong with her. Cautiously approaching, Amalia leaned toward her and whispered:

"Honorable, are you all right? Can you hear me? Hon... Oh!"

When she got close, she could see the distinctive facial features and pointed ears in the darkness. She was astonished, even speechless for a moment:

"An elven woman... how did she get here?"

A surprised whisper went through the room:

"Is that lady Turiel? They've captured the Duke's wife?!"

"No, it's not her, I know the honorable Mrs. Turiel. The honorable one? Can you hear me?"

The firstborn did not react in any way to Amalia's words, continuing to stare at the empty eyes in front of her.

"Something's wrong..."

After a moment's hesitation, Amalia carefully knelt before the unresponsive elf and slowly took her hands in hers. Squeezing her palms, she covered her eyes, whispering the words of a prayer. They sat like that for a few minutes, then Amalia opened her eyes and moved away. The assistant saw the tears in her eyes and whispered fearfully:

"Mrs. Amalia, are you all right? What's wrong with her? Is she hurt?"

"She's hurt, Lada. But it's not her body that's hurt, it's her mind. I can feel her wrapped in another's will like poisoned spider silk. I can't untangle it. It's not my line of work."

"Oh, Goddess... Is she someone's slave?"

"That's what it looks like... Quiet! Do you hear that? Someone's coming this way!"

The captives stirred, some whimpered fearfully, and some tried to press themselves further into the walls. But Amalia did not hide. Straightening sharply, she stood against the door, looking as stern as she could. Considering she was sweaty, in a stained dress, barefoot, and tired after the hardest night of her life, it didn't look good. But there was no other way. After a few seconds, I could hear footsteps approaching, stopping at the door. Some were knocking, cursing, and cracking, and the door to their hiding place creaked open. The blinding light of several magical lamps shone in.

"Whee! Wow!"

In the doorway stood a tall and stoutly built man, tanned to black skin, wearing short blue pants down to his knees and a sleeveless red shirt, with an equally red bandana on his shaven head. A crooked and short navy cleaver hung from his belt. He had a satisfied and predatory smile on his face. His dark eyes were eagerly scrutinizing the captives. His gaze lingered especially on Amalia's large breasts, her nipples standing out clearly beneath the thin wet cloth. Behind him loomed several other sailors, also dressed in island garb.

"Guys, this is a lucky break! What assholes, hiding such a treasure! Ladies, everybody out, please!"

Ignoring his gaze, Amalia said decisively:

"I demand to see your captain. Immediately! Otherwise, you'll all be regretted!"

Her response was a satisfied chuckle and whistle, but suddenly the man standing in the aisle smiled cheerfully and held up both hands, palms forward:

"Oh, please don't worry, we were just about to take you all to him! That's what we came here for, isn't it, guys?"

His response was a chorus of approving cackling.

"And I assure you, he'll be very happy to see you all. Especially you."

The latter referred to Amalia, whom the sailor continued to scrutinize unceremoniously.

"His Majesty is a great connoisseur of female beauty. Please follow us."

With these words he took a step back and made a demonstrative bow, causing another round of laughter. Amalia squared her shoulders ignored them and headed for the exit, slapping her bare feet on the floorboards. It wasn't time yet. Not yet. Following her, the rest of the captives headed for the exit. The last to go were her assistant and the elf she led by the hand. The firstborn did not resist, and let herself be led. As soon as they were in the light, there were cries of surprise and admiration:

"Holy shit, they wanted to hide the big-eared one, too! Those sneaky ass rotters!"

"Whee! Such a boon!

Without paying any attention to it, the elf and Amalia's assistant followed the other prisoners to the exit. Soon, they were all led to the upper deck of the ship. It was already noon. There was not a cloud in the sky, and a fresh warm sea wind was blowing. It was bliss to be out in the fresh air after their stuffy cell. It was a good thing that it was summer and warm on the Middle Sea, otherwise they would have caught a cold. Amalia didn't pay much attention to that. Once on the upper deck, she took a quick look around. The ship they were on was quite large and belonged to the Sharks of the island fleet. Not that she knew much about ships but the predatory silhouettes of these islander ships were known from childhood, probably by all the inhabitants of the coastal towns. Its numerous sails were fanning out, catching the tailwind. Strangely enough, apart from the accompanying sailors, there was almost no one on the ship. Only a couple of sailors were engaged in some kind of routine. Though, she seemed to know the answer to that question.

Side by side with their ship was the Conqueror of the Seas, whose upper deck towered more than twice the height of the Shark. Between the two ships, was a wide gangway with railings, lowered from the upper deck of the Conqueror of the Seas. The two ships were barely rocking on the waves, as if they were standing still rather than sailing at full speed. Without powerful magic and the blessing of the Lady of the Seas, such a thing would have been impossible. When all the captives were on deck, the sailor who had brought them out, together with his friends, said in a satisfied voice:

"Ladies, you have an incredible honor! Today you will step aboard the Conqueror of the Seas, the greatest ship to sail the Mid Seas! Follow me, I'm sure you'll enjoy it!"

With these words, the sailor stepped confidently up the rather steep gangway. Luckily for most of the captives, the ships were not rocking, and the gangway was wide enough with a railing. Amalia walked forward with determination. The wind fluttered her long blond hair and her dress, which was clinging to her body because of sweat hid nothing at all. When she stepped onto the upper deck of the Conqueror of the Seas, she almost stumbled with surprise when her bare feet touched the planks. Her body felt as if struck by lightning. The ship was full of life. No, it wasn't. It was ALIVE itself. She could feel it. She could feel the life flowing in every plank, every mast. Everywhere. It was an incredible sensation that took her breath away.

"Huh, you're really getting it, huh? Yes, the Conqueror of the Seas is a marvel! It's an honor to step aboard her, ladies."

Amalia ignored his words and looked around at the huge and spacious upper deck of the flagship. The huge and spacious upper deck of the flagship was quite crowded. It was full of humans, but there were enough non-humans as well. Mostly snakefolk of the sea subspecies. But there were a few orcs as well. In separate groups, garrisoned, stood the prisoners, surrounded by armed sailors. But the main attention of those gathered was drawn to the center of the ship. There, at the main mast, which towered above the surrounding sea and ships like a giant tower, knelt several dozen men. They were dressed in the island way, some were rich, some plain, but most of them like ordinary sailors and sailors. They had no weapons. Around them stood a semicircle of armed sailors dressed in red and blue robes. Also among the guards were a few snakefolks, towering several heads above the others. Most were yellowish-white in color, but a couple had black and white striped scales. A hallmark of the particularly venomous members of their race.

In front of the kneeling sailors stood a tall, broad-shouldered man in a red shirt embroidered with gold, dark blue pants embroidered with gold thread, high boots of black leather with gold buckles, and a gold belt. On his shoulders he wore a magnificent dark red cloak with a golden clasp, fluttering in the wind. On his head, with a luxurious mane of thick curly hair of dark brown color, he wore a wide golden hoop decorated with precious stones that sparkled brightly in the sun. He wore no beard or mustache. On his belt hung a saber in a pearl-studded scabbard with a golden hilt. He was flanked by two.

She was a tall and slender black woman with a luscious figure and long black hair. She wore a bright blue breastplate and an equally bright blue loincloth, embroidered with gold and nautical designs. In her hands she held a tall staff of dark wood, the top of which was decorated with pearls of all colors and crowned with a huge seashell. She had several necklaces of pearls on her large breasts, and golden bracelets on her wrists and ankles. On her feet, she wore thin sandals.

The second was a snake folk with snow-white scales, milky-white skin, and long dark hair gathered into two thick braids. She held the same staff as the black-skinned woman, but more modest. Her breasts were concealed by a light blue bandage. The part of her body where the human torso turned into a snake's tail was hidden by a short skirt of the same light blue color.

The prisoners were led straight to this trio, amid surprised and approving comments of the most lewd kind. Considering their appearance, it was to be expected. When they came to those gathered at the masthead, all were silent, and the sailor in front bowed to the captain and reported cheerfully:

"My King, it was just as you thought! Look at the incredible beauty they have chosen to hide from you!"

The luxuriously dressed man slid his eyes over the captives. A grim smile appeared on his handsome, strong-willed face. Then he turned to the kneeling man in the luxurious clothes of the islanders and said in a loud bass:

"Aldamar, I took you and your men on my campaign. With me, the Lady of the Seas smiled upon you. I led you to glory and abundant booty. And how do you choose to repay me, Aldamar? Do you choose to withhold a part of the spoils from me? And the best part, I see."

The contented cackling of the crowd of sailors erupted all around.

"Did you really think..."

"Alekhar de Castine, King of the Islands! I demand an answer from you!"

A loud and decisive voice cut the Conqueror of the Seas' captain off at half a word. Everyone turned to look at Amalia in amazement. With a determined look, she stepped forward, looking straight at the King of the Isles. The sailor who had brought them here rushed at her with a swear word, waving his palm at her, and was about to restrain the inexplicably self-important prisoner. But he jumped back with an inarticulate cry, crashing backward into his comrade. His face was twisted with fear. A moment later, the nearest humans and snakefolk scurried away from her with frightened cries. The captain's face showed genuine surprise, followed by realization, then a split second of fright, after which it took on a completely unreadable expression. The priestesses of the Lady of the Seas, who flanked him, instantly braced themselves, grabbing their staffs, but did not move.

The cause of the commotion was visible to the naked eye. Amalia seemed to grow taller and to glow from within. Her blue eyes literally began to glow. Her prayers had been answered, and she was now openly powerful. But it was very gentle, warm, and pleasant. But no less dangerous if you angered the one who gave it to her. Alekhar de Castine, King of the Isles and captain of the Conqueror of the Seas looked away from the intruder with a stony expression, turning to the man in expensive clothes kneeling before him.

"You son of a bitch, you and your henchmen had the brains to loot the Temple of Gaia?!"

The Goddess of Fertility was beloved and greatly revered throughout the world but she was not one of the celestials renowned for their crushing power in battle. But she had ways of punishing those who infringed upon her temples and servants. A way that greatly frightened most would-be assailants. The man standing before the King of the Isles opened his mouth in horror, but before he could say anything, he received a crushing kick in the chest that threw him backward. A moment later, a rope shot out from above, snaking around his ankle and suspending him upside down. Another moment later, it enveloped him like a cocoon, from head to toe. The rest of his team looked at Amalia in horror, trying their best to get away. She took another step toward the captain of the Conqueror of the Seas. And no one tried to stand in her way.

"Alekhar de Castine! Your men have desecrated my temple! They have forcibly abducted me and those in my care! I demand answers from you!"

It got everyone. And it was because Amalia's voice had changed. Now, in unison with the priestess spoke the one to whom she had dedicated her life. And everyone felt it. And everyone who could do anything about it understood. Even if the full power of the ship were to fall on this woman now, if she were to be literally destroyed, it would not save them. It would only make things worse, enraging her goddess even more and making the punishment more terrible. For a moment the captain of the Conqueror of the Seas stood motionless. And then, in one motion, he tossed aside his saber, which suddenly just hung in the air, and rushed toward Amalia. In just a few moments, when the priestess had only time to open her mouth, he was in front of her and... grabbing her by the wrist of her right hand, he dropped to one knee before her, kissing the back of her hand passionately. There was silence, and the priestess was momentarily stunned. Alekhar jumped to his feet and, in one deft movement, took off his cloak from his body, threw it over her shoulders, and buckled it. Then, taking her right palm in his hands, he pressed it to the left side of his chest, at the same time coming close to her, Amalia tried to pull away, but he wouldn't let her.

"Please accept my deepest and most sincere condolences, O beautiful servant of the Giver of Life! My heart is in your hands. You and your Lady can see it does not lie! If I had known that these scum would dare to trespass on your home, I would have sent them into the abyss with their ship, to be fed to the spawn of the deep!"

Alekhar said it in one breath, looking the priestess straight in the eyes with undisguised passion in his gaze.

"My soul and prayers may belong to Calisto, but I have always looked upon Gaia's servants with great reverence and awe. Especially one so incredibly beautiful! Tell me, how can I make amends, how can I undo the harm these scum of the abyss have done to you?"

Amalia stepped back, recovered from Alekhar's frenzied pressure, but did not remove her palm from the captain's chest. Mostly because he continued to hold her to his heart with both of his hands.

"Return the holy relics and everything stolen by your people. They were all left on the ship where I was held captive. Release all my novices and their children. I feel they are here on your ship, among the prisoners."

"It'll be done right away, beautiful?"

Before the captain began to speak, several dozen sailors from his ship and a couple of snakeheads rushed in different directions.

"My name is Amalia."

"I'll remember. And I ask you, charming Amalia, to be my guest on the Conqueror of the Seas. I promise you I will do everything in my power to atone for these unworthy ones I have mistakenly taken with me!"

"I will not abandon those for whose lives I am responsible, King of the Isles."

"Of course, they can also count on my hospitality! And please, beautiful Amalia, call me Alekhar. No titles! I grant you this right from this day and for all eternity. For what these lowlifes have done, it is the least I can do, and what I MUST do for you."

While this dialog was going on, the captain and priestess were hurriedly led to several women of various ages, five young girls, three of whom were in various stages of pregnancy. And a dozen and a half young girls, the oldest of whom was barely ten years old. The youngest of them immediately rushed over to Amalia, wrapping their arms around her legs. They all looked about the same as she did, in their night clothes, and the little ones were crying. Beside them, one by one, sailors were piling chests full of loot from the temple onto the deck. Reluctantly, the King of the Isles took a step away from the priestess and curtsied again:

"Once again, you have my deepest apologies, beautiful Amalia!"

The priestess did not react, and leaving the kids for the moment, she walked over to a white wood cradle decorated with elaborate carvings. It was brought in by four sailors at once, all of whom looked at the priestess with frightened glances. When she touched the cradle, which immediately began to glow white, Amalia turned to the captain and her blue eyes began to glow again:

"My temple wasn't just robbed. It was destroyed. What was not flooded was burned."

A shadow flashed across the captain's face again, and a whisper of swearing and cursing went through the rows of sailors. The culprits tried with all their might to fall through the deck. Alekhar, on the other hand, immediately blurted out:

"As soon as we reach Kuordemar, I will order a new temple to the glory of the Life Giver to be built in the capital, especially for you, beautiful Amalia! I will pay for its construction, and see that it is completed on time! If necessary, the Islanders will work night and day in shifts. And every ship, that sails under my flag will give it one-twentieth of its income from this day forward for ten years."

"You mean part of the loot?"

"Oh, what are you saying, charming Amalia? I didn't rob anyone! Please see for yourself, if you wish!"

Alekhar stretched his right arm out to the side. A moment later, a wooden tube came from somewhere and flew straight into it.

"Here are treaties made by my distant ancestors with the inhabitants of the land. It is sealed with blood and seals on the altars of various gods and goddesses. There are a lot of interesting things written in them, if you want, you can read them in person. In particular, it spells out the amount of tribute to the rulers of the Isles. And when it's due. Considering the fact that they haven't paid it for a long time and they owe a lot... Let's just say that I only occasionally collect debts. And I assure you, I'd rather collect what's mine by blood without spilling a drop of that blood. You know, perhaps I've been too petty, which is unacceptable in our circumstances. The fifteenth part is yours, and of course, my deepest personal respects to you and your lady."

"A shadow of displeasure flashed across the faces of the priestesses of the Lady of the Seas. The captain saw it, and he smiled broadly:"

"Faona, sweetheart, you don't have to make that face! The Lady of the Seas has nothing to share with the Giver of Life! And you know very well that my soul belongs only to her."

Turning to Amalia, who was still standing by the cradle, he winked conspiratorially and whispered:

"But not body and heart."

The priestess's cheeks flushed for a moment, but it didn't escape Alekhar. She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, then spoke in a voice that was not her own:

"Your apology is accepted, King of the Isles. As for you."

The priestess was filled with power again, literally glowing, causing everyone to take a step back from her and the culprits to shrink back in horror.

"For three years you will not know the pleasures of the flesh with anyone to atone for what you have done! Those who violate this penance will lose the ability to continue their lineage forever! This is the will of the Goddess!"

With the last words, a wave of golden light streamed from Amalia in all directions, causing startled cries among those on the deck. But it touched only those who had been guilty of looting the temple. For a moment their crotches were enveloped in golden light, and then the light disappeared. There was a tense silence on the deck of the Conqueror of the Seas. Amalia turned to the captain, her face unchanged, and said:

"King of the Islands..."

"Just Alekhar, please, charming Amalia!"

"Alekhar. I and my wards need to get cleaned up."

"Of course! Faona, Shassa, please escort my guests to my chambers. A hot bath and clean clothes are waiting for them. I still have some business to attend to."

"As you wish, my Captain," said the black-skinned priestess, who cast interested glances at Amalia, "Please follow me."

"Those who came here with me are also in my care. They supported me in that stuffy cell where, by the grace of your people, I spent the past night and morning in cramped and stuffy conditions."

"Of course, charming Amalia," Alekhar curtsied once again.

As the crowd of frightened women, accompanied by a couple of priestesses, disappeared into the captain's chambers, the King of the Isles' face changed from courteous to full of wild fury. And there was a reason for it:

"Stinking offspring of dead jellyfish! Rotten water scum! What did I tell you?! Don't you dare touch the temples! Only storehouses and shops! And you think to rob the temple of Gaia?! Gaia, your mothers are newt whores!? A hundred lashes, each of you! Aldamar, you are stripped of your ship, crew, and flag. Your men will be transferred to other ships after your punishment! You will give half your wages for ten years to her temple! I would feed you all to the spawn of the deep, but I dare not prevent the punishment the Life Giver has chosen for you. That is my word. Now, get this carrion out of my sight!"

The crew rushed to carry out the orders of the furious captain, and Alekhar partially closed his eyes for a moment. His vast and spacious chambers appeared before his eyes. His unexpected "guests" were already splashing in the hot water in the huge bath of real marble. At least some of them, the rest were waiting for their turn. Amalia sat waist-deep in the water, while Faona clung to her back and diligently soaped the priestess of Gaia. In particular, right now she was soaping her huge breasts with large pink nipples, for which the servants of the Life-Giver were famous. She was flushed and embarrassed, but it was obvious she did not resist the caresses of the Priestess of the Seas. In the arms of black-skinned Faona white-skinned Amalia looked incredibly seductive. Focusing his attention on the priestess of Gaia, the captain felt his mood improving. Perhaps it was not as bad as it could be. Of course, it was a shame to lose so many beauties that cost a lot of money in the slave markets. But to be deprived of manhood would be even worse! The curse of the fertility goddess is no joke. It is extremely difficult to get rid of it, almost impossible, it is easier to beg forgiveness and atone by deeds. Again, she can be extremely useful in conceiving a future heir. About which it is already, by the way, it is time to think about.

"My King, disaster!"

Alekhar opened his eyes and glanced at the First Aide, which looking at him with undisguised concern. He held out his hand, in which the saber that was still hanging in the air flew into his hand, and hung it on his belt:

"What's wrong, Dalatar?"

"The Squall is gone, my king!"

"What?! How is that possible?!"

"No one understands! He retreated with all the other ships, laden with booty and prisoners. He was part of the squadron. But during the night, he left the formation and went off in an unknown direction! And none of the sentries paid any attention to it!"

Alekhar turned gloomy. That's too bad.

"Tell the priestesses! Tell them to look for him!"

"Already, My King! They have not been able to locate the ship accurately, it is skillfully hidden from their sight. They could see that it was now traveling westward along the southern shore of the Middle Sea."

* * *

"The sea is smiling on you, beautiful Ashuir-Wali! The wind is fair, and if it does not change in four days at dawn we shall enter the harbor of Sakhib-Nere."

"Perfect."

Without even a glance at the idiotically smiling first assistant captain, the sorceress leaned back on the folding wooden chair and closed her eyes, massaging her temples. The southern belle didn't look good. Her hair was disheveled and tangled, with dark bags under her eyes. She was dressed in a thin robe of red cloth, embroidered with gold and stained with soot in several places, and the hem was scorched. On her bare feet, she wore the most ordinary sandals, like those worn by servants. Sandals!!! Next to her stood Tonga, holding a wide snow-white umbrella, hiding her mistress from the merciless sun. The mulatto was dressed in a loincloth and a sleeveless shirt that barely fit her because of the size of her breasts. But it was impossible to let outsiders see her beauty.

Beside her, on all fours, stood a naked man with a thick black beard and a wrinkled face twisted with a mixture of pain, horror, humiliation, and rage. In his mouth was a gag made from his underwear. Behind him stood Otong, with a permanently indifferent face. In the hands of the stout mulatto was a whip, and the ship captain's back and ass were already whipped. Not bad for a start.

In addition to the captain, three dozen sailors and seamen lay stacked on the deck under the scorching sun in what their harlot mothers had given birth to them. Their faces were twisted with horror. No shackles or fetters on them, but they didn't need it. Each of them had forgotten how to move or speak. Only a dozen sailors paced the deck, smiling as stupidly as the first mate. But they did their job, keeping an eye on the sails and the direction of the ship. That was all they had to do.

Cautious footsteps sounded behind the sorceress. Having made a full bow, Gray, with a bandaged hand, said in a voice full of the deepest respect:

"Honorable Ashuir-Wali, we have completed our sweep of the ship. The entire crew has been neutralized or is under your control. No one has escaped. The control weaves of the combat and defense artifacts are under control. Thanks to the fact you secured the captain's cooperation, that was easy, Micheal had already switched them over to himself. Control of the Captain's quarters threads has been transferred to you as you ordered. In case of an attack, we will not be defenseless and will be able to fight back or flee. To my deepest regret, there is not a single outfit worthy of you on the entire ship."

"I heard you, honorable Cyrus. I had six dresses with me, each custom-made for me by a true master of the craft. Otong."

The mulatto threw six more punches at the desperate captain with a honed motion. Ashuir didn't even glance at him.

"Is there any news?"

"No, honorable Ashuir. The amulets of communication are silent. What's in Morgrave is beyond my knowledge. There's no word from Mr. Vinatrir either. Not through any of the communication channels."

"It's bad."

Frowning, the sorceress thought for a moment. She had just finished another session with Zitra when a messenger arrived with news that the honorable Vinatir had been attacked. Half of his blades and trade house fighters had rushed to deal with it, which turned out to be a mistake. When the bloody islanders attacked the defenders were short on blades and quickly broke into the Quarter. Which was aided by that damn giant ship. It was a good thing she'd sensed the trouble coming the moment she'd heard the news of the attack on Vinatria. So gathered all her servants, as well as Cyrus and his men. It was strange the old man hadn't taken them with him that night, but it worked out much better for her that way.

When it became clear that the defenses had been breached, it was too late and dangerous to run. Especially for her. So she had to be cunning. It wasn't hard to deceive such weak minds, the only problem was the numbers. But with the help of this clever boy supporting her with his strength, she was able to hold the field of deception. Eventually, she was loaded onto this ship with her servants, Zitra, and Cyrus' men. Without being bound or searched. Why would they do that? Because everyone could see they were already bound prisoners. There were a couple of dangerous moments, but they were lucky that all the attention of the islander mages and their priestesses was focused on the storming of the city. And the prisoners weren't getting much attention. No one expected someone like her to surrender willingly, did they?

As a result, they waited for the ship to depart with the rest of the squadron loaded with loot. All they had to do was process the battle-weary crew, create another distraction field, and then change course. The latter was the most dangerous of all, especially because of the newts and mermaids accompanied the squadron in the water and on the sides of the ships. But luckily for her, the bloody pirates had their hands full. Of course, they did. They had captured such prey. As a result, no one paid attention to their disappearance until it was too late. At that point, she'd been squeezed like a lemon. But it doesn't matter now. The ship has been successfully captured, and soon she'll be home. And the first thing she's going to do is call in the masters she knows and have them castrate every one of these sea miscarriages in front of her! Starting with the captain of this sweaty, man-smelling ship!

Rising to her feet and wrapping herself in her robe, Ashuir turned to Cyrus-Gray and spoke:

"I leave the ship to you, honorable Cyrus. I need my rest. I'll ask you not to disturb me until tonight. Not unless you have news of Vinatir."

"As you wish, honorable Ashuir-Wali."

Nodding to the gray-haired mercenary, the sorceress, accompanied by her servants, went to the captain's quarters, which she occupied for herself. When the doors closed behind her, she grudgingly threw off her robe, which smelled of soot and cinders, leaving her naked. How humiliating and disgusting! Oh, those sea scum would pay her! But later. Right now she needed to rest. She was so tired from the night before. But on the other hand, it had been a very rewarding experience, albeit an unpleasant one.

After making sure the captain's cabin defenses were working, she went to his bed, where the linens had been changed to clean ones at her command. Clean by the standards of these bastards. Cuddling Zitra, who lay motionless on top of her, sleeping peacefully and dreaming her own special dreams, Aushir made herself comfortable, throwing her right leg over her. The elf's body was warm, smelled of fragrant oils, and was very pleasant to the touch. Nestling her head on her shoulder, the sorceress caressed her breasts with her palm.

"We're gonna have to wait till we get to my home, honey. Oh, you're gonna love it there, I promise."

Gently kissing the sleeping elfess, Ashuir closed her eyes, falling into a deep sleep.

* * *

* * *

A rough day for the Elf Queen