The Gate of Eight Worlds

Chapter 14:The Deep Trench

The storm clouds overhead fractured into thin, violet wisps, revealing the sharp glare of the three moons. The Sea-Drake sliced through the churning black ocean, its three massive linen sails belching in the heavy sea wind. On either side, six swift caravels rode the white-capped swells, their oars dipping in perfect, rhythmic unison like the legs of a giant water-skimmer.

Alex stood at the starboard bow, his fingers hooked over the brass railing. Cold sea spray misted across his face, but he paid it no mind. His right palm hummed with a low, persistent vibration that matched the deep, underwater pulse reverberating up through the timber hull.

"He's running straight for the Trench," Princess Rose said, stepping beside him with a heavy spyglass pressed to her eye. "Look toward the horizon—three points off the port bow."

Alex followed her gaze into the moonlit expanse. Miles ahead, a massive shape ploughed through the dark ocean, leaving a thick trail of greasy, crimson smoke that hung low over the water. It was General Vane’s dreadnought—a floating fortress of dark, riveted iron plates, powered by four gargantuan, churn-wheel paddlewheels that threw up roaring plumes of black foam.

"That ship isn't designed for speed," Dwaho said, leaning over the rail beside them. His eyes glowed electric-blue as he squinted across the sea, his Sight filtering through the distant smoke. "The weight of its iron hull is forcing it deep into the water. But... look beneath the waterline, Alex."

Alex turned his head slightly. "What do you see?"

"The water isn't dragging against the iron," Dwaho reported, his voice tightening. "Vane has four steam-driven iron-borers mounted to the keel. They aren't just propelling the dreadnought—they're carving a trench straight through the sea bed as it moves! He’s trying to trigger a underwater landslide to collapse the entrance to the Sunken Palace before we can reach it!"

Behind them, King Richard barked orders to the deck officers. "Run out the bow-carronades! Load double-shotted iron balls! Signal the caravels to fan out into a hunting line—do not let that iron leviathan drop anchor over the trench!"

Sailors scrambled across the rigging, their boots slapping against the wet oak deck as ropes were hauled and heavy brass cannons were run through the forward ports. Queen Natasha stood near the mainmast, her dark cloak snapping in the gale as she inspected the broadsword in her grip, while Caleb adjusted the leather harness securing Barnaby to the reinforced aft deck. The griffin let out a low, eager rumble, his golden eyes fixed on the distant iron warship.

"We won't disable that hull with conventional shot," Caleb warned, stepping up to the quarterdeck. "Vane's iron armor is six inches thick, forged in the Obsidian Wastes. Standard iron balls will just bounce off its plates."

"Then we don't aim for the hull," Alex said, turning back to face King Richard and Queen Natasha. "We aim for the iron-borers beneath the keel. If we destroy the drive mechanism on its port side, the sheer weight of the iron armor will capsize the dreadnought into the trench."

"And how do we hit a mechanism submerged fifteen feet under a churning wake?" King Richard asked, his grey eyebrows knitting together.

Alex held up his right hand. The pale, crest-shaped mark flashed brilliant gold beneath his skin, casting a warm, radiant light across the polished deck of The Sea-Drake.

"With a sun-fire strike from above," Alex answered, looking toward Barnaby. "We drop straight onto his quarterdeck."

Before King Richard could reply, a deafening THOOM echoed across the ocean. A flash of dark red fire erupted from the stern of Vane’s dreadnought, and a massive, spiked iron mortar shell whistled through the night sky, hurtling straight toward The Sea-Drake.