The Neure was by far the largest vessel in Minga. She was a clipper-style ship. Three-masted, two hundred feet long and thirty feet wide, her deck towered over the smaller hundred and thirty foot Windspirit by nearly eight feet. When the Deev ship was secured alongside, a net ladder was dropped on to its deck and the Brotherhood commander leaned over the rail and addressed Vasheron.
"Come aboard Prince, I've been expecting you. Azmeritus sends his regards," he said cheerfully.

Vasheron waved and answered in an equally cheerful voice.
"Greetings to you, Commander. I have the item Azmeritus seeks for your inspection. I will prepare it for transport to your vessel."

"Excellent. Do you require any assistance?"

"No, we will simply transfer it to a crate and bring it onboard. The sooner we get underway, the better." Vasheron said matter-of-factly.

The commander's tone became sterner.
"Just yourself and four non-Deev to carry the box. Your kind make my monks nervous."

"As you wish. It will take about five minutes to prepare the relic. Have some ropes lowered to raise the crate," the Minge leader instructed.

When the Commander left the rail to carry out the preparations for receiving the Rubitar, a large wooden crate eight feet long and four feet wide was brought to the main deck of the Windspirit by four of Redbush's pirates from below deck. It was placed next to the rail near Vasheron who quietly propped open its lid a few inches.

Squeeker peeked out from under the dory. He looked at the propped up cover of the crate and then his eyes were caught by movement on the deck. The Deev-smoke began to ooze from every crack and shadow, from every place they had secreted themselves before the docking. It curled and flowed a few inches above the deck in the direction of the wooden box from all sides. It continued its journey up the crate's outer surface and under the lid into the interior until every last Deev was enclosed. Vasheron closed the crate and smiled to himself.

Squeeker stopped watching and nudged his brother.
"All the Deev but Vasheron just crawled into a big box."

"Good riddance, I say!" Squawker said earnestly, then a look of confusion came over him and he scratched his head, "Why did dey do dat?"

"I figger we'll find out pretty soon." Squeeker answered.

The crate was secured to the ropes lowered from the Neure and hoisted onboard. Vasheron and his escort climbed the net and boarded the large ship. When he reached the deck of the Neure the Prince turned and subtly signaled to a speckled rat lingering in the hatch to the lower deck of the Windspirit. The rat nodded and disappeared back below.

Squeeker exited the dory with Squawker behind him. He pointed to the Brotherhood vessel.
"I'm gonna look through them holes and see what's goin' on." He said pointing at a row of freeing ports, hinged openings at deck level that allowed water to drain from the ship during heavy rains or rough seas.

"You're gonna get in trouble, Squeek. You best stay here," his brother protested.

"Don't worry, dey ain't gonna see me. Anyway, everybody else is just hangin' about," he motioned to the various members of the Windspirit crew, who were sitting in small groups around the deck.

Squeeker scrambled up on the rail of the Windspirit and climbed a few feet up the net until he was at eye level with one of the openings. He peered through the freeing port intently.

The crate had been placed in the center of the deck. The command staff of the Neure stood around it curiously. A small contingent of the crew stood nearby keeping a cautious eye on Vasheron's escort. The remainder of the ships sizable crew remained quartered below deck, the relic was not for everybeast to see.

The Prince approached the box and opened the lid. Squeeker strained to see if he could make out the Brother's reaction. It did not take much effort. As soon as the lid was lifted, smoke poured out in all directions. Minge began to appear all around the deck wielding their razor sharp swords. Beasts screamed, bodies bled, and heads rolled.

Squeeker recoiled in horror and fell from the net, landing roughly on the deck. He retreated to the far end of the Windspirit next to his brother shaking.
"It's 'orrible...a massacre.." he sputtered.

Squawker was about to about to ask a question when he saw Vasheron looking down from the Brotherhood ship and shout. From below the decks of the Windspirit, waves of pirates led by Redbush, rushed to the boarding net and swarmed onboard the Neure. Blood-curdling screams rent the air. The brothers watched in horror as blood began to trickle and then flow through the scuppers and freeing ports and onto the deck of the Windspirit.

Squeeker looked over at his brother who was now curled in a tight ball, rocking back and forth blubbering, tears flowing down his homely face.
"I wanna go home, Squeek...I don't wanna be here. Dis is real bad. I wanna go home." He cried.

"I know...I know, me too, but we can't. Ya got to be strong," the smaller ferret said gently, putting his arm around his brother's shoulder comfortingly.

After ten minutes, the sounds of mayhem subsided and Vasheron appeared at the rail of the Neure. His garments and face were splattered with blood. He addressed the crew of the Windspirit.

"It is done, the Neure is ours. We will move to this ship and prepare her for attack. Captain Mobus will remain on the Windspirit with Captain Redbush and his crew to proceed to the outer Brotherhood ship and keep her from fleeing.

"You beasts come aboard and clear this vessel of bodies. We will attack the blockade as soon as the outer ship is in flames." He paused. Nobody onboard the Windspirit moved, still stunned by the carnage which had just occurred. Vasheron barked angrily, "What are you waiting for? This ship won't sail herself. Move!"

Slowly the crew migrated to the Neure and Redbush's crew returned aboard the Windspirit with Mobus.  The pirates had not gone unscathed in their attack. Fully one third of Redbush's crew did not return and many of those who did were bloodied and barely able to walk.

Redbush himself sported a long gash across his chest, but it did nothing to quell the barbaric sense of satisfaction he felt. Once back onboard the Windspirit, he barked orders to his corsairs who set about loosing the lines and raising the sails. The ships were separated and the Windspirit began to make its way to the Brotherhood sloop at the outskirts of the bay.

On the Neure, the job of clearing the bodies, both those of the Brotherhood and those of the pirates proceeded with morbid precision. The pirates had fought with grisly efficiency. Bodies lay all about and below the decks. The Deev were unaffected, but the common sailors in their crew were revulsed and shocked. Their simple beliefs required them to say a prayer of passage for the dead prior to chucking the corpses overboard and this time consuming ceremony raised the ire of Vasheron. He laid into the crew cursing and striking out, forcing them to abandon the basic decency they had tried to maintain. After that it was only a short while till the ship was cleared of the dead.

The Neure was made ready to sail, with catapults and deck-crossbows ready for attack, waiting for the smoke rising from the ship that Redbush was now moving toward as a signal for attack.

On the bridge of the Crimson Rose Willum peered through his spyglass past the blockade toward the distant Neure. He saw the Windspirit sailing further from the bay toward the farthest of the Brotherhood ships. He lowered the telescope and looked down at Wilbur, who stood at his side.
"It seems the plan's a goin' as we hoped," he said unenthusiastically.

"They've finished the battle?" the young mole asked.

Willum removed his tri-corner hat and placed it over his heart. He lowered his head.
"Aye, matey," he said solemnly, "there's many a beast that won't be seein' a new dawn."

"You can see beasts on the Brotherhood ship?" Wilbur asked.

"Nay, I cannot...'tis too far off to make out more'n the ship herself, but if'n they hadn't ta succeeded, the Windspirit wouldn't be movin' toward the last ship like she is. 'Tis almost time for our part now, me fine mole."

"What should I do Captain?" Wilbur asked nervously.

"Wake the crew that's restin'...includin' our fine parrot friend...make sure everyone's alert and armed and make ready to set sail and head straight at those scarlet-sailed villains on my command. Can ye do that?"

"Aye, aye Cap'n Crookfang." He turned to carry out the order when Willum stopped him by placing a paw gently on his shoulder.

Wilbur turned, "What Cap'n?"

"We're gonna be alright," he said reassuringly,
"I ain't gonna let nuthin' happen to me crew, it ain't me way."

Wilbur smiled broadly and continued walking towards the crew's quarters.
"We already know that, Willum...and we aren't going to let anything bad happen to you either."

The adrenaline of battle had worn off and Redbush was beginning to feel the pain of his wound. It was a fairly deep gash that extended on a diagonal from his left shoulder across his chest and abdomen and terminating just above his waist. The wound bled at a steady, but not life-threatening rate. The fox was manning the helm making a course toward the Brotherhood sloop which was still about a league distant.

Mobus sidled along side him and spoke to the pirate.
"That is quite a gash you have. You should bind it lest you bleed to death at the wheel."

Redbush smiled crookedly.
"As though that would bother you, Deev. Do not be pretendin' to be concerned for me well-bein', it makes ya look foolish." He turned around to address his crew, "Ahoy my hearties, ya did fine work back there. This next part is gonna seem simple to ya. That there sloop ain't hardly armed at all and all we means ta do is cripple 'er so she can't go runnin' off to papa Azmeritus. I'm gonna head to me cabin ta close up this scratch."

He pointed to a large stoat, "Mauby, you take the helm. Bear down on that sloop, but not straight at 'er...we don't wanna spook 'er.  When yah get a coupla hundred yards off'n 'er port side make straight for 'er, it'll be to late for them ta make sail."

He grimaced slightly at the renewed pain from his cut, then continued, "When yer in range, just pepper 'er with fire-bales and set 'er ablaze. Let me know when the deed is done."

"Aye-aye, Cap'n," Mauby said as he took over the wheel.

The pirate fox walked aft to his cabin holding his wounded side tenderly. Mobus smiled to himself as watched Redbush enter his cabin and close the door behind him. The crew busied itself preparing the portside catapults for attack.

During this bustle of activity, Mobus quietly moved to the rear of the ship till he was standing next to Redbush's cabin. He checked his belt and pulled out a small razor sharp dagger. Satisfied that no one was watching, he transmuted and oozed under the door.

Redbush was standing in front of a full length mirror examining his wound and daubing the blood off with a wadded up piece of cloth. He did not notice the small cloud of smoke which moved toward his feet. When the blood flow was stemmed, he re-examined his wound. A smile crossed his lips.

"That ain't so bad," he said to himself.

Suddenly Mobus materialized directly in front of him. Redbush stood slack-jawed as Mobus addressed him.
"Think again, fox!" he thrust his dagger into the fox's wound and cut deeply along it, "Prince Vasheron sends his regards."

Redbush staggered back with a stunned look of disbelief on his features. He stood stock-still for a moment, then fell dead at the Deev's feet. Mobus quickly transmuted and exited the cabin, re-materializing unseen back on the main deck.

The Windspirit was a flurry of activity. The sloop was nearly within range and only now realized the danger of its situation. Its crew was desperately trying to raise anchor and make sail to escape the attack, but it was far too late.

The oil-soaked bales of hay were ignited and launched toward the still anchored craft. They struck the deck and shattered, sending the flaming hay across the planking and sails. The fire spread with frightening speed, uncontainable. Soon beasts were jumping into the sea to avoid a fiery death. A cheer rose among the crew of the Windspirit, with Mobus cheering as loudly as the rest, making himself seen.

Mauby turned to a rat standing beside him.
"Go tell the Captain the deed is done." He ordered.

The rat rushed to inform his captain, but was soon back at Mauby's side, shaking.
"The C..C..Captain is dead!" he stammered.

"How?" Mauby demanded.

The rat shook his head sadly.
"His wound musta been worse than we thought, his guts just kinda burst through, its right awful! What do we do now?"

There was silence until Mobus stepped up and spoke.
"Yes, Captain, what do we do now?" he asked Mauby.

"Captain?" The stoat asked in confusion,

"Yes," Mobus said placing his paw on Mauby's shoulder, "you are the Captain now."

A smile spread across the stoat's face as he realized that what Mobus said was true. He stood up straight and addressed the crew loudly.
"We do what we said we would, we attack the blockade...it's what Redbush woulda wanted."

Ursamus was the first member of the Rose's crew to notice the trail of dark brown smoke rising from the burning Brotherhood ship. He let out a quick bark and Willum went into action. Shouting orders fore and aft, he soon had the sails raised and lines cast off. By allowing the ship to drift, the position of the Rose was less than half a league from the blockade when the sails were raised.

She shot forward, aided by a strong breeze and a following sea. Captain Greensap's Ghost of the Seas and the Flying Fox, now commanded by Captains Hogbrow and Tonguescab, were close behind.

The Crimson Rose made a straight course for the Brotherhood ship furthest to the left of their line. As she drove through the waves on her attack, the crew manned buckets and pumps, dousing every inch of the ship with sea-water to fend off the same type of flaming projectiles which had spelled doom for the Brotherhood sloop. Willum had had the crew douse the canvas sails the night before as an additional precaution. He stood at the helm grinning from ear to ear with Wilbur at his side and Max on his shoulder. He turned to his mole first mate.
"Mister Wilbur, I do believe it's time to show our colors!"

"Aye-aye Cap'n!" the young mole acknowledged. He turned to the crew and shouted heartily, "Hoist the colors!"

The flag was unfurled and raised. It was the emblem Orange Willum Crookfang had used during his entire career as a privateer, an orange cat-skull over two crossed scimitars on a field of black. When it was fully raised, the crew gave a loud cheer.

"Now those scurvy dogs'll know who's a comin' for them," Willum proudly proclaimed.

With the Rose bearing down on the left ship and the Fox and the Ghost attacking the right side of the line, it was up to the Neure, now under Vasheron's command to strike the center of the blockade. At first, the four Brotherhood ships focused all their attention on the three attacking pirate craft, understandably assuming that the Neure was coming to their aid, rather than attacking. By the time they realized that the Neure was now hostile, it was too late for them to protect their flanks. Flaming projectiles arced through the air in all directions. An angry blaze began aboard the Ghost and on two of the four Brotherhood ships.

When the Rose was close enough to her target, her large crossbow shot a barbed harpoon which firmly impaled itself into the enemy vessel. Led by Ursamus, a line of beasts pulled at the attached rope, pulling the trapped vessel to within range of countless other grappling hooks until the Brotherhood ship was as ensnared as a fly in a spider's web.

The boarding commenced with Willum leading the charge, swinging on a line in classic pirate style. Though significantly outnumbered by the Scarlet Brothers, the ferocity of the attack combined with Willum's reputation soon had the priests either abandoning ship or surrendering without a fight. In less than ten minutes, the Brotherhood ship struck her colors and the battle was over. There were very few casualties or serious injuries and the now disarmed priests were imprisoned in the ship's hold, ready to be moved to a more secure facility in Minga.

The other Brotherhood ships did not fare as well. Vasheron had come up upon the center two ships of the blockade in the heavily armed Neure and blasted them point blank with fire-bombs, not bothering to board the ships or allow surrender. Instead, he sailed away as soon as he was confident that the ships would burn, with no regard for survivors.

The final ship which had been attacked by the Ghost and the Fox, sunk quickly and while under normal circumstances, the survivors would have been pulled from the sea, they were left to fend for themselves. This was not due to undue cruelty, but because only the Flying Fox remained sea-worthy, the Ghost having been lost in the initial attack and the rescue of its surviving crew being the top priority of the Flying Fox.

With the battle won, the victors returned to Minga as the sun sank in the westering sky. The victory had come with a cost. One ship lost and a hundred pirates killed, most from Redbush's crew.

Captain Greensap had disappeared below the waves with his ship and Captain Tonguescab suffered a deep wound in his thigh which resulted in the loss of his right leg. Of all the crews involved in the battle of Minga, that of the Crimson Rose fared best. Three crew-beasts were felled by archers and about a dozen suffered serious injury during the boarding, but otherwise the crew emerged from the battle unscathed.

The Demon's Breath was filled to the brim with the victorious pirates, who lived up to their reputation for alcohol consumption and boisterous celebration. Burgle Tootspin, the present owner and former sea-cook, scurried from table to table insuring that flagons were filled and tempers were kept in check.

The crews of the various ships which had participated in the battle sat at their own groups of tables sharing tales of mythic bravery. The crew of the Crimson Rose was no exception. Seven tables were pulled together and almost every member of the ship's compliment was present.

Willum sat at the head of the table with Wilbur and Gella to one side, Ursamus and Salto to the other and Max perched on his shoulder. Burgle came to the table and re-filled drinks until the large flagon he carried was empty. He kneeled next to Willum smiling.
"A fine day's work, Captain!" he said cheerfully.

"Aye, Cookie, it was that," Willum agreed.

"Why ain't those Deev celebratin' with us?" the grizzled barkeep asked.

Willum laughed.
"I guess we be too common for them noble monsters," he said lightly, then added, "I can't speak too badly 'bout them though, they kept their word, did what they said they would...whatever their reason."

Burgle became serious.
" 'Tis a shame about Redbush and Greensap, true corsairs, those two."

"They were, Cookie, they were. I reckon they're downin' grog in hell as we speak."

"Aye, Cap'n," he stood and raised the empty flagon, calling out loudly, "a toast...Captains Redbush and Greensap!"

Everyone raised their drinks and repeated the toast loudly. Burgle headed back to the bar, "I'll go get some more grog for yahs."

Wilbur turned to Willum.
"It's a shame about them."

Willum smiled.
"Don't go wastin' no tears on those two. Ruthless, bloody, and more crooked than an arthritic snake is what they were. They might' a been on the right side today, but not for the right reason. Savin' the world weren't their motivation, blood and profit...that's why they fought. They were poor excuses for decent beasts, like most pirates."

"What about you Willum...you're a poirate."

Willum smiled.
"Technically, I ain't, yah know."

"What do you mean, Willum?" Wilbur asked.

A pensive look came to the cat's eyes as he answered.
"I was a smuggler, 'tis true, but when the wars started agin Khalis, I was given what ya call a letter of marque and reprisal by old King Sigus of Seth-e. 'Twas a warrant to attack Khalis' ships. I was a privateer, never a full pirate and when the wars was done I quit attackin' vessels on the seas. But twenty years of privateerin' looks a lot like twenty years o' piratin', though I never attacked an innocent ship that I know of."

Wilbur's curiosity was piqued.
"If that's true, why is there a warrant for your arrest and execution in Seth-e-Raman?"

Willum laughed humorlessly.
" 'Twas Khalis' doin'. She hated me guts for how well I did what I did. She had that Scarlet scum we're fightin' now...that was fightin' for her then...she had them sinkin' merchants and other ships under me very own colors. Word got back to Sigus and he figgered I gone rogue. I was tried without bein' there to defend meself, found guilty and sentenced to hang."

"That's so unfair!" Wilbur protested.

Captain Crookfang chuckled.
"What's a bloke to do? It ain't like I'm gonna march into The Lands of Man and shout my innocence. I'd be swingin' in the wind afore ya could say 'shiver me timbers'."

"That still doesn't make it fair," Wilbur insisted.

Willum put his arm around his young mole friend and looked him in the eye.
"It's the life I chose, matey, now I'm payin' the price and I ain't got the right to complain." He rose and addressed the table, raising his flagon, "I got a toast meself...to the crew of the Crimson Rose, as fine a bunch of blokes as I ever had the honor to lead. Well done yah sea-devils! Next stop Xenoth and the beast Azmeritus 'imself. Drink hearty and treat yourselves tonight, 'cause tomorra we head across the Narrows!"