Ethan zoomed through the ethereal plane, high above the sparse towns beyond the capital, the forests, the black cliffs of Wayland's northern border and the vast Azure Sea beyond. Even the joy of such freedom and power could not stem the tide of sorrow overwhelming his heart. A brother had betrayed them and must be dealt with.
He flew down close to the water, just above the rolling blue. Dolphins leaped nearby, but Ethan soon left their best efforts behind him. Given the size of this armada and the approximate position, he assumed they would be easily spotted. He ascended higher and higher, searching the horizon as miles passed by in seconds.
After nearly an hour, Ethan passed through a thick bank of fluffy white clouds. When he emerged again, a vast deep blue jewel spread out before him and upon its surface, chopping through the smooth Azure, Mordred's armada.
Nearly fifty ships sailed before him. Many of them were huge barges packed with enough supplies for an army and propelled by at least one hundred oars extending out both port and starboard sides. Engines of war perched upon some of the expansive decks. Mordred wouldn't be holding anything back when he invaded Wayland's capital.
Ethan tried to peer beneath the surface of the ships and found his sight barred by demonic activity. Of course there would be massive amounts of spirits to accompany Mordred and his army. The familiar buzzing along his skin alerted him to their definite presence. He didn't see any demons at the moment, only felt them. Ethan started down toward the first ships in the line. Isaiah's words resounded in his mind. "Do not engage Mordred's armada." Just a closer look, he decided.
Ethan came down upon the massive, flat deck of one of the carrier barges. He noticed that the men on the deck, going about their duties, were not men at all, but beasts of some kind. They walked as men, but some had the faces of bulls, goats, reptiles or much worse. He wondered if these might be more of the hybrid soldiers which Isaiah had been telling them about. The same which Gideon had led through the mountains to destroy the Temple of Shaddai.
One of the hybrid soldiers stopped, looking in Ethan's direction. He soon continued on with his work somewhere else on the deck. The buzzing in his body had grown when the hybrid was near. Could it be that these were indwelt by demons? If they were, then why hadn't he been able to see them? And could these strange creatures see him in his spiritual form? The hybrid hadn't seemed to notice him.
Ethan turned his attention back to the rows of catapults fastened to the deck behind him. Heavy ropes held them secure as the sea rolled beneath the great barge. I wonder what would happen. Ethan suddenly had an idea that brought a smile to his face. He drew his spiritual blade and sliced through the ropes nearest to him.
The ropes sprang away under tension with a sharp whip-crack. Ethan leaped after the other ropes, zealously slashing them all as he came to them. The bindings flew around the deck like the tentacles of some angry kraken. Some of the soldiers had taken notice by now and ran to try and stop what was happening.
The heavy wooden catapults began to shift upon the deck as the ship lifted with the waves. A hybrid appeared behind Ethan and slashed at him with a great broadsword just as he slashed one of the final ropes left holding the war engines in place. Ethan started as the sword fell too late for him to do anything about it.
The heavy blade crashed against one of the giant wooden wheels on the catapult, passing right through Ethan. He suddenly realized the beast might be able to see him, in his ethereal state, but it couldn't touch him. Whatever these hybrids were, Mordred had apparently overdone himself. Ethan whipped his own sword around and cleaved the bull-faced creature in two through its torso. More deckhands came running as catapults started to teeter and roll across the deck. One began a slow journey away from a dozen hybrids as the ship dipped into the trough of a wave, but then turned back upon them as the ship crested. The catapult rolled over the demonic crew before they could jump out of its way.
Another engine of war slid sideways, taking out more soldiers and stacks of crated supplies fastened to the deck before smashing into the first catapult, both going over the side of the barge, crashing into the sea. Ethan spotted some of the soldiers crawling across one of the war engines, piecing together the cut rope as best they could. He leaped to the catapult and sliced through the lock which held the arm down. It sprang forward throwing soldiers across the deck, flipping its base over in the process.
One of the catapults rolled from its place at the bow of the barge down along the length of the ship as it crested another wave. The huge piece of machinery plowed through deckhands, crates, and anything else standing in its way until it reached the stacked bridge tower where all commands for steering and speed were given. Ethan watched with satisfaction as the ship's captain, with many more hybrids, clamored along the bridge catwalks and staircases as they realized their doom. The runaway catapult, unabated by any obstacle on the deck, exploded through the bridge tower sending men and a huge scattering of debris into the Azure Sea. The catapult reached the stern of the ship, slowed by the last impact, and ever so gently teetered on the edge before the ship dipped again at the bow into the trough of a wave. The catapult crashed back down onto the deck and skidded sideways back through its path of destruction, before glancing off a mound of wreckage and dumping over the side of the barge, through a dozen portside oar placements, into the sea.
Ethan's ethereal body prickled with spiritual energy, forcing him to turn around. He barely managed to bring his blade up to block the first strike of a demon in its disembodied form. Their ethereal swords clashed with a bright flash of discharged power. Ethan noticed, behind this reptilian-faced opponent, a host of spirits coming toward the barge. He forced the spirit back and drew another blade to his aid.
While blocking the demon's strike he retaliated with his second sword, driving the heavenly sword into its chest. The wicked spirit dissolved, a sandcastle blown away by a gust of wind. More demons came at him, but there were too many to fight. He would surely be overwhelmed by their numbers. Isaiah's sage advice rang true as he realized his foolish mistake in coming onboard the barge in the first place.
Ethan whirled around, flinging first one blade and then the second. A demon blocked the first, but the second cut him through. Seeing a successful manner of defending himself, Ethan flew backward away from the barge, hurling heavenly swords into the throng of pursuing demons as fast as they rematerialized in his hands. It had the effect of hurling rocks at a swarm of bees-only those caught unaware were struck, but it staggered and confused their attack enough for Ethan to remain ahead of them.
The armada had begun to give wide berth to the crippled barge now drifting with the current amidst a huge debris field floating upon the surface of the sea around it. Ethan regretted only having the chance to disable one of Mordred's ships, but it was all he could manage and, perhaps, more than he should have ever attempted.
The horde of demons began to gain in their pursuit as the mass of ships fell away, becoming only toys in a great pond. Suddenly Ethan gasped in pain. His old wounds, delivered by the Prince of Demons, ached, sending waves of agony through his ethereal form. His flight through the spiritual realm slowed, and the demons gained on him.
Ethan staggered, trying to keep on going. Despite not having to breathe, he felt as though he were suffocating. His pace slowed even more, until the demons came within striking range. Several raised their weapons, which transformed into ethereal bows, and fired arrows of flame toward him. Ethan cried out, "Lord Shaddai, please deliver me! I can't make it on my own!"
Just as suddenly as Ethan's strength had been sapped away, it returned unto him tenfold. He shot forward away from the horde of pursuing demons. Their flaming arrows dissipated into nothing behind him as the clouds blurred, his escape now faster than he'd ever traveled on the spiritual plane before.
Jericho hovered high above Mordred's command ship sailing on below him. The barge, where the boy had attacked, remained crippled and drifting. Several ships of the armada had diverted and were presently trying to moor along side the vessel in order to take on its remaining men and supplies. The operation would take a while, but with the help of his demons, they might accomplish the task in a third of the time.
The horde of demons which had taken up pursuit, chasing the Deliverer away, were now returning, a black cloud on the horizon, approaching fast. They began to disperse to clean-up duties as Jericho's thoughts directed them. One of the demons returned to Jericho directly. "My Lord, we've chased the boy away from the armada."
Jericho's eyes burned into the demon lieutenant before him. "You mean he escaped, don't you? I wanted the boy destroyed, or captured at the very least."
The abased demon bowed his head. "My apologies, my lord. We thought we had him, before his prayer allowed him to escape."
Jericho closed his eyes slowly, frustrated. "Of course it did. Organize the cleanup of this debacle and get the armada moving again as quickly as possible."
"Yes, my lord," the demon lieutenant said, snapping to attention. He flew straightway to the barge and the other demons already beginning to help align two of the other vessels so they could transport the salvageable materials onboard for the remainder of the journey to Wayland.
Jericho descended to the bridge of the renovated Man-o-war, now serving as Mordred's command ship. The warlord stood on the poop deck, watching the progress of those ships diverted to the cleanup. Jericho became visible to him with a flash of light meant to draw his attention away from the sea.
Mordred turned, as expected, clearly unsurprised to see Jericho standing there. "What news? Was it the boy?"
Jericho stood stiff, emotionless. "Yes."
"Did your demons destroy him?"
"No."
Mordred seemed to prickle at the news, though he likely had suspected as much. "I see. Well, you seem to be unconcerned by this turn of events. The boy will certainly deliver news of our imminent attack to Stephen."
"I doubt very much that our voyage has managed to remain hidden. The ships we encountered and destroyed near the Northern Cape almost certainly got away a distress call by messenger hawk before we ever engaged them. The boy's report will make little difference. At least his retreat tells us that he is as weak as we might hope."
Mordred considered that piece of wisdom with a slight smile, but then relented. "Could he have seen the new ships?"
"Very doubtful, My Lord," Jericho said. "Your modifications to the Man-o-wars would appear as nothing but more sail stowed away in extra compartments. They will not expect what is coming."
Mordred smiled. "Yes, of course they won't. How could they? And Wayland will be broken for their insolence once and for all."