Burning cedar pilings hissed as boiling sulfurous pitch poured into the dark river water.
Clouds of yellow, choking steam rolled across the stone docks, smelling of rotten brimstone.
Atop the forecastle of the lead ironclad barge, the two pirate captains swung their heavy blood-sabers in wide arcs.
“Come out and die, Kaelen Vance,” Captain Blood-Gull bellowed, his voice echoing across the mist. “Or we will burn every herb warehouse from here to the bridge.”
Beside him, Captain Iron-Fin raised a burning torch, tossing it into an open crate of medicinal roots on the wharf.
The dry timber caught instantly, shooting amber sparks toward the warehouse roofs.
Dozens of dockworkers scrambled with sand buckets and wet hemp blankets, desperately smothering the sparks before the depots caught fire.
“Move those crates of fire-ginseng,” an old warehouse clerk screamed, waving his arms in panic. “If the resin catches, the whole block will explode.”
