Chapter 67
67
R HAIF WAITED FOR the sands to stop dancing across the beach. As he held his breath, he balanced on his crutch, riding out the minor quake—praying for it to stay minor. It was the second tremblor since the violent shake that had toppled walls and collapsed homes in Iskar. To make matters worse, that big quake had sent a huge swell across the town, wreaking more damage to a village that had sustained so much misery already.
At least, this time it wasn’t our fault.
The sands finally settled around him. He looked to Kalder for confirmation. The vargr had stiffened a moment ago, as if sensing what was coming. Prior to the massive quake, Kalder had howled in warning—not that anyone understood him until the ground began to heave and roll.
Steps away, the vargr paced a few wary circles, but his hackles slowly smoothed across his back.
Rhaif called over to Floraan and Henna. “Kalder says it’s over.”
“At least for now,” Fenn added from Rhaif’s other side. The navigator glared at the sea, as if daring it to surge toward him.
“Let’s pray that’s the end of it,” Floraan said.
Henna still clung to her mother’s arm, hugging tight to her leg.
The four of them—and Kalder—had been headed from the Sparrowhawk back to Floraan’s home, to fetch a late repast for those working around the ship. It was well into the night, but teams continued to labor in shifts on the repairs. Prior to the big quake, the crews had been enthused and reinvigorated by an earlier triumph.
Rhaif glanced behind at that success.
Down the beach, the ship hovered to the height of two men over the shallows. Atop its deck, a row of six large firepots blazed beneath the open mouth of a massive balloon. Those pots, even the gasbag full of hot air, glowed in the dimness of eventide. It made for a striking sight. The height had also kept the ship safely above the sea’s surge during the big quake.
Throughout the night, tests and inspections had continued. One of the balloon’s baffles had busted open a poorly sewn seal. Draft-iron cables had to be repositioned to better balance the ship’s load.
Limned against the firelight, Krysh shouted to be heard above the flames’ roaring. The alchymist had been overseeing and orchestrating this miracle. Meryk was up there with him, helping where he could.
While all that was happening atop the deck, Darant worked below with more of his crew and Noorish laborers. With the ship lifted, the broken keel could be addressed, along with patching the last of the holes in the lower hull. Repairs continued steadily, proving the old adage: Many hands make for short work.
Not that Rhaif adhered to such a philosophy. He had kept to the periphery of the efforts, leaning more heavily on his crutch whenever anyone looked his way for help. His attention was focused more on the seas, worried about Shiya and the others.
Even Floraan looked that way now. Her brows were knit with worry. She pulled Henna closer, but Rhaif knew that she wished she could safely clutch another.
“Where’s Daal?” she muttered. “He should’ve been home by now.”
“Maybe the fishing is good,” Rhaif offered lamely, feeling guilty for supporting the lie.
“With those quakes,” Floraan said, “you’d think he would head straight home. If only to check on us. This is not like Daal.”
Rhaif winced at Fenn, who looked equally uncomfortable. But if they told her where Daal had gone, it would only compound her fear and risk exposing the others. So far, Ularia and the Reef Farer did not suspect anything was amiss, especially as the two had enough to deal with after that quake.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Fenn said. “Daal knows these waters.”
“Better than most,” Floraan admitted, sighing out her anxiety.
Rhaif nodded. “He’s probably on his way back and will be home by morning.”
“He’d better be.”
Rhaif glanced toward the sea.
I hope so, too.
As a group, they headed toward the village. They only made it halfway when a loud roar made them all jump and turn. But it wasn’t another quake. Down the beach, one of the Sparrowhawk ’s maneuvering forges cast out a huge swirl of flames. Apparently Darant wanted to test another of the Hawk ’s new features, especially after it had regained its wings.
The force of the flitch -fueled forge whipped the ship around, proving far stronger than Darant could have expected. The balloon shook from the sudden turn and the flames danced under it. The forge quickly snuffed out before anyone was thrown from the deck or damage was done.
A stunned moment of silence followed—then a great cheer rose from the ship and echoed across the beach.
Rhaif smiled at yet another success.
We may be flying out of here sooner than anyone had hoped.
Still, Rhaif knew why Darant rushed through his repairs and performed such risky tests. It had been half a day since the others had departed for the Mouth. The captain had promised Graylin that he would do his best to head out there as soon as possible—that is, if the others hadn’t returned by then.
Rhaif hoped such a trip wouldn’t prove necessary. But if so, Darant had shown himself to be a man of his word. The Hawk could be airborne within the next day or two. Rhaif stared back at the glowing ship, praying that was true.
Unfortunately, the gods ignored him.
Henna pulled away from her mother and pointed up at the mists. “Sen fa gen thah?”
Rhaif didn’t understand her words, but he heard the confusion laced with fear. He stared up as the dark blue of eventide flushed brighter, turning fiery.
Fenn swore next to him.
From the mists, a large ship dropped into view, falling fast, forges blazing. To its right, a matching craft appeared.
“Swyftships,” Fenn gasped out.
Rhaif struggled to understand how that could be. Questions spun in his head: Who are they? Where did they come from?
Still, one thing was clear.
They’re a threat.
Kalder lifted his nose and growled, confirming the same.
Out of the mists, the two ships separated and dove toward their targets. One aimed for Iskar’s glow of firepots and lanterns. The other dropped toward the enfeebled Hawk.
Rhaif’s group was stuck between the two—and exposed on the open beach. He spun on his crutch and faced Floraan. “Is there a place to hide? Away from both village and ship?”
She dragged her gaze away from the blazing skies, clearly struggling. She pulled Henna back to her side. Her eyes looked everywhere at once.
Rhaif pressed her again. “Floraan…”
She slowly nodded, then more firmly. “An ice pen. A large cave that we use for the cold storage of larger catches.”
“Can you take us there?”
“Yes, but—” She stared out at the sea, clearly still worried about Daal, then back to the Hawk, where her husband worked with Krysh.
“We can’t help anyone if we’re dead,” Rhaif said bluntly. He pressed on a more immediate concern. “We need to get Henna to safety.”
Ever a mother, she reacted to Rhaif’s warning and swung toward the towering ice cliffs. “This way.”
As they fled, a swyftship reached Iskar, sweeping over it. From its open stern, large black barrels rolled forth. They plummeted toward the village, toppling through the air. As they hit, explosions thundered, pounding Rhaif’s ears and chest. Flame and smoke cast up burning sections of roofs and shattered stones.
Before the enemy craft turned to survey the damage, a trio of small sailrafts blasted out its back. They shot high, their balloons popping open. They swept over the village, scouting low, then circling outward toward the beach.
“Go!” Rhaif hollered. “Make for the cliffs!”