Chapter XIII. Of Crimson Wings
XIII
OF CRIMSON WINGS
“‘SAILS!’
“The cry split the air, rising over the crashing waves, the clanging bells.
“‘Sails a starboard! ’
“The shout was repeated, echoing through Dawnseeker’s belly and setting every heart afire.
Dior and I charged up the stairs alongside a tumble of other folk, out into the predawn chill.
The slow, rising light illuminated a sea enshrouded with fog, and soon any man not at the oars was on deck, crowded at the railings and peering into the distance.
“‘Sails! ’
“Capitaine á Connell stood at the wheelhouse with his spyglass, cursing that he could see nothing through the mist. Dior took up place beside him, joined by a passel of Unbound, her faithful fleshwitch, and of course her Princess, braids mussed from sleep. We shrank into the background as Reyne took Dior’s hand, the Grail shouted toward the crow’s nest.
“‘How many, Callum?’
“‘Hard to say, Holy Maid! One, mebbe two! Galleys both! ’
“‘Are they the Emperor’s ships?’ á Connell roared. ‘What colors do they fly, man?’
“A long slice of silence fell, the Unbound casting swift glances among themselves. If these were Alexandre’s vessels, patrolling the oceans beyond his capital, the Emperor likely still held the city. But if he’d ceded control of his seas …
“‘Ravens! ’ came the answer. ‘They bear ravens on their rigs! ’
“‘Shite,’ Phoebe spat.
“Reyne looked to Dior, squeezing her fingers. ‘Voss ships.’
“This was it, then. The moment all aboard Dawnseeker had trained for, and many, we suspect, had dreaded. Dior’s Unbound had drilled hard through the journey, tireless, fanatical.
Each man now wore a golden vial about his neck, taken from Lilidh’s stores before we left Maergenn.
But where the Heartless had filled those vials with duskdancer blood, they now each contained a few precious drops from the Grail’s wrist—enough to snatch a wounded soldier back from Death’s arms.
“They’d retained the strength of their thralldom, and were a force to be respected, doubtless.
But the men aboard those enemy galleys were certainly thralled, too—veterans of the Forever King’s conquests.
We had Phoebe and ourselves to tip our scales, but every one of those ships likely had highblooded Ironhearts aboard; God only knew their age or prowess.
And at night’s end, we were one ship against two.
“We could see twinned sails now, rising through the mists ahead. We could feel it among Dawnseeker’s company; an undertow of fear beneath their stoic facades.
While these soldiers loved their savior, two-to-one odds were terrible, any way the throat was sliced.
The thought they’d survived the bloody hell of Dún Maergenn only to be sunk off the coast of Augustin before our true battle had even begun …
“‘Yer orders, Holy Maid?’ á Connell asked.
“The capitaine, crew, Unbound—all looked now to Dior, her pale locks whipping in the wind. The Grail glanced to Phoebe, the fleshwitch whispering.
“‘Courage, Flower. Fear is poison in battle.’
“Reyne squeezed Dior’s hand. ‘God sails with us. This is what you were born for.’
“The Holy Grail of San Michon breathed deep, searching perhaps for some strength in her blood.
She was descendant of a warrior king, and this was her moment—the moment in every saga when every great general spoke some grand monologue, rousing their men to feats of bravery and butchery.
With lips pinched, cheeks pinked, Dior stepped up to the railing, looking out on a sea of upturned faces.
Sailors and soldiers, freedmen all, their shackles broken by her holy blood.
They adored her, that much was plain—each seeing her as daughter, sister, messiah. But still, that dreadful undertow …
“She called out then, her words near snatched away by the winds.
“‘They say the coward dies a thousand deaths. The brave man only one. They say men who fear to lose will never truly win. They say folk who fear death will never truly live. Well, I say they don’t know what they’re talking about.
Because looking at those ships, I tell you right now, I’m shitting myself. And I know most of you are too.’
“A low murmur rippled among the men. But Dior’s voice was raised then, and where before the winds near drowned her out, now they seemed only to lift her up.
“‘But I say no sin is fear! If you’re unafraid to lose it, you won’t fight for what you have!
If you’re unafraid to die, you won’t fight to stay alive!
And if you’re unafraid of those bastards and the world they want to make, you won’t fight for something better!
’ She pointed to those distant sails now, teeth bared.
‘You’ve seen what they do! Those pits they filled with bones at Maergenn!
Those babies sold like livestock! They want us on our knees!
They want us so afraid to fight, we dare not to fight at all!
But more afraid of dying, I’m afraid of failing!
Because if we fight here today, we might lose our lives, but if we run, we lose our world!
And there’s still things in it worth fighting for! You! Callum á Sadhbh!’
“A stout fellow in a chain hauberk blinked as the Grail called to him.
“‘What are you fighting for?’
“‘My wife, Holy Maid,’ he finally called. ‘My sweet Maera.’
“‘Gaelen?’ Dior asked, turning on another. ‘What are you fighting for?’
“‘My sons, Holy Maid. Ollie and Sean.’
“Dior walked down from the aftercastle, prowling among her Unbound now.
And though her voice still trembled, we realized it was not from fear, but elation.
She called each man by name, dozens upon dozens, asking each what it was they cherished most. Wives and sisters, sons and daughters, vengeance and justice, all were named, the fire in each man rising with every call.
Until at last, the Holy Grail reached a pretty monsieur with sharp cheekbones and ink-black locks, a hungry axe in his fists.
“‘Joaquin Marenn? What do you fight for?’
“The houndboy touched that golden vial about his neck, voice raised high.
“‘I fight for she who rescued me from bondage! Who freed my body, and saved my soul!’ Joaquin fixed her in his eyes, sinking to one knee. ‘I fight for the Grail!’
“Another knelt then, calling her name, ‘San Dior! ’ Dozens followed, pounding fists upon her sigil, at their chests, on their shields, until each and every soul on Dawnseeker’s deck was roaring aloud.
“‘For the Grail! ’
“‘FOR THE GRAIL! ’
“Dior stood among them, tears welling in her eyes as she met each man’s gaze. She full-well knew what she asked of them now. But the knowledge she need not ask at all burned the brighter, her eyes now meeting á Connell’s.
“‘Head for the enemy, Capitaine. Full speed.’
“The order was repeated aloud, the call ringing upon the decks, drums pounding swifter in Dawnseeker’s belly as her oars cut the waters in time.
Dior made her way through her roaring men, back up to the aftercastle.
Phoebe had blooded herself, a smear of crimson across her eyes.
The fleshwitch did the same now for Dior, for Reyne—a blessing of her heathen goddesses to shield the girls from harm.
Weapons were drawn among Dior’s Unbound, blades pounding shields in time with the war drum beat that drove us onward, onward, and as if bid by God himself, the winds picked up at our backs.
“Sails were unfurled, canvas set with the Grail’s sigil stretched taut.
We were charging at the lead vessel—a sleek galley named Shadowchild.
The wind was in our favor, the enemy slower than we, and á Connell’s hope was clear: that we might deal with this first foe before its sibling came to bear.
I was aflame with promise of the coming battle, hunger and bloodlust rising with the pulses now pounding around us.
But a cry went up from the crow’s nest then, bringing new chill to the wind.
“‘More sails! Three now! Third a starboard! ’
“A dark murmur rippled among the men, and á Connell’s face ran bloodless.
With faith and luck and wind’s blessing, it might be a ship our size could move swift among a duo of enemies, cut the odds closer to our favor.
But we were so heavily outmatched now, I admit even my belief began to waver, casting dead eyes to heaven above and whispering.
“‘Do you want us to fail?’
“‘Have faith, now.’
“The words rang in my mind, in the minds of those assembled, each searching for the speaker. Looking down to the deck, lips parted in wonder, Dior saw Mother Maryn had at last left the solitude of her cabin, standing among the Unbound. My Priori was still dressed in child’s finery, cream-colored silk and blond curls, like some doll from a faerytale given breath and life.
The sight of her among those soldiers was so incongruous it might have been comical, save for the black fire burning in her eyes.
“‘Have faith, all of thee! God Almighty stands with us this day! ’
“Dawnseeker charged onward toward the Voss blockade, wind howling at her back.
Maryn made her way up to the aftcastle, bowing low to Dior.
Our Priori still seemed small, frail, shadows of hunger and fatigue etched beneath her eyes.
The sun had risen fully now, all we kith the weaker for it. Yet her gaze still burned.
“‘Sweet and holy child. Ready we stand, to serve thee.’
“á Connell turned to his first mate, a gap-toothed old swab named Hurley.
“‘Have the cannon loaded w’ grapeshot. Starboard side. We’ll come about at the last, give them a burst to soften them up before we engage.’
“‘Keep thy fire in readiness, Capitaine. But unleash not ayet.’
“á Connell blinked at Maryn. ‘If we’ve intent to board them—’
“‘Thou shalt have no need.’ Maryn nodded to two of the oncoming vessels. ‘The crews of Onslaught and Hellspawn are more seasoned, and there be highblooded mediae among their number. Save thy fire for the moment they close.’