Chapter 35 #2
“Your, ah, wife?” Syla looked at Fel, who stood a few feet away, as if he might know what to make of the comment.
But he was staring bleak-faced at the dragons while flexing and loosening his grip on his mace. He didn’t return her look.
“Well, she’s more of a girlfriend, I suppose you might say, but we’ve a mutual intent to be married if the laws ever allow.”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
“She’s not from around here.” His big wave seemed to encompass the entire island. Or… the kingdom as a whole? “If you catch my meaning.”
“Is she a stormer?” Syla asked quietly in case the crew didn’t know or wouldn’t approve.
“Something like that.” Radmarik smiled, shifted the cane to the other side of his mouth, and gazed contemplatively at the dragons. “I figured this would be dangerous when I agreed to it, but I didn’t quite realize… I might not see her again.”
Syla didn’t know how to answer that even though she’d just been thinking something similar.
“We had good sex yesterday anyway before I sailed off. Real good. It always is.” Radmarik smiled again. “She’s quite athletic, as you might imagine.”
Syla’s mouth drooped open. This was not the direction she’d expected this conversation to go.
He eyed her again. “I suppose it’s not appropriate to discuss such things with princesses.”
“It’s… not a subject that comes up often within my earshot.”
“Because of your royalness? Or because you’re a healer, and the people around you are too ailed to have sex on their minds?”
“Some of both, I suppose. If I may ask, Captain, how much did Aunt Tibby’s engineer friend—Sherrik, right?—say I would pay you when we reach Castle Island?”
“Funny thing about that. Sherrik went from captain to captain, trying to hire a cargo ship or, in the end, any ship with a willing crew, able to take on a mission for the good of the kingdom. But he was rather elusive about what the mission was. Finally, he started telling people it was to help Princess Syla Moonmark save the kingdom from dragons.”
“And that moved you?”
“Nope. It didn’t move any of the captains he was trying to finagle with promise of payment later from the royal coffers.”
Syla raised her eyebrows. Since the captain was here, something had finagled him.
“I thought one or two might have been willing to sign on as it’s always good to curry favor with the royals, however young and far removed from the throne they are.” Radmarik spat out a piece of cane that he’d chewed off.
“I’m not that young. I’ve been a healer for almost ten years.” She couldn’t deny that she’d always been removed from the day-to-day running of the kingdom though.
“Good to curry favor with healers too. You never know when—” He made a stabbing and twisting motion with his cane.
“Quite.” Syla eyed the macerated end, then returned to watching the dragons.
Maybe they hadn’t yet attacked because they were waiting for the ships to clear the cliffs and be easier targets. But she couldn’t imagine dragons having any trouble navigating among rock formations.
“My wife was the one who suggested I help you. Sugar cane?” Radmarik offered her the unappealing stick, the macerated end wet with his spittle.
“No, thank you.”
“My wife brings me some when she comes through. It’s gathered from the Lagobar Swamps where gargoyles are more prolific than squirrels.
It’s a training ground for young stormer warriors, especially those who hope to earn the interest of a dragon and become a rider.
The sugar cane is a prize, and you’ve usually got to battle a few fang bats, swamp vipers, and the gargoyles themselves to acquire them.
Fortunately, my wife doesn’t mind a challenge.
” Radmarik grinned. “She endures being mated to me, after all. I can’t imagine that’s easy, but maybe I’m sexier than you’d think at first glance.
When I attempted to woo her, she tolerated it.
It only took me fifty or sixty encounters to convince her of the appeal of my bunk. ”
With her gaze on the dragons, Syla only half-listened to the story as she raised a hand to decline the offering. “It looks like a stick.”
“Yup, that’s right. Real fibrous but sweet. It’s one of the few treats that grow wild out there in the inhospitable climes of the world beyond the shields.”
She glanced at it, thinking of Vorik’s love for fruit and cobbler. Berries growing untended had seemed so amazing to him. Maybe the—what was it?—sugar cane was the best the wilds of the rest of the world could offer.
“So your wife is a stormer.” Syla wondered why such a person had recommended helping her. If anything, the wife should have wanted her to fail.
“An outcast, yes. She used to be a rider and bonded to a dragon.” Radmarik lowered his voice. “She’s one of the leaders of the Freeborn Faction now.”
Syla rocked back. It wasn’t that she hadn’t believed that the faction existed, but after Vorik had tried so many times to claim to be allied with it, she’d stopped thinking it would come into play at any point in her journey—or her life.
“Does she… do they… want to see the kingdom continue?” Syla asked. “With its shielders left intact?”
“From what I gather, the faction doesn’t have any love for you or the current—or is it former?
—regime, but they do believe it would be best if the islands remained as protected sanctuaries from dragons and other deadly predators.
The rest of the world is a harsh place. What they’re fighting for is for all humans to have access to the islands.
My wife did suggest that, if you live, you might be more amenable to negotiations in favor of the faction than your predecessors were.
Presumably, as a healer, you’ve a gentle soul.
” Radmarik raised his eyebrows. Asking if that was true?
The memory of Sergeant Tunnok clutching his heart sprang to Syla’s mind, and she felt like she’d betrayed her profession.
But that had been an extenuating circumstance, surely.
Dealing with Captain Lesva too. She was a healer, and would help any human, kingdom subject or stormer tribe member, as long as the person wasn’t trying to kill her. Or destroy all that she loved.
Realizing Radmarik was watching her intently, as if her answer mattered, Syla nodded.
She was more worried about surviving the day than planning her next steps, but, recalling Tunnok’s ambition, she knew the future would be challenging if she meant to make a claim to the throne.
She had no idea if she should even try, but, with all her kin gone, who else had more right?
And cared more about the kingdom? Whatever she chose to do, she could use allies for the road ahead. More than her aunt and aged bodyguard.
“I would be open to negotiations,” Syla said.
“The sun, moon, and earth gods intended that all humans be protected from the mad storm god’s creations.
And I believe, even if the ancestors of today’s stormers left the kingdom for various reasons, their descendants should have the opportunity to return. ”
“Good. Good.” Radmarik returned the cane to his mouth.
“I’ll do my best to see that you make it back to your castle, though it would have been better if you’d popped up with that big ball in the middle of the night, when all those dragons weren’t about.
” He waved toward the horizon, then back toward the island.
“I’m afraid they would have sensed it as soon as the barrier dropped, no matter what time of day it was.” Syla looked back since the captain was squinting as well as pointing in that direction.
A familiar green dragon was flying from the shoreline toward them. Her gut clenched.
That was Agrevlari with Vorik on his back.
The green dragon beat his powerful wings, easily going against the wind to fly quickly toward them. And Vorik…
Syla licked her lips, nervous. As great a warrior as he was, he might be able to dodge the cannons and sink the ship without the help of any of his allies.
As they drew nearer, his gaze scoured the deck of the ship and lingered on the tarp-covered pile before shifting to her.
With her poor vision, she struggled to see his expression, to tell if he was angry. If he felt she’d betrayed him.
“How are your eyes, Captain?” she asked quietly.
“Very good, Princess.”
“Does that rider look furious and vengeful? Or… just determined?”
Radmarik lowered his sugar cane. “I’d say determined, but I’ve encountered him before. That’s his expression before he attacks a fleet of ships and leaves them destroyed.”
“I take it Captain Vorik isn’t a part of the Freeborn Faction.”
Radmarik laughed. “No, Princess. He’s General Jhiton’s most loyal and trusted officer.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Syla slipped her hand into her pocket, wrapping her fingers around the figurine, though she hadn’t yet thought of something she could offer to entice Wreylith to help. Nor could she determine if the dragon remained anywhere near Harvest Island.
Even if Syla could somehow convince her to come to their aid, it wouldn’t be enough. Six dragons with riders were flying about over the sea now. Seven if one included Agrevlari.
The green dragon carried Vorik closer, wings extending and tilting for a dive. To swoop down and get what they believed was the shielder? Or to get her?
Jaw set, Vorik’s eyes were on Syla.
“Better take cover, Princess.” Radmarik pointed toward the wheelhouse, then stalked off and yelled, “Ready all the cannons and harpoon launchers!”
With his keen ears, Vorik doubtless heard the order, but he didn’t appear worried. Agrevlari started his dive, and Vorik drew his sword.
Fear slammed into Syla as she worried her lover from the night before meant to slay her for tricking him.
But Vorik’s head snapped up, and he looked into the distance.
Agrevlari aborted his dive. Another huge black dragon had appeared, its dark scales swallowing rather than reflecting the sunlight, and was heading toward the group flying about out there.
Dressed in black and carrying multiple swords, its rider was as dark and ominous as the dragon.
Radmarik cursed. “That’s General Jhiton.”