Chapter 43
43
N YX CLUTCHED THE edge of the draft-iron stanchion that held one of the Sparrowhawk ’s two sailrafts. She remembered how she had hoped earlier to never have to use one of these tiny skiffs.
Now I wish I could.
Ahead of her, winds whipped into the cargo hold from the open stern. The flat hatch had been winched down and locked in place, forming a wooden tongue sticking out the back of the swyftship. Beyond that platform, mists swirled. Below them, the crowns of giant alders passed by like ominous dark shoals.
“Be ready!” Darant’s muffled shout reached them through a series of metal tubing and baffles from the forecastle. “The mists brighten ahead. We’re almost to the Heilsa.”
That was not the only reason to be prepared.
To Nyx’s left, more fiery blasts lit up the western forest as the giant warship neared the lake, as if already tracking them. Soon it would sweep along the shore toward them. She and the others would have to act fast—and swim even faster.
Graylin shifted over to their group, trailed by his two vargr, who nervously paced at his heels. “Once we reach the lake, the ship will drop fast from the treetops. So hold tight. Once we’re skimming the water, you bail out the back.”
She looked across at Frell, who had stripped out of his alchymist’s robe and wore a borrowed set of breeches, boots, and jerkin. Kanthe had both quivers tight to his shoulders and wrapped in oilskin. Jace had his Guld’guhl ax strapped across his back.
“We won’t have time to slow,” Graylin warned, “so brace yourself to hit the water hard. Then make straight for shore.”
Nyx knew their only hope of escape was to abandon the ship unseen and pray the continuing flight of the Sparrowhawk would draw all eyes and any hunters after the swyftship. With luck, the ruse would allow their group to hide within the woodland labyrinth of Havensfayre until the fires died down and the others could return.
Still…
She turned to the grizzled knight. She read the past agony in his face and the fear shining in his eyes, but not for himself.
He gripped her shoulder. “I abandoned you and your mother long ago. Hoping to lure the king’s legions away.” His fingers squeezed harder. “I won’t fail you this time.”
She wanted to deride him, to let him know even this sacrifice would not be enough. But she could not find any words that would hurt him more than the pain already there. She read his desire to draw her into his embrace, but also his disappointment in knowing that it would not be welcome.
Instead, his fingers released her. He turned to one of the vargr. “Aamon, go with Nyx.” He pointed to her, then gripped his wrist with his other hand. “Protect her.”
The vargr’s amber eyes turned upon her. He shifted on his paws, a sharp whine flowing at her, bathing over and through her. The thread that bound her to this pair shone even brighter. Aamon padded to her side and nosed her hand up, letting her palm rest between his ears.
With his eyes on the beast, Graylin whispered so low the winds whipped his words away, but his lips could be read. “Thank you, my brother…”
Kalder took a step toward Nyx and Aamon, following those shining threads, but Graylin touched his flank. “Stay, Kalder. We still have debts that must be paid.”
As the knight stared at her, she understood part of that obligation was owed to her, but from the way he kept his hand on Kalder’s side, she suspected there was more to this cryptic statement, another unspoken tally yet to be settled.
Graylin stepped back and glanced at the others. “Keep her safe.”
Kanthe shrugged. “We got her this far, didn’t we?”
Jace grumbled, “More like she got us here.”
Frell stepped forward and gripped the knight’s forearm. “Well met, Graylin sy Moor. We will do all we can to protect Marayn’s child until you can—”
Darant’s voice bellowed from the brass tube. “We’re here! Heilsa ho!”
The ship shot out of the mists and over flat waters that reflected the bright blue sky. The sudden radiance—from the lake, from the heavens—blinded Nyx. She blinked at the glare and gasped as the ship’s nose dove toward the Heilsa’s surface. The sudden drop lifted her to her toes, nearly threw her back into the hold, but she kept her grip on the sailraft’s stanchion. Behind her, birds squawked from the hold’s hanging cages.
Closer at hand, Graylin still had hold of Frell and kept the alchymist on his feet. Kanthe did the same with Jace. Then the Sparrowhawk righted itself, sweeping into a slight turn, running along the shoreline. The keel lowered until it skimmed the lake, casting up wings of water to either side.
“Now!” Graylin yelled, and shoved Frell toward the open hatch.
Kanthe and Jace stumbled after the alchymist.
Nyx glanced one last time at the man who could be her father—then turned before fear rooted her in place. She pounded across the dropped hatch, Aamon at her side. Ahead, the three men leaped, one after the other, out the hatch and vanished into the dark blue waters.
Nyx reached the end and nearly balked—then Aamon jumped, leading the way. Drawing on his brave heart, she followed just as the Sparrowhawk ’s nose lifted again. Thrown off balance, she tumbled over the hatch’s edge, as if being dumped out the back, and crashed into the water.
The hard impact rolled her, knocked the air out of her lungs. Then the cold grabbed her, shocked her back to the surface with a thrash of limbs. She coughed her chest back open and searched around.
Aamon popped up nearby, with a shake of wet ears. He panted, his eyes glowing at her. Past his shoulders, she saw Jace and Frell paddling for the misty shoreline. Not far, Kanthe kicked in place until he spotted her. He waved an arm toward the forest and swam after the others.
She gulped and set off for shore.
Aamon paced her, smoothly parting the water, his gaze ahead, but the bell of one ear fixed toward her splashing. She remembered Graylin’s words. Protect her. Aamon clearly intended to honor that last command.
Her sodden boots finally struck sand. She swam, waded, and shoved out of the lake and up the bank. She spun around in time to see the Sparrowhawk reach the far shore and vanish into the clouds above the trees.
A low growl warned her.
Also a shout from Kanthe. “Get into the woods!”
Nyx retreated up the shoreline and into the mists. She stumbled through low branches. The others did the same—and just in time.
Far to her right, a large shadow crested high over the canopy. It stretched its darkness over the bright waters. The prow of a ship appeared out of the clouds, along with a massive balloon.
The warship…
A hand grabbed her shoulder. “Keep going,” Kanthe said. “We dare not be spotted by the ship’s farscopes if they spy along this shoreline.”
She started to turn—when distant explosions rolled out of the misty forests across the lake. Orange bursts blinked and faded, like fireflits flashing in a dark swamp.
Kanthe witnessed the same. “That bastard Haddan…”
Apparently, the prince had been right about an ambush.
Aamon growled next to her, echoing her own anger and worry.
She feared for the others, but also for her group.
She gazed at the spreading shadow over the water.
Would their ruse trick the enemy?
M IKAEN POINTED BEYOND the curve of the Tytan ’s bow windows toward the wink and flash of fiery alchymicals on the far side of the lake. His heart pounded with the excitement of the hunt. His vision was a pinpoint fixed on his target.
“Get us over there!” he shouted.
Mikaen stood within the warship’s forecastle, which swept the breadth of the bow. A curve of windows looked across the blinding glare of the lake below. Crewmembers, ten to a side, manned a slew of stations. Wheels were spun, levers yanked, and orders were shouted down the throats of bronze tubes. Two men on the port and starboard sides wielded farscopes, their faces pressed to their instruments’ eyepieces, searching the lake, sky, and forest.
Behind Mikaen, a large map had been pinned to a circular table, depicting Cloudreach and the town below in exacting detail—or as much as was known about these misty highlands. Red and blue ink crisscrossed the chart, laying out strategies and dividing a search grid.
Mikaen had no interest in such details. He shifted over to Haddan, who stood beside a pilotman at the Tytan ’s wheel. The liege general gazed out the tall windows with his hands clasped behind his back. His expression was its usual rigid stone.
Mikaen could hardly stand still. He searched the flashes of flame in the mists across the lake. He swore he could smell the burning alchymicals of that firestorm, but it was more likely just from the warship’s own flashburn forges. He heard their roaring through the hull of the Tytan. Smoke billowed into view as the warship seemed to be slowing, even swinging to the east.
“Why are we turning away?” Mikaen pointed ahead. “We should be going after them. Chasing those bastards down.”
“No,” Haddan said.
Mikaen scowled at the general. “We have them trapped. The Tytan can make short work of that swyftship.”
Haddan’s attention was not on the distant firestorm, but on the waters below. “We can’t know for sure that your brother or the others are even aboard the other craft.”
“Then why did they run when they saw us?”
Haddan shrugged. “Havensfayre is a major trading city. Not all that is traded there is lawful. The ship might have been fearful of being brought low and searched.”
“Still, is it not best to eliminate any chance of the others escaping?”
“You need not worry. My fleet of hunterskiffs will deal with whoever is aboard that other craft. But I do believe that you are right, Prince Mikaen. The enemy was aboard that swyftship.”
“Then why don’t we—”
“I said was aboard.”
Mikaen frowned.
Haddan grabbed his shoulder and forced his nose closer to the bow window’s glass. “What do you see down there?”
He shrugged in the general’s grip. “Water. Lake Heilsa.”
“If you hope to be a war king one day, you must learn to read signs, like a soother with a toss of bones.” Haddan pushed Mikaen’s nose until it was pressed against the glass. “Look at the ripples spreading across the smooth surface, parting to either side, as if a knife had been drawn across that lake.”
Mikaen understood, his eyes narrowing. “Or cut by the passing keel of a swyftship.”
“Before it raced off again,” Haddan added, letting the prince go.
“You think they dropped something—or someone—off down there.” Mikaen glared over at Haddan, but his anger was not directed at the general.
Kanthe…
Haddan sighed his agreement. “While those we hunt had been aboard that swyftship, I now believe they’re backtracking to Havensfayre.”
“What do we do?” Mikaen asked.
“We continue with the original plan. My men across the lake will bring down that swyftship and haul anyone who survives over for questioning. In the meantime, the Tytan will close the noose below. Once we reach the town’s mooring fields, we’ll offload our forces and scour Havensfayre, scorching our way from one end to the other.”
Mikaen glanced back to the marked-up map and acknowledged the wisdom of this dogged strategy. He forced his hammering heart to slow. “Plainly I still have much to learn.”
“You’re still young.” Haddan clapped him on the shoulder. “But fear not, with time I will forge you into a war king, one cunning and bold enough to challenge the gods.”
Mikaen straightened under his hand, accepting this truth—and another.
Before that happens, I must first rid the Crown of my brother, a bastard sister, and that accursed knight.
C ROUCHED OVER THE wheel of the sailraft, Graylin raced his small skiff along the shoreline of the Heilsa. He stayed hidden in the mists, keeping the bright waters glowing through the fog to his right, using it to guide him around the lake.
Earlier, he had shot out of the back of the Sparrowhawk as soon as the swyftship had entered the mists on Heilsa’s far side. Darant had turned his craft sharply to the east, allowing Graylin to jettison to the west.
Darant’s larger craft had fired its forges with bright spirals of flashburn and lured the wolves in the clouds along his blazing trail, affording Graylin the opportunity to escape unseen. Once free, he sped the skiff—specially designed by the pirate with larger flashburn tanks for attacking sailing ships—and circled around the western shore of Heilsa.
He finally reached the blasted path left behind by the warship. He turned to follow, intending to close upon the larger ship in its wake. Still, he felt like a minnowette hunting a rockshark.
As he flew, his boots worked the pedals, firing the port or starboard flashburn forges to wing his narrow craft back and forth, from cool mist to hot smoke and back again. He only fired his forges when the skiff sailed over the smoky trail left by the warship. The conflagration below helped mask his raft’s tiny flames. Each fiery burst boosted him faster, so when he reentered the foggy mists, he could go dark and sweep silently through the cloud layer.
Burst by burst, he sped after his huge target. He was a weaving arrow, relentlessly aiming for the warship. Behind him, the hold of the sailraft was lined by two rows of wooden barrels, all on their sides and lined atop a slanted, oiled rack. The slope pointed out the open stern of the skiff. The alchymical-filled casks were held in place by ropes. His knees bumped against the levers to either side that would free those ropes and send a barrage raining out the back.
But first I have to reach that sarding gasbag.
Darant had warned him of the futility of such an attack, even offering to send one of his own crew on this attempt, a brigand who he claimed would be far more skilled at such a raid.
Graylin had refused.
I must do this.
He would not sacrifice another to settle the debt he owed Marayn’s daughter. He gripped the wheel harder. He had left Kalder with the pirate, so if Graylin failed here, he would have honored his word to the man. Darant would have the vargr promised to him.
But more than anything, his words to Marayn’s daughter were etched across his mind’s eye, as fiery as the path he followed. I abandoned you and your mother long ago. Hoping to lure the king’s legions away. I won’t fail you this time.
“And I will not,” he swore aloud.
He continued east along the northern shore of Heilsa, winging from smoke to mists, keeping the glow of the open lake to his right. Finally, the fiery trail smothered out, marking where the warship had drifted out over the water.
Graylin did not slow. He raced ahead until the brightness to his right was eclipsed by a dark shadow.
The warship…
He turned toward it with a spin of his wheel. His boots hovered over the flashburn pedals, but he held off slamming them down. Not until the last moment. He could not risk exposing his presence until then.
Still, his caution was to no avail.
High and to his left, a dark shadow shredded through the clouds, spiraling the mists in its wake.
Then Graylin’s sailraft shot out of the mists and over the sunny lake. The warship towered ahead. A cannon smoked from its port flank. Others fired with spats of flames. A barrage of black iron filled the sky.
Graylin realized several details at once. He had exited the clouds too low. The sailraft had come out even with the massive ship’s keel. Still, it was his low height that spared him now. The cannonballs shot over his craft and into the forest behind him.
He slammed both pedals. Fire shot out the skiff’s stern, shooting the sailraft forward. He hauled on the wheel, driving the nose up. He was thrown against his seatback, but he kept his legs braced to the pedals, never letting up on his burn.
The raft slipped behind the first salvo of cannon fire.
Before the legion’s forces could reload and firm their aims, he blasted toward the warship. The skiff climbed the levels of the huge craft. It grew to fill the raft’s windows. He passed the long row of cannons bristling from the hull. As he cleared the height of the rails, he spotted men racing across the middeck.
Graylin leaned over his wheel, craning upward. He still had to get above the balloon, a mountainous ascent that looked impossible. He held his breath, praying for the tanks of flashburn to hold out long enough until he could summit this gasbag’s peak.
But the cannons were the least of the warship’s armament.
Fiery spears suddenly lanced through the air all around him, shot from the line of ballista that fringed the deck rails. Smoky trails barred the skies all around.
He held his breath, never slowing.
He prayed to all the gods to grant him this one bit of salvation.
He was judged not worthy.
A spear of iron, trailing a swirl of flames, shot past his window. The raft jolted violently as the balloon was struck—then a whooshing blast of fire spun the skiff through the air.
As the raft plummeted, Graylin fought the whirl by releasing one pedal and keeping the other pressed hard. Fire died on one side and blazed on the other. The dizzying view outside slowed enough for him to catch stuttering peeks of the warship’s balloon rising next to him as his skiff spiraled downward.
He ground his teeth.
Before I die, I’ll do what damage I can.
He aimed the nose of his juddering raft at the open deck as it rushed up toward him. He shoved both pedals, firing all tanks. The kick of fresh flames drove his skiff toward the middeck, dragging the shredded ruins of his balloon behind him.
He watched men dash across the deck, running to either side.
The prow of his raft shattered through the portside rail and crashed between two giant ballista. The skiff’s keel skidded across the deck, sending the craft spinning like a flat rock across still waters.
Graylin hugged the wheel to hold in place.
Then the careening sailraft struck broadside into a giant draft-iron cable on the starboard side with a resounding clang. The skiff slammed to a stop, splintering in half. The impact threw Graylin from his seat. His head cracked hard into the hull, dazzling his eyes. He tried to stand, only to fall woozily to a knee.
Beyond the open stern, a wall of men raced toward him.
He fought upward again. This time, he yanked out his sword, determined to fight to his last breath.
For Nyx…
He lifted the silvery length of Heartsthorn—only to have the world spin. His legs wove drunkenly under him. He raised his blade and swung it down. It was all he could manage in that moment. He hoped it was enough. He then crashed backward into the raft’s seat. He tried to prop himself up, but the world went dark.