Chapter 4
After dinghies carried Vorik, Syla, Fel, and Tibby to shore, Vorik tried to get the group moving quickly.
Steep, rocky slopes surrounded the cove on three sides, leaving only a small pebbly beach and a couple of trails leading to the top of a bluff.
In such a vulnerable spot, enemies could easily look down upon them.
Or shoot down upon them. Worse, twilight was creeping over the island.
That would make it easier for enemies to hide.
Vorik didn’t know the route to the town of Lyvor and the glassworks Tibby wanted to visit, so he couldn’t jog off in the lead, but he felt urgency to help Syla’s quest along as quickly as possible.
Though he and Syla had joked about the stormers sending assassins after him, Vorik wasn’t positive that it had been a joke.
After seeing Wise for a second time—had he been assigned to circle the island and search for him?
—Vorik worried that he would have to deal with his people sooner than he’d like.
Another party was heading off from the landing spot as well, so it took time for everyone to get organized.
The fleet captain who’d said she would attempt to lead the locals to believe she was Syla stood nearby, now wearing a hooded cloak.
Further, the major had come ashore and drawn Syla aside, pointing at Vorik and whispering.
Understandably, the man didn’t trust Vorik, but Vorik chafed at the delay.
The open beach left him feeling uneasy, and he kept glancing toward the sky—a habitual stormer tendency—only to remind himself that, aside from Wreylith, he wouldn’t spot any dragons or wyverns here.
Unlike on Harvest Island, where more was apparently going on than he’d believed. The dragons convening in a cave had to be plotting something.
Agrevlari, are you in the area? Vorik asked.
Yes, pining with loneliness because I can’t follow you onto the island.
Because you can’t follow me or because you can’t follow Wreylith?
She flirted with me earlier. Did you see?
Was that when she roared and showed her fangs?
Indeed.
Are you sure that was flirting?
Undeniably. I have not yet asked her if your hypothesis is correct.
That she’s with eggs?
Yes. I am, however, thinking much upon it. If it is true, it is possible that I am the sire. Do you believe she would wish the assistance of a male in raising her young?
I don’t know, Agrevlari. Have you spoken with Tonasketal? Vorik was more concerned about what the stormer-allied dragons were doing than Wreylith’s egg-laying proclivities. I saw him flying off the coast with Lieutenant Wise again.
None of our ally dragons have spoken to me, despite my clear presence in the area.
Have you tried to speak to them? Vorik wondered if Agrevlari felt the same dread at explaining their disobedience. No, it had been more than that. The memory of Vorik’s battle with his brother filled his mind often.
But Vorik had been behind all that. His dragon ally shouldn’t feel that he’d done anything wrong. From what Vorik had observed over the years, dragons rarely felt in the wrong even when they arguably were.
I have not, Agrevlari said, but— Ah.
What is it?
Wingleader Saleetha is flying around the Island of Bogs. I can sense her powerful presence, and I believe… Yes, she is with Chieftess Shi’s bonded dragon Uxtar. I wonder if Ozlemar is there also. I do not sense him.
Vorik grimaced. His brother’s dragon probably knew exactly what had happened in the mine. After Jhiton’s death, he might have gone off to grieve, inasmuch as dragons did for humans, but he would inevitably share news of Vorik’s betrayal. And Vorik couldn’t pretend it had been anything but that.
Movement atop one of the bluffs surrounding the beach drew his eye. A cloaked man with a bow crouched up there. And another, ten feet away, also leaned out over the cliff. That man raised a crossbow.
“Fel,” Vorik barked, running toward the cliff, and added, “Down, Syla!” as he started to climb.
With instincts and power that had grown more keen since her bonding, Syla dove behind one of the beached dinghies. Fel ran to protect her as the first arrow landed, clinking into the pebbles in the spot where she’d been standing.
Anger surged through Vorik, propelling him up the cliff. These people dared shoot at their queen when they should have been sworn to protect her, when she’d given everything to protect them. The ungrateful bastards.
In seconds, Vorik climbed forty feet, finding foot and handholds that barely existed.
The crossbowman fired at him, but Vorik moved so quickly that the quarrel clipped off a rock instead of striking him.
Before the sniper could reload, Vorik sprang over the edge and grabbed him, spinning the man and hurling him toward the drop.
He screamed, losing his weapon as he pitched over the edge, but the second sniper had nocked another arrow and was aiming toward the beach again.
Vorik sprinted toward him, drawing his sword. The archer got off his shot but was rushed, glancing in fear at Vorik’s rapid approach. Even without seeing the beach, Vorik knew the arrow had flown off-target.
The archer jumped back from the edge and swung his bow like a staff, trying to crack Vorik in the head.
The cumbersome attack didn’t come close to hitting him.
After ducking it, Vorik bowled into the man, driving him to the ground.
Still angry, he almost beheaded the would-be assassin but decided Syla might want to question him.
Rocks clattered behind Vorik. He grabbed the archer, pulled him to his feet, and whirled, intending to use him as a shield if another attacker had crept out on the windswept bluff.
The female captain—Vonla—was crawling over the edge with a sword in hand. One of the Royal Protectors pulled himself over after her. A moment later, two fleet soldiers from the ship appeared—they’d used the trail to come around the long way.
“Walk,” Vorik told his prisoner, standing behind the man and forcing him toward the troops. “And thank whichever god you pray to that I didn’t break your neck.”
“You’re a stormer,” the man blurted, glancing down at the beach as their route took them along the edge of the bluff.
“Yes, I am.”
The other sniper had bounced down the rock face to the beach and wasn’t moving. Fortunately, Syla appeared uninjured. She’d stayed behind the dinghy, with Fel standing protectively over her with his mace, though her fingers twitched as she looked toward the unmoving sniper.
Vorik wouldn’t be surprised if she wanted to see if the man had lived and, if so, heal him, but shouldn’t those who tried to assassinate their monarch be executed?
What was wrong with these soldiers that they so easily gave their loyalty to a usurper?
Didn’t they know that Syla had been away fighting for their people these past weeks? They should all believe her a hero.
“Thank you, uhm, Captain, isn’t it?” Vonla met Vorik’s eyes as she waved for the Royal Protector to search the prisoner and take him down the trail.
Hopefully, he could be questioned and Syla’s people could learn something helpful.
“Just Vorik now,” he said, letting them take the man. “I’m… Well, I suppose my demotion—if not exile—isn’t official yet, but only because I haven’t been home.” He smiled though there was no humor in the gesture.
“I see.”
Vorik found a faster if much steeper route down the cliff than the trail and half-hopped and half-climbed back to the beach.
Even though Syla was all right, and her aunt had also effectively taken cover, he wanted to return to her side right away.
He didn’t feel he could trust her soldiers to protect her. She needed him.
“I’ve seen mountain goats that would have hesitated to scramble down that slope,” Syla said when Vorik joined them.
“Kingdom mountain goats must be soft,” Vorik said. “Understandable, I suppose, since you don’t have any real mountains on these islands.”
“Harvest has the volcano.” Maybe thinking of the dragons she’d asked about, Syla looked off in that direction, though they couldn’t see the island from their location.
“Does it also have volcano goats?” Vorik asked.
“I believe there are some, yes. But not as spry as you.”
Fel groaned.
“Were you injured, Sergeant?” Syla touched his arm.
“I’m pained by listening to you fawn over your prisoner.” Fel curled a lip at Vorik.
“He did save my life. Again. And you know he’s not my prisoner.”
“I suspect your sergeant is upset because he is no longer spry,” Vorik whispered to her.
“He doesn’t do badly for someone who was supposed to retire last month.” Syla patted Fel on the shoulder, then gripped Vorik’s hand. “Thank you for your help.”
She frowned past his shoulder. Captain Vonla and the other troops had arrived with the archer.
“I don’t recognize him,” Syla said, “but he’s wearing a Kingdom enforcer uniform under his cloak.”
“We’ll find out what his orders were, Your Majesty,” the major said firmly.
“I don’t think they were a mystery,” Vorik said.
“We’ll find out who gave them.” The major joined the captain, and they drew the archer aside.
“I may have been naive to believe I could make it ashore without being spotted,” Syla said, “and accomplish anything stealthily.”
“I don’t think you have a choice.” Tibby eyed the tops of the bluffs as she joined them. “You can’t retake the throne from another island.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have sent Wreylith to fly about as a distraction. If people are going to find me anyway, I might as well ride around the island on her back.”
“I think you should,” Vorik said. “Nobody will fire arrows at her.”
“The crew of the ships we encountered fired arrows—and cannons—at her two hours ago,” Syla pointed out.
“Nobody who wants to live will fire arrows at her.”
Syla snorted.