Chapter 13 #3
Syla slid off Wreylith’s back and hopped down from the wheelhouse.
Tibby and Teyla, looking harried, with their hair falling out of their buns, waited for her.
The Royal Protectors, their blue uniforms rumpled, also looked frazzled.
Surprisingly, Celena had also come along, and she peered around the ship with wide eyes.
Maybe it made sense that she hadn’t wanted to stick around in Lyvor when the fleet had been invading the town.
Syla hoped Tabuvar wouldn’t get in trouble for helping them.
“Do you know how much magical energy remains in the weapons platform?” Tibby asked quietly.
“No.” They’d been linked together when Syla had first received an image from the gods-crafted device that suggested it had a reservoir of the energy it used to fire its projectiles and that it was being further depleted with each battle.
Syla hoped the weapons platform had a way to recharge itself when it wasn’t used for a while, but that was possibly wishful thinking.
“We can try to check on the way to Harvest Island.”
“Better to know than not to know,” Tibby said. “And to not use more than is required.”
“I agree.” Nobly, Syla refrained from pointing out that Tibby needn’t have fired at Vorik back at Bogberry Island, but he’d survived that attack, so she didn’t mention it.
She hoped he would be as lucky in surviving the next attack that came his way and couldn’t help but look off to the west, in the direction of Froha and the stormer camp. Had he arrived yet? Was he dealing with his people even as she dealt with hers?
A cannonball slammed into the hull of the ship next to theirs, and Syla yanked her thoughts back to her own predicament.
“I don’t suppose the shielder could be activated to protect our little fleet?” she asked Tibby.
“I thought of that, but I had to embed the dimensions of Harvest Island into the sentience of the artifact while I was crafting it. Per the instructions in the scrolls we recovered. Nothing suggested the dimensions could be easily changed, and since the shielder creates such a large barrier, it would include our enemies as well as our fleet if we activated it here. I’m also not sure what would happen if you created a barrier within a barrier.
” Tibby waved upward to indicate the shield around Castle Island.
“It could result in a minor bumping of magical energies. It could result in something catastrophic.”
“Ah. We’ll do without then.”
Wreylith sprang off the wheelhouse and headed again toward the warship firing upon them. More tried-and-true methods are sometimes called for.
Feeling compelled to keep the dragon from utterly destroying the vessel, Syla jogged to the railing to call through the megaphone again. “Stand down, or you will not survive your next encounter with my dragon ally!”
Fel came to her side and glowered at her. “Can you not stand behind cover when you yell at armed enemies?”
“I suppose if you want to move in front of me, I could.”
“A veteran bodyguard who wants to continue living pulls his charge behind a stout object rather than being a stout object.”
“That must be how you’ve survived so many years.”
“Yes.”
“We’re heading out, Your Majesty,” Hixun called.
Syla lifted a hand in acknowledgment, but her gaze was locked onto Wreylith.
As cannons fired at her—why couldn’t the officers in that ship learn from the poor choice their superior had made?
—she again zigzagged, managing to get close without being hurt.
This time, her ire stoked by the last encounter, she blasted fire onto the ship instead of bothering with plucking up crewmen.
On the first pass, she scorched the masts and sails.
On the second, she poured flames onto the deck and hull.
Syla closed her eyes, her stomach turning at the screams of men. Would she have to employ Wreylith to destroy all of the warships in order to escape?
The cannon fire halted. Wreylith, her task finished, flew higher in the air and circled around the fleet. In the stillness that came over the cove, Syla could hear the waves lapping at the hull of their ship.
As the Fanged Whale and accompanying vessels sailed toward the sea, and Wreylith flew menacingly above, three of the warships participating in the barricade broke ranks.
They sailed away from the cove and in the direction of Lyvor.
The burning ship was too damaged to sail anywhere.
Four others shifted away from the Fanged Whale but didn’t leave the area.
When their ship drew even with them, Syla held her breath and watched the crews. Some men glanced warily at Wreylith, having pointedly stepped back from the cannons. Others looked across the waves at Syla. Several nodded toward her. A few saluted. Two officers on one ship even dropped to one knee.
“Does that mean they’re joining us?” Syla murmured. “Or simply acknowledging that they won’t impede us?”
“We’ll see,” Fel said as the Fanged Whale sailed out of the cove.
The crews on the remaining ships jogged about, lifting their anchors and adjusting their sails.
As they worked, more than one man looked over at the burning vessel, a few crewmen remaining on its scorched deck.
Nobody else touched a cannon. In the end, four of the original eight warships sailed after Syla’s fleet.
“They’re following us,” Hixun said a few minutes later, wonder in his tone as he and Captain Vonla joined Syla and Fel.
“You had doubts?” Syla smiled, though she’d been full of doubt herself.
“About their wisdom and common sense, many. Not about you, Your Majesty.” Hixun bowed to her. “You proved yourself when you first battled the dragons and their riders with us.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m afraid we’ll all have to prove ourselves again though.”
“We’ll do so.” Syla nodded firmly. “We finally have the means to fully secure the Kingdom again.” She waved toward the shielder and glanced up at Wreylith as she alighted on the wheelhouse and lifted one of her legs to examine her talons. “We just have to scare away a few dragons first.”
“Always a delightful task,” Fel muttered.
“Will you feel better about it if I promise to stand behind a stout object?” Syla asked.
He looked sourly at her. “You’re going to stand out in the open. On that thing.” He pointed at the weapons platform.
“Yes, but the posts are stout.”
“But not wide enough. General Jhiton almost perforated you with arrows the last time you stood on it.”
“Yes, but he’s…” Syla almost said dead before remembering that Vorik didn’t believe that he was. “He won’t be there,” she said, reasonably certain that was true.
“We’ll see,” Fel said grimly.
Syla saw Lord Ravoran, still glowering, going back belowdecks on his ship. Hopefully, he would stay there, but something told her he might be a problem later on.