Chapter 6 #2
As she wiped sweat from her damp palms, she looked through the posts toward the wheelhouse but also tried to be aware of the men on the deck to either side of her.
The sea was visible at the edges of her vision, the cloudy sky slanting rain at dragons as they wheeled and dodged cannonballs.
Those dragons were not calming to look at.
Instead, she kept her peripheral vision on the men, the men reloading cannons and archers firing at enemies flying close.
They were all blurry when she wasn’t peering at them through her lenses, but maybe her heartbeat slowed a touch?
With her central vision unfocused and her awareness to the sides, she groped for and found the posts, her palms sliding onto the hand-shaped marks.
To one side, the dragon that had lit the neighboring ship on fire arrowed toward the Stormslicer, a blue blur descending rapidly.
Without looking directly at the creature, Syla willed the weapons platform to launch a projectile at it.
She imagined Vorik giving her an encouraging nod, even though he wouldn’t have if he’d been there. Her enemies were his people.
“Ever a problem,” she whispered.
A soft thwump came from above. A moonlight-silver ball of energy launched from one of the posts and sped toward the blue dragon and its rider.
Faster and brighter than the cannonballs, it blazed through the dark sky.
The dragon saw it coming and tried to dodge, but the projectile altered course and slammed into the creature’s side.
The rider flew off its back as his mount screeched and wobbled.
Two more projectiles streaked out, one coming under the dragon and striking it in the belly. The other hit it squarely in the head, its horns briefly glowing silver, as if they were conducting the energy, the power. The dragon’s wingbeats halted, and it plummeted into the choppy waves below.
Dead? Syla couldn’t spend the time to check, but it crossed her mind that Vorik would be disappointed that she was using his advice against his people. It couldn’t be helped. They were attacking her people.
Determined, Syla found another target. An orange dragon. It wasn’t Igliana. This was a big female that screeched as she descended, dodging cannon fire to stretch her talons toward the weapons platform.
Continuing to be aware of the world visible in her periphery, and willing herself to remain calm, Syla launched projectiles at the dragon.
The weapons platform drew upon her energy to aid it, its tremendous magic coming at a cost, but there were more than a dozen dragons in the air now.
She would have to continue to fight, to lend it her power, for much longer. If she didn’t…
“I will,” she vowed.
As it fired again, four more dragons flew toward the ship, two from each side.
The orange was fast and dipped, only clipped by the projectile.
It veered left, then down, then up, zigzagging about as it continued downward.
It was buying time, Syla realized, drawing her attention and willing to sacrifice itself so that the others could attack her.
Fel and the Royal Protectors stood their ground, weapons raised to keep the dragons from reaching Syla, but all it would take was one well-aimed gout of fire to incinerate them all.
Since the weapons platform had multiple posts, Syla willed it to send out more than a single ball of energy at once.
Two launched, with a third and fourth following in rapid succession, but the rush to fire made her aim imprecise.
Only one projectile reached its target, blasting into the flank of a green dragon.
The projectile knocked it from its course, and the dragon screeched in pain as its wings beat erratically.
Its rider had a bow and, though he was being jerked about as he tried to stay on the dragon’s back, he managed to loose an arrow at Syla.
She ducked as Fel leaped up, trying to time his swing to deflect the attack. He clipped the arrow, and it ricocheted off one of the marble posts.
Syla had lost her grip on the others and rose to place her hands on the marks again.
“Look out!” Fel barked, pointing toward the opposite side of the ship.
Two blue dragons angled toward them, dodging cannonballs as they flew close enough to attack with fire. Thunder rumbled from the clouds, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the roars of the Kingdom’s enemies.
One of the blue dragons opened its maw, flames roiling in its throat. Syla had seen that dragon before—and its silver-haired rider. Captain Lesva.
“More dragons are coming in from the back half of the island!” someone yelled.
As her mount flew closer, Lesva aimed a bow at Syla.
Syla launched a projectile, tempted to aim at the rider instead of the dragon, but fire spewed from the blue’s throat, close enough to engulf the side of the Stormslicer.
Even as Lesva loosed her arrow, balls of energy streaked straight at her mount.
Syla ducked behind one of the posts as her projectiles landed, one taking the blue dragon in the shoulder and the other in its chest.
A gargoyle-bone arrow streaked between the posts, grazing Syla’s shoulder and raising fiery pain, but she kept from crying out.
The blue dragon’s wings had stopped beating, and it plummeted toward the sea.
Unlike the other rider, Lesva remained on her mount, even twisting to shoot two more arrows as it fell.
Shoulder burning, Syla ducked lower, but lightning flashed in the dark sky, and she glimpsed more dragons coming from the other side of the ship. Arms stretched up, hands on the marks, Syla willed two more projectiles to race toward their enemies and protect the Stormslicer.
Lesva’s last arrow sped toward her head, and, with weariness sapping her energy, Syla couldn’t dive away. The projectiles shot out of the weapons platform, deterring the dragons, but the arrow—
One of the Royal Protectors leaped in front of Syla. The arrow pierced his chest and he cried out, tumbling below the edge of the weapons platform. He landed on his back within her view, face twisted in pain, but he met her eyes.
“Defend us, my queen,” he whispered.
“I will,” she managed, though she was stunned that he’d sacrificed himself for her.
Determined not to waste his life, she rose up again and summoned more of her flagging energy to fire further projectiles.
Lesva’s blue dragon floated in the waves, not moving.
Syla didn’t see Lesva and hoped she’d landed under the dragon and was dead too, but she doubted it.
That woman had fallen off a cliff and survived.
We are coming, Wreylith spoke into Syla’s mind. With allies.
Thank you! Syla replied, relieved.
With dragons everywhere now, she felt overwhelmed, but she kept firing, keeping them away from her ship and the fleet the best that she could. In the distance, more dragons appeared, flying from the east, the mainland. Since Wreylith had gone in the opposite direction, those wouldn’t be her allies.
She spotted a green dragon at the lead. Was that Agrevlari? And Vorik?
Before she could feel any relief at seeing him, she realized a black dragon flew at his side.
The general’s big beast. With his brother watching, Vorik wouldn’t be able to help her.
And all those dragons and riders flying behind Vorik?
They had to be his allies, his fellow stormers.
They must have heard that Harvest Island was under attack and had come to help.
Fel saw them too and swore vehemently. He wasn’t the only one. As the crewmen fired cannons and tried to put out flames, they groaned and cursed.
“Sail toward the harbor!” the fleet commander called.
Thunder crashed overhead. Lightning flashed, but no branches arched down to strike the riders. The gods, it seemed, would only help so much.
With exhaustion making her legs leaden, Syla struggled to remain upright and launching projectiles. Each burst streaked inevitably toward an enemy, but each also sapped more of her strength.
“More dragons?” someone demanded, pointing toward the southwest.
“The red one is at the lead!” another man cried. “Is that the queen’s dragon?”
Syla peered in that direction, struggling to see detail through her spectacles, the lenses dotted with water, rain spattering the side of her face with each gust of wind.
A red dragon was leading several others and coming from the direction of the rest of the island chain, and a small orange dragon flew at her side.
Wreylith, Syla said with certainty.
You have made a mess in my absence.
The mess came to me.
Keep blasting that contraption at them. I’ve found dragons to assist us but not nearly as many as you’ve found.
We should have spied more thoroughly last night.
Clearly.
Six dragons trailed behind Wreylith and Igliana, but Syla feared they wouldn’t be enough to combat General Jhiton’s forces, especially with her energy flagging.
Still, as she willed more of her waning power into the weapons platform, she realized there were only a few dragons flying in the air above the fleet.
With the help of the gods’ device, she’d brought down many of their attackers.
A half-dozen dragons floated in the waves, and had more disappeared beneath them? Sinking dead below the choppy surface?
If Jhiton hadn’t been coming, the battle might have been theirs. Storm-cursed luck. She hated that man.
Her hatred renewed her strength, and she willed all four posts to send out projectiles. If she could finish off the dragons around the fleet, maybe her people could regroup in time to meet the new threat.