Chapter 10 #3
Since Tibby hadn’t been around on the previous occasions when Syla had used her power to attack enemies, she didn’t know that Syla had learned to use her healing magic to hurt people.
Even to kill a man. That had been an assassin, and Syla had acted to defend her own life, but her action that day haunted her.
She’d never wanted the power to kill a man.
“I’ve been forced to pick up a few new ways to use my magic,” was all she said, then pointed to Tibby’s book, hoping to distract her from asking further questions on the topic. “What did you learn?”
Before Tibby could answer, Major Hixun jogged up.
“The fleet commander believes all the warships should stay together, Your Majesty. Unless you disagree? We’re worried that if we leave some of our forces here, without the protection of the weapons platform, that stormer dragons will return to sink the ships.
Even though we’d prefer to keep Harvest Island from falling again to them…
we don’t feel that we have a choice. That’s the only thing that’s been effective against their kind. ”
“I understand, and I don’t disagree.” Syla almost asked him not to tell Ravoran that they would be leaving his island defenseless, but she would feel duty-bound to report that to him herself.
Even if she dreaded it. She had to face the consequences of her choices—the anger of people hurt by them.
Her parents had never mentioned how emotionally difficult it was to lead, how much she would long for her simple life in the temple.
The major saluted her again, then jogged away.
“When did the military men start deferring to you?” Tibby asked. “And including you in the decision making?”
“I…” Syla thought of the discussion she’d had with Hixun in the infirmary. “I guess some of them liked that I stayed on deck and fought with them yesterday.”
“That was foolish. You could have been killed. I went belowdecks, like a sane woman.”
“That’s where engineers are supposed to go. But queens have different obligations. Especially a queen who is the only person who can operate an invaluable weapon.”
“You might not be for long. That’s what I wanted to talk about.”
“Oh?”
The small fleet set sail as Tibby led Syla to the weapons platform and stopped in front of the runes on the frame that Teyla had first pointed out back in the storm god’s laboratory.
“You’re able to read these, I trust,” Tibby said.
“Yes.” By now, Syla had them memorized. “One blessed by the gods and sworn to protect her people might call upon its power.”
“And this.” Tibby turned to a page she had marked with her finger.
“That’s in Kingdom Standard, not carved in ancient temple runes,” Syla said dryly.
“I trust it won’t challenge you then.”
Humoring her aunt, Syla read aloud. “‘Many artifacts created by the gods are attuned to respond to the first moon-marked descendant of the gods-chosen to wake them from dormancy, so long as the individual is worthy. Upon achieving a state of activation, control of an artifact may be passed to another who is deemed worthy through a conscious choice to establish a new link while the two potential users are themselves moon-linked.’ Oh.” Syla brightened at the first good news of the day.
“We’ve moon-linked before. If that’s all it takes, I can appoint you to use the weapons platform right now. ”
Tibby made a face. “I’m your engineer, not a warrior or protector of the people.”
“I’m not a warrior either, but it let me wield it.”
“You’re… something.”
“An enigma?”
“Special.”
“You are too, my aunt. Trust me. Anyway, you’re the only other moon-marked person onboard except our angry island lord, and I’m not trusting him with a super powerful weapon right now.
Let’s try to pass the ability to use it to you.
I know you don’t object to slaying dragons.
Just imagine they’ve ravaged a treasured magical machine that you’ve made. ”
“They have done that. Your boyfriend’s odious green dragon destroyed one of my tractors. He’s as loathsome as Fel.”
“But you give Fel a much harder time than you gave Agrevlari.” Syla didn’t point out that whatever Vorik was to her, he wasn’t her boyfriend.
“It seems unwise to insult a dragon.”
“But six-and-a-half-foot-tall bodyguards with maces are appropriate targets for teasing?”
“I think he likes abuse.”
“That must be true.” Syla spotted Fel approaching, his jaw and head freshly shaven and a clean uniform on.
She was glad he’d finally gotten some rest and lifted a hand.
If he watched over them, Syla and Tibby could try the moon-link now.
“Let’s see if this will work. If you can wield the weapons platform, I can fly into battle on Wreylith. ”
“I don’t condone that. Besides, you don’t have a weapon to wield from her back. What could you do besides risk your life? She doesn’t need you.”
“Of course she needs me. I can heal any gouges that she receives, and if I’m on her back, she can fly through an island’s shield. We may need that. All right, do you touch that post and I this one?” Since Syla didn’t know how long this would take, she didn’t want to delay further.
“We can try.” Tibby eyed the hand-shaped mark on the closest post without stepping closer. “We should have brought Teyla along. She has the heart of a warrior.”
“She tried to activate it when we first found it and had to fetch me.” Syla waved for her aunt to touch the mark, but Tibby continued to hesitate.
Because she didn’t believe herself capable?
Or because she didn’t want to step onto the platform and potentially kill people and dragons?
Syla wouldn’t blame her for that but believed her aunt—her aunt who’d recommended she poison Vorik back in her farmhouse—was more likely daunted. Or skeptical this would work.
“What is the problem?” Fel asked.
“I need you to tell Aunt Tibby that she has the capacity to be a fearsome warrior if she desires,” Syla said.
Tibby’s face twisted dubiously, and she adjusted her spectacles.
“She is a mighty scroll warrior,” Fel stated dryly.
“But she has the heart of a warrior and could fight for her people with more than scrolls if necessary,” Syla said, suspecting the weapons platform desired heart more than sword skills, which she surely did not have.
Fel eyed Tibby. “Yes. She has heart.”
Her eyebrows rose in surprise.
“When we met,” Fel said, “you were aiming a hand cannon out a loft window at us.”
“Mostly at the dragon,” Tibby said.
“With heart.”
“That is somewhat true. I had to defend the farm. And my machines.”
Syla nodded toward the mark on the post, her own hand on the adjacent one. Tibby stepped closer and lifted her fingers but continued to hesitate. Fel took her hand and pressed it against the post. She bared her teeth at him like a vexed guard dog.
“You do like abuse, don’t you, Fel?” Syla murmured.
“I, too, have the heart of a warrior.” He managed to smile slightly while glaring defiantly at Tibby and holding her hand in place.
She didn’t try to yank it back, instead sighing, then looking at Syla.
With the passage from the book in mind, Syla reached out to clasp Tibby’s free hand, then closed her eyes. The mark hummed under her hand, and she sensed the power of the platform. Also, a hint of awareness. The same awareness that had swept her mind across the sea to visit Vorik in his cave?
As Syla was debating how to convince the platform to allow Tibby to use it, she sensed something for the first time.
Almost like a vision, an image of the inside of the thick platform between the four posts came to her.
The mattress, Syla had thought of it when they’d first discovered the device and she’d likened it to a bed with a canopy.
Magical energy occupied a hollow space within the marble, as if it were a liquid in a tank.
It appeared about two-thirds of the way full.
The image lingered in Syla’s mind, as if the gods-crafted device wanted her to grasp something.
If that was a tank—or maybe a reservoir?
—could the energy be what the weapons platform drew upon to create the silver balls that it hurled?
If so, did this indicate that Syla had depleted it one-third of the way?
Would it cease working if she depleted it all the way?
She grimaced at the thought that it had only limited magic with which to drive the dragons and their riders out of the Kingdom.
“Better to know than not to know,” Syla murmured.
“Yes,” Tibby said. Was she also seeing the reservoir? “It’s possible the energy within might recharge with time, but… it’s also possible that what magic was given to it upon creation is all we have.”
“We’ll have to use it carefully.”
Syla attempted to convey understanding to the platform before directing the awareness embedded in it toward her aunt. Tibby needs to be able to use you in case I’m needed elsewhere.
A hint of acknowledgment came from the weapons platform, but then Vorik’s face floated into Syla’s mind.
It floated there and stayed there. At first, she thought the platform intended to send her to spy on him again, but, unless he was in the midst of escaping, she knew where he was.
She would happily send her mind across the sea to visit his new camp, to learn where the components were, but the device didn’t offer that, only holding Vorik’s face in her mind.
What did it want? He was a warrior, but certainly not the right kind of warrior for this.
“We’re not going to let him use the weapons platform,” Tibby said. “He’s not on our side.”
Through the moon-link, Syla sensed her aunt’s disapproval that she continued to have a relationship with Vorik and her belief that Syla hadn’t interrogated him the night before. Syla didn’t have a defense for that and pretended she hadn’t caught the thought.
“Not him,” Syla said in agreement, willing the platform to accept Tibby.
Vorik’s face lingered, as if it was still trying to convey something, but it eventually faded.
Tibby’s face replaced his in Syla’s mind.
Silver light emanated from the weapons platform, and nearby crewmen murmured and pointed.
The light flowed out of the device, and energy crackled all around Syla and Tibby.
Fel removed his hand from Tibby’s and stepped back. The silver light faded, and Syla looked at her aunt to see if she felt anything had changed.
She nodded. “I think I can use it now.”
“Do you want to test it?” Syla asked.
They were sailing past the volcano on the far end of Harvest Island, about to head across the sea toward Bogberry Island, and Syla wondered if any stormer dragons lurked among the rocks, close enough to target.
“We’d better not waste any of its reserves,” Tibby said quietly, then looked to the southwest, the direction of Bogberry Island. “We’ll get an opportunity to find out soon enough if I can operate it.”
“All right.”
A Royal Protector jogged out on deck, blood from a split lip trickling down his chin, and his eyes locked immediately on Syla. Before he spoke, she knew something was wrong, and she could guess what.
“The prisoner has escaped, Your Majesty.” He pointed at the deck. “He escaped your cabin, overpowered us, and is on the ship somewhere.”
“He didn’t go overboard?” Syla glanced toward the wheelhouse, but Wreylith hadn’t yet returned from her hunt. If Vorik wanted to swim to land where Agrevlari could pick him up, this would have been an opportunity for him to do so.
“We don’t know for sure, Your Majesty, but we think someone would have seen him swimming away.
” The man waved around to the open space and all the crewmen at work or stationed near the weapons.
There was also someone in the crow’s nest. “We’re afraid he’s sticking around to sabotage something.
” His gaze went to the weapons platform.
Syla sighed. She thought Vorik had stuck around to try to kidnap her at an inopportune time, but if his brother ordered him to destroy the weapons platform or sink the ship, Vorik would try.
“Keep a team up here to guard this.” Syla believed the weapons platform nearly indestructible, but she had seen the stormer gargoyle-bone blades damage magical and supposedly indestructible things, including the shielder on Castle Island.
“Then get every available man together, and search the ship. We’ve only got a few hours until we reach Bogberry Island, and we’d better find him before then. ”
“Not every available man.” Fel pointed at Syla. “Leave a team to guard the queen.”
“We will.” Judging by the relieved nod the man gave to Fel, he’d wanted to do exactly that.
Syla didn’t object, but she did add, “When you find Vorik, get me. I’ll deal with him.”
She didn’t know how, and expected the man to scoff, but he looked from the weapons platform to her and nodded, as if he believed she could handle a powerful dragon rider. Then he added, “It’s too bad the Candles of Serenity didn’t keep him knocked out for longer.”
Syla managed not to wince, though her cheeks did flush red at the reminder that she’d been dishonest with her people, leading them to believe she’d been questioning Vorik, not having sex with him.
“I have more of them,” she said.
If they caught Vorik again, she would use the candles and drugs this time.