Chapter 13
At least one archer took note of Syla swimming through the waves toward the Stormslicer. Through the water droplets clinging to her spectacles, she could make out the big black dragon, Ozlemar, circling near the barrier and General Jhiton, his bow across his lap, gazing down at her.
Wreylith remained close and roared at them.
Jhiton looked blandly at her, not appearing concerned, probably because a half dozen stormer dragons remained in the area.
Syla wished her aunt had been firing the weapons platform at them instead of Vorik.
Since Wreylith was stuck out there by herself, the stormer-allied dragons might go after her.
Though Ozlemar might have been close enough for his rider to loose an arrow, Jhiton surprised Syla by not doing so. Nor did he order his dragons to attack Wreylith. His gaze shifted to the water between the Kingdom ships and the mouth of the river. Was he, also, looking for Vorik to come up?
Whatever his reason for not firing at her, Syla took advantage of it. Fighting the waves, she kept swimming toward her ship.
Bogberry Island didn’t have a protected harbor created by natural terrain, only a couple of rock jetties that extended outward near the mouth of the river, and swimming wasn’t easy.
Fortunately, when Major Hixun spotted Syla fighting the currents, water splashing her face and threatening to rip her spectacles free, he sent a dinghy toward her.
Every time a wave lifted her high enough to see to shore and all around, Syla looked for Vorik, refusing to believe that he’d died.
He was so strong and resilient that he could have survived even a death launcher crafted by the gods. She was sure of it.
Besides, with water clinging to her lenses, it wasn’t as if she could see well. He might have been swimming along twenty yards to her right, and she wouldn’t have known him from a dolphin.
I am being threatened by these domesticated dragons who are made brave by their numbers, Wreylith said. I will go perch on the Island of Eliok and contemplate my memories. I am certain that our bond should allow me access to the protected islands as long as you are on my back.
Or dangling from your talons?
That should suffice.
I hope you can remember. I would appreciate having you here with me.
Naturally. A dragon is a powerful ally.
Undoubtedly. Thank you for plucking me up before Jhiton got me.
I will expect horn hogs and other delicacies in exchange for my assistance this morning.
As soon as I get back to Castle Island, I’ll arrange it.
I am also interested in acquiring the rights to create a suitable cave.
A cave? On Castle Island?
Yes. It is not comfortable to perch for long periods of time on the roof of a castle, and it rains frequently on your island.
It’s good for the crops.
My scales are moldering.
That’s dreadful. When we get back, I’ll get out a map and figure out what land that belongs to the royal family has caves.
My cave should have a view of the sea but be protected from the elements.
North-facing isn’t ideal. Too many storms roll in from that direction.
I do enjoy an east-facing cave so that I might bask in the early-morning sunlight when it’s not hidden behind the clouds.
As I grow older, I find a sunbeam quite delicious when it seeps through my scales to warm my bones.
A wave splashed Syla in the face, and she tried to swipe water out of her eyes without knocking off her spectacles. You’ve been contemplating this a while.
It’s important to look toward one’s future.
Of course. I’ll help you find a good home.
Syla owed Wreylith whatever she wished. The dragon may have saved her life.
Vorik might want to kidnap Syla, but his brother clearly wanted her dead.
Had Jhiton been angling for that all along?
Merely humoring Vorik by suggesting a kidnapping would be acceptable?
Or had something changed recently? Maybe Captain Lesva had been whining to Jhiton about how odious Syla was.
She had no idea if they had any kind of relationship beyond junior officer to superior officer, and she didn’t care.
She hoped she never came face to face with either of them again.
“Wishful thinking,” she muttered as the dinghy reached her.
Two pairs of strong arms reached down, lifting her out of the water and onto a wooden bench.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Your Majesty,” both soldiers said.
A young one added, “We won the battle. Did you see? That was brilliant. I love that weapons platform.”
“I’ve grown quite fond of it too.” Syla slumped down on a wooden bench.
As the dinghy approached the Stormslicer, Aunt Tibby and Fel watched from the railing.
Fel held a torn piece of cloth to his head and needed a healer’s attention.
Tibby was watching Syla warily. Because she had fired the round that might have killed— that had gone after Vorik?
Syla wouldn’t believe him dead until she saw a body.
She stirred at the realization that, yes, she should have seen his body if he’d been struck.
He wouldn’t have sunk, right? He was lean and muscular so probably didn’t float easily, but salt water was so buoyant.
She’d seen other bodies, after all, including those of dragons.
Albeit, dragons, she was fairly certain, had some attributes of birds, such as hollow bones to make them lighter for flying. They might naturally float.
“I’m sorry, Syla.” Tibby greeted her at the railing as soon as she climbed aboard. “But I had to do it. He’s not… I know you like him, but he’s an enemy. They all are. You have to know that.”
Fel nodded firmly. “He tried to destroy the weapons platform.”
“I know.” Syla couldn’t bring herself to say it was all right. It wasn’t. Nor did she say that she more than liked Vorik. She hadn’t admitted that to anyone, not even him. Not even herself.
A soldier came up with two coarse gray towels and offered them to her.
“Thank you.” Syla bundled herself in one and draped the other over her shoulder.
“I only got a kerchief,” Tibby said.
“You didn’t douse yourself in the sea,” Fel told her.
“It feels like I did.” Tibby wiped her face and the back of her neck. “Engineers aren’t meant to go into battle.”
“You did well, Aunt Tibby.”
Except for that last shot…
Syla didn’t speak the thought aloud. Major Hixun was walking up.
“I wasn’t plucked up by a dragon at least.” Tibby shuddered. “I swear, if not for the scales of your red one, I wouldn’t be able to tell it from the others. That wasn’t the first time it plucked you up by its talons.”
“She. Wreylith is a she. And she saved me from enemy archers.”
“She then flung you into the ocean.” Tibby clapped her hands together in a splat motion. “Your allies treat you similarly to your enemies.”
“Wreylith can’t fly through the barrier right now, so there wasn’t much else she could have done.”
“Flying down and placing you gently in the waves, or even on a floating bed of kelp, would have been more acceptable.”
Syla didn’t respond, envisioning herself hopelessly mired in kelp and drowning. Instead, she nodded to Hixun, who looked like he wanted to report.
Fel and Tibby moved away, talking about the dubious merits of dragon allies.
“Your Majesty,” Hixun said. “The fleet commander wants our ship to dock and find out if the island lord and his family are safe.”
“Yes. I want to know that too. And… I should speak with him.” After her meeting with Lord Ravoran, Syla didn’t want to speak with Lord Oyenar, but he shouldn’t loathe her as much.
She hadn’t, after all, taken his island’s shielder.
Still, he might blame her for the attack on his city and his smoldering palace. She grimaced.
“After we ensure the area is secure, Your Majesty.” Hixun looked toward the stormer ships. There was little sign of the crews. “There were men and women aboard those ships. We’ve seen some swimming to shore instead of out to be picked up by their dragon-rider allies.” He scowled in disapproval.
“I’ve been told in the past that dragons can only carry two humans,” Syla said, “at least for an extended distance. There were a lot more crewmen than seats available on those dragons. And…”
“They might not yet be done attacking Bogberry Island.”
Syla had been thinking the same and nodded. “Especially since they haven’t achieved their goal.”
“Do you know their goal? I haven’t had an opportunity to ask what you learned from questioning Captain Vorik.”
Er, what had she learned? That tentacles rhymed with spectacles? She could have figured that out on her own, if she’d been inclined to contemplate it.
“They want the shielder here down,” Syla said, as if Hixun couldn’t have guessed that already. “They must have believed Lord Oyenar or maybe his wife, Abrya, know the location and could get them in. She’s a moon-marked relative of mine.”
“Do they? Can they? Do you know where it is?”
“I do, yes, and I think Abrya does. Her husband may or may not. Yes, send your men in to secure the area, please.” Syla wished she could go with the troops right away, not wait.
Given time, the stormers would regroup and might attack again.
For all she knew, they might already have Oyenar and Abrya.
Syla needed to find out. But it wasn’t as if she could grab a sword or bow and be of assistance.
“Please prioritize finding Lord Oyenar and Lady Abrya.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
Igliana reports that the Freeborn Faction dragons are being forced to leave the Island of Eliok, Wreylith said, her telepathic voice distant.
She had probably already reached its shores.
While those stormer dragons battled your fleet, others were here lurking, waiting to attack as soon as that weapon was no longer close enough to protect the harbor.
Syla slumped, feeling overwhelmed. She’d been afraid of that. Even with the weapons platform, she feared she and her people were in water far, far too deep.