Chapter 16
Vorik, with almost two dozen trained warriors crouched around him, stood in the shadows of a house upriver from the docks and most of the city.
In addition to the Stormslicer and a few other Kingdom ships tied up along the dock, four were anchored out at sea near the remains of the stormer vessels.
His people’s already-destroyed ships looked like they’d received a few more cannonballs to the hulls since Vorik had seen them last, and he doubted anyone remained aboard.
The men and women with him would have to figure out another way home, but if Jhiton was successful and lowered the shield and claimed the island, it would be easy for dragons to pick up people—or assist them in gathering more winter provisions from the bogs and fields.
“What’s the plan, sir?” Yevlor crouched beside him, a makeshift bandage around his shoulder and the crossbow quarrel removed.
Another man pointed at a corner of the weapons platform visible from their vantage point.
Vorik nodded. “We’re going to sink that ship and that thing with it.”
“Isn’t there a way to destroy it?”
“I dropped an explosive on it earlier, and it didn’t even nick it, but if it’s on the bottom of the river, the Kingdom won’t be able to use it.”
Probably. Vorik envisioned the determined Syla swimming down to plant her hands on the posts and fire at enemies while holding her breath. He probably shouldn’t have smiled at the notion.
“What a weapon,” Yevlor said. “Too bad we don’t have one.”
“We have dragons,” Vorik said.
“Not in here.” Yevlor waved toward the sky above, though they couldn’t see the translucent barrier.
“We’ll get them here eventually.” Vorik eyed a couple of kayaks on a gravel beach in front of the house.
He’d chosen to reconnoiter from the spot because there’d been no sign of anyone home, but now he wondered if he might borrow one of those craft.
“In the meantime, I want that ship sunk. In fact, let’s attack all the ships docked there.
Take brands and set them aflame. I want there to be a lot of smoke. ”
Yevlor looked curiously at him.
Vorik didn’t explain that he hoped Syla would see the smoke from the palace and hurry back so he could kidnap her. Besides, Vorik hadn’t yet figured out how he would slip away with her while Wreylith was flying around the area. Bloody daggers, Syla might even return on the dragon’s back.
Since none of that was what the men cared about, Vorik said, “To draw the attention of their troops and split their forces. Lesva and I may be… at odds—” what an understatement, “—but we have the same ultimate goal. If we can make things easier on her team in the palace by diverting some of the defenders, all the better.”
His men nodded, satisfied with the answer.
“Lots of smoke,” Vorik urged them. “That’ll help me too. I’m going to swim downriver and sabotage the hull of that ship to make sure it sinks. If I can figure out a way to untether it from the dock, I might do that too. Better for the weapons platform to disappear in deeper water.”
“Oh, yes, sir.” Yevlor’s eyes gleamed with approval.
Everyone’s eyes did. They’d all lost friends to that thing.
“You’re in charge, Lieutenant Doxinlur.” Vorik nodded to the senior man, then headed to the beach for a kayak.
He didn’t leave right away, figuring he would be less likely to be sighted coming downriver if the crew was engaged in defending their ship. If he hadn’t been worried about Lesva reaching Syla at any moment, he would have waited until the middle of the night for this attack.
Are you in the area, Agrevlari? Vorik asked as he took the kayak to the water.
I am on the Island of Eliok.
Will you head this way? If my plan works and I’m able to capture Syla, I’ll need you to pick me up once I get beyond the barrier.
You will swim out with your queen in tow?
I thought I’d paddle out. I have a kayak.
Will she not have Wreylith?
Are you suggesting the red dragon is a more useful tool than a kayak?
Undoubtedly. You are at a great disadvantage.
I’m going to make it work anyway. Once in the kayak, Vorik pushed off from the beach. A few ducks floating near clumps of grass quacked at him. If I don’t get Syla away from this island, I’m afraid Lesva will ensure she never leaves.
That would be unfortunate. I have not minded her company. And Wreylith likes her, so she must be a worthy soul.
I like her. Isn’t that enough of an endorsement?
It is not. You are overly distracted by her sex orifices.
It’s more her curves than her orifices, and I like her character too. Vorik paddled the kayak near the grasses along the bank, so he wouldn’t be easily spotted, but kept his pace slow to give his men time to reach the docks. Her determination and fortitude too.
Because of your adoration, you are naturally trying to kidnap her.
To save her life.
Human relationships are strange.
Didn’t you bite Wreylith the last time you saw her?
I did. That is not that strange, though I admit it is not ideal that she has declared herself an enemy. I still covet her.
Of course you do.
The river curved slightly, giving Vorik a full view of Syla’s ship. It wasn’t on fire yet, but the clangs of weapons rang out on the docks. He couldn’t see his men but trusted they were the cause.
Are you heading in this direction? Vorik asked Agrevlari.
With great eagerness to assist in your mission.
You’re either being sarcastic or hope that, despite your earlier clash, Wreylith will speak with you.
I long for her to do more than speak with me.
Like growling and hissing?
And roaring as she envisions us putting aside our differences to come together for a joining. Did I tell you how magnificent she was in the desert?
More times than I’d like to remember.
Such athleticism! Such stamina!
Not wanting to encourage further details—details which he’d already received—Vorik didn’t reply. All he needed to know was that Agrevlari would be there when he kayaked or swam through the barrier.
Vorik eyed the crew visible on the deck of Syla’s ship and decided they weren’t yet distracted enough to miss a stormer in a kayak floating toward them. He gripped a half-submerged log sticking out from the bank to stop his progress.
More clangs rang out on the dock, and someone had reached the deck of the ship. The crewmen who’d been in view near the railing ran toward the sounds of fighting.
To be careful, Vorik decided to slither over the edge of the kayak and into the cold river water.
The current tugged at his clothes and sheathed weapons, but he’d swum in far more difficult conditions.
He pushed the kayak away from the log and, using it for cover, hung on to the back while keeping most of his body submerged.
It floated down the river with him kicking behind it. Distant booms reached his ears. They didn’t come from the docks but farther inland. Was Lesva attacking the palace? Cursed storms, where had his people come across so many explosives? They must have raided an armory here in the city.
Vorik kicked harder, willing his men to set the ships afire, whatever it took to draw Syla back in this direction before it was too late.
If anyone had spotted the empty kayak, they didn’t shout out about it. In the chaos, maybe they wouldn’t think anything of such a craft slipping free and floating down the river. That was his hope.
When Vorik neared the ship, he pushed the kayak so that it would float under the dock, hoping it would be caught in the pilings or the brush and that he could reclaim it after his sabotage. After he had Syla.
As the shouts and clangs of battle came from the docks and the deck of the ship, Vorik swam underwater until he reached the hull.
He hugged it, hoping its curve would keep him out of view from the crew above, then maneuvered around it until he neared the weapons platform.
Hoping its great weight would make the ship easier to sink, he started his sabotage.
“My apologies for trying to destroy your vessel, Syla,” Vorik murmured, thinking of the lovely night they’d spent in her cabin.
He applied his gargoyle-bone dagger and sword to the hull, regardless. Soon, the ship—and the weapons platform—would be on the bottom of the river.
The smell of smoke reached Syla’s nose as more booms thundered from the courtyard. Shouts, clanks, and thuds from the bottom floor of the palace promised the intruders had gotten in.
“Hide in the closet, Abrya,” Lord Oyenar urged, waving his wife toward a spacious room with chairs and trunks as well as racks of clothing and shoes. He’d found a sword and looked like he would stand with the guards if the enemy reached the suite.
“Is the roof more secure in there?” Abrya murmured and headed that way.
“If it helps, my dragon ally is nearby,” Syla said. “Right above us.”
“I don’t know if that means the roof is more or less likely to cave in on our heads,” Abrya said.
Wreylith roared. She sounded vexed. Because most of the fighting was going on inside, and she couldn’t assist unless she destroyed portions of the palace?
“I don’t either,” Syla admitted.
“Comforting.” Abrya, who’d probably had enough of being in the thick of the chaos, didn’t object further and stepped into the closet. “You should come in here too, Lord Oyenar,” she called.
“You must be sufficiently healed if you want me to join you for a closet tryst,” he called back.
“That’s not what I have on my mind. You’re not as fast with a sword as you used to be. A stormer rider will slice out your tonsils and toss them to the dragon.”
“It’s lovely to have the staunch support of one’s spouse,” Oyenar told Fel.
“I imagine so,” Fel said.
“They’re on the stairs!” someone in the hallway cried.
“Keep them down there! No, get them out of here.”
Wreylith roared again. Syla gripped a bedpost with one hand while she clutched her scalpel with the other. It wasn’t an adequate weapon, but she knew how to use it better than real ones.