‘I thought you might need an excuse to escape,’ he said with a faint grin.
‘You are a love, Zax.’ Never had food tasted so good. She savoured every mouthful of what might be her last meal.
‘Good speech, by the way.’
Kylen rolled her eyes.
‘No, really. I’m sure your brevity was greatly appreciated. No one wants a long-winded speech when there’s free food.’ Zax scraped sweetbread around his bowl to mop up the sauce.
‘How do you feel? Are you ready for this?’
He set down his bowl.
‘I’m scared,’ he said softly. ‘Not of getting killed, but of letting you down. I wish I was stronger.’
She wrapped her arms around his neck.
‘You could never let me down for you have a true Sendoran heart. I will be proud to fight with you by my side.’
Chapter Thirty-nine
Zastra’s leg throbbed as she instructed Hoxha to descend. The male vulyx dived so steeply the air was squeezed from her lungs. The Serene Sea was grey and choppy beneath them. She gazed south, but Uden’s Teeth was too far away to be visible. Clouds formed a dark curtain above the grey horizon. A storm was coming.
Behind her came Bekka, who sat confidently astride Kiri. Waylin and Polina followed, clinging nervously to their borrowed vulyx. As soon as she had realised the threat to Uden’s Teeth, Zastra begged Rafadal for the use of a vulyx, desperate to return as swiftly as possible. Of her companions, only Waylin and Polina were light enough for the birds to carry, aside from Gwylla, whose new-found courage was not quite up to riding a vulyx bareback. Hylaz and Ithgol had not been happy but she paid no heed to their objections. Bekka volunteered to join them, to ensure the vulyx obeyed their strange new riders. Zastra suspected the girl only did so to prevent her riding Kiri. Bekka had not forgiven her for what had happened during their fight with the migaradon. They had been forced to land four or five times each day to rest the vulyx, but it was still much faster than travelling by foot. They had flown safely over both the Dreaming Pools and the still bleeding slopes of the First Born and now, at last, they descended towards the Serene Sea. Zastra tried to blink away her exhaustion. Carrying the humans left the vulyx too tired to catch their own food and so each night Zastra had hunted for fresh meat to feed to them. Between that and her concern for what might be happening at Uden’s Teeth, she had barely slept in days. She forced herself to sit upright on Hoxha. She had to stay alert. Three luggers were moored by the mouth of the river. An old woman with one arm stared up at her as she eased Hoxha down onto the deck.
‘What news from Uden’s Teeth?’
‘None good, Lady Zastra. Thorlberd’s fleet was seen in the channel nigh on four days since. They sent the littluns away. I’d’ve stayed, one-armed or no. I knows how to swing an axe, but they needed summun to take care of the littluns.’
Zastra’s stomach sank like a stone. Four days. She was too late.
‘We must know the truth, even if it is what we fear,’ said Polina, who had landed next to her. Zastra roused herself. Polina was right. There might be some few who had managed to hide, or escape. The distance to Uden’s Teeth was too great for the vulyx to cover and there was no land in between to rest them. She dismounted.
‘We need this boat. Are you the skipper?’
The woman jerked her head towards the foredeck, where a skinny man chewed his fingernails.
‘I ain’t the skipper. He be. Kayled’s ’is name.’
‘I ain’t going back,’ the man protested. ‘Lady Kylen gave us our orders. Take care of the littluns, she said.’
‘You have new orders now,’ Zastra informed him.
Chapter Forty
The sky turned ugly as the Daydream sailed into the bay and took up station alongside the Wind of Golmeira, the Obala and the Mystique, the latter a converted trading vessel. The four ships presented their broadsides towards the bay entrance. Everyone knew what the return of the Daydream meant. The time for waiting was over.
Kylen ordered everyone to their posts. Nerika took charge of the bay defences, stationed aboard the Obala, while Kylen led the defence of the fortress. The majority of their mindweavers were deployed in the bay, where they were weakest. The ships’ crews, mainly Golmeirans and Far Islanders, had little or no resistance to mindweaving. Dobery was aboard the Obala with Nerika. Anchored in the middle of their short line, it would be at the centre of the action. Kylen wished she could be there too, but holding the fortress was just as important as defending the bay and she couldn’t be everywhere.
She strode to the top of the tower and snapped her telescope open. The fleet appeared at first as a faint smear of white on the horizon, resolving into dozens of ships sailing in close formation. She felt a drop of water on her cheek, then another. Soon it was raining steadily and judging by the leaden sky, the weather would only get worse. She tried to think of any advantage she could gain from it. The clouds descended and the fleet disappeared, only to emerge from the gloom like ghosts, surprisingly close. She counted twenty, and that was only the first line. As it neared Krysfera, the fleet split in half. One squadron turned towards the bay entrance, the other headed directly towards the southern landing point. Kylen pressed her lips together. Thorlberd had found the secret channel and it was clear he knew the layout of Krysfera. That meant only one thing. They had a traitor on Uden’s Teeth.
Kastara bent back her fingers and glanced across the deck of the Wind of Golmeira. Findar nodded back at her. She was glad Kylen and Dobery had let them fight together. She didn’t think she could have stomached not knowing where her brother was or what was happening to him. Myka and Wricken stood beside Findar. Mata was at the helm, stiff as a pointing dog as she watched Thorlberd’s fleet divide. Their two catapults had been loaded and set to the highest elevation and the last crates of rocks hoisted aboard. Kastara couldn’t understand how the crew could be so calm as they obeyed Mata’s instructions and those of her Watchmasters. The deck was covered in wet sand to guard against fire and their best sharpshooters placed at every masthead. At a signal from Kendra, the gig and the yacht were lowered and secured to the stern of the ship. Myka had explained it was to reduce the risk of splinters, and so that the boats could pick up any survivors if the ship sank. Kastara shivered as she imagined the deck disappearing beneath the waves. She peered over the bulwarks at the grey water, the tips of the waves mottled with white, and swallowed nervously. She stepped back. Pull yourself together. You’re a grand marl’s daughter. Act like it.
‘Up you go, Kastara,’ said Mata. ‘That shield of yours will do most good up top. Your only job is to stop anything hitting us. Don’t worry about anything else.’
Kastara nodded. Findar would join with Myka and Wricken to protect the minds of the crew. She set her own barrier as well as she could and climbed slowly up the mainmast. To her surprise, she found Torvin at the masthead, a crossbow in his hands. He smiled shyly at her as she climbed into place. He was setting bolts in the chamber. He worked methodically and his hands were steady. Kastara squeezed hers between her knees so he wouldn’t see they were shaking.
‘I hope you shoot as well as you climb ropes,’ she said with a nervous giggle. What are you doing? We’re about to go into battle and you’re flirting?
‘Jaryncha used to take me hunting when I was a boy, so I’m a fair shot,’ he said. ‘I just hope I’m good enough.’ Jaryncha was Mata’s wife. Kastara wondered what it would be like to have two mothers. She had been raised by Dalka and Tomik, both under the mistaken impression she was their real daughter, although she supposed her Aunty Bodel had been like a second mother. And now there was Zastra, who tried to be both sister and parent. Families came in all shapes and sizes, it seemed. She stared out at the Serene Sea. Zastra was out there somewhere. She knew Findar missed their sister sorely. He had grown up with Zastra looking after him and they shared a closeness that Kastara envied.
‘What you thinkin’ about?’
‘Oh, um, nothing.�
� That’s it, impress him with your conversational skills.
‘You scared?’
‘No,’ she said quickly. He raised a dark eyebrow. It was thin and shapely, almost feminine. She tried not to stare.
‘Maybe I’m a bit scared,’ she admitted.
‘You’re Zastra’s sister. If you’re halfway like her, you’ll not let anyone down. They say she killed a migaradon when she was even younger than you.’
Great. So now I’ve got to live up to the reputation of my brilliant sister. Could this day get any worse? Torvin blinked, his dark eyelashes framing his brown eyes. It really wasn’t fair that he was so beautiful.
‘Do you think…’ he stammered, and for a moment Kastara trembled. Was he about to declare his love?
‘I mean… I know it’s unlikely someone like Lady Zastra would give me a second look, but Mata says she treats everyone the same. She even has a Kyrg for a friend. Do you think… could she ever fall for a common sailor?’
Kastara stared at him wordlessly. Torvin’s frequents visits to their cabin now made sense. It seemed that the day could indeed get worse. She realised he was still waiting for an answer.
‘I’m sorry, Torvin, but I don’t know what my sister thinks about such things. She doesn’t really share her feelings. At least not with me.’ Poor Fin. I’ll have to break it to him gently.
‘I never really thought I had a chance.’ He turned away. ‘Not with summun like her. After today, it won’t matter anyways.’
The side of the channel blocked Kylen’s view of the bay and all she could see were the mastheads of the ships as they entered. She felt a twinge of guilt that she had allocated Findar and Kastara to the warships. She would have liked to keep them close, but Dobery had pointed out that Kastara’s special skill would be most useful protecting their ships against enemy catapults. It wasn’t as if there was any safe place to be. She looked along the wall, lined with her people. Further down the line, Zadorax manned one of the many ballistae, scale-tip spears stacked next to him. He was looking out over the landing site as the enemy approached the inlet, which was only wide enough for two ships to anchor abreast. They had built the fortress far enough inland to be out of range of even the largest catapult, so that the enemy would have to land to attack them. The rain grew heavier, turning the sandy beach into thick sludge. It would make poor footing for the invaders. The two leading vessels dropped anchor and lowered boats, packed with soldiers. Others anchored further out and sent their own boats. They would have a difficult row against the choppy sea. The wind picked up, blowing off the island, making the job of the attackers even more difficult. The weather, at least, was on their side, but it would take more than that to even the odds. Kylen waited until the sea was packed with boats and waved a large blue flag. Four luggers launched themselves from a hidden creek close to the beach. With a lower draught than the warships, they could manoeuvre closer to the shore. They ploughed into the attacking boats, smashing hulls and sending oars jerking into the air. Shouts and screams followed. Kylen trained her telescope on the first lugger. Kulleen stood at the prow, directing deadly crossbow fire into the helpless boats. One of the anchored ships fired a catapult.
‘What are they doing?’ Beregan exclaimed. ‘They’ll hit their own people.’
A huge boulder landed short of Kulleen’s lugger, smashing into a rowboat full of Kyrgs. There was a rumble of thunder and the rain grew heavier. Kylen felt it soak through her shirt, cold against her fevered skin. Someone in the warship must have realised their mistake and no further missiles were launched. Instead, a huge black form rose up from its deck and stretched out its wings. A migaradon, flapping furiously to gain height. Another dark shape rose from another ship, and then a third.
‘Ready bows and ballistae!’ cried Kylen, reaching for her crossbow. She was one of the few who carried the precious scale-tip bolts. Only the best and most experienced shooters had been given them as they couldn’t afford to waste any. The first of the migaradons dived towards Kulleen. Her crew fired a volley of bolts upwards, but the huge beast ploughed into the lugger, snapping both masts and sweeping two crewmen overboard with its tail. The surviving crew surrounded the beast, plunging scale-tip spears into its belly. The migaradon ceased its enraged thrashing but the lugger was in a bad way. Without its masts, it spun round, out of control as boats crammed with enemy soldiers swarmed around it.
The remaining two migaradons flew inland, low over the beach. They’re going to try and break the wall. Kylen aimed and shot at the limit of her range, the leading migaradon screaming as she pierced one of its hearts. Around her, other bowstrings twanged and the huge beast plummeted to the ground, just short of the first trench. A large spear, launched from a ballista, tore into the breast of the second migaradon. A lucky shot, the scale-tip spear ploughed along the line of the three hearts. The beast crashed so close to the wall it made the parapet shake. It lay twitching as its blood ran out and mingled with the wet sand. They had withstood the first attack.
Out to sea, things were not going well. Kulleen’s damaged lugger had been overrun. The others continued to plough through the oncoming boats, but they couldn’t stop them all. Boats began to reach the shore, unleashing wave upon wave of black-uniformed soldiers and Kyrgs, distinctive with their red faces and flaxen hair. The invaders struggled as their boots sunk into the sodden sand, but it would not be long before the fight started in earnest.
‘Stand ready,’ Kylen cried, walking down the wall. ‘Wait until they reach the trenches. Make every shot count.’
One of the catapults of the northern battery launched a bolus of rocks. It landed short of the leading ship, which had yet to break across the bay entrance. Another catapult snapped forward, with a similar result.
‘Amateurs. No point shooting until they’re in range,’ Torvin remarked. Kastara looked across as the catapult crews hurried to reload. Torvin was being unfair. The crews had only had a few days’ practice. She wondered if he would be as dismissive of her efforts when the time came. After all, she was every bit as inexperienced as the catapult crews. A convoy of four warships entered the bay, the wind blowing off the island forcing them to approach on a diagonal.
‘They’ll need to swing their catapults round on each turn,’ said Torvin. ‘That’ll slow down their shooting speed.’
‘But at least they are moving. Won’t that make them difficult to hit? While we sit here like nesting woodcocks.’
‘Them fools might struggle with a moving target, but we won’t,’ Torvin said confidently. Kastara noticed he hadn’t denied the part about themselves being sitting targets. The warships powered towards the northern headland. Another catapult fired. Plumes of water drenched the starboard quarter of the lead vessel. Torvin shook his head.
‘They are better off waiting until they tack. Target’ll be easier to hit then.’
The leading ship began its turn and all four catapults launched their missiles, as if they had listened to Torvin’s advice. The ship’s foresail split down the middle and a chunk of quarterdeck was torn away. Faint cheers mingled with the sound of the wind and rain.
‘Dunno what they’re cheering for. That won’t stop ‘em,’ Torvin muttered as a gust of wind sent spray through the rigging. Kastara wiped the salt water from her face. The convoy sliced into the bay, another following close behind. The south battery began to engage. They at least, had proper ammunition – rocks large enough to crash through a hull and sink a vessel. However, their first volley was erratic and only one of the projectiles landed anywhere near the enemy.
‘Where are the migaradons?’ Kastara peered through the drizzle.
Torvin spat. ‘They’ll pound us a bit first before going for the kill, I reckon. Clever.’
‘Why don’t we fire?’ The Wind of Golmeira‘s catapult crews showed no signs of activity as the convoy began another turn that would set them on a heading directly towards the four rebel ships. The enemy were close enough for her to see the pale faces of the sailors as they
pulled the huge lateen sails round. The south battery launched again. The second ship in the line was mid turn as a huge chunk of rock crashed through its middeck, opening a gaping hole in the hull.
‘Good shot!’ Torvin exclaimed and cheers from the deck below echoed his cry. The damaged ship listed heavily to starboard. ‘What idiot is helming the ship behind? They’ll collide!’
The third ship in the line attempted to skirt round the damaged vessel, but their sails were aback and they ploughed into their stricken comrade. The south battery fired again. The entwined ships made a juicy target. Masts collapsed and more holes appeared in both hulls. Figures began to abandon the sinking vessels, leaping overboard. The remaining two ships regrouped and bore down on the rebels. Below her Kastara heard Kendra instruct her crews to wait. A volley of rocks was launched towards them, followed by a second. Kastara flung up her shield, but the rocks landed a good fifty paces short. She laughed nervously at her misjudgement and collapsed her shield quickly so as not to block their own barrage.
‘Hold tight now,’ said Torvin, gripping the masthead tightly. Kastara copied him.
‘Fire!’ Kendra ordered. Both catapults launched in perfect synchrony. As the arms crashed against the catapults’ posts, the Wind of Golmeira recoiled violently. If Kastara hadn’t been hanging on so tightly, she would have been thrown clear. Beside them, the Obala launched its own missiles, followed by the Mystique. The air was filled with the crash and recoil of catapults and the smashing of stone against timber. A rock the size of a small cart hurtled towards them. Kastara thrust out her shield, instinctively putting her right hand across her face as the rock filled her vision. It bounced off her barrier and dropped into the sea, just missing the deck. Her heart was pounding, and she realised her left hand was gripping Torvin’s arm so tightly her fingers were white. He was just as pale.
Tales of Golmeira- The Complete Box Set Page 89