Waves lifted me as they passed, but this time I stayed afloat, kicking my legs like scissors below.
For a moment I was disoriented, everything except the bulk of the ship and the nearby island hidden behind rolling waves.
Then I rose on another swell and glimpsed the lights of Larkhaven far to my left.
Turning, I struck out for shore, swimming clumsily. I cut a wide arc around the island, worried the waves would dash me against the rocks if I drew too near. Though the water was cold, it did not numb me like the Elygian River, but it seemed to drag me back with every stroke I took forward.
Despite the energy I had gathered, which pulsed within me like a second heartbeat, I soon began losing the battle against the waves. Where before I had rode each swell, my head clearing the waves, now water sloshed in my eyes, stinging and blinding me until I blinked the salt away. Several times I swallowed a mouthful of briny water and choked, nearly sinking as my body convulsed.
The shore seemed to grow no closer.
At first I thought a wicked current tugged me back, despite my furious strokes, but when I turned, I realized the ship had receded behind me.
The shore was much farther than I had realized.
I thought of the swordswoman who had jumped from the rowboat and barely managed to drag herself ashore. I had a better chance than her, since at least I could swim, though what I was doing now felt more like drowning.
I struggled on, trying to ignore the heaviness that dragged on my limbs, the way my breath tore at my lungs. Though the water no longer felt icy on my skin, my core grew steadily colder, my fingers and toes turning numb.
Still the shore appeared no closer.
A numb sense of calm took hold of me as I realized I would die here, out at sea.
No one would see my head bobbing in the dark water. No one would know their queen had made one last, desperate attempt to save Itrea.
Yet I would not give up. I would continue swimming toward shore until my limbs seized up and the waves dragged me under. My last vision would be the glowing torches of Larkhaven, the roaring bonfire that devoured my people.
I swam on.
26
The Evacuees
W eariness overwhelmed any vestiges of strength I had drawn from my friends. Still I fought against the waves, riding each swell up, gasping for breath. A strange sort of peace had descended on me, an acceptance of what would come next. Black haze crept in from the edges of my vision; my eyes stung and watered even when they were not doused with seawater. My arms and legs felt leaden and numb, whether from cold or exhaustion I could not tell.
When something bumped me from below, I was too dazed to react. At first I thought I had somehow reached shore, but no—the lights were as distant as ever, now blurred and wavering in my hazy vision.
Whatever it was bumped me again, and something like an algae-slicked stone slid beneath me, smooth and rounded. Confusion overwhelmed fear—was this the god of death coming to take me away? Were the Whitish right in their teachings?
Then something grey sliced above the water before me.
It was a dolphin’s fin.
Luthi!
This time when the dolphin dove under and swam beneath me once more, I made a clumsy grab for its fin.
My numb hands slipped free. A wave sloshed over my head—I was sinking.
The second time, I managed to wrap both hands over the slick fin, gripping my wrists since my fingers were too weak on their own.
The dolphin angled toward the beach. Her powerful tail propelled us forward, splitting the waves so fast I nearly lost my grip again. Water rushed past with dizzying force, spray blinding me. I shut my eyes and trusted the Rider’s dolphin to guide me safely forward.
At last the rush of water slowed. Squinting and blinking until tears cleared the saltwater from my eyes, I saw we had reached the northern end of the beach, where a narrow side street sloped up to meet the top of the main road. It would lead me straight to the evacuees waiting on the hillside. From here I could not see their torches over the buildings; I had to trust they were still there.
“Thank you,” I murmured to Luthi. Sliding off the dolphin’s smooth back, I let my bare feet sink until they collided with smooth stones.
Clumsily I staggered up the beach. Waves buffeted me, twice crashing over my head, and I coughed up seawater, rubbing at my burning eyes.
As I rose from the water, my legs wobbled, too weak to support my weight. I stumbled to my knees and stayed there, sea foam curling around my wrists.
Then a tendril of smoke drifted past, bringing the smell of charred flesh.
I retched, bringing up a lungful of sea water.
With trembling legs, I clambered back to my feet. I had to find the strength to go on.
Slowly, ponderously, I staggered up the beach. My bare feet curled around the bare rocks, too numb to register any pain.
At last I reached the narrow side street. All was quiet, the residents either asleep or waiting atop the hill for a signal that it was safe to return.
Little by little, feeling returned to my legs, and my gait strengthened. The sea breeze bit through my wet underclothes—shivers wracked me every few steps.
Soon I had regained enough control over my legs to break into a run, my bare feet slapping quietly on the cobblestones. Even as the street grew steeper, I did not slow, though my breathing raked at my chest.
The town was larger than I had remembered. The narrow side street seemed to stretch forever; by the time I reached the main road, I was near collapse once again. At least I was no longer shivering.
I smelled the torches before the townsfolk came into sight. My stomach clenched at the odor, but it was not acrid like the bonfire.
Voices rose from the crowd, a restless murmur. At their front stood Lord Gabrin, his eldest son and daughter on either side.
When I stumbled to a halt in the middle of the road, panting, Lord Gabrin was the first to see me. He stepped back a pace, fear in his eyes.
I must look like an apparition, soaking wet and dressed only in my white underclothes. I stared dully at him, my thoughts sluggish.
He regained his composure a moment later. “It’s the queen,” he said in a low voice. “What happened to you, Your Majesty?”
A murmur swept through the crowd, and as it passed, the townspeople fell silent, shifting as they craned to see me.
I did not have time to explain. “What is happening here?” I asked Lord Gabrin weakly.
“The tsunami bells rang, and everyone hurried up here. I thought your Cloudmage might have planned a mighty storm that would flood the town, so I thought it was best to keep everyone here until we heard otherwise.”
I nodded brusquely. He had made the right decision given what he knew.
“Are these people willing to fight? Are any of them armed?”
“I don’t know, Your Majesty.”
Of course—Lord Gabrin had no idea what had befallen Leoth’s troops. I had given him orders to keep watch from a distance, and he had done just that.
A quick look at those around me revealed that very few carried weapons. Some were in their bedclothes, while others were dressed and carried makeshift weapons—kitchen knives and hatchets and hammers. A couple wore swords strapped to their belts.
“May I borrow your coat?” I asked. I could not address my people in my undergarments.
Lord Gabrin shrugged it off and handed it over without question. The weight settled over my shoulders, deliciously warm.
Still barefoot, I climbed onto a rock beside the road, rising above the heads of those assembled.
“My people,” I began, my voice ringing out over the crackle of torches and the rustle of shifting bodies. “I am Kalleah, queen of Itrea, and I have come to warn you that your town is under attack.”
Gasps and whispers rippled through the crowd, though they were quickly silenced.
“A Whitish ship arrived under cover of the new moon, and as we speak, Whitish tro
ops are rounding up Itreans. They have already begun executing the soldiers who tried to hold them back. We are overwhelmed. The battle is lost. Larkhaven will fall into Whitland’s grasp, and your port will serve as a base for their war against Itrea. They have already killed your governor, Lord Jofran, and they intend to turn this land red with the blood of your countrymen.
“But it’s not over yet. You are still free. The Whitish soldiers don’t realize you have amassed just above town. They think victory is theirs.”
I took a deep breath, trying to gauge the mood of the crowd. Men and women fidgeted, suspicion and surprise lining their faces.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Yer Majesty,” a portly man said, “but we’re not soldiers. I’m just a scribe, and I’ve got little ’uns at home.”
A murmur of assent spread around him.
“And what future will your children have under Whitish rule? We are Larkhaven’s last hope. Itrea’s last hope. If we step aside, our land will be razed, our great nation toppled.”
No one spoke.
“For spans now, the Whitish have terrorized Larkhaven. They lurked in the shadows, perverting everything you cared for, turning neighbor against neighbor. Are you not furious? Do you not long to give those bastards what they deserve?
“This is your chance. If we attack Larkhaven now, we can still overthrow its invaders. Will you follow me? Will you fight for your home?”
Silence greeted my words.
Did they not understand? Could they not see how much hung in the balance?
No, of course not. They had risen from their beds to flee a tsunami, and instead a stranger marched before them and demanded that they fight. They had not seen the battle raging in the lower part of town. They had not smelled the burning flesh of their countrymen.
My hands curled into fists by my sides. If they would not help me, I would have to do this alone. Perhaps I could rally my supporters to break free of their captors and make a final stand against the Whitish.
“Very well.” I stepped down from the rock. “Does anyone have boots and a sword I can use?”
A woman nearby stepped out of her own boots and offered them to me, while a finely-dressed young man unbuckled a sword from his waist and presented it with a bow.
“What are you doing?” Lord Gabrin’s voice was strained.
“If these people will not help me, I will face the soldiers on my own. I will not give up the fight now.”
I strapped the sheath to my waist and drew the sword, raising it in a grim salute to the citizens of Larkhaven. Then I turned and started down the road into town. My pace quickened as the hill pulled me forward.
“You heard her,” Lord Gabrin shouted. “Plagues, I’m not sitting here while she marches into battle alone. Come on!”
Several pairs of running footsteps clopped along the cobblestones behind me. Glancing back, I saw Lord Gabrin pelting down the main street, his two eldest children behind him.
“They’ll get themselves killed!” a woman’s voice yelled. “We can’t let them face the Whitish alone!”
“We’ll stand with you,” a boy called.
As I rounded the corner, I heard the rising thunder of footsteps as hundreds of Larkhaveners broke into a run behind me.
Hope swelled in my chest. My people had not lost faith in Itrea. There were still men and women brave enough to follow me, even to their deaths, in the hope that someday their country would be free once more.
Shouts and battle cries rose over the pounding footsteps. I hurtled down the road, borrowed boots slipping on my feet as I ran, smoke from the waterfront thick in the air.
When I rounded the final bend toward the harbor, I was still far ahead of my followers. I must have looked like a lone madwoman streaking down the road in my oversized coat and underclothes. A wall of Whitish soldiers rose before me. Men in white uniforms stood shoulder to shoulder, swords raised, faces wild with bloodlust.
I did not slow. Lord Gabrin’s coat had been enchanted to resist blades, and I could not have reined in the dizzying momentum that drove me down the slope even if I tried.
Just before I slammed into the waiting soldiers, their eyes rose to the street behind me, bloodlust morphing suddenly to fear.
The wall of bodies broke apart.
Whitish soldiers scattered, shouting in alarm, faces slack with shock. Those who remained did not seem to see me.
Momentum carried me past the broken wall of soldiers. I stumbled to a halt just before the sea wall and looked back.
A vast tide of Itreans surged down the main street. My people swept through the remaining Whitish soldiers like a river that had burst its banks, driving our enemies back. Carried along on the tide, I leapt down the short sea wall onto the beach of smooth stones.
A roar of triumph rose from my captured supporters.
“The queen lives!” Leoth shouted. I could not see him in the chaos, but his voice rose over the clamor. “Fight for Queen Kalleah! Fight for Itrea!”
My supporters began struggling against their captors, writhing and kicking and punching their way free.
Assaulted on both sides, the Whitish soldiers relinquished their prisoners and drew back toward the water, clumsy in their fear. Though we fought poorly, with makeshift weapons, we overwhelmed the Whitish by sheer force of numbers. Step by step, we forced them down the beach, until they were backing into the waves.
I fought at the front of the line, my sword a blur, surprised by how easily each stroke came to me. The Whitish were scattered and overwhelmed; I matched them blow for blow. One man advanced on me and rained brutal, inelegant strikes at me, and I splashed into the waves as I caught each blow. At last I managed to follow my parry through and turn it into a strike toward his neck; when the tip of my sword sank into his unguarded flesh, I staggered in shock. He choked, sword splashing into the waves, and I put a hand on his chest and shoved hard.
He toppled backward, and the black ocean swallowed him in a heartbeat.
Still we pressed forward. The waves crashed against our knees, tugging at the Whitish soldiers as they backed away. The beach dropped away steeply; every step took our enemies closer to the ocean’s embrace. Soldiers stumbled, and more than one turned and began swimming desperately away from shore.
All at once, the line of Whitish soldiers broke. Open water stretched before me, punctuated only by the heads of men swimming desperately away from shore. Even as I watched, one sank beneath a crashing wave and did not reappear.
Slowly, my people began to draw back. Water splashed around me as my followers waded back to shore.
I stood knee-deep in the black ocean, unable to look away from the fleeing Whitish soldiers.
Suddenly a pillar of flames split the darkness out at sea.
I staggered back, heart racing. Cal and Nyla must have set the Whitish ship alight.
Fire blazed up the mast, casting light on the panicked Whitish soldiers running about on deck.
No one else seemed to have noticed.
“Queen Kalleah!” Leoth shouted. “Queen Kalleah!”
Others took up the cry.
Flames still seared across my vision, I pushed through the crowd to Leoth’s side.
“My friends are on that ship. We need to rescue them.”
Leoth’s gaze locked onto the blazing ship. Then he shook his head. “I think it’s too late.”
“No! We can’t abandon them!”
“I’ll send men to search the water,” Leoth said. “You need to stay here. Your people are waiting for direction.”
I stood rigid, unable to tear my eyes from the flaming ship. Leoth shouted orders to the palace guards, and they sprinted down the pier to untie a handful of rowboats. I did not move until he gave me a shove. “Go on! This is your chance to bring the people of Itrea together.”
I stumbled toward the watching crowd. How could I speak of victory when I did not know if Cal and Baridya had survived? How could I stand before my people when fear weighed so heavily on my heart?
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But I could not turn away. I was queen. I had to put duty before love.
27
Rowboats
I stepped onto an overturned crate so I could see over the crowd. As I did, voices hushed, and every fighter turned to look at me.
“We accomplished something incredible tonight,” I said heavily. “For many spans now, Whitish soldiers have terrorized Larkhaven. They threaded their way into your lives so subtly no one realized what was happening until it was too late. Just as they did in Baylore.
“Tonight, a Whitish ship sailed into the harbor under the cover of the new moon. They planned to seize Larkhaven by force and use this as a base to launch a war on Itrea.
“Because of your courage, we avoided that fate. Larkhaven is yours once again. You can go about your lives without fear and suspicion.”
I hesitated. Now did not seem the time to mention the long road ahead, the looming war that I feared would change Itrea forever.
“I was once queen of Itrea. I may no longer wear the crown, but my devotion to this kingdom has not wavered. I will aid you as we recover from this battle, and work with you to re-establish order. Soon I plan to march on Baylore and free our capital from the Whitish scourge. When that day comes, I hope I can look to you for support. But for now, return to your homes and rest. Dawn is still far away.”
For several long minutes, the crowd remained silent, watching me as though they expected more. My mind was blank; I had nothing more to offer.
Eventually they began to disperse. Some lingered—those who had stayed with us at Lord Gabrin’s lodge had nowhere to go, while others remained to tend to the wounded. My supporters had suffered heavy losses.
While I stood there, trapped by fear and exhaustion, Mellicante emerged from the crowd and limped toward me. Her mouth was set in a grim line.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Quendon is dead.” Her voice was harsh.
My throat closed up. Quendon had been by my side since I first arrived in Baylore, a steady, kind presence. Had I told him how much I valued his support? Had he known how much I had come to rely on him?
Renegade Queen : A Court Intrigue Fantasy (The Forbidden Queen Series Book 3) Page 24