“Finding that scout does let us know something,” Harkins said.
“What’s that?” Tristan looked around and noticed Fenfyr settling down on the deck. The dragon nodded that he was unharmed.
“The Incursion, they’re coming through here. That’s the third ‘scout’ we’ve seen.”
“The third?”
“We were far enough out to cut and run with the last two, this time we were too close, it came out from behind a squall. Three scouts,” Cook paused. “They’re coming—and soon.”
XXVI
The sound of hammers filled the ship as the crew of the Noble Lady repaired the damage from the battle. Tristan, Thom and the officers of the ship were seated around the table in the captain’s quarters, a large map spread out in front of them. It had taken Tristan a moment to get his bearings, but now he was following the discussion about where the Vermin were expected to come in and the relative position of various stations and the fleet. He listened as they discussed their options, but he was worried about how to get back to the Winged Victory and take control again. Thom was staring at the wall, so Tristan assumed his friend was thinking about the same thing.
Someone knocked on the door. “Sir?”
“What is it?”
“We’ve got an odd distortion on the comm, sir, and I thought you should hear it.”
“Pipe it in, Damian.”
“Yes, sir.”
The next moment a hiss of white noise surrounded them. It didn’t take Tristan long to hear what the man had been talking about—under the steady hiss was a series of breaks in the sound. “What is that?”
“Shh,” Thom said and grabbed a pen. He cocked his head and started writing. “It’s Riggan.”
“Riggan?” Tristan asked.
“Shh.” Thom was writing something down. Tristan leaned closer to read it. …have Interface, still in hiding in lower hold. Sheea Aether here too. There is a small breach in hold. Riggan. I have Interface, still… “It’s a repeating message in Morse code.”
“Morse code? How would Riggan learn that?”
“Marty Riggan?” Harkins asked.
“Yes,” Tristan answered.
“He learned it with us. He wasn’t always on a Naval vessel, and we use the old code to get around being overheard.”
“He wasn’t…?” Tristan looked at Harkins, a little confused.
“Riggan was taken too, Tristan, and served his time with the pirates. A lot of the able-bodied sailors have,” Thom said, looking at him.
“He was going to be your servant, not Stemmer’s,” Tristan said with sudden realization. “You met him back then, it’s why he reports to you, why he looks out for you.”
“Yes.” Thom grinned. “We’ve known each other a long time. He managed to escape before I did, but he’s been on every ship I’ve served on since.” Thom looked thoughtful for a moment. “I thought they’d plugged that hole. Hmm, I wonder what they’ve been up to?” It sounded almost like he was talking to himself. After a moment he looked up at Tristan. “How’d he get the Elemental Interface?”
“I gave it to him. Right before everything started, I went on deck and noticed someone had tried to pry it loose, so I unclipped it and gave it to him. As long as we stayed on course, and didn’t need to raise or lower any sails, no one would notice, since the pedestal was still there.”
“Good thinking,” Cook said. “Would it have worked with the sails they have now?”
“No, it’s attuned to my sails and created for them. If it had been destroyed, though, we couldn’t use those sails again.”
“We need to get you back onboard.” Cook looked at Thom. “How many in the crew are loyal?”
“Far more than Stemmer thinks. The doctor let us know that much when she came to treat Chris after the flogging.” Thom paused. “And there were at least fifteen cells in use in the brig. Each cell could hold as many as ten men.”
“Sir, hail from the Guild,” Damian said, knocking, then coming into the room.
“Thank you, pipe it in,” Cook said.
“This is Rhoads,” the Guild Master’s voice boomed into the room.
“Darius,” the dragon added.
“Admiral O’Brian,” a third voice said.
Tristan raised his eyebrows as he met Thom’s eyes. He knew O’Brian, the man was one of the moderates that sat on the Joint Council. “I’m here with Thom Barrett, and the Warrior and Officers of the Noble Lady. Lokey Fenfyr is listening in as well,” Tristan said. “What’s going on?”
“First, I would like to apologize for what happened to you, Master Weaver. The men behind this will pay for their crimes,” the admiral said.
“I don’t doubt that,” Harkins muttered, then jumped when Thom kicked his shin.
“Thank you, Admiral, what’s important now is getting the Winged Victory back and on her way to stop this Vermin Incursion.”
“We agree,” the admiral said. “We have diverted two frigates, but we’re not sure they will be able to cut the Victory off before this rendezvous in sector nineteen that Darius and the Guild Master have briefed me on.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, sir,” Thom said.
“Is that you, Thom?” O’Brian asked, his voice warm.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good to know you made it.”
“Not many who’ve been thrown overboard can say they have. It was thanks to the Master Weaver that we survived, and that’s what I’ve been thinking about.”
“What?” Tristan said, frowning at Thom.
“What do you mean?” the Guild Master demanded.
“When we were tossed overboard, the Master Weaver created a small space for us to survive.”
“Yes, yes, we know about that,” Rhoads said.
“He also made a sail, just big enough for the two of us.”
“You did what?!?!” Brian roared.
“It’s true, Guild Master.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I would have agreed with you several days ago, but it’s the truth.” Tristan shifted uncomfortably.
“How? You have to gather the willowisps, you need an Elemental Interface, you have to…”
“Brian! I did it, I made one just large enough to carry us away from the ship.”
The Guild Master continued to sputter, but the calm voice of Darius blocked it out. “What was your plan, then, Thom Barrett?”
“If the Noble Lady could get us ahead of the Victory, staying in her blind spot, Tristan could make another small sail and we could head back to the ship that way. We’ve been informed there is a small hole in the ship. It’s in the lower hold, so we would be off the sensors, and they purposefully have all internal surveillance on that deck off—it’s where they were hiding the sails. We know at least some of the loyal crew is there, along with the Elemental Interface for the Master Weaver’s sails. All we’d have to do is take the ship deck by deck. If there is enough loyal crew left, we should be able to manage.”
Tristan—everyone in the room—was staring at Thom. “I’m not sure I can do it again, Thom.”
“Of course you can,” Thom said carelessly. “And with that new strength you can add to the sails, we stand a real fighting chance against the…”
“Excuse me?” Brian’s voice was deceptively mild. “What was that about sails?”
“Master Tristan did something to the sails while we were fighting a Vermin scout. I was at the Interface, flying the ship during the battle,” Alden said. “He volunteered to do the repairs, they were sails he created in the first place, so he was attuned. About halfway through the battle he did something, the willowisps changed and the shot started bouncing off the sails.”
“And we were going to mention this when, Master Tristan?” the Guild Master asked.
“I don’t know what I did, Brian. If I remembered the spell, I would have sent it back to you immediately, to see if anyone else could do it,” Tristan answered. That was the thing he’d been thinking about
since it had happened, not the spell so much, but how it had been accomplished. Would a Warrior be able to do it? Or would it take a Sail Weaver to accomplish the magic? If they needed both, there would be no time to get Sail Weavers to the fleet—more to the point, there weren’t that many Sail Weavers. They ranked the rest of the Guild for a reason. They had to be far more adept, far more talented than any of the other branches of the Guild. “I’m not sure a Warrior can do it, I think it needs a Sail Weaver.”
“Or maybe only you, Tristan Weaver,” Darius said gently. “You always surprise us. As to the rest of the plan, we must gain control of the Winged Victory at all costs. The plan is a sound one, with two additions. You will need Fenfyr and Taminick to help disposing of the filth that is littering the ship.”
“You couldn’t keep us away,” Fenfyr said.
“You need to get there before they reach sector nineteen,” O’Brian said. “It’s a well thought out plan, Thom, and you know we have frigates on the way. The whole fleet is heading towards the coordinates that Cook has sent, a small scout we sent into the area reports three more Vermin ships on the way in—they’re still the little ones, but we know it’s just the beginning. When you take Victory, if you can keep Stemmer and Fuhrman alive it will be helpful. The Joint Chiefs have met and we discussed what has happened aboard the Victory. Your rank has been restored, despite the howls of Davis and his supporters. As of now you are entered into the rolls as the Captain of the Winged Victory. Good luck, Captain Barrett,” O’Brian said. “And, Thom? Be careful.”
Thom blinked, cleared his throat and smiled. “Thank you, sir.”
“I don’t like this Tristan, not one bit,” Brian said. “But I am out-voted, and I know you too well, you’d go even if I ordered you not to, so don’t get yourself killed.”
“I won’t.”
“Good luck, Tristan Weaver,” Darius said. “We will meet on the battlefield.”
The communications line clicked off. There was silence in the room as everyone absorbed what had been said. Tristan’s heart was pounding. He wasn’t sure he could gather the willowisps to make a tiny sail again, he might end up getting them killed this time.
“Well,” Harkins said, breaking the silence. “At least it’s not going to get boring.”
Tristan was pacing the deck, cup of tea in his hands and Fenfyr watching as he paced. The dragon hadn’t said anything, but Tristan could tell Fenfyr had reservations about the plan. Every time he walked past the dragon’s head, he stopped and waited for a comment when none was forthcoming, he paced on.
“Tristan?” Thom asked hesitantly.
“What?” Tristan kept his back to the officer. He was upset that Thom hadn’t bothered to ask him before he suggested the plan.
“About the…”
“The suicidal plan you got approved?” Tristan snapped.
“Look, it’s not suicidal…”
“I don’t know if I can make an atmosphere again, Thom, let alone the sail.”
“You don’t need the atmo, Tristan, we have suits. I was planning on that. I know you can do the sail again, you did it once.”
“I was desperate, Thom, I’m not even sure I can remember the spell I used.”
“Tris.” Fenfyr spoke for the first time.
Tristan sighed, walked over to the dragon and leaned against him. “Sorry, Thom. I’m really not quite sure how I did it, and there’s no way to control it, we’ll be floating free like we were before.”
“That’s why we’ll have something to hook onto the ship with. I’ve already alerted Riggan to be watching for us. Once we’re onboard we can plan from there.”
“You really think this plan is going to work?”
“Of course I do, what could possibly go wrong?” Thom asked, a grin of delight on his face. “All we need to do is get onboard, take the ship, get your sails back up and find the fleet. Easy peasy.”
“I can’t believe they gave command of the flagship of the fleet to a maniac,” Tristan said, laughing. “I’ll do my best, and at least with the suit, I can focus on the other magic.”
“Like I said, easy peasy.” Thom sighed. “We should be in position in a few hours if you want to get some sleep.”
“I think I will, thanks.” Tristan smiled and watched as Thom walked towards the lift to the lower decks. “This plan is insane, Fen.”
“I know you can do it, Tris, you’ve already done it. Taminick and I have been talking and we will wait far enough out so they can’t see us until it is too late.”
“We’ll need to arrange a signal,” Tristan said, shifting so he was curled in the bend of the dragon’s foreleg.
“I’m sure Thom already has a plan for that, too,” the dragon snorted. “There’d better be some grapefruit left. Imagine ruining perfectly good grapefruit with brandy.”
Tristan’s heart gave a twist. “That’s how they tried to poison you?”
“Yes, but they’re numb noses and I’m not that greedy. I only ate one, and it was enough to know something was wrong. I was sick, but that’s all.”
“I’m glad,” Tristan said fervently.
“And I of you,” Fenfyr gently pulled him in close so he was partially covered by the dragon’s feathers. Tristan relaxed against the warm body. “Sleep, Tris, I will watch until it’s time for you to go.”
The deck was alive with the bustle of activity as the crew got ready to launch Tristan and Thom. The Noble Lady had pulled ahead of the Winged Victory easily, Cook said he suspected that the larger ship was having trouble with the sails and was running with only the engines. That came as good news for Tristan, at least the ship wouldn’t be going at a high Wind speed when they tried to slip by on his small sail. He’d spent the last hour trying to remember how it felt gathering the willowisps in deep space, and then Weaving them into the small sail. Every now and then he would check on Thom. Despite the man’s easy assurances, Tristan could tell he was worried about what was going to happen and how many of the crew had remained loyal.
“The suits are ready,” Harkins said, walking over to where Tristan was still leaning against Fenfyr.
“Thank you, Harkins,” Tristan replied, then turned to Fenfyr. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Yes,” the dragon said, gently touching him with his head tufts. “Be careful.”
“You, too.”
“Are you ready?” Thom asked.
“No.”
“Comforting, let’s go then.”
Thom led the way to the quarterdeck where Harkins and Cook were waiting with two suits. Once they were in them, Cook showed Tristan how to control the air flow and use the suit-to-suit communicators. As they locked the last of the latches into place, Tristan had to fight an overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia. Somehow being out in the void with nothing but his hissing, half-strength bubble, seemed preferable to this. He sighed and gave the thumbs up. The plan was that the ship would slow and they would slip off the taffrail and into space. Then Tristan would call together the willowisps and make the sail while the Noble Lady was still in sight, just in case something went wrong. He took one last look around the ship then stepped onto the rail. At a signal from Alden, he and Thom stepped off and they were floating free. The suits were tethered together and Thom bobbed several yards from him.
Concentrating, Tristan focused on the spell to call the willowisps, the Latin echoed oddly in his helmet. He felt sure it wasn’t going to work for them a second time when he noticed the small sparks starting to gather around them. They bounced between the two suits as if they were curious of what they were. Tristan ignored it and continued until he was sure he had enough to make their sail. Slowly he changed the spell, moving the words from the Gathering to the Weaving, watching as the sparkles began moving together, in and out and around until they had a small sail that looked more like a parachute than anything. With the final part of the Weaving spell, Tristan tied the willowisps to himself, using his body as a rough replacement for the Elemental Interface. Nodding at Thom to
let him know it was time, he moved the sail out of the shadow of the ship and into the Winds.
Once in the Winds they were whipped along at breakneck speed. This time they didn’t tumble, the sail was more stable than his first effort, and they pulled away from the Noble Lady faster than Tristan would have dreamed possible. He had no idea how long the suits would withstand the buffeting of the Winds, but no sooner had he thought that, than the huge mass of the Winged Victory appeared in front of them. Focusing on the sail again, he managed to maneuver them down and under the ship. He was working so hard to keep them stable that the clang of the hook catching the side of the ship surprised him. Speaking quickly, he released the willowisps with a soft thank you so they could continue on their way, and the next moment Thom was pulling him towards the hole in the side of the ship. It seemed only an instant and they were inside. Riggan helped them out of their suits as Sheea closed the hole in the atmosphere again.
“It’s good to see you, sirs,” Riggan said, grinning.
“And you, Riggan, I was sure you would have been found out by now,” Thom said, slapping the man on the back.
“Who, me, sir? They couldn’t find their asses…” He cleared his throat. “They never expected us to hide down here, and so they haven’t come looking.”
“I thought I ordered this hole closed,” Thom said, gesturing to the side of the ship.
“Ah yes, and so you did. Mr. Shearer thought we might need a small hole, just in case, sir, and so he opened it. Now that you’re here, I’m sure he will do his best to close it up.”
“I’m sure he will,” Thom grinned. “Now, let’s figure out how to get my ship back.”
XXVII
The massive lower hold was only partially lit, casting eerie shadows along the walls. In the distance, Tristan could see the gentle sparkle of willowisps. He ground his teeth together at the flash of anger that his sails had been dumped into the same space that had held the Vermin sails. Not for long, he promised them. Riggan had kept the Interface safe, hidden in the bag Tristan had given him. When he checked it, there was still a soft glow indicating it was connected to the sails. All they needed to do was drop it back into place and get the sails back onto the masts. The sound of a door swinging open made him hold his breath. A moment later, Shearer appeared.
The Sail Weaver Page 23