“That’s comforting,” Tristan said with a smile.
“Yeah,” Thom agreed, his eyes bright.
“Did we lose many?”
“Not as many as we could have, thanks to you. That goes for the whole fleet, by the way, not only this ship, Tristan.”
“I just fought the sails.”
“Just, he says.” Thom laughed.
“Thom, is Fenfyr…?” Tristan remembered Riggan’s words, but he had to know.
“Currently sleeping in your cabin, making a nuisance of himself since the doctor wouldn’t move you down there until you’d regained consciousness and the doctor doesn’t think sickbay is a place for a dragon. He tried to sneak in.” Thom stopped and grinned. “Fenfyr, a dragon the size of a shuttlecar, tried to sneak into sickbay. He managed to get his nose in, then realized that wouldn’t work, so then tried to get his tail in, back to this room.”
Tristan smiled. “She should have let him in.”
“I know, Tristan, I did tell her.”
“He’s okay?”
“He was wounded, the dragons cared for him until the battle was over, but he was here as soon as he could fly on his own. He’s been in your cabin since. Riggan has been spoiling him outrageously and telling him wild tales of his life as a pirate, of which a tenth are true. Riggan’s also been here once an hour to make sure Fenfyr is kept abreast of your condition.”
“Can I leave?” Tristan asked, sitting up.
“You just woke up, I’m not sure…” Thom stopped. “I’ll see what I can do.” He got up and disappeared.
Tristan closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths. He was surprised he was alive at all. His body hadn’t had the chance to recover from the moment they left the Noble Lady until the end of the battle. So it wasn’t really a shock that there was still actual pain in his body, even though he could feel the lingering effects of the Healing spells, the drugs and whatever surgery that had been performed. Without thinking about it, his mind ran over the words of the repair spell for the Weaving and strengthening of the sails. Oddly, he sensed the sails and felt a shift in his body.
“I don’t like it,” Rose Webber said, coming into the room.
“He can be monitored in his cabin, and you won’t have to deal with dragons anymore,” Thom said from behind her.
“Or Riggan or Chris. They’ve been driving me crazy with their questions, and I really want to avoid another call from the Weaver Guild Master and Guild Dragon Elder regarding the Master Weaver,” she said, checking the monitors. She frowned and poked at one of them. “What did you do?”
“What?” Tristan asked.
“You did something. Your recovery is… Huh.” She eyed him curiously. “I won’t try and figure it out right now, but you can go to your cabin where you will rest. You will not under any circumstances repair the damage to the sails yet. There isn’t much, it can wait. Do you understand?” She looked at him, her purple eyes snapping.
“Yes, ma’am,” Tristan said meekly.
“If I catch you on deck, it’s right back here to this room.”
“Yes, Dr. Webber,” Tristan said obediently. “May I please go now?”
“Yes, get out, and I don’t want to see you back here for a long time!” she said, smiling at him.
“Thanks.” He waited while she unhooked him from the machines and slid the IV out of his arm. Once she was gone, he sat all the way up and swung his legs off the bed. “I don’t suppose there are any real clothes here?”
Thom opened a closet and handed Tristan a set of soft civilian trousers and a t-shirt. “Riggan brought these by yesterday.”
“Good.” Tristan dressed as quickly as he could. He was stiff from the time he’d been in bed and the injuries he’d sustained. He still didn’t know how extensive they were—he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. He could remember the voices at one point saying Vermin bites were fatal. He looked down at his ankle and saw a purple scar there. Cautiously putting his feet on the floor, he shifted weight onto that leg. It felt weak, but it held. He breathed a sigh of relief. Looking up at Thom’s concerned face, he grinned. “At least it’s on the leg I already limped on,” he said with a laugh.
Thom smiled—a little wanly. “I guess that’s a plus.”
“Can we go?” Tristan took a step and felt the ankle give a little.
“Sure,” Thom said, stepping beside him and pulling his arm over his shoulder. “If you fall down on the way out of sickbay, I doubt the doctor will let you leave.”
“Good thinking,” Tristan replied, grateful for Thom’s support by the time they reached the officer’s lift. He was sweating from the exertion and his leg was aching. “How bad are the sails?” he asked, trying to distract himself.
“Not bad, whatever you did to them kept them intact. We took one hit after you collapsed, from a Vermin ship that had been lurking behind some debris, and that was the one that did the damage. It’s not much and it’s only on the mainsail.”
“I should be able to fix it in a day or two,” Tristan assured him.
“Not until you are strong enough. I’m not risking losing you—we came too damn close this time,” Thom snapped. “Sorry.”
The lift doors slid open and they stepped out. The door to Tristan’s cabin was partially open, he could see in, Fenfyr was lying in the middle of the cabin, his eyes trained on the door. Tristan walked as fast as he could, dragging Thom along with him and pushed it open.
“Tristan!” The dragon’s voice was loud enough to shake the glassware on the sideboard.
“Fenfyr,” Tristan said, pulling away from Thom and stumbling towards the dragon. His leg gave out as he reached him, but Fenfyr caught him and pulled him close, wrapping him in his feathers and a protective claw. Tristan couldn’t swallow through the lump in his throat, and when the tears broke free and started down his cheeks he didn’t care. He could hear the soft hitching of Fenfyr’s tears as well. They stayed motionless for a long time, taking comfort in the fact that the other was actually okay and alive. Finally, Tristan pulled back. “How bad were you hurt?” he asked softly.
“Nothing that won’t heal, and better now you’re here,” Fenfyr said. “And you?”
“I didn’t even ask,” Tristan admitted with a laugh.
“They wouldn’t let me in, I tried to come, to let you know I was here,” the dragon said, distressed. “It was bad enough I couldn’t protect you during the battle, then they wouldn’t let me see you.”
“I know, Thom and Riggan told me.”
“You need to sit, Tristan,” Thom said, pushing a chair over.
“Thank you,” Tristan replied, sitting in the chair.
“My watch starts in a few minutes, I’ll be down to check on you in an hour, though. Sleep if you need to, I’m sure Riggan will be here…now,” Thom said with a laugh as the man appeared. “Take good care of them, Riggan.”
“I will, sir, I was just getting some grapefruit for Master Fenfyr. I guessed he’d be eating now that Master Tristan was back in the room.”
Tristan digested that comment and reached out so his hand was resting on Fenfyr’s head. Between the space of one breath and another he was asleep.
It was another two days before Tristan could do more than be up for an hour or so, eat a little and sleep again. He spent as much time as he could in the main cabin, finding he slept better in the presence of Fenfyr. When he was alone in his bedchamber, his dreams were filled with the memories of Fenfyr being hooked and the Vermin crawling over the deck of the Winged Victory. He still wasn’t strong enough to fix the sails, but he did get up and wander into his office and open the communications to Guild headquarters.
“Tristan!” Brian Rhoads boomed the moment the connection was made. “By the First Spell, it’s good to hear your voice! We thought we’d really lost you this time,” he said, his voice soft with worry.
“I’ve heard that,” Tristan replied with a laugh. “I still haven’t asked exactly what they mean, I don’t think I want to know.�
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“How are you doing now?”
“Better, Brian. I’m only waiting to get strong enough to repair a small hole in the sails so we can head back into the inner system.”
“It will be good to see you, there’s a lot we need to talk about! Chris Muher and Alden were both talking about what you did to the sails, and we need to see if that’s something you can teach, or if it’s only you.”
“I’m sure anyone can learn it.” Tristan felt the blush creep up his cheeks.
“We’ll see about that, and Muher has some idea about training commandos that can use that small personal sail you created. You’ve caused quite a stir.”
“It’s true, Tristan Weaver,” the deep voice of Darius added. “And your service to dragon kind will not be forgotten for many ages.”
“I did nothing, it was Captain Barrett and the crew of the Victory, Darius.”
The dragon snorted. “Yes, of course. It’s a good thing I was there to see it. You saved ten dragons that would have become slaves to the Vermin, Tristan Weaver. We will not forget.”
“Like I said, there is a lot to do when you get back,” Brian said. “You should know there is a full enquiry into those sails that they put up on the Victory. Everyone is denying knowledge.”
“And the dragons are not happy,” Darius said. “It is a breach of the Treaty, the Edicts, and there is tension between our peoples.”
“Well, between some of them,” Brian said. “Not everyone is being painted with the same brush. The dragons acknowledge the ships that fought at the Battle of the Line. You should know there was an attack on the Weaver offices on Terra Decimus two days ago. The Stars Plot isn’t dead, it seems. There are still sympathizers in the Navy and elsewhere. We discovered that when the ship carrying Fuhrman and the prisoners disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“Supposedly taken by pirates. We obviously have doubts about that,” Brian said grimly.
“I would, too.”
“For now, we celebrate this victory, though,” Darius broke in. “The Vermin are running, and they know we have something new they have to overcome. The Winged Victory stands between the Vermin and our space, and they will have to fight very hard to get through that line. She is a ship like no other—and that is in no small part thanks to you, never forget that, Tristan,” the dragon chided gently. “I saw what you did to the sails with my own eyes. I saw how the ship flew. It is special. She is our hope and saved us all.”
Tristan didn’t know what to say to that, he thanked them both and promised a report as soon as possible, then broke the connection.
“They’re right, you know,” Thom said from where he was leaning on the door.
“Shouldn’t you knock?”
“Fenfyr let me in.” Thom stepped into the office. “I told you this ship was special when we first met.”
“I knew she was the first time I saw her. I wanted to Weave her sails even before I was asked, even knowing that it might kill me. And, honestly, I was jealous that Alden was to fight her. I wanted to see her sails, see her in space.”
“She is as much your ship as she is mine, Tristan. I’m not sure another Warrior could fight her,” Thom said uncertainly.
“No, the sails—I can’t explain it—but no, they won’t accept another Weaver.” He smiled. “I guess you’re stuck with me. I’m not sure how that’s going to work with the Guild.”
“We’ll figure it out. We can’t be at the Rim all the time, that’s what the frigates and privateers are for.” Thom grinned. “Are you feeling up to a little formal company?”
“What do you mean?”
“Admiral O’Brian and Polaris are getting ready to head out, but before they go, there are a few medals they want to hand out. You’ll have to wear your formal uniform.”
“When?”
“Four bells in the first dog,” Thom said with a grin. “On the Winged Victory’s quarterdeck.”
“Why are you grinning like that?”
Thom just laughed.
It was a few minutes before four bells when Tristan walked onto the quarterdeck. Fenfyr had left the cabin a few minutes before and Riggan had also disappeared shortly before the bells chimed. When he reached the deck he could see why. The officers of the Winged Victory, Chris Muher, Cook, Harkins and Alden from the Noble Lady, Taminick and Fenfyr as well as Riggan were all lined up, waiting. A man in an Admiral’s uniform was pacing back and forth.
“There you are, Master Weaver!” the admiral said with a smile, walking over and shaking his hand. “Admiral O’Brian, it’s a pleasure to meet you! Now that you are all here…”
A drum tapped out an unfamiliar call over the ship-wide comm. It sounded a little like the call to quarters, but Tristan hadn’t heard it before. That was when he realized the deck was full of men and women in uniform, and space around them was full of ships. It hadn’t been the ship-wide comm, but the fleet-wide one the call had gone out over.
“We are gathered here today to honor those who, by their service, led the fleet to victory during the Battle of the Line.”
A cheer broke out on deck. The admiral waved at a man wearing a captain’s uniform, and he walked over with a box in his hand. “The Silver Cluster is hereby awarded to Boatswain James Shearer, First Officer Patrick Aubrey, Gunner, now Second Officer, Jacob Raiden and Doctor Rose Webber of the Winged Victory. To the officers and Warrior of the Noble Lady, Commander R. Cook, Ship’s Master Harkins and Alden Soldat, the Navy hereby awards you the Civilian Silver Cluster for service during the battle. Marty Riggan, for service above and beyond your station, you are awarded the Gold Star and promoted to the rank of chief petty officer, honorable.”
Tristan grinned at Thom as the cheers on deck got louder.
“Finally…” the admiral said, and a hush fell over the deck. “The Medal of Honor, with the Constellation Cluster, is awarded to General Chris Muher, Captain Thom Barrett, Master Tristan Weaver, Lokey Fenfyr and Taminick of the Guild Dragons.”
The admiral moved down the line, dropping the medals over each man’s head, and hanging them from the dragons’ foreclaws. Tristan stared at the admiral in shock as he stopped in front of him with the heavy medal hanging in his hand. Shaking his head in disbelief, Tristan bowed so the man could slip the medal over his head. He stared at the plating for a moment, waiting for the blush to recede. Tristan glanced up when a gasp ran through the assembled crew. Darius was dropping down towards the quarterdeck. The officers scrambled out of the way as the dragon landed.
Darius looked at them. “The Guild Dragons wish to acknowledge the crew of the Winged Victory for their aide in the Battle of the Line.” The dragon waited as the cheering on deck quieted. “Thom Barrett and Tristan Weaver without your help, we would have lost many of our own. For this service, above and beyond the normal call of duty, we, the Guild Dragons, award you the Order of the Silver Wing.” Darius held out a set of silver wings to Tristan and Thom. The dragon glanced over the crew again and leaped from the deck. Tristan stared at the Wings, as far as he knew, he and Thom were the first humans outside of the Dragon Corps ever awarded the honor.
The admiral smiled and stepped back, then raised his hand in a signal. The Winged Victory, along with the other ships gathered there fired off a salute. Tristan counted, his blush getting deeper and deeper as the count rose to twenty-one, an honor unheard of in more than a century.
“Thank you all for your service,” O’Brian said again. “We will meet again!”
As the man walked off the quarterdeck and was piped into his barge, the cheering on deck increased. Tristan was still staring at the deck, not sure what he had done to deserve the highest honor the Worlds could offer.
“Well, look at us,” Harkins said with a laugh. “We’re heroes!”
At that, Tristan started laughing, and Thom took the opportunity to thump everyone soundly on the back. The dragons were fluffed out, holding their medals like they weren’t sure what to do with them. The look on Fenfyr’s fa
ce increased Tristan’s laughter.
It was eight bells in the morning watch and the crew was on deck as Tristan and Thom walked up the steps from Tristan’s cabin. Riggan was still fussing when they left. Even though he’d been promoted, he’d chosen to stay as Tristan’s—and Thom’s—servant and split his time between the two.
After a short argument, Tristan had convinced Thom he was not only well enough to repair the small hole in the mainsail, but that they could unfurl the sails and start towards home at a decent pace. It had taken nearly two pots of coffee and reassurances from Fenfyr and the threat of pulling rank, but Thom had finally acquiesced. They were both anxious to head back towards the inner system. There had been another attack on a Guild outpost, and someone had reported what might have been a Vermin ship on the other side of the Rim. Thom doubted the report, but they wanted to get in closer to get more information.
Tristan stopped by the Elemental Interface and set his hands on it. The willowisps recognized him immediately, happily moving back and forth as he gently began Weaving together the hole in the mainsail. The willowisps moved easily, flowing together into a whole with very little effort on his part. He barely had to utter the spell, it was more like they were connected and they understood what he wanted and did it.
“The sail is ready, Captain Barrett,” he said.
“Loose the sails!” Thom called.
“Loose the sails!” Shearer repeated. “Sails loose, Captain!”
“Ship to the Weaver.”
“Ship to the Weaver!” Shearer repeated.
“Ship to the Weaver!” Fenfyr bugled from the Dragon’s Roost before launching off to fly beside the ship with Taminick.
“Weaver has the ship!” Thom said, smiling at Tristan. “The ship is yours. Take us out.”
Tristan reached out and felt for the Winds, shifting the sails until he felt the first flutter of the Winds touch the royals. The ship shivered as she started to pick up speed as the sails slowly began to fill. Finally, with the now familiar boom, the mainsail snapped into place, full of the Winds, the ship wheeled over and headed into the stars.
The Sail Weaver Page 29