by Giles Carwyn
“Can you talk to her, reach her with your magic?”
“Perhaps, if she lets me. What do you want me to say to her?”
“Tell her that I’m still alive and I need to talk to her. Tell her that the Silver Islanders have a way of destroying the black emmeria.”
“Do you really believe that will make her pull out at this point?”
He shook his head. “No. But we have to try.”
She turned to face the fleet. They were close enough now to make out the sailors running along the decks of the distant ships. “Yes,” she said, closing her eyes and concentrating. Brophy felt her magic swirl around him. “We have to try.”
Arefaine stood in the crow’s nest of the imperial flagship overlooking the Ohohhim fleet. It spread before her like a shifting forest of billowing white trees, the triangular sails of sleek warships shifting back and forth as they rode the swells. Beyond them, square sails and the bright blue, orange, red, purple, and green pennants of the Summer ships made her fleet the largest the Great Ocean had ever seen.
In the distance, the gleaming metal prows of the Silver Islanders sailed to meet them like a wall of swords. Their force was less than half the size, but there was no guarantee that this battle would be easily won. Her naval commanders had been very insistent about the effectiveness of the barbarians’ initial charge. Their only hope was to overwhelm them with numbers, deny them room to maneuver, and build up the speed to use their deadly prows. The steel rams of the Silver Islander ships could cut a ship in half and keep right on sailing. Their navy had kept all comers away from Efften for three hundred years. But it was time for the wheel to turn. Today, history would be shattered. Age-old crimes would be avenged and a new world would emerge from the floating wreckage and blood soaked seas.
Arefaine slipped her hand into her pocket and touched the crystal shard hidden within. She couldn’t help thinking that Brophy might still be alive somewhere, hidden among the enemy. She could picture him standing above one of their gleaming silver prows, sword in hand, blond hair shifting in the breeze. She shook the thought from her head. He’d made his choice. Alive or dead. Against her or not. He didn’t matter anymore.
Arefaine shrugged under the weight of the satchel across her shoulders. Her father had insisted that she carry the Heartstone and the containment stones she’d taken from Ohndarien with her at all times. It was a damnable nuisance. Their weight was constantly pulling her off balance as the ship swayed back and forth, and the constant howling of the hungry emmeria made it hard to concentrate. But her father had insisted that they were too precious to be relegated to any servant. It would be catastrophic if they fell into the wrong hands.
Ignoring the weight against her hip, she looked out over her men. She tasted their emotions. They were tense, but determined. The only thing that seemed to be bothering them was the stench of the pitch smoke from the incendiaries that billowed from the deck-top cauldrons in endless plumes, stinging the nose and eyes.
They were good men, each one a volunteer responding to Arefaine’s silent call to release the sleeve in front of them and escape the divine queue. Prior to departure she’d ordered a final inspection. They all lined up on the dock and she had taken the time to look into the heart of every man and woman in the fleet. She’d touched each one of them on the hand, leaving her mark on their souls. They would not fail her. Not while they still drew breath.
A feathery touch brushed across her mind, and she turned, looking to the east. What was—
“Arefaine, my child,” her father said, suddenly appearing next to her in the crow’s nest. He placed his ghostly hand on hers, the wind ruffling his green sarong. “It is time to move your ship to the back of the formation,” her father quietly insisted. She frowned at him briefly, then turned back to the east, trying to feel for the source of the magical touch.
“Arefaine,” he insisted again. “You cannot remain at the head of the fleet.”
“I felt something,” she said. “Like someone is trying to contact me.”
“Magical?” he asked.
She looked at him. “Yes. Did you feel it, too?”
“Of course, my child. It must be the Ohndarien witch who tried to kill you. The barbarians are ascertaining your whereabouts. They will come directly for you if they can find you. You must protect yourself.”
She turned a narrowed gaze upon the Silver Islander fleet. “I thought they hated any use of magic.”
“Of course they do, but they can finally see justice staring them in the face. They are desperate enough to try anything. Even hiring the services of a wayward sorceress. You must hide yourself from her. We have waited a long time for this glorious day,” her father said.
She looked at him, the wind ruffling his long goatee.
“And I want to see it,” she said. They had been arguing about this since they left Ohohhom. She longed to be at the front of the fleet when they ripped into those tattooed murderers. She wanted to be right in the middle of it, standing beside her men to meet the Islanders’ legendary charge. She wanted to see the expressions on their faces when the children of Efften returned to avenge their parents’ murder.
“I know how badly you want to fight. And I know how bravely you would do it. But we cannot risk a stray arrow shattering our dreams.”
“Father, no stray arrow could ever—”
“You can’t know that. Believe me. I have seen my share of battles. I know how confusing they can be. The Silver Islanders didn’t come here to defeat your fleet. They came here to kill you. Nothing else matters to them. They want to annihilate our kind. You are the strongest and they will sacrifice anything to get to you, if you let them. This is the battle for our future. Will magicians be allowed to survive in our world?”
“We will survive, Father. I promise you.”
“Then remain at the back. Let your servants do the fighting for you. That is why the Summer Fleet is here. Let them take the brunt of the first charge. The battle will come to you soon enough, I assure you. All the odds are in our favor, but do not give them a chance to steal our victory.”
She sighed. “I will remain here, Father. But only because you ask it.”
“A wise choice, my child. A half hour of prudence is certainly worth a lifetime of desire.”
Arefaine nodded, but she still longed to be in the middle of it. She had prepared for this day her entire life. This was her moment of glory, and she wanted to revel in it.
Taking a deep breath, she let go of her desires and focused on the larger goal. “I’ll contact Admiral Wembu,” she said. “He’ll know what to do.”
“Good, my child. Good.”
With a thought, she brushed the admiral’s mind. In moments orders were being shouted from ship to ship. Her flagship luffed its sails and began to fall behind.
The rest of her fleet did the same and Summermen on either side of her began to drift toward the center, filling the gap. Her allies’ ships were ill suited to this sort of battle. Their losses would be heavy. She should have walked among them, looked them in the eye, and bolstered their spirits. But there hadn’t been the time. She reached out with her mind to gauge their morale, but she stopped when she heard her father chuckling.
“Don’t worry about them, my child. Any sacrifices they make will be handsomely rewarded. After this battle, they will control Ohndarien, Physendria, and the Silver Islands. Prince Vinghelt’s dominion will extend across two oceans. And we will have one of our own guarding our shores. Don’t weep at the price of greatness.”
Arefaine nodded, shifting the bag of containment stones farther back off her hip. The first wave of the Silver Islanders was nearly within range of her vanguard. The barbarians were packed on their decks, weapons in hand. She found herself searching the crowds for a shock of blond hair and scowled.
“Now,” she murmured, and her admiral did not fail her.
A horn rang out and the Ohohhim catapults loosed. Flaming pots filled with pitch-soaked gravel arced into the
air. The deadly comet shower rose, and then fell among the white sails of the Silver Islanders, shattering on the decks below, flinging flaming debris everywhere.
Silver Islander ships went up like torches. Even at this distance, she could hear the screams as the murderers leapt overboard.
Taking a deep breath, Arefaine smiled.
Reef stepped in front of Ossamyr as the flaming pots descended all around them. One splashed into the water in front of his ship, sending flecks of dying flame against the hull.
The ship to starboard was not so lucky. Two pots smashed across her deck, spreading fire like rain, lighting everything it touched. A sailor caught in the main spray screamed, running blindly for the edge of the ship. He slammed into the rail and toppled overboard, leaving a tiny splash as the hulls of the Silver Islander ships raced past him.
“Can you find her?” Reef asked, his stony face facing forward, watching the quickly approaching enemy fleet.
The pain in Ossamyr’s belly had become almost unbearable. She felt the sneaky tendrils of delirium creeping into her thoughts. The wound was just. She’d had her chance to kill Arefaine and she let it slip by.
The Nine pay their debts in the same coin with which they were loaned, she heard Phandir saying in her mind. They reward great deeds with glory. They reward failure with shame.
Phandir’s not here, she thought. Concentrate. You don’t have much time.
“I can,” she answered Reef, rallying her strength and sending her attention out again, searching the first ship that hurtled toward them.
“They’re not people,” she gasped. “I can sense something, very faint, but not like—”
“It’s the indentured,” Reef said in a rumbling voice. “Don’t worry about them. She won’t be on one of those ships. Search the Ohohhim fleet.” He pointed. “The ship at the back. The largest one. The flagship. Check there.”
She threw her energy beyond the bright Summer ships toward the triangular sails of the Ohohhim, stretching. Trying. But they were too far away, and her attention faltered.
Ossamyr drew herself back, breathing hard. She brushed her hand across her stomach, thinking she would find her entrails hanging out. They weren’t, but the wound felt dark and ugly. Every time she shifted, she felt as if she would split in half.
Reef looked at her with worry.
If she had been back in Ohndarien, with Shara helping, Ossamyr knew she could fight this infection. But Shara was lost to her, like the rest of Ohndarien. Ever since she leapt into the salt water, fleeing Reef’s burning ship, the pain had intensified with every passing hour.
How could it have ended so wrong? Why wouldn’t Brophy listen to her?
Because you betrayed him, Phandir laughed in her mind. You showed him what a perfect queen you are.
“Shut up,” she murmured, then shook her head. She looked up and saw Reef’s concerned stare.
“Enough,” he said. “The strain is too—”
“No, I can find her.”
Once again, Ossamyr sent her awareness out, panting with exertion. The effort increased her pain. If felt as if someone had sewn a red-hot coal into her belly. With every effort she made, the coal burned brighter and brighter, trying to sear its way out.
“There,” she gasped, pointing feebly. “You were right. In the crow’s nest.”
He turned and shouted at his helmsman. “Luff the sails! Hold back. We skirt the fleet and then cut for the center. We aim for the flagship!”
The helmsman nodded and shouted the orders in relay. The crew leapt to the task, and the ship slowed. The sailor in their crow’s nest signaled to the ship behind them that Reef had specially prepared. It slowed in response. The rest of the fleet flowed past them at full speed.
Ossamyr glanced at the dinghy resting on blocks next to her. It was packed with wooden chests, each one of them holding a thousand shards of light emmeria. The ship behind them had the same. They were the spears meant to pierce Arefaine’s heart.
She turned back to the enemy in front of them. She could see the catapult crews rushing thought the haze, desperate to reload their weapons. They would be here in seconds.
“Will we have time to reach her if we go around?”
“We might,” Reef growled. “I certainly don’t want to get caught in the snarl. We have no chance of fighting our way straight through the middle.”
She touched the poisoned dagger still strapped to her thigh. If only the blade had tasted its prize.
Her fingers moved from the dagger to the shards of light emmeria sewn into her clothing. Ossamyr felt like she was walking into a burning house wearing oil-soaked clothes. Reef’s tunic was the same, and everyone else on board the ship. If Arefaine used her magic on any one of them, she would win the battle for them. One explosion would spread to the others until the chests in the dinghy exploded, taking Arefaine and everyone else with it.
Ossamyr winced as her belly tightened, trying to ignore her pain. She glanced back at the men and women who packed the deck behind her. They’d been handpicked by Reef, the finest archers and swordsmen in the Islands. They stood shoulder to shoulder in grim determination, their tattoos blending into a chaotic mass of shapes and colors. Not one of them expected to see the sun set that day.
“Incoming,” someone shouted, and she spun back around to see a second volley of flaming balls arcing toward the Ohohhim fleet. Their vanguard took the brunt of the attack. More Silver Islander ships went up like torches, but they didn’t falter. Their brave captains continued sailing as long as they could, trying to hold on and run their burning ships into their enemies.
“That’s the last shot they’ll get off before we ram them,” Reef growled. Ossamyr reached out, fumbling with his forearm and then gripping his enormous hand. He looked at her, and it sent a surge of pride through her. Such a great man. And she’d had so little time with him. It was her curse. She’d spent most of her life with a man she despised, and only a few short days with the ones who really loved her. That was the Nine’s punishment, truly. She had denied her love and it had been denied to her.
“I want you in the dinghy with the light emmeria in case the ship is sunk,” Reef rumbled. “If we go down, you can get away with it.”
She started to laugh, then winced, putting a hand to her belly. “And I want to live forever on that island you took me to. Neither is going to happen.”
“You can barely stand,” Reef said. “You’ve done your part. Save your strength.”
“If I had done my part, this battle would never have happened.”
Reef held her tight, her stalwart oak of a man keeping her on her feet. He looked down at her. “I’m not sure I could still love you if you ever let go of all that guilt you adore so much,” he said wryly, then kissed the top of her head. “But I would certainly try.”
Their ship veered west, skirting the battle, as Silver Islander ships sliced into their enemy’s formation. Wood crackled like a hundred simultaneous thunderclaps as the Islander fleet sliced through the Summermen.
Ossamyr hugged Reef and looked ahead, keeping her eyes locked on Arefaine’s flagship.
“You fool, you’ve killed us all!” Issefyn cried, watching an Islander ship slice right through a pleasure barge, cracking the ship in half.
“Calm yourself, Mother,” Victeris said, watching the slaughter before them.
Issefyn clutched the railing, and tried to see out of her itching eyes and concentrate past the relentless pounding in her head. She’d thought her ship was tucked safely in the back of the formation, but the Islanders had ripped right through their first line of defense and engaged the second. The ship she’d watched cut through a fat wallowing tub had already rammed the nextship it came to, burying its sharpened prow into the side of a triple-decked party boat. All across the line it was the same story. The Silver Islanders had weathered the burning rain of the Ohohhim catapults and rushed their flaming ships headlong into the Summer Fleet. The crack and groan of splintering wood rose from al
l over the battle. Scores of weeping ones were flung into the water to drown. Still more slid down canting decks and were also claimed by the ocean.
“You didn’t expect us to come through this battle unscathed, did you?” Victeris asked.
“It’s a slaughter,” she cried. “You’ve sent poets to fight barbarians,” she said. “Mute poets who bleed black from the eyes. A cunning strategy. What will you throw at the enemy next? Little girls?”
Victeris merely smiled. “The worst of it is already over,” he said. “Or didn’t you know?”
“I know that your side is losing. I know that much.”
He chuckled. “Keep watching.”
The Silver Islanders’ initial onslaught was devastating, but once they lost their momentum, they had no room to maneuver. Their small sleek boats bogged down in the wreckage of the larger vessels. The one right in front of her had gotten its prow lodged in the ship it had rammed. Its stern was already rising out of the water as it started going down with the larger vessel.
The second and third rows of Summer ships were entering the battle, pinning the Islander ships between them. Before long it would turn to hand-to-hand combat.
“And now, Mother, I must take my leave. My attention is needed elsewhere.”
To control your mindless army, she thought. How many can you manage at once? I wonder.
But she said nothing to him, and he vanished. She continued watching the battle, resisting the urge to turn around and look at Speevor, who stood several paces behind her clutching the containment stone.
The weeping ones began fighting now, leaping over to the Silver Islander ships as the Islanders rushed to brace them. As soon as they did, Issefyn turned.
And smiled.
Speevor stood inert, limp arms hanging at his sides, with only his fist tight around the containment stone.
One shaking step at a time, Issefyn approached, but the mindless hulk didn’t respond to her presence. Swallowing, she reached out, slowly, and touched the containment stone in his hand.