by Brandon Mull
“Think our guys will stop them?” Jason asked.
Drake rubbed the back of his neck. “Our lives depend on it. Each drinling squad has a sledgehammer and a few flagons of lantern oil. They’ll try to smash and burn the winches into inoperability. They shouldn’t meet too much opposition. Nobody expected an attack tonight, least of all from inside the city. Their hardest chore might be to repel the reinforcements until we’re through.”
“Do they have an escape plan?” Jason queried.
“A risky one. Some of the drinlings used a skiff to board the Valiant while Aram distracted the guardsmen. Two drinlings were assigned to tie it to the stern with a long rope, so it will drag behind our ship. If the drinlings on the wall make it to the end of the breakwaters, and if we successfully slip through the gap, and if they’re still alive, they can dive in and swim for the skiff. Once out to sea and away from immediate danger, we can welcome them aboard. Any stragglers who miss the skiff will have to swim into open water and try to get away unaided.”
Jason peered anxiously ahead, trying to make out what was happening atop the sea walls. The hellish light of the blazing ships added to the illumination from the watch fires. Figures were running on the walls. The ship felt like it was advancing in slow motion. The breeze was weakening, and the oars could only do so much. Aram barked commands and occasionally climbed the rigging himself in the attempt to get the sails into the best possible position.
The bells continued to clang. Jason glimpsed fighting near the bonfire at the end of the left sea wall, silhouettes attacking one another. More combat became visible around the big bonfire on the opposite breakwater. A body fell from the wall. Jason hoped it was an enemy. After the fighting stopped, Jason could see figures attacking the great wooden winches, firelight glinting off the metal heads of sledgehammers. The left winch burst into flames, followed by the right.
Aram hollered the loudest, his rumbling voice audible over the panicky bells and the cheering of the other drinlings. Jason wondered if the drinlings on the wall could hear the gratitude. He wished the ship would sail faster. It was like riding a turtle during a jailbreak.
Back on the dock the fires were spreading. All the ships burned fiercely. A flaming mast had collapsed onto a pier, setting it ablaze. A second ship had ignited another pier. Whirlwinds of sparks spun up into the night above great sheets of flame. As a whole, the wild conflagration was beginning to look apocalyptic. If control was not soon gained over the fires, the entire waterfront would be lost.
The Valiant cruised toward the dark gap, oars sloshing, sails not slack but not bulging. Many guardsmen could be seen racing along the sea wall, best visible as they passed torches or cressets, sprinting toward the gap where the winches now blazed. The guardsmen moved faster than the ship, but they had more distance to cover.
The wind rose enough to fan the flames on the dock and fill the sails. Masts creaking, the ship accelerated in response.
The gap drew nearer. Jason tried to will the wind to push harder. As the ship approached, he gauged that the opening between the sea walls was probably eight or nine times wider than the Valiant. Standing on the deck, Jason was still a good fifteen feet lower than the walls. The closer the ship drew to the sea walls, the harder it became to see the activity up top. Jason gazed ahead at the darkness of the open sea.
“We’re through,” Drake said as the front of the ship nosed into the gap. “Too late to raise a barricade now.”
Relieved, Jason directed his attention to the unseen drinlings on the wall. He could hear blades clashing. Would any of them make it? He looked up at the breakwater as they sailed past, alternately glancing from one side to the other. The ship was nearly halfway through the gap before he saw three figures dive off the wall to the right. Moments later a pair dove from the wall on the left. Knowing there should have been five drinlings on each wall, Jason kept watching for other survivors.
“Down!” Drake shouted, tackling Jason to the deck.
For a moment the brusque action startled and bewildered him. Then arrows began thunking against the ship, a few at a time. A drinling plummeted at least thirty feet from the rigging, an arrow in his ribs. Jason grimaced as the body struck the deck with finality. Bearing shields, Thag and Zoo stood over Jason and Drake. As several drinling archers launched arrows of their own, Drake dragged Jason to a hatch and clambered down with him.
“I shouldn’t have left you exposed like that,” Drake apologized. “Very sloppy.”
“I’m all right,” he panted.
Drake shook his head. “We were target practice. They had a deadly angle on us. I was too fixated on making it out of the harbor. I should have taken us belowdecks from the start.”
“Think any of the drinlings from the wall will make it?” Jason asked.
“Depends how far back the skiff is trailing. If it was me, I would have jumped earlier. Soon as the front of the ship reached the harbor mouth, we were free.”
“They might have been stuck fighting,” Jason said.
“They did us a brave service,” Drake replied. “Without them I doubt we would have gotten away.”
“All clear,” Zoo called down from outside the hatch.
Jason and Drake returned to the deck and looked back at the sea wall of Durna. The bells rang more quietly. The winches still burned beside the watch fires. In the background, flames raged along the dock.
“Anybody make it to the skiff from the wall?” Drake asked.
Thag held up three fingers.
Drake nodded and led Jason to the front of the ship, where Nia stood with a shuttered lantern. The blackness of the Inland Sea stretched out before them, with only the stars to show where the water ended and the sky began. Jason felt unsteady, drained after the stress and excitement of their narrow escape. It had all been so frantic. People on both sides had lost their lives. He hardly knew how to handle the sudden, dark calm. He felt bad for the drinlings who had fallen, but thrilled that the daring hijacking had succeeded.
Nia opened the shutter twice for a few seconds each time, then twice quickly. A moment later four quick flashes answered from farther out to sea, just right of their current heading.
“See that?” Nia called.
“I saw!” Aram answered. He shouted steering instructions.
“Corinne and Farfalee?” Jason asked.
“Together with Bat and Ux,” Nia replied. “Four flashes means they’re all there.” She grinned at Drake. “We pulled it off.”
“Your people were spectacular,” Drake said.
“We lost some on the wall, and Gaw was killed on our way through the harbor mouth. Any lost life is tragic, but our losses could have been worse. Should have been worse.”
“They were as surprised as we had hoped,” Drake said. “Several ships will be totally lost. It will take months to repair the piers. News of this hijacking will shake up more than this region. An interceptor is a serious prize, and we torched their waterfront as well. Many across Lyrian will hear the tale. Word of this victory should help Galloran as he recruits for his revolt. Tonight the empire looks vulnerable.”
Jason hadn’t stopped to consider how the hijacking might bring hope to Maldor’s enemies. Drake was right. Any bully looks less tough after somebody stands up to them. Jason tried not to dwell on the drinling who had fallen to the deck or the warriors who had died on the wall. Tonight was a big victory, a major step toward fulfilling the prophecy. Maybe they could actually pull it off!
“Maldor will demand vengeance,” Nia said. “He’ll want to make an example of us.”
“We’ll have his full attention going forward,” Drake agreed. “It was the price we paid for transportation to the island. With imperial troops behind us, and the Maumet before us, I have a hard time imagining how the oracle saw any of us surviving to seek out Darian the Seer.”
“Don’t write us off yet,” Jason said, feeling emboldened by their success. “We have a fast ship and lots of good fighters. We’ll find a way to
finish the mission.”
“Such reckless optimism,” Drake said dryly.
Jasher came up behind them. “We have another advantage. The emperor can’t be certain where we’re going. Even if he confirmed our identities, our destination would be difficult to guess. The Inland Sea is large. We will not be easy quarry.”
“The oracle saw a way for us to survive,” Jason added. “We just have to find it.”
CHAPTER 8
HIJACKERS
Nia burst into the small bedroom. Jason jerked his head up and squinted at her, tense from being startled awake.
“Are we under attack?” he blurted.
She was smiling. “No, it’s good news! The Valiant has been spotted on the horizon.”
“About time,” Jason said, relaxing. The ship was three days behind schedule. Everyone had been getting really antsy. He blinked and wiped his eyes.
“Sorry to disturb you,” Nia said. “I thought you’d want to know.”
“I’m glad you told me.” The room had no window, so he lacked outside light to help him gauge the time. “Is it morning?”
“Not quite daybreak,” she said. “You can go back to sleep if you want. In fact, you probably should. Tonight is the night!” Nia exited, closing the door.
Jason sagged onto his side and closed his eyes, but he failed to sleep. Eventually he went and found some breakfast. There was a new energy among the drinlings. Concerns had been expressed that the Valiant might have been diverted because somebody had caught wind of the planned hijacking. Every day their strike force had remained in hiding had increased the chance for somebody to discover them. But now it looked like all would proceed as designed.
Jason stewed all morning and into the afternoon. He spent a lot of time on his feet—testing the weight of his new sword, aiming the crossbow Aram had given him, foraging for snacks, listening for news. Pacing. Fretting.
Tonight’s endeavor would be like nothing he had ever done. Hijacking a ship in the middle of the night? This was a big town, surrounded by high walls. The ship would be guarded. There would certainly be fighting. If he and his friends messed up, they would all die.
Nobody expected much of him. According to what Jason knew of the plan, he was basically cargo. After the ship was secure, Drake and two drinling escorts would hustle him aboard. But so much could go wrong. What if they ran across a stray patrol on the way to the ship? He would have to help them fight their way clear. If an alarm was sounded before they boarded the ship, soldiers could come rushing to the waterfront, and he might end up in the thick of the battle.
Jason had practiced for months so that he could contribute in a fight. But since learning to use a sword, he had never confronted an opponent with his life on the line. That test might come tonight, meeting an enemy in combat, no blunted edges, no practice gear . . . no second chances. Skill would be involved, as would composure, as would luck. Either he or the opponent would survive. The prospect sent nervous thrills tingling through his body.
Jason knew he would not be fighting alone. Drake and others would probably be there to bail him out. But anything could happen. Worst-case scenarios could leave him alone in a sea of enemies. No matter how he tried to distract himself, he could not stop anticipating the possibilities.
Not long before sunset, somebody knocked on his door. Jason had his sword out, dueling imagined enemies. He hastily tossed it aside. “Come in.”
Aram entered, still small, and glanced from Jason to the sword on his bed. “Restless?”
“Not too bad,” Jason lied.
Aram smirked. “My room is directly below yours. I could hear you clomping around.”
Jason was not one to blush, but the sudden warmth in his cheeks hinted that this might be an exception. He looked away from the undersized half giant. “I was just doing some exercises.”
Aram plopped down on the edge of Jason’s bed. “Truth be told, I’m a bit edgy myself.”
“Yeah?”
“This is a major operation. With so many people involved, I can hardly believe we haven’t given ourselves away already. These drinlings deserve a lot of credit. They have discipline.”
“Think we can pull it off?”
Aram hesitated. “You know I used to work as a smuggler.”
“Right.”
“I’ve taken plenty of chances in my day. Risk was part of the job. But the risks were carefully measured. Thanks to my precautions, the chances of getting caught remained low. I stayed in situations where nine times out of ten, if I did get apprehended, I would be able to bargain my way out of serious trouble. Even among the officials appointed by Maldor, most consider smuggling necessary to some extent. The service fills a need. I was careful about where and when I operated. I was careful about who I worked with. Careful about what goods I moved. Careful about who I bribed.”
Jason could see where Aram was headed. “And now we’re rushing into something crazy?”
Aram shook his head. “Not necessarily. Not overly crazy. This could work. How do I put this?” He stared down at his clasped hands. “During my career, I occasionally came across opportunities for a really bold mission. A job that might produce a mountain of money overnight or really enhance my reputation. A big score—a chance for glory, riches, or both. These types of jobs almost always involved harming the interests of the emperor in one way or another. Or else they had the potential to draw his attention.
“I created workable plans for several of those missions. I devised strategies that made the projects feasible, kept the risk within reason. But the price of failure in those instances was much too high, so I played it safe. I never implemented those plans. Chasing the big score gets greedy men killed.”
“But tonight . . . ,” Jason prompted.
“Tonight we’re going to hijack an interceptor. Among other duties, it will be my responsibility to captain the ship. I have the most experience at sea, so the job fell to me. I’ve drilled the drinlings on procedures. They mastered their knots and lashings with shocking ease! They’re highly adaptable. Every man knows his role. But most have never sailed a ship like the Valiant. For good or ill, our success depends largely on me—whether I trained them right, whether I lead them effectively.
“I love the sea. I’ve captained before. I’ve dreamed of becoming shipmaster of an interceptor, Jason. There is no finer vessel afloat. The basic design came from the Kadarian warships, but Maldor perfected it. To captain the Valiant will be a thrilling privilege that I never expected to actually experience.”
“But you’re also nervous?” Jason guessed.
Aram shifted in his seat. “I’m discarding years of good judgment. Our actions tonight will publicly insult the emperor and all those in his service. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been in tight spots before. Things have gone poorly, and I’ve fought my way free. But I never sought out such situations. This hijacking will have every imperial agent on the Inland Sea after us. It will draw the personal attention of the emperor.”
“Is the plan good?” Jason hoped.
“Superb. They won’t be expecting anything this bold. They couldn’t possibly anticipate the amount of manpower we’ve assembled. This hijacking is daring enough to fall completely outside of their expectations. The Valiant made port today. Most of the crew will be carousing and enjoying the inns tonight. Those standing guard in the middle of the night will be disgruntled and careless. What could happen to an interceptor moored in a port firmly under imperial control? These soldiers haven’t seen real action for years. In combat situations surprise means a lot, and it should be entirely on our side.”
“So you’re more worried about afterward.”
“I’m worried about everything. Too much could go wrong. And if things go wrong, they will go very wrong. If our surprise is somehow foiled, this could end disastrously. If our enemy takes more clever or effective action than we’ve anticipated, we could be massacred. And even if we get away, it is only the beginning. We’ll be sailing to an island nobod
y has survived, with every soldier in the region after us. Not a favorable scenario.”
“Wow,” Jason said, feeling he now had a better grasp of why he should be freaking out.
“This is the sort of scheme you devise as an idle fantasy, and then lay aside.”
“But we can’t lay it aside.”
“If we’re determined to get to Windbreak Island, this is probably the only way. No better alternative exists. The prophecy claims we have to get there. Greedy or not, we’re being forced to pursue the big score. It goes against my instincts, which makes me edgy.”
“I’m pretty wired too,” Jason admitted. “I think I get what you mean. I’ve spent most of my time in Lyrian trying to avoid danger. Tonight we’re charging straight into it.”
Aram rubbed the sides of his nose with both hands, partially hiding his face. “Truth be told? My instincts keep telling me to run. And listening to my instincts has kept me alive so far.”
“You think we should run?”
“Not all of us. I was speaking about myself.”
Jason felt shocked by the admission. “You don’t really want to ditch us?”
Aram gave a weak smile. “I definitely want to run. I’ve never liked sitting still. I almost took action yesterday, before the Valiant had been sighted.”
“You almost left?” Jason gasped. “Really?”
“I wouldn’t bring it up if I meant to actually do it.”
“Then why bring it up at all?”
“I thought it might mean something for you to know that the thought of you helped keep me here.”
“Me?” Jason asked.
“I had to ask myself how committed I was to this cause. I had to confront whether I was willing to go all the way, to venture into dangers from which I had little chance of returning. I knew Jasher and Drake wouldn’t give up. The mission would go forward without me, and I could picture my presence making little difference whether it succeeded or failed. But then I thought about you. I thought about a young man who didn’t belong to this world, who had managed to make a difference without many of the skills I might have supposed were necessary. And I realized that if a stranger like you held true, a man of Lyrian like myself had no right to depart.”