Tower Lord

By the time the Teeth came in sight there were over a hundred ships following the Sea Sabre, and perhaps another three hundred at anchor in the shallows to the west of the rocks. The Red Falcon was there, albeit bearing the scars of battle, the clean lines of her hull dark with scorch marks and her figurehead smashed beyond recognition.

The Shield put the Sea Sabre alongside and Ell-Nurin took a boat across to confer.

“No.” Ell-Nestra shook his head, voice firm. “No more delay.”

“More ships arrive by the hour,” Ell-Nurin protested. “We’ll need strength to move against their southern division.”

“Udonor gave it to us last night,” the Shield insisted. “Can you recall a storm of such power sweeping the Erinean at this time of year? He sends us a gift and I’ll not waste it. One more turn of the glass, my lord, then we sail to end this.”

? ? ?

The Serpent’s Tail was well named, a twisting submerged snake of rock extending over twenty miles south of the Teeth, its course laid bare by the succession of wrecked Volarian vessels driven onto it by the storm.

The crew became oddly subdued at the sight, ship after ship blasted by waves, tattered sails tossed by the wind. Lyrna noted the guarded glances they cast in her direction, reverence and no small amount of fear on every face. Udonor’s Hand is not merciful, Lyrna surmised surveying the line of wrecks. For which I am grateful.

“I count over two hundred, my lord,” Belorath reported to Ell-Nestra. “There’ll be more already sunk or smashed to splinters.”

“A battle won without a single sabre bared or arrow loosed,” the Shield mused. “Seems your shark will have to wait a while to feed his hate, Highness.”

A shout came from aloft, the look-out pointing off to the south. The Shield took his spyglass to the prow, scanning the waves for a moment before ordering sails to full and changing course. “Or perhaps not.”

There were some twenty ships moving south at a slow crawl, close together with scant canvas to catch the wind. On seeing the danger they clustered even closer, trimming sails as their ragged crews crowded the decks, weapons ready.

“Don’t these bastards ever give up?” Harvin groaned.

The Sea Sabre overtook the Volarians in short order, circling with the rest of the fleet, edging closer as the mangonels were readied and archers climbed the rigging.

“Reckon we can hit ’em from here,” Harvin surmised, standing at the rail. “Crave the honour of the first throw, Highness.”

“Granted, my lord.”

He grinned, slapping his hands together and stepping forward. The ballista bolt caught him square in the back, punching through the mail shirt as if it were paper. He staggered for a moment, staring at the bolt’s steel head sticking from his chest with raised eyebrows and an odd grin, then falling flat on his face.

“Harvin!” Orena rushed to the body, pulling it over, hands fluttering over his face, desperate pleas coming from her lips in a torrent. “Love, come back to me love, come back to me . . .”

“Bastards!” Iltis lit the hemp and slammed his boot onto the release, running to the rail and shouting into the fireball’s wake. “Don’t you know when to fucking die!?”

Lyrna crouched at Orena’s side as she cradled Harvin’s head in her lap, whispering now. “Come back to me . . .”

Lyrna looked at the former outlaw’s empty eyes, his teeth bared in the same odd grin. He was the most likely of us to die laughing.

She joined Iltis at the rail, watching a hundred fireballs descend on the Volarian ships in an inverted fountain of blazing teardrops. “I seek pardon for my language, Highness,” her Lord Protector said in a soft voice.

Lyrna wrapped herself around his thick arm, hugging the rigid muscle tight, her head resting in his shoulder. The flames grew quickly in the midst of the cluster, a tall column of smoke rising, screams drifting across the water. Soon swimming men came splashing out of the smoke, a hundred or more desperate enough to hope for rescue from their enemy, all destined to perish as soon as they came within bowshot.

I know you’re here, Lyrna thought, scanning the waves. Who will you find to hate now?

A great crash erupted from the burning ships, flaming splinters bursting into the sky as the shark ascended from the inferno. It rose free of the wreckage, twisting in the air, tail whipping upwards before it dived back down into the carnage, jaws wide and hungry.

Somehow Lyrna knew she would never see it again.

? ? ?

They gave the dead to the sea at twilight, the Meldeneans standing in silent regard for their fallen crew-mates, more than twenty canvas-wrapped bodies weighted and lowered into the waves. As each corpse was readied to be carried to the rail crewmen would come forward to choose an item from the belongings laid out on a cloth at their feet. Any coin or valuables had already been collected by Belorath who would see them safely to the bereaved families, the trinkets left behind were merely tokens of remembrance: a die, a Keschet piece kept as a lucky charm, a favoured knife. The only words spoken were the names of the fallen men, enunciated clearly by the Shield to be crossed off the ship’s roll by his first mate.

The ship’s carpenter had fashioned a basic raft for Harvin, his body placed on a bed of pitch-soaked rope and rags, the sword Lyrna had given him resting under his crossed arms. Benten and Iltis lowered him over the side and the former brother said the words at his queen’s behest. Orena stood between Lyrna and Murel, clasping their hands in a tremulous grip, her cheeks dry now as she seemed to have exhausted her tears.

“We stand in witness to the end of the vessel that carried this man through his life,” Iltis said. “We know there are those in the Realm who would remember him without kindness or high regard. But we knew him as a friend and a comrade in a time of great trial, and he never failed us. An outlaw he may have been, but he died a Sword of the Realm, beloved by his woman, his friends and his queen. We give thanks for his deeds of kindness and courage and forgiveness for his moments of weakness. He is with the Departed now, his spirit will join with them to guide us in life and our service to the Faith.”

He let go of the rope holding the raft and it drifted away on the swell. Benten raised a bow notched with a flaming arrow and let it fly, the raft soon a fiery square on the broad ocean, carried towards the horizon and lost to view before the hour was gone.

? ? ?

The Shield found her as night fell, keeping company with Skerva once again. The sky was clear now, all trace of the storm gone from a sky lit with numberless stars, the air cool and pleasing on her skin.

“Your Highness owes me an answer,” Ell-Nestra said, resting against the figurehead’s arm. “Your true intent.”

She nodded, eyes still rapt on the sky. “When I was little, I tried to count them all. It proved very difficult, so I devised a plan. I would study just one section of sky seen through a window in the palace roof, count all the stars visible within it then multiply the result with the sky’s overall area.”

“Did it work?”

Lyrna breathed a soft laugh. “The number was so large there is no name for it. But that’s not the interesting thing. You see when I came to check my figures, for a good scholar always checks their figures, the number of stars in the window had changed. It was the exact same date a year later, but there were two more stars in my count. Two distant suns that simply hadn’t been there a year before.”

“And what did this tell you?”

“That if the stars in the sky are not fixed, then nothing is fixed. Nothing is eternal, all is temporary and ever-changing.” She turned away from the stars, meeting his gaze. “Nothing is fixed, my lord. No course is so set it cannot be changed.”

He gave a wry smile. “You would have us change course.”

“I would.”

“Might I ask in what direction?”

“I understand the Coldiron River is navigable to oceangoing vessels at this time of year, all the way to Alltor.”

“Which stands besieged and in dire need of relief.”

“Quite so.”

“And you command this in return for the debt we owe you?”

“You owe me nothing. My father tipped the scales and I tipped them back. I speak only sound strategy. You must know the Volarians will not just swallow this defeat and leave you in peace. This has been but one battle in a war that will end only with their utter ruin. And that ruin will start at Alltor.”

He moved closer, no smile on his lips and just honest appeal in his gaze. “I offer a counterproposal, Highness.” He nodded towards the west. “We have a fine ship, a loyal crew and all the world’s oceans to sail. The Merchant Kings have large fleets, I hear.”

Lyrna laughed, shaking her head. “You would make me a pirate queen?”

“I would seek to preserve your life. For I find it has great value to me.”

“A queen does not live, she reigns, and my reign has begun. Will you take me to Alltor?”

He moved closer still, looming above her, brows creased and eyes lost to shadow as he stared down at her. “May the gods save me, but you know I’d take you anywhere.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Frentis

He woke to find Illian and Arendil sharing breakfast, a watery porridge of oats from their diminishing supplies. Repeated movement left no time for hunting and hunger was becoming a constant companion. However, neither of them had voiced a single complaint and even their tireless bickering seemed to have abated following the battle with the Kuritai.