? ? ?
Captain Larhten advised that they tack to the west for a time, bargaining they would find more Realm vessels farther from the coast. By midafternoon they had gathered another forty ships, a few missing masts and rigging but all able to make headway. Predictably, the Meldenean ships displayed the least damage and she was heartened to find the Red Falcon among them, Ship Lord Ell-Nurin waving from her bow as she came alongside. Only she and the Queen Lyrna had so far been equipped with Alornis’s fire-spewing engine, upon which she now rested a great deal of expectation.
“We could head back to shore, Highness,” the captain suggested as Lyrna stood at the rail, her eyes fixed on the northern horizon. “Pick up a few more strays on the way.”
She surveyed her fleet, finding two of the great troop-ships present as well as a good number of Meldeneans. “No,” she said. “Drop anchor and pile one of the boats with all the rags and wood you can spare, douse it with pitch to make sure it smokes, and set it ablaze. Signal the other ships to do the same.”
This time he knew better than to linger and the boat was swiftly set adrift, casting a tall, twisting pillar of black smoke into the sky, soon joined by dozens more as the other ships followed suit. “Quite the beacon, Highness,” Larhten complimented her with a bow.
“Thank you.” She returned her gaze to the north. Though it’s like to draw as many enemies as friends.
The Volarians appeared as the sun began to fade, at least a hundred masts cresting the northern horizon with more appearing by the second. Lyrna’s beacon had gathered over thirty more strays as they waited at anchor but she knew any further delay would prove fatal.
“Raise all sails, Captain,” she told Larhten. “And signal the Red Falcon to remain at our starboard side. The other ships are to follow us.”
Larhten gave a sombre nod, eyeing the Volarian fleet with well-justified but controlled trepidation. “The course, Highness?”
She gave a laugh as she moved away, making for the bow, “Towards the enemy, good sir. With all possible haste.”
She found Alornis busily checking her engine, her hands moving with a speed and deftness that seemed almost unnatural. “Any damage, my lady?”
“Had to drain water from the pipes. And the fittings require a slight realignment.” Alornis hefted a mallet and began hammering at a copper tube on the engine’s underside. “But she’ll work, Highness.”
“Good. Take yourself below. Lords Iltis and Benten will see to the engine.”
Alornis didn’t even glance up, continuing to hammer away as the Volarians drew ever nearer. Lyrna sighed and turned to Murel. “There’s another mail shirt in my cabin. Please fetch it for Lady Alornis.” She drew Davoka aside, speaking softly in Lonak, “No harm is to come to her, sister. Promise me.”
“My place is by you.”
“Not today.” She gripped the Lonak woman’s arm. “She is your sister today. Promise me.”
“You fear her brother’s wrath so?”
Lyrna lowered her gaze. “You know it’s not his wrath I fear.”
Davoka gave a reluctant nod, taking the mail shirt from Murel and striding towards Alornis. “Put this on, little one.”
Lyrna joined Lord Nortah arranging a fighting party on the deck, fifty of his best fighters equipped with broad wooden panels for shielding against arrows. “My lord, I should like to address your troops.”
He bowed and issued a curt order, the company snapping to attention with a uniform stamp of boots. She scanned their faces, gratified by their lack of fear and the devotion that continued to colour every gaze. “I said once I wouldn’t lie to you,” she told them. “And I won’t. We face a hard fight because I have made a grievous error. But I also tell you no lie when I say that this battle can be won, if you will stand with me.”
The instant shout of acclaim was enough to convince her further words were unnecessary. “Spare no enemy,” she told Nortah. “Every Volarian that sets foot on this deck must be killed before he can take another step.”
Unlike his soldiers, Lord Nortah’s agreement was softly spoken, his expression the same cautious frown he always wore in her presence. “I’ll see to it, Highness.”
She returned to the bow, taking a position on the raised platform just behind Alornis and the engine. Benten and Iltis were close on both sides of her whilst Murel stood behind, dagger in hand. Davoka crouched at the side of the engine, spear held low in readiness.
“I should fetch some shielding, Highness,” Iltis said. “Their arrows were many at the Teeth if you recall.”