‘Sir, it was that.’
The old Admiral was from Roldem stock, bom in Rillanon, and had never set foot in the West until he had sailed his fleet through the Straits of Darkness in late spring. He had lost two ships in the passage, an acceptable toll for the early run, and he had been fortunate to have encountered only one foreign warship on the way to Shandon Bay, a Keshian cutter that had been overtaken and sunk before it could carry word to anyone that the bulk of the King’s Eastern Fleet was now in the Bitter Sea.
Word of Admiral Nicholas’s death had been tragic news for Vykor, for while he had met the man only twice on social occasions in the Capital, his reputation and deeds were well known. Vykor did feel fortunate that at least once in his life he was able to go at the enemy under sail, with engines of war blazing, his men ready to fight hand-to-hand if need be. For most of his career he had been chasing ragged pirates, showing the colors to factious neighbors in the Eastern Kingdoms, or attending state functions at the King’s palace. Now he was doing what he had trained for all his life, and if what he had been told when he left Rillanon months before was to be believed, the fate of the Kingdom depended on this battle.
‘Orders to the fleet, Mr Devorak.’
‘Sir?’ asked the captain.
‘Press the attack, and no enemy ship is to be let free.’
‘Aye, aye, sir.’
‘By sundown I don’t want an alien ship afloat from here to Ylith. This is Nicholas’s ocean, by damn, and I won’t have them sailing on it.’
Elements of the Bitter Sea and Sunset Islands fleets moved away, heading north, to find those ships beached between the city and Sarth, while other ships moved farther north. The ships that had been beached between Land’s End and Krondor had all been fired upon while Vykor’s fleet passed, and to the last each had been burned to the waterline or sunk.
The Admiral’s delight mounted as he saw his plan was working. He had ordered all fire to be trained upon the first row of ships, turning them into an inferno in minutes, before they could cast off from the ships farther in. Now the flames were moving inward, toward the city, as ship after ship caught fire. The missiles raining down on the mass of ships were adding to the destruction.
Vykor said, ‘Keep a sharp eye out for anyone attempting to get free.’
Captain Devorak said, ‘Aye, aye, sir.’
Lord Vykor watched as the Royal Dragon, under Captain Reeves’s command, led a flotilla to the north, to sink any ships they could find. ‘Signal to Royal Dragon,’ said the Admiral, ‘good hunting.’
‘Aye, sir,’ said the captain, relaying the order to the signalman.
Vykor knew that Nicholas had been buried at sea, on the way to the Sunsets, where the squadron had picked up fresh stores, repaired damage, and sailed back in record time. But the Admiral felt what any old sailor would feel, that Nicholas still somehow walked the quarterdeck of that ship. He saluted the ship and the memory of one of the two finest sailors he had ever known, teacher and student, Amos Trask and Nicholas conDoin.
Returning his attention to the matter at hand, he saw a small ship cut itself loose near the docks and make way toward them. ‘That ship, Captain Devorak. Please sink it, sir.’
‘Aye, aye. Admiral.’
As they bore down on the enemy ship, Admiral Karole Vykor watched the Prince’s city, capital of the Western Realm, burn. A profound sadness passed over him as he saw greatness destroyed; then he put aside his feelings until later, for there was still a battle to be won.
James pulled the chain. A rumbling from above told him the mechanism was working. ‘The naphtha will filter down through the drains and culverts, and will sprinkle through the sewers. If we’re lucky, we have about an hour to get out of here.’
Lysle said, ‘Then let’s go.’
Soldiers moved quickly up the stairs to the upper basement. One moved to another short flight of stairs and hurried up that, peeking through the trap. The soldier signaled the way was clear and they hurried out into the evening.
The evening was darker than it should have been, for the air was heavy with black smoke. Men coughed, and the soldiers took out cloths, which they tied over noses and mouths. The thieves tore rags off their shirts and did likewise, one of them handing a rag to Gamina.
They heard fighting all around, but no combatants were in sight. James’s scouts hurried ahead, peering around the corner.
He waved them back and everyone who could ducked out of sight, others fell face down on the street, hugging the walls as closely as possible, in the hope they’d be lost in the smoky gloom of evening.