It didn’t take much to get away from a group of half-drunk battle-crazed pirates. She just had to lead them down a few twisted streets, and then she lost them. But the wound on her arm still slowed her considerably as she ran for the watchtower. Sam was already far ahead of her. Releasing the chain was now in his hands.
Pirates raged up and down the docks, seeking any boat that was in working order. That had been the final leg of her journey last night: disabling the rudders in all of the ships along the docks, including Rolfe’s own ship, the Sea Dragon—which honestly deserved to be tampered with, given that security on board had been so lax. But, despite the damage, some pirates managed to find rowboats and piled into them, brandishing swords or cutlasses or axes and shouting profanities to the high heavens. The ramshackle buildings blurred as she sprinted toward the watchtower. Her breath was ragged in her throat, a night of no sleep already taking its toll. She burst past pirates on the docks, too busy bemoaning their ruined boats to notice her.
The slaves still rowed for the chain as if demons from every Hell-realm were upon them.
Celaena charged down the road, heading for the edge of the town. With the sloping, wide-open road, she could see Sam racing far ahead of her—and a large group of pirates not too far behind him. The cut on her arm throbbed, but she pushed herself to run faster.
Sam had mere minutes to get that chain down, or else the slaves’ ships would shatter upon it. Even if the slaves’ ships were able to stop before they hit it, there were enough smaller boats heading out that the pirates would overpower them. The pirates had weapons. Aside from whatever was onboard the ships, the slaves were mostly unarmed, even if many of them had been warriors and rebels.
There was a flash of movement from the half-crumbling tower. Steel glimmered, and there was Sam, charging up the staircase that wound up the outside of the tower.
Two pirates rushed down the steps, swords raised. Sam dodged one, knocking him down with a swift strike to the spine. Before the pirate had even finished falling, Sam’s blade skewered the other man clean through the middle.
But there was still Ship-Breaker to disable, along with the two catapults, and—
And the dozen pirates who had now reached the foot of the tower.
Celaena cursed. She was still too far. There was no way she could make it in time to disable the chain—the ships would smack into it long before she got there.
She swallowed the pain in her arm, focusing on her breathing as she ran and ran, not daring to take her eyes off the tower ahead. Sam, still a tiny figure in the distance, reached the top of the tower and the expanse of open stone where the anchor to the chain lay. Even from here, she could tell it was gargantuan. And as Sam rushed around it, hacking at whatever he could, throwing himself against the enormous lever, both of them realized the horrible truth, the one thing she’d overlooked: the chain was too heavy for one man to move.
The slaves’ ships were close now. So close that stopping … stopping was impossible.
They were going to die.
But the slaves didn’t cease rowing.
The dozen pirates were climbing the stairs. Sam had been trained to engage multiple men in combat, but a dozen pirates … Damn Rolfe and his men for delaying her!
Sam glanced toward the stairs. He knew about the pirates, too.
With a quarter of a mile left, she could see everything with such maddening clarity. Sam remained atop the tower. A level below him, perched on a platform jutting out over the sea, sat the two catapults. And in the bay, the two ships that rowed with increasing speed. Freedom or death.
Sam slung himself down to the catapult level, and Celaena staggered a step as she saw him hurl himself against the rotating platform on which the catapult sat, pushing, pushing, pushing until the catapult began to move—not toward the sea, but toward the tower itself, toward the spot in the stone wall where the chain was anchored.
She didn’t dare take her attention from the tower as Sam heaved the catapult into position. A boulder had already been loaded, and in the glare of the rising sun, she could just make out the rope stretched taut to secure the catapult.
The pirates were almost at the catapult level. The two ships rowed faster and faster, the chain so close that its shadow loomed over them.
Celaena sucked in a breath as pirates poured onto the catapult landing, weapons held high.
Sam raised his sword. Light from the sunrise gleamed off the blade, bright as a star.
A warning cry broke from her lips as a pirate’s dagger flipped toward Sam.
Sam brought his sword down on the catapult rope, doubling over. The catapult snapped so fast she could hardly follow the motion. The boulder slammed into the tower, shattering stone, wood, and metal. Rock exploded, dust clouding the air.
And with a boom that echoed across the bay, the chain collapsed, taking out a chunk of the tower—taking out the spot where she’d last seen Sam.
Celaena, at the tower at last, paused to watch as the white sails of the slaves’ ships unfurled, glowing golden in the sunrise.
The wind filled their sails and set them cruising, flying swiftly from the mouth of the bay and into the ocean beyond it. By the time the pirates fixed their ships, the slaves would be too far away to catch.
She murmured a prayer for them to find a safe harbor, her words carrying on the wings of the wind, and wished them well.
A block of stone crashed near her. Celaena’s heart gave a lurch. Sam.
He couldn’t be dead. Not from that dagger, or those dozen pirates, or from the catapult. No, Sam couldn’t be so stupid that he’d get himself killed. She’d … she’d … Well, she’d kill him if he was dead.
Drawing her sword despite the ache in her arm, she made to rush into the half-wrecked tower, but a dagger pressed against her neck halted her in her tracks.
“I don’t think so,” Rolfe whispered in her ear.