Temple of the Traveler: Empress of Dreams (53 page)

“I don’t know. Forty-five? Why?”

“The color of the beam is the same as the sunset. I’m guessing they can only fire until the sun goes down.”

“Good news.”

“Bad news. We have at least twenty bits before dark. Can we take twenty-six more shots like that?”

“Crap,” echoed Niftkin. “We have to draw their fire, but I have orders not to leave.”

“I’ll take the yacht and draw the vortex on it,” Komiko insisted.

“I can’t let a woman do that,” objected Niftkin. When she glared at him, he added, “That’s my only way to reach Sandarac.”

The next catapult in the defensive line burst into flames.

“You know he’s aiming that weapon. Come with me.”

“Damn. Yacht. Now. Move!” The archers obeyed, sprinting for the yacht and untying the lines.

Niftkin pulled on the hilt of the sword, but it didn’t want to budge. “I am the bearer! I received this blade from the hand of Pagaose who received it from Akashua who received it from Myron.” Planting his feet in the water stance he learned from the emperor, he then pulled again. This time, the blade slid clear. He felt like he’d pulled the lynch pin out of a wheel axle on a cart rolling down a hill, but the central bowl of Sacred Amber still glowed.

When he jumped onto the deck of the yacht, Komiko was already chalking her ward on a large slab of Emperor’s glass sitting on the deck. “I guess you just had to tell it who’s boss,” she joked. “Do you think that’ll work with Nightglow?”

He snorted. Until Komiko finished her work, Niftkin stood on the prow of the
Elegance
, holding the One True Sword like a lightning rod.

As they cast off, the old lighthouse exploded. One of the archers mumbled, “We had observers up there.”

A bit later, Komiko said, “Done.”

The second that Niftkin climbed off the prow, pink light passed over their heads, and the wreck behind them burst into flames.

“Do I charge the vortex?”

“Wait,” the swordsman said. “I didn’t feel the spell break, not yet. Do you think the dragon lied to us?”

She shrugged. “No new energy is being fed into the circuit, but the old reservoir is still there. Sometimes complex spells take a while to decay.”

“There’s a tiny oval of Compass light behind the Lens just before it fires. I could tell when it aimed toward us. Just to be safe, we’ll wait until the last instant to charge your new mana drain. I want to hold the shield as long as possible to keep the enemy fleet out.”

Komiko growled. “That ship has its sails furled to maximize the light. It’s a sitting duck; if only we could reach it faster. The other warships will be heading this way, though, as soon as the last catapult and sentry station is eliminated.”

“I have a twisted idea,” Niftkin said, licking his lips.

“I’ll try anything once,” said the witch. With a sly grin she continued, “Twice if it feels good.”

“I noticed an old-style ward on the prow. What would happen if you charged the spirit-protection ward on our aft?”

Komiko grinned. “The repulsion would skip us over the water like a stone, right down that bastard’s throat.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“I have to be ready to charge the vortex. You do the rear.”

“I’m not very good at this magic stuff.”

“That’s not what Nightglow says.”

“Really?”

“Get the hell back there. Talk nice to the sword and be all formal about it. Maybe that’ll help.”

He bit his lip. “Right, no pressure.” Niftkin sheathed the One True Sword and cinched it tightly to his leg.

A few moments later, a fire broke out in the warehouse district. The hatred gave him the added strength he needed. Komiko called out, “How’s it . . . crap!” She scrambled for a rope to avoid sliding down the steep deck. The yacht nosed up as they streaked toward their enemy. They bounced and became airborne a few times.

“Are you okay?” Niftkin shouted over the rhythmic splashing.

“My hair’s going to be a mess.” Her rain slicker was flapping so hard that she handed it to him before it beat her to death. He wrapped the oilcloth around his leg too in order to prevent the spray from damaging his sword.

“Charge the vortex,” he said.

“Why?”

“Otherwise we might flip. We also can’t see the lens from this angle.”

She powered the new ward. “This is for you, Ember.”

The yacht stabilized a little, but went even faster across the harbor. She wouldn’t have believed it possible.

“Everyone grab a paddleboard,” Niftkin ordered. The yacht was shaking under the stresses. Every moment elongated for him as he waited to give the next command. He felt that his will alone kept them upright, and that any wavering could topple them.

When the pink beam struck, he watched Komiko at the center of the ward glow the same hue. A heartbeat later, the energy flickered out.

“It burns!” The glass beneath her glowed from absorbing the mana.

“Take my hand. We’ll jump off.” They were slowing slightly, but close enough that their momentum might carry them into Sandarac’s ship.

“One more shot. We have to be closer. I can take it. Aw, gods it hurts.”

“You don’t have to do this,” he insisted.

“Wouldn’t you if they’d killed Nightglow?”

“Yes,” he admitted. “But I’d take a paddleboard and sit on it.”

She laughed and accepted the offered floatation device, putting it between her and the hot glass.

“Prepare to abandon ship.”

“Flash!”

The next blast knocked her out, but the
Elegance
held together.

Dragging the witch out of her circle, Niftkin wrapped his arms around her and the board together. “Abandon ship!” he called and then jumped off the boat.

His head had just cleared the waves with help from the archers when Niftkin heard the
Elegance
crash into the prow of the enemy vessel. Water poured in through the hole, tipping the warship forward and spoiling the aim of the lens for several bits.

The archer nearest him asked, “Are we going to get fired for this or do we get a medal?”

“I don’t know yet. Start swimming with the concubine.”

“Where are you going?”

“To finish the damn mission,” said Niftkin. Four of the six archers swam with him.

“The
Third Doom
is approaching the harbor fast,” Lord Vapordoom announced.

“Send out every ship we have now!” Pagaose commanded. Men rushed to send the signal. “If one warship gets through before my trap springs, things are going to get ugly.” After hearing report after report about the damage from the lens, Pagaose had deployed several students with smaller telescopes. Each student was coordinating firefighting efforts and rescue teams. One rescue squad had been burned down already.

“And things have gone so well so far,” Lord Pangborn sniped.

“Speak thus again, lord, and you will be chastised,” the emperor stage-whispered.

“
Lady of the Deep
is drawing in to protect the flagship. What the hells is that guard of yours doing?” demanded Lord Vapordoom, forgetting that no one else could see through the telescope while he was observing.

Pagaose peeked over the astronomer’s shoulder. “He’s doing his job, just a little early—as usual. He’s going to ram the
Rebirth
to stop the lens. ”

The council crowded around the largest telescope, vying for a look. The action, however against orders, had given them hope.

Vapordoom said, “Duwara, you go first; he’s your kin.”

The old soldier, who now accompanied the emperor everywhere, leaned over. “Heavens, I’ve never seen a yacht move so fast. The lens is firing. He survived!”

“Give me an update on the
Call
,” the emperor snapped to one of the junior astronomers as he walked to Corrie’s side. He should have moved the cot closer to the telescope, but it was too late now. If they jostled her, she might wake again.

“They’re t-two-thirds of the ways, sire. Their target moved toward the harbor and they had to adjust.”

Pagaose whispered in Corrie’s ear, “Forget the Greens; let them catch up later. Use the Scythe now.”

“Only one of the enemy warships hasn’t joined the flagship,” Ashford complained. “Where are they and what are they doing?”

“Uh-oh. The dragon blacked out another ward, sire. The
Pride of Fireton
is going to establish a beachhead on Shade Side.”

“He’s trying to divide the defenders. There aren’t enough of us to be everywhere. The few constables and civilian volunteers we have won’t stop the longboats,” said Ashford.

“Send Vinspar’s men to put out fires. They can do that without weapons. Take Frond’s patrols, the cadets who survived, and every spirit mage you can out to the invasion point. Harass and
delay
. If we capture Sandarac, the invaders won’t set foot on our shores.”

“The golden crescent has separated, and it’s skimming over the water faster than a bird!”

Another student reported, “The
Elegance
made a hole in the flagship! She’s foundering. The
Rebirth
is going down.”

The cheer that went up in the command center was deafening.

“Survivors?” asked Duwara.

“A few. Some are moving
toward
the enemy flagship. I see an oilskin, sir.”

“That’s my consort,” crowed Pagaose.

“Komiko’s got bigger balls than Pangborn,” joked Ashford.

Everyone waited tensely. Pagaose gripped Corrie’s hand, and Ashford noticed.

“The
Third Doom
is in the harbor. The shield is down!” announced Vapordoom.

“Now,” hissed Pagaose. He heard a humming sound, a pure note that reminded Pagaose of a finger on the rim of a wineglass. He felt the Door resonate as the energy level built. Many voices joined the leader of the Chorus. Surely he wasn’t the only one hearing this. Only one student stood up from his telescope. “The golden crescent is swooping toward the Doom. The device is made of eight segments. Standing behind each arc segment is a person in golden armor. Someone is riding in the cusp of the crescent.”

Looking through his own telescope, Vapordoom muttered, “The man in the middle is carrying a wooly goat on his back.”

“No. He
is
a goat,” the emperor corrected. The vibrations shook his chest. “Watch the
Doom
.”

The windows on the sides of the observatory rattled in the thunderclap that followed.

“Gentlemen, that was the Scythe, the secret weapon in the arsenal of Archanos.”

“Gods! Men were thrown from the deck. Nothing is standing on the
Doom
.” Vapordoom seemed sorry for the enemy.

Corrie sat up, pale. Pagaose stroked her hair and soothed her as she chanted. “They’re dead. So many. Screams.” Her breath sounded like the footfalls of a sprinter.

He handed her the fox from its bed cushion and said, “Your part is done now, milady. I’m sorry you had to see that. You may want to return to your chambers for the rest of this. It’s going to get worse.”

Lord Ashford signaled two of his men to escort the lady away. He whispered something in one’s ear.

As she departed, Pagaose said, “More will be up on deck soon. Have our boats board them as soon as possible.”

“
Lady of the Deep
is sailing to intercept our Greens. It’s launching fireballs . . . the fire veered aside!”

Pagaose smiled. “Pinetto. That, milords, is what a dean should be. That’s why he earned a council seat.”

“Hear, hear!” said Duwara.

“They’re aiming the Roseate Lens at the golden crescent. I can see the pre-flash. Gods, something swooped out of the sky to intervene—the dragon. She’s wounded badly, spiraling into the water.”

“Serog,” murmured the emperor.

“Why would they shoot her?”

“They didn’t mean to. She chose to intervene, to save one of her daughters from another. I hope she survives.” When one of the guards raised an eyebrow, he explained, “She’s the best enemy I’ve ever had.” He felt the buildup of the Chorus again. “Target?”

“The crescent just swept the deck of the
Rebirth
. There was a monkey in the middle this time. The fire crews for the lens are dead, as is everything else in the top half of the flagship.”

“It’s almost dark; they shouldn’t be able to fire the lens again.”

Once more, the College applauded.

“The crescent is going back to reengage the
Doom
. Our small craft are almost there to finish the task.”

“What do we do?” asked Pangborn.

Pagaose shrugged. “It’s out of my hands now, gentlemen. What’s left belongs to history.”

****

Niftkin climbed out of the water, exhausted. The silence on the deck of the
Rebirth
was eerie. A cool breeze made him shiver. The archer beside him asked, “What do we do now, lord?”

The title confused Niftkin for a moment, and he looked over his shoulder for another noble. Then he remembered his new rank. “We take advantage of the lull and capture the flag.”

“Is that honorable? We haven’t taken the Pretender yet.”

“It saves lives on both sides. What could be more honorable?”

Niftkin unwrapped his sword while the archers formed a perimeter around him. Only two still had working weapons, but they were able to scavenge as much as they wanted from the dead soldiers scattered everywhere.

“They’re bleeding from the ears, lord,” said one archer.

“Hush. Listen for the living.” One man in a pile of bodies stirred and, seeing the man’s agonized face, Niftkin used his sword out of mercy. Three times on the way to the mast, the enemy challenged them. He only had to swing the One True Sword once. Men ran the other way when they saw the man’s top half separate from his bottom by the force of the magic blade. Clearly, the sword had accepted him as wielder.

Without apparent effort, Niftkin sliced through lines holding the northerners’ dragon-and-crown flag. As he waved it toward the yachts that were now swarming the area, the people of Center cheered. A lone arrow from above hit Niftkin in his scabbard leg. His men silenced the enemy archer as the commander sat to inspect his wound. The oilcloth had taken the brunt of the assault. The wound in his flesh was long but not too deep. He used the bright strips of the torn rain cloak to bind the gash closed.