This was getting too dangerous. I should not be taking such risks, especially with Cal and Nyla here. I should have come up with a scheme that did not require Flamespinners.
When I looked back at Cal and Nyla, both nodded, eyes glinting. This was still a game to them.
“Ready?” I whispered. “You four, come with me.” I pointed to Baridya, Cal, Nyla, and one of the archers. “Everyone else can take the second boat.”
Without waiting for the others to agree, I crept away from the wall, hunched forward, hoping I would blend in with the shadows.
The rocks clacked loudly underfoot, and I froze.
But no one had seen me. The waves continued to sigh their way up and down the beach, sending pebbles clattering as they rolled back and forth.
I hurried the last few steps down to the boat, and together Baridya, Cal, and I dragged it into the waves. Beside us, the rest of my fighters wrestled with the second boat.
We waded into the surf, water lapping around our boots. The waves tried to shove the rowboat back ashore, but I held it steady. Once we jumped in, water spilling over the top of one boot, the archer gave it a shove.
“What’s that?” a Whitish soldier barked from the shore.
I froze. “They’ve seen us,” I breathed.
“Someone’s there!” another Whitish soldier yelled. “They’re headed for the watchtower!”
Baridya grabbed the oars and stroked fiercely away from shore. At first the waves held us captive, tossing our boat forward before sucking it back as they receded, but soon we hit calmer water, the ocean still rolling beneath us in tall surges.
My other four fighters were still struggling with their rowboat. They shoved it into the water upside down, clumsy in their panic, and scooped up water and pebbles as they finally righted it.
Eight Whitish soldiers barreled down the beach, descending on us from every direction.
My supporters ran deeper into the waves with the boat, submerged past the waist.
Two of them jumped on, and the other two heaved it deeper still.
Just as the last two jumped into the boat, a Whitish soldier splashed into the waves, the stones rattling loudly underfoot. He lunged for the rope at the rear of the boat.
A wave crashed over his head, and for a moment he disappeared in the black water.
Then he emerged once more. He gripped the rope in his fist, and as he walked backward up the beach, he dragged the boat behind him.
One of my archers lunged for the soldier, but he was too far away. A second took the oars and began stroking frantically.
Just as the first archer started trying to saw through the rope, four more Whitish soldiers splashed into the water and seized the sides of the rowboat.
One Whitish soldier plunged his sword into the leg of the archer sawing at the rope. My archer howled and fell backward into the rowboat.
As the Whitish soldiers hauled themselves into the boat, two of my supporters dove off the end into the waves. Their heads emerged a moment later, and they began stroking toward our rowboat.
“Should I wait for them?” Baridya asked, pausing mid-stroke.
“We can’t delay. Keep going.” If we slowed, more Whitish soldiers would descend on us, and we would be overrun. The entire attack would fail.
I hoped my supporters would be able to swim to the island.
While Baridya dug in the oars in a desperate race to the island, I tried not to lose sight of the two heads of black hair bobbing in the waves.
Back on the second rowboat, the Whitish soldiers shoved the injured archer overboard. His head sank below the waves and did not reappear.
The soldiers turned on my final supporter, a swordswoman who had drawn her weapon.
“Can you set one of them on fire from here?” I asked Cal urgently.
“Maybe. But the boat might burn as well.”
I watched the swordswoman, who was putting up a good fight against the two Whitish soldiers. “We’ve lost it either way.”
Rising onto his knees, Cal leaned over the edge of the rowboat and raised his arm. The rowboat rocked beneath us; for a moment Cal looked as though he would fall off. He seized the side of the boat just in time.
Brow furrowed in concentration, Cal angled his palm toward the rowboat now gaining on us. Our swordswoman stumbled as the boat tipped in a wave.
Then flames sprang to life, blinding me momentarily. A man roared in panic—as my vision cleared, I saw the burst of flames subside. It had engulfed the man’s head, but now it faded, leaving his hair and coat smoldering. When he knelt and scooped saltwater over his head, the flames went out.
Another burst of flames exploded around him; once again, it winked out as soon as it had started.
“I’m going to hurt that woman,” Cal said, curling his hand as he lowered it. “She’s too close.”
“She’s dead either way,” I snapped. “Sink that boat now!”
Before Cal had a chance to send another burst of flame at the Whitish soldiers, the swordswoman flung herself off the boat. She was heading not toward us but in the direction of the shore.
Without hesitating, Cal sent another burst of flame at the Whitish soldiers. This time he let it curl and dance around the rim of the boat, growing larger by the moment, until the whole boat was on fire.
By the light of the leaping orange flames, I saw the swordswoman’s head bob up once before she sank again. It appeared she could not swim—I hoped she would make it to shore.
The Whitish soldiers were now wreathed in flame, their uniforms beginning to smolder, their hair charring to ash. One howled in pain, while another bellowed, “Send reinforcements! That’s the queen there!”
How did they know?
Following his gaze back to shore, I went cold.
Ten more Whitish soldiers had gathered on the beach, and more were running out of the side streets.
Had Leoth been defeated? Or were there more enemies in Larkhaven than we had guessed?
Just then, our boat collided with a solid wall of rock.
We had reached the island.
23
The Tower
“Q uick,” Baridya said.
She grabbed onto a metal ring bolted into the rock and held the boat steady while we clambered out.
Standing at the foot of the narrow stair, seawater lapping at my boots, I tried to find the heads of our comrades in the water.
As the flames from the sinking boat leapt higher still, I caught sight of one archer still stroking toward us. She was so far away—the island was deceptively far from shore.
Far beyond, I saw the swordswoman’s head rising from the waves. She must have reached solid ground.
While I watched, she stumbled up the beach, sword raised. But just as she reached dry land, the new Whitish arrivals sprinted down the beach, running directly at her. Though she raised her sword in defense, they cut her down within seconds.
My heart lurched into my throat as her body sagged backward, waves swirling beneath her.
“What are you waiting for?” Baridya hissed. “Go on!”
I flinched. Baridya had been busy tying up our boat; she had not seen the slaughter on the beach.
With shaking hands, I began to climb.
The staircase was carved directly into the face of the rock, a series of small ledges barely wide enough for my feet to find purchase. On our left, the steps dropped away to the sea. As the waves sloshed around below, bursts of spray flew up around us, stinging my cheeks. My nerves pulled taut as I climbed, placing each foot carefully. Below, the hungry, restless waves waited to drag me under.
When I reached the top of the island at last, I hurried back from the ledge, heart racing. Soon my four companions joined me. Cal and Nyla stood with their shoulders touching, faces pale—they must have seen what happened to the swordswoman.
“Let’s hope the harbor guardian is alone,” Baridya muttered. She stalked toward the tower, which sat at the center of the island. Sparse grass and a sca
ttering of flowers covered the rest of the windblown rock. From a window at the top of the tower, the lantern we had glimpsed from afar gave off a soft glow.
Just as we reached the tower, the light behind us dimmed. I looked over my shoulder—the burning rowboat had sunk. Darkness engulfed us, broken only by the faint lamplight at the top of the tower and a smattering of lights blazing in Larkhaven. All else merged into a single black expanse.
Baridya tried the tower door, but it was locked. She rapped loudly.
A clamor of footsteps thudded within, drawing near.
Baridya cursed. “Only one man lives here. I bet those are Whitish soldiers.”
“Draw your weapons,” I said grimly. The hilt of my sword was cold and slick with seawater as I gripped it.
The archer stepped forward, nocking an arrow.
The tower door swung open, spilling light onto the grass.
Before I could register who stood before us, I heard a loud thwap. The man in the doorway grunted and slumped backward.
As blood began blossoming across his white coat, the archer drew a second arrow. The Whitish soldier on the ground gave a watery cough, but his companion kicked him aside.
Our archer tautened his bow.
For a split second, the Whitish soldier stared at the archer. Then he turned and bounded up the spiraling stairway he had come down.
I flew after him. The wood stairs were uneven, and I stumbled. The soldier was pulling ahead.
His boots disappeared at the top of the stairs, and a loud, long horn blast rang through the tower. The very air seemed to vibrate.
I burst into the top room of the tower. Ahead, the soldier leaned through the window and sounded a second long note on the horn.
I charged at him, sword raised. But before I got near, an arrow flew from behind and sank into his ribs.
The Whitish soldier slumped forward over the window. The horn fell from his grasp and clattered to the floor.
Breathing hard, I lowered my sword. As I turned in place, I noticed an elderly man bound to a table near the stairway. His face was pale in the light from the single lamp.
“You’re the harbor guardian?” I asked.
He nodded. “There’s a ship coming. Those men wanted to make sure it arrived unnoticed.”
“I know. The ship is full of Whitish soldiers here to seize Larkhaven. We need to stop them.”
His eyes widened.
Kneeling, I sliced through the ropes binding him. “Is it true you have explosives here to sink enemy ships?”
The harbor guardian grimaced and rubbed at the red lines on his wrists. “Those soldiers dumped the cannon and most of my gunpowder into the ocean. I’m sorry, but I don’t know how much help I’ll be.”
I tried not to show my disappointment. “I see. Well, this is still a good strategic place to attack from.” Provided Cal’s range extended far enough.
Groaning, the harbor guardian clambered to his feet. He was hunched and mostly bald, though he had a bushy grey mustache that fluttered when he breathed.
“Oh—and you might want to get yourself to safety,” I said. “This island will be under attack soon.”
The old man grunted. “Why would they attack my tower? Without the cannon, it’s nothing but a rock in the sea. Seems I’d be safer here than down in town.”
“They’re chasing us,” I said shortly. “The Whitish soldiers on shore want that ship to land, and we’re trying to stop it.”
“But town isn’t safe either,” Baridya said. “If you have a ship, now would be a good time to go for a midnight sail.”
The harbor guardian grunted. “All right, all right, I’ll do it. But take care of my tower, will you? This is my home, and I’m too old to find a new place to set up.”
I said nothing—I could not bring myself to voice false reassurances. He would not be the only one displaced in the coming war.
As he turned and stumped away, his footsteps receding down the stairs, I crossed to the window. From where we stood, high above the water, I could see the battle playing out in the layered streets of Larkhaven. The main street curving down the hill blazed with torches—that would be Leoth’s army. It appeared they were holding their own against the Whitish soldiers.
Off to the right, a cluster of torches approached the town center unimpeded. I hoped it belonged to Mellicante, Quendon, and whatever supporters they had managed to win to our cause.
Just then, a bell started clanging loudly. Even this far out from town, the sound was startling. We stood and watched, transfixed, as the bell tolled over and over, the deep notes vibrating through the air. As the clanging continued, lamps and torches began flaring to life all along the streets running through Larkhaven. These new lights streamed uphill, away from the waterfront, snaking along back streets that eventually merged with the main road.
“Look,” Baridya said in a hushed voice. She stood at the window to my right, pointing at something in the dark harbor.
Crossing to her side, I saw it—the Whitish ship. It was no longer moving, but instead lay anchored behind a large island, its sails furled. No lights shone aboard the ship; it would have been invisible save for three skeletal lines where its white sails were tied above the deck.
“I can’t send fire that far.” Cal’s voice was heavy with dismay. I had not noticed him join us at the window.
“Look.” Baridya pointed to a line of rowboats that were just barely visible in the light spilling from Larkhaven. “Can you reach those?”
My breath caught in my throat.
The rowboats were not far from shore. Soldiers packed each one, white uniforms catching the light.
“The ones at the back, maybe.”
Baridya and I stepped away, leaving the window free for Cal. He leaned far out over the rounded stone sill, hand extended.
Far out in the darkness, a burst of flames sprang to life, writhing in the air just above the waves.
The flames were at least twenty paces short of the nearest boats.
Cal sagged back with a sigh of frustration.
“I can try,” Nyla said. “It doesn’t matter if I make a mess of things, does it?”
Cal stepped to the side, and the small red-headed girl took his place.
As she flung her arm out, a small fireball no larger than her fist soared from the window. It sizzled out as soon as it struck the water.
At her second attempt, a howling vortex of flames surged to life far out over the water. In the searing brightness, the line of rowboats came into sharp relief beyond. There were dozens upon dozens of soldiers paddling steadily to shore, more than our entire army.
Nyla’s fireball collapsed in on itself, leaving us blinded as darkness returned.
“Sorry,” she muttered. “I don’t think I can reach them either.”
“Try one more time,” I urged her. Panic was creeping up my throat—the Whitish soldiers were nearly to land. Our time was almost up.
Nyla closed her eyes, chewing on her lip.
Then, with a shout, she flung herself forward and sent a burst of flames hurtling toward the rowboats.
This time it hit the mark. Distant yells rose toward us as flames latched onto the Whitish rowboat; the hungry fire billowed larger and larger, growing unnaturally fast, licking its way up the soldiers’ legs. Several threw themselves into the waves, and the boat listed sideways, filling with water.
“Ha!” Nyla yelled. “You deserved that, you monsters!”
She sent another fireball at the boats, and again she hit her mark. In the light from the spreading blaze, I saw men’s eyes turning to our tower. The other soldiers paddled hastily away from our island, abandoning their fellows to burn.
The next burst of flames fell several paces short of the rowboats.
“They’re out of range,” Nyla said, shoulders sagging.
“You’ve done brilliantly,” I said. But my words rang false—we had barely made a dent in the Whitish army’s numbers. Fear held me rigid as I searched for a w
ay out of this.
Up in Larkhaven, the bell was still clanging, its rhythm growing more frantic by the minute.
“What are they doing?” Baridya whispered, her eyes following the torches and lanterns that continued bobbing their way up the town streets. A sizable cluster of lights had already formed on the hill overlooking town, filling the main road and the hills on either side.
“That bell is the tsunami warning,” Nyla said. “They’re evacuating.”
I hit the wall with a fist. “Nine plagues! They’re just confusing everyone. Those people might have joined the fight, but instead they’re leaving town.”
“And the rowboats are nearly to shore,” Baridya said.
There were still at least a hundred Whitish soldiers in the rowboats, and more likely waited on the ship. These soldiers were fresh and well-armed, while my supporters had run all the way from Lord Gabrin’s lodge.
Our forces would be demolished.
“Is there no way to extend your range?” I asked Cal desperately.
“No. I need to get closer.”
We were quiet for a moment, watching as our downfall played out before us. I had never felt more helpless in my life.
“What if we attacked the Whitish ship instead?” Baridya asked hesitantly. “It won’t save the town, but it would weaken the soldiers. They’ll have most of their weapons and armor still on board, and reserve forces are likely waiting there as well.”
The first boatful of Whitish soldiers reached the pier, and white-uniformed men streamed up the ladder. From the light of the town lamps, I could see that every figure on the beach wore white.
Our forces were nowhere to be seen. The Whitish reinforcements would arrive unhindered.
With a great effort, I tore my gaze from the window and started for the stairs. “You’re right. Let’s sink the Whitish ship.”
24
Surrender
W e hurried down the stairs, Nyla grabbing the harbor guardian’s lamp to light our way. We had no time to lose if we were to leave the island before our pursuers caught us.
Renegade Queen : A Court Intrigue Fantasy (The Forbidden Queen Series Book 3) Page 22
