Kingmaker (The Dragon Corsairs)

by Margaret Weis

  Simon cautiously opened the door and was about to ask the man his business when he was startled by the sight of Bandit hurtling past him and out the door. The dog flung himself at the man in the pea coat with a joyful bark and began to jump on him in wild excitement.

  Sophia came running out of the kitchen.

  “I am so sorry, Master Yates, Bandit got away from me—”

  The man looked up at the sound of her voice. “Sophia! It’s me! Phillip!”

  Sophia stopped, stared, then ran past Simon and into Phillip’s arms. Bandit jumped on both of them, barking madly.

  “I am glad to see you safe, Your Grace,” said Simon, replacing the cracker in its pouch. “Please come in. Albright, hot tea for our guest! Drop a splash of Calvados in it.”

  Phillip and Sophia clung to each other, happily oblivious to everything and everyone. Simon edged his way around them and went out to dismiss the griffin, thanking the beast for its service and making certain it had been paid.

  He paused at the door, watching the battle rage over Haever, and reflected on young love.

  There had once been a girl in his life. A bookish girl who wore glasses. He had met her in the library at University, where she was studying theology. The two had argued incessantly. They spent most of their time arguing and holding hands across the table. And then he had been shot. She came to visit, but he had refused to see her. He had told the duchess to send her away.

  Simon had not thought about the girl in a long time.

  He smiled wistfully at the memory and closed the door on the war and the cold.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  The Battle of Haever began on a clear, bright dawn with the boom of cannons. The Guundaran ships opened fire, finding their range and hoping for a lucky shot in the process. The Freyan ships did not respond. With their smaller twenty-four-pound cannons, they could not hope to match Guundaran seventy-fours, which meant they had to endure the bombardment without answering. They had a long fight ahead of them and they could not afford to waste powder and shot.

  Led by the Valor, the Freyan ships closed on the enemy to disrupt their battle line and scatter the Guundaran ships in an effort to separate them and take on one or two at a time, instead of facing a solid front.

  Thomas had fought in the Bottom Dweller War with the Estaran army at Fort San Estavan. At the time, he had been a student at the Estaran Royal Military Academy. Hearing of the battle, he and his friends had decided to ride to the fort to share in the glory.

  Instead of finding glory, they found hell. The fort was besieged and they were outnumbered and surrounded. For three days Thomas lived in terror, thirsty and starving, spattered with the blood of his friends as well as his own, and so exhausted he had once prayed to die just to get some rest. He had deemed those three days the worst in his life, and yet then at least he had found some satisfaction in being able to fight back.

  On board the Valor, he was helpless as the Guundaran ships fired at them with their long-range cannons. The Valor had to endure the punishment. Thomas could do nothing except stand on the quarterdeck and watch cannonballs crash into the hull, tear through the rigging, punch holes in the sails, and reduce men to bloody globs of splintered bone and pulverized flesh.

  He was talking to a young midshipman when a ball crashed into him and suddenly the boy—or what was left of him—lay at Thomas’s feet in a pool of blood, brains, and entrails.

  Admiral Baker keenly observed the battle from the quarterdeck, making himself an excellent target as he paced back and forth and loudly damned their eyes. Thomas admired the coolness of the Valor’s captain. Knocked down by a falling spar, he picked himself up, wiped the blood from his face, and continued to calmly issue orders.

  At last the Valor came into range and Thomas cheered himself hoarse when she sailed between two Guundaran ships of the line and opened fire on both with simultaneous broadsides.

  The other Freyan ships were now able to engage the enemy. They were swift wolves among the flock, snapping and snarling at the heavier, more ponderous Guundaran ships. The Freyans fired, then sailed on to fire at the next ship, attacking from seemingly all directions at once.

  But even as they fought, the Freyan ships were enduring brutal punishment, battling the much larger fleet. Thomas saw more than one Freyan ship sink in flames into the Breath, and he realized with mingled despair, frustration, and anger that they were fighting a battle they could not hope to win. He did not doubt Kate’s promise that the Brigade was coming to help them, but he began to fear that they would arrive in time only to witness the fall of Freya.

  The Valor had sustained significant damage and was wallowing sluggishly in the Breath. Two of her lift tanks were punctured and leaking gas. One airscrew was a mangled mess of metal and a balloon had caught fire, leaving her unable to escape the Guundaran ship bearing down on her.

  “Prepare to repel boarders!” the Valor’s captain shouted as the Guundarans hurled grappling hooks over the sides and locked the Valor in a deadly embrace.

  Rifle and musket fire blazed. Shouting Guundarans armed with swords and cutlasses and pistols poured onto the deck. Thomas and the rest of the crew ran to meet them.

  “Sorry, Pip,” Thomas apologized, as he locked swords with a Guundaran officer. “It’s looking more and more likely you will be king.”

  FIFTY-FIVE

  The morning sun gleamed on the scales of the dragons as Kate and Dalgren flew to join the Brigade in the skies above Haever. The commander of the dragons, Countess Anasi, barked a command at Dalgren, and Captain Thorgrimson acknowledged Kate with a salute as she reported to duty.

  “You’re with the Blue Flight, Captain,” he shouted. “And take off that kerchief!”

  Kate flushed. She had forgotten she had tied it around her neck. She took it off and hurriedly thrust it into a pocket.

  “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

  Flights were made up of four to six dragons flying in a “V,” keeping each other and the leader of the flight in sight.

  The Blue Flight was the last in the formation, or the “tail,” as it was known among dragons. Dalgren feared that Kate would protest being stuck in the rear and he cast a warning look at her, reminding her that they were part of the Brigade by sufferance and that she had to obey orders.

  Kate gave Dalgren a reassuring smile and a pat on the neck. She had no intention of ruining either his proudest moment or her own. She would have been happy to be flying at the very back with the quartermaster corps—the common dragons who did the hunting and hauled supplies. She was shaking with nervous anticipation and gulping with excitement. Her hands in her leather gloves were sweating, her mouth was dry, and her heart beating fast.

  The other dragons in the Flight acknowledged Dalgren. Their helmed riders gave Kate a nod. The Flight Leader pointed and, as Dalgren took his place at the tip of the wing, Kate marveled at the breathtaking sight of the flights of dragons ahead of them, the sunlight of a new day glittering on their scales, gilding their wings.

  The dragons soared over the city. People in the streets or standing on the rooftops, who had been watching the battle in the harbor, stared up at them in astonishment and fear. Thomas would not have had either the time or the means to share the news with his people that the Brigade had come to fight for them, and Kate could imagine their terror.

  Their fear would change to elation when they saw the Brigade attack Guundaran ships. She waved reassuringly at the people below, though she doubted any could see her.

  Kate gloried in the moment, almost giddy with joy. Then the harbor came into view. She saw the smoke and flames of battle, and her joy sank beneath a wave of apprehension. Thomas was somewhere in the midst of that, fighting for his life.

  She searched for the Valor, raising her visor and standing up in the saddle to try to obtain a better view. She could not find his ship and she earned a reprimand from the Flight Leader, who angrily gestured for her to follow procedure, stay seated, and keep her visor lowered.

 
; Reluctantly, Kate obeyed and continued searching. All the ships—friend and foe—were wreathed in smoke. She saw one ship flying the Freyan flag perish in flames. Even though she knew it hadn’t been the Valor, she was sick to her stomach at the terrible sight and almost disgraced herself by throwing up over the side of her dragon.

  She considered asking Dalgren to break rank and fly off on their own to find Thomas, though she knew Dalgren would refuse to obey her and rightly so. The Brigade’s strength was in numbers and being a disciplined fighting force.

  Kate was in agony, and wished that their Flight Leader would at least increase their speed. She kicked Dalgren in the flanks, urging him to fly just a little faster, hoping the Flight Leader might take the hint.

  Dalgren shot her a grim look and ignored her.

  Countess Anasi at last ordered the flights to begin their descent, preparatory to going in to attack. As Dalgren dropped down, Kate had a much clearer view and she found the Valor, only to see it captured by a Guundaran warship. The Valor had endured severe punishment. Masts were missing, and black smoke billowed out of the gun ports. The flagship was not yet sinking, and some of her cannons continued to fire, but the Guundaran warship seemed determined to end the fight. The enemy cast grappling lines, dragged the Valor close, and sent their crew to board her.

  Kate urgently pointed to the Valor, but the Flight Leader shook his head. Captain Thorgrimson had not yet given the order to attack.

  Kate struck Dalgren on the neck with her closed fist to draw his attention.

  “I need to talk to Captain Thorgrimson!” she shouted.

  “I will not disobey orders!” Dalgren roared.

  “Dalgren, please! It’s life or death!”

  Dalgren snorted flames from his nostrils, heaved a gusty sigh, and left his position, moving up past the other flights to come alongside Countess Anasi.

  She hooted at him in ire. Captain Thorgrimson lifted his visor. He looked very grim.

  Kate sucked in a lungful of air and yelled, “Sir! His Majesty, King Thomas, is aboard the flagship, Valor! We cannot allow His Majesty to fall into enemy hands!”

  Thorgrimson’s grim expression grew grimmer. He studied the two ships that were about thirty feet below, locked in a death struggle. He shook his head.

  “If we attack the Guundaran ship, Captain, we risk taking the Valor down with her.”

  Kate was prepared. “Sir, I have a suggestion. Dalgren and I could land on the Valor.”

  Dalgren hissed at her, reminding her it was not her place to offer suggestions to the captain of the Dragon Brigade. Kate ignored him.

  The flights of dragons hovered in the air, waiting for orders. Captain Thorgrimson ruminated a few moments more. He glanced at Kate with a faint smile, as though she had given him an idea, then spoke to Anasi.

  “Countess, I need four dragons and riders experienced in landing on board ships.”

  Anasi nodded in acknowledgment and roared out four names.

  Four dragons and their riders flew to within hailing distance of Captain Thorgrimson. He indicated the Valor and bellowed his commands.

  “King Thomas is on board the Valor. His ship has been captured. The king must not fall into enemy hands. Lieutenants Merrill and Chambrun will board the Valor and rescue the king. Lieutenant Beauchamp, you speak Guundaran. You and Lieutenant Blois board the enemy ship. Cut the grappling lines and disable the helm. If the crew surrenders, let them go, then sink it. Questions?”

  “How will we know the king, sir?” Merrill shouted. “None of us have ever met him.”

  Kate raised her hand, eager to volunteer. “Lord Dalgren and I request permission to join the boarding party, sir. I know the king. I can point him out.”

  Captain Thorgrimson regarded her with a grave expression. “Have you and Lord Dalgren ever landed on a ship, Captain?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Kate promptly.

  Thorgrimson raised a skeptical eyebrow and Kate amended, more subdued, “Well, no, sir, not really. But he and I have practiced the maneuver many times.”

  Dalgren blinked at this news, but said nothing. Captain Thorgrimson probably guessed the truth, but he needed her.

  “Lieutenants Merrill and Chambrun will land first. Watch them, Captain Kate, and do just what they do. Once you find His Majesty, take him to a place of safety. And keep him there!”

  Captain Thorgrimson turned away to explain the situation to Merrill and Chambrun, while their dragons were giving hurried advice to Dalgren on the best way to land on a ship. Dalgren nodded and tried not to look overwhelmed.

  Captain Thorgrimson wished them luck, then left to begin his own attack run. Kate watched in fascination to see Anasi swoop down to make the first assault on one of the Guundaran sixty-eights. She breathed a gust of flame on the masts, balloons, and rigging, then pulled up out of her dive to allow the second dragon to swoop down on the hapless ship.

  The Guundarans had been certain of victory, relentlessly pounding the beleaguered Freyan ships. Then dragons had appeared, materializing out of the smoke of battle, and now it was the Guundarans who were fighting for their lives.

  Merrill and Chambrun conferred briefly, then flew over to speak to Kate.

  Merrill was straight-backed in the saddle, rigid, tight-lipped. Chambrun seemed more relaxed. She was younger than Merrill, perhaps new to the Brigade. She gave Kate a reassuring smile.

  “What does the king look like?” Merrill asked. “Any distinguishing features?”

  “His Majesty has black curly hair and blue eyes,” Kate answered, adding without thinking, “Striking blue eyes.”

  Seeing Chambrun’s amusement, Kate asked Merrill hurriedly, “What are your orders, Lieutenant?”

  “My dragon and I will land amidships, near the main deck. Lieutenant Chambrun and her dragon will take the stern. You and Dalgren the prow. Are you armed?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Kate.

  “If you find His Majesty, dead or alive, have your dragon call out to let us know.”

  Kate was chilled. She had never, until that moment, considered the possibility that Thomas might be dead.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, subdued.

  “If the king is not on board, we must assume he has been captured or is lost in the Breath,” Merrill continued. “You will go last, behind us.”

  Merrill and his dragon took the lead with Chambrun and her dragon next in line. Merrill gave the signal to begin their descent. Kate could feel Dalgren quaking with nervousness and she gave him a reassuring pat.

  “We can do this,” she said.

  Dalgren grunted. “Easy for you to say. You don’t have to hang onto the side of a ship by your toenails!”

  “We practiced—” Kate began.

  “—landing on hay bales!” Dalgren roared. “Not on the side of a ship fifty feet above the ground!”

  Kate decided it was best to stop being reassuring. She took her pistols from the saddle and thrust them into her belt. Dalgren spread his wings and followed Chambrun’s dragon as she began a steep dive. Kate clung desperately to the saddle as Dalgren plunged down on the ship headfirst, flinging her forward. The straps that crisscrossed her chest and fastened over her legs were all that were holding her in the saddle. As the mists of the Breath, the smoke, the flames, and the ships rushed up at her, she clutched the pommel with both hands.

  Landing on an enemy ship was one of the most difficult maneuvers a dragon could perform, dangerous for both dragon and rider. A dragon could not land on the deck for fear of getting tangled in the rigging and caught like a fly in a web, unable to defend himself.

  Dragons landed by digging their back claws into the hull, gripping the rail with their foreclaws and using their tails for stability. Even this maneuver was dangerous. They could still get tangled in the rigging and they could come under fire from swivel guns or cannons mounted on the upper decks.

  Merrill and Chambrun signaled that they were going to land and for Kate to follow. Merrill’s dragon dove down on the Valor
like a hawk stooping on a rabbit. He extended his back claws and drove them into the hull with crushing force, splintering the wood, then rocked forward to grasp the rail with his foreclaws. He hovered a moment, then managed to stabilize himself. Merrill immediately began to free himself of his straps.

  Chambrun and her dragon landed next near the stern.

  “Here we go!” Dalgren roared with a gulp. “Hold on!”

  He dove down with terrifying speed. The Valor grew larger as he came nearer, but it still seemed a very small target for him to hit. Kate gripped the straps across her chest with both hands and ducked down in the saddle, holding her breath and squeezing her eyes shut. She felt Dalgren crash into the hull and heard the wood break beneath his claws. The impact flung her with bruising force against the straps, and she banged her head on the front of the saddle.

  Dalgren lurched, grabbed hold of the rail, and snagged his horn in the shrouds. He jerked his head and twisted and finally snapped the lines. But his flailing caused him to nearly lose his grip on the rail and he teetered back and forth, trying to find his balance, wings flapping wildly. He scrabbled with his claws and roared at Kate.

  “Jump off! I’m not sure how much longer I can hold on!”

  Kate fumbled at the straps to free herself, but she was hampered by Dalgren’s gyrations.

  “Hold still!” she shouted.

  Dalgren shot flame from his nose and snarled something in reply.

  Kate finally managed to unbuckle the last strap and hoisted herself from the saddle. She remembered at the last moment to grab her cutlass, made sure her pistols were secure in her belt, and then jumped to the deck. Dalgren lost his grip and flew off. He circled around, then returned to the ship, keeping Kate in sight, hovering at eye level.

  Kate swept a look around the Valor. The quarterdeck was red with blood and littered with bodies of the dead and wounded, fallen spars, and tangled rigging. Smoke swirled, pouring out of the hatches from the decks below. She gave a thought to fire reaching the powder magazine and quickly put that out of her mind.