Kingmaker (The Dragon Corsairs)

by Margaret Weis

  Merrill’s dragon hooted. Kate hoped that meant he had found Thomas. She heard other sounds—swords clashing, pistol shots, men shouting—and she moved toward them. The fight wasn’t over, apparently. She drew her pistol and was trying to see through the smoke and the tangled wreckage, not looking where she was going, and almost stepped on the body of a man lying facedown in a pool of blood. The man had curly black hair and he was wearing the uniform of a Freyan officer. Kate recoiled in horror.

  Dalgren roared. “Behind you!”

  Kate saw out of the corner of her eye a wounded Guundaran sailor aiming his pistol at her. She whipped around and fired first and the sailor collapsed. Kate forced herself to look back at the body with the curly hair and realized with a shudder of relief that the dead man was not Thomas. He was shorter, with a stockier build.

  Kate heard Merrill shouting and more pistol shots.

  “Find out what’s going on!” she yelled at Dalgren.

  He nodded and flew off.

  Kate was hurrying down the stairs that led from the forecastle to the main deck when she saw that no one was at the helm. The helmsman was lying on the deck underneath it, either dead or unconscious. As desperate as Kate was to find Thomas, she needed to make certain the ship wasn’t going to sink beneath their feet.

  She ran to the helm and studied the constructs inscribed on the brass plate. The constructs should have been glowing, but the plate was dark. The magic was no longer flowing to the airscrews or the lift tanks.

  She placed her hands on the constructs on the helm that sent magic flowing to the lift tanks. If the leather lines had been cut, the ship did not stand a chance. Some of the constructs lit up beneath her fingers, indicating that at least some of the tanks were still working.

  Kate shook the helmsman and shouted at him until he groaned and stirred and opened his eyes. He gazed at her in confusion.

  “You have to take the helm!” Kate yelled. “Can you manage?”

  The man gave a groggy nod and sat up. Kate helped him to his feet. She didn’t leave until she was certain he was at least vaguely aware of what he was doing, then she hurried off.

  She cast a wary glance at the enemy ship, still grappled alongside the Valor, the two ships rubbing hulls. On board the enemy vessel, Lieutenant Beauchamp was wielding his cutlass, slicing through the grappling lines and yelling something in Guundaran. His dragon flew alongside the ship, harrying the enemy crew by spitting fire and gnashing her fangs. Kate decided she didn’t need to worry about an attack from that quarter.

  Dalgren returned to report. “Merrill landed in the middle of a fight! They’re cornered!”

  Kate hurried toward the sounds of battle, crawling over debris and bodies, until she came upon a group of Freyan officers under attack, surrounded by Guundarans. The Freyans had their backs against the bulwark. Kate saw Thomas in the thick of the fray, fighting alongside Admiral Baker.

  Thomas was pale, his face grimed with gunpowder and wet with sweat. His damp curly hair straggled over his eyes. His right arm hung limp at his side, the sleeve soaked with blood. He kept fighting, holding his sword in his left hand. He wielded the sword awkwardly, but this desperate struggle called for brute force, not finesse. He slashed in all directions, beating back attacks from one side and then the other.

  Randolph had braced himself against the bulwark. He favored his left leg, but he was still standing, still fighting, still swearing.

  Merrill’s dragon and Chambrun’s both hovered in the air, helpless to intervene in the fight for fear of harming the Freyans. Kate had to grudgingly credit the Guundarans, who were doing their best to ignore the dragons and were grimly continuing the fight.

  Merrill and Chambrun reached the knot of men at the same time as Kate. Merrill flung himself on the Guundarans from behind. Seizing hold of one of them by the shoulder, he spun him around and struck him in the face with the hilt of his cutlass, sending him sprawling onto the deck.

  Kate shifted her cutlass to her left hand and drew her second pistol. She was going to try to reach Thomas when she saw the man Merrill had knocked to the deck jump to his feet and grab a knife from his boot. Merrill had his back to him and couldn’t see him.

  Kate shouted a warning, raised her pistol, and fired. The man flung up his arms and toppled over. Startled, Merrill glanced around. He saw the body, saw Kate holding the pistol. He gave her a swift salute, then turned back to the fighting.

  Randolph sagged to the deck, his strength failing. Thomas moved to stand protectively over him. One of the Guundarans lunged at him and Thomas ran him through with his sword. The man slid to the deck, vomiting blood.

  The Guundarans had not expected reinforcements and they had certainly not expected dragons. Their enthusiasm for the fight started to wane. They began casting looks in the direction of their own ship and one actually flung down his sword and bolted for it.

  Chambrun shot a man wearing a Guundaran lieutenant’s uniform, and that ended the fighting. The few Guundarans still standing surrendered. Chambrun rounded them up at gunpoint and ordered them down into the hold, then locked the hatch on them.

  Beauchamp and Blois had managed to cut loose the grapples and free the Valor. The three dragons attacked the Guundaran ship, gnashing their teeth, slashing at the rigging with their claws, gushing smoke from their nostrils, and spouting jets of flame.

  The captain surrendered, handing over his sword to Beauchamp. Blois ordered the captain and the remaining crewmen to pick up their wounded and carry them into the hold. Beauchamp took the helm of the Guundaran ship and steered it safely away from the Valor.

  Kate ran toward Thomas and found him tending to Randolph, who lay on the deck, groaning in pain as blood gushed from a wound in his thigh. Thomas was trying to stanch the bleeding, applying pressure as best he could with only one hand. Merrill stood by them protectively, keeping watch, pistol drawn.

  “I take it this man is His Majesty?” he called, indicating Thomas.

  “Yes, sir,” Kate answered, breathless.

  “Stay with him,” Merrill ordered. “I’ll see if I can find the surgeon.”

  Kate knelt down beside the admiral. Thomas was concentrating on his patient and did not see her.

  “I need a belt for a tourniquet!” he said urgently, keeping his eyes on the wounded man.

  Kate took her kerchief from her pocket and shouldered Thomas aside. “Let me do that.”

  He glanced up, startled, then recognized her. He gave a faint smile.

  “Pip owes you,” he said.

  Kate had no idea what he was talking about and she didn’t take time to ask. She wrapped the kerchief around Randolph’s leg, then drew her knife, knotted it into the kerchief, and turned it until the bleeding slowed and finally came to a stop.

  “Where is the surgeon? We need him!” Kate looked about, frustrated. “Can you see him?”

  “Mr. Goddard!” Thomas shouted, waving his good arm. “Over here! The admiral!”

  The surgeon hastened over to them and saw Thomas covered in blood.

  “Your Majesty! Where are you hurt—”

  “Not me, Mr. Goddard,” Thomas said. “See to the admiral.”

  The surgeon took one look at Randolph and called for help. Thomas watched with concern as Chambrun and the surgeon’s mate picked up the admiral and carried him below.

  “He’ll be all right,” said Kate.

  “I hope so,” said Thomas. “He saved my life.”

  “Let me tend to your arm—” Kate began.

  Thomas stopped her. “Be quiet. Listen!”

  Kate listened and heard the wind and the creaking of the dragons’ wings, the groans and cries of the wounded, torn sails flapping, gas hissing from a punctured balloon. She didn’t know what he meant, and then she understood.

  The cannons had stopped firing.

  The thundering booms had been so continuous Kate had stopped hearing them. Now the silence seemed to throb in her ears.

  Thomas tried to stand, but p
ain and fatigue were too much. He sagged back against the bulwark, breathing heavily. His face was drawn with concern.

  “The fighting is over, but what does it mean? Is the battle won or lost?” Thomas caught hold of her hand. “Help me to my feet, Kate. I have to see for myself.”

  Kate slid her arm around his back. He draped his good arm over her shoulder and she helped raise him. He grasped the rail with his good hand and stared out into the smoke.

  Many of the Guundaran ships were in flames. Some of them had struck their colors and others were slinking away, trying to escape, with dragons in pursuit.

  Every Freyan ship had suffered damage and several had gone down. But Freyan flags still flew proudly. The fighting was over.

  “We won,” said Kate in wonder, scarcely able to believe it. “We have defeated Guundar.”

  She embraced him. Thomas pulled her closer. They stood together, holding and supporting each other, both of them knowing in this moment without speaking a word that their lives were forever bound together.

  “The day is ours,” said Thomas.

  FIFTY-SIX

  Henry Wallace stood on the deck of the Terrapin, staring through the spyglass. He was not alone. The ship had arrived in Haever to sounds of cannon fire and the sight of ships wreathed in smoke and dying in flames. Every officer on board was at the rail, spyglass in hand, trying to see the battle.

  Gradually the sound of cannon fire ceased. No one spoke; no one moved. They listened tensely and then they heard church bells. The ringing was tentative at first, as though the people could not quite believe it, and then the bells grew louder and more clamorous as every bell in Haever rang, spreading the joyful news.

  “We have won!” Henry cried. Overcome with emotion, he lowered the spyglass to take out his handkerchief to wipe his eyes. “We have defeated Guundar! This battle will go down in history!”

  “And we missed it!” Alan said bitterly. He snapped his spyglass shut in frustration. “Do you see the Valor?”

  Henry raised the spyglass and swept the sky, cursing the smoke that obscured his view.

  “I see her!” he said, pointing. “The Valor is damaged, but still afloat.”

  He handed the spyglass to Alan.

  “Good old Randolph,” said Alan. “Let us hope he survived.”

  He moodily gave the spyglass back to Henry. “The grandest naval victory Freya has ever achieved, and we arrive just in time to witness the surrender.”

  Henry was in an ebullient mood. He clapped his friend on the shoulder. “My dear fellow, you cannot be the hero of every battle. You must give others a chance.”

  “You mean Randolph,” Alan grumbled. “He will never let me live this down. I can hear him now. ‘Where were you during the Battle of Haever, Alan? Enjoying a nap? Taking afternoon tea?’”

  Henry laughed. “Tell him you were winning the Battle of Wellinsport. I doubt Randolph sank five enemy ships and found a magical well. I just hope he didn’t get his fool head blown off in the process.”

  “You know Randolph. If he didn’t lose a little blood, he wouldn’t consider he’d been in a fight,” said Alan. “And it seems he had help. Unless I am much mistaken, those are members of the Dragon Brigade flying this way. They probably want to make certain we are not a threat.”

  “I know that man in the lead,” said Henry. “He is an old enemy of mine, Dag Thorgrimson.”

  Captain Thorgrimson brought his dragon to a halt a respectful distance from the ship, not wanting to alarm the crew. He removed his helm.

  “Hail the Terrapin!” he called. “I would speak with your captain!”

  Henry waved. “Dag Thorgrimson! Henry Wallace. Good to see you, sir. How goes the fight?”

  “We are victorious, my lord,” said Dag, saluting.

  Henry asked the question uppermost in his mind. “What happened to King Ullr? Is he dead? Captured?”

  “As far as we can tell, the king was not present at the battle, my lord,” Thorgrimson returned. “We have questioned the Guundaran prisoners regarding his whereabouts. They claim he was aboard his yacht. The dragons have been searching for it, but we cannot find it. We fear he must have escaped.”

  “Damnation!” Henry swore.

  “What about the ships armed with the green-beam guns, Captain?” Alan asked.

  Captain Thorgrimson scratched his beard in bemusement. “I know you will think I have been nipping the Calvados, sir, but the four were attacked by a house and destroyed before they could do any damage.”

  Alan and Henry both looked at each other.

  “Simon!” Henry exclaimed.

  “Even he got to take part in the battle,” Alan said discontentedly, but he gave a grudging smile.

  “I have come to ask you a favor, Captain,” said Thorgrimson. “Since your ship is the only one that can sail the Deep Breath, I was hoping you could search for survivors. Several ships went down and may have foundered on rocks, which means men might still be alive. We are also searching for survivors who escaped in lifeboats.”

  “Certainly, sir,” said Alan.

  “Wait a moment, Captain,” Henry said, realizing what Thorgrimson had said. “You stated four of the green-beam guns were destroyed. I know for a fact that there were five.”

  “We saw only four, my lord,” said Thorgrimson.

  He saluted his thanks. His dragon dipped her wings and flew off, heading back to Haever.

  Henry scowled, his good mood evaporating. “I do not count this as a victory. Ullr is missing and so is one of the green-beam guns. He could be anywhere.”

  Henry lowered the spyglass and, remembering their quarrel, deferentially turned to Alan.

  “Before you start looking for survivors, would it be possible for the Terrapin to convey me to the palace?”

  Alan smiled, knowing Henry of old, knowing that in the past he would not have bothered to ask. He would have ordered.

  “I should not delay the search,” Alan replied, “but I can send you in the pinnace. Why do you want to go to the palace?”

  “I must ascertain that His Majesty is safe, of course,” Henry replied.

  Alan grinned. “I will wager you a case of Calvados, Henry, that you will not find King Thomas anywhere near the palace.”

  “What are you talking about?” Henry demanded. “Where else would the king be?”

  “Thomas Stanford is young. He is a soldier. Do you think he would hide from the Guundarans in the cloak closet? Unless I much mistake our king’s character, I will wager six cases of Calvados that Thomas fought in the thick of the battle.”

  Henry regarded him in horror. “You are not serious! What if something happens to him? I tell you, Alan, I could not survive another succession crisis. I must find him.”

  “Then I suggest you start by asking Randolph,” said Alan. “If anyone will know, he will.”

  “Deck there!” the lookout bellowed. “Ship off the starboard bow!”

  “Likely some poor merchantman who blundered into the fighting,” Alan remarked. “Mr. Finch, go aloft. Tell me what you see.”

  The midshipman scrambled up the shrouds and put his glass to his eye.

  “Yacht, sir!” he reported. “A big one. Three masts. I can’t see the name through the smoke. The Stein-something, sir.”

  “Stein-something, Mr. Finch?” Alan shouted, displeased.

  Mr. Finch flushed red, watched intently, and finally managed to get a clear view of the name.

  “Steinadler, sir,” he stated in triumph. “She is sailing east by north, all sail set, sir.”

  “Steinadler…!” Henry repeated. “That’s King Ullr’s yacht! He’s sailing east by north for Guundar. The bastard’s lost the war and now he’s running for home!”

  “By God, Henry,” Alan said excitedly, “we may get in on this fight yet! Has the Steinadler seen us, Mr. Finch?”

  The midshipman watched for several moments, keeping them in suspense, then shouted down, “Don’t think so, sir. The yacht is maintaining speed, hol
ding her course.”

  Alan hurried to confer with the helmsman.

  “What are you going to do?” Henry asked, going after him.

  “Cut her off,” said Alan.

  “She is faster,” said Henry.

  “But we do not have as far to sail to intercept her,” said Alan. “And she won’t know we are chasing her.”

  He gave orders for the Terrapin to sink down into the mists of the Deep Breath. He was taking a risk. The Steinadler’s lookouts would have a difficult time seeing the Terrapin sneaking up on them. But she risked losing sight of Ullr’s yacht in the mists. The Terrapin would be sailing blind.

  “Are you sure about this, Alan? What if Ullr orders a change in course?” Henry asked nervously. “We will lose him, and we need to capture him! I want to see him stand trial before an international tribunal, humiliated before the world. His utter defeat will serve as a lesson to future despots.”

  “He won’t change course,” said Alan with maddening confidence. “He is desperate to reach the safety of home.”

  Henry conceded Alan had a logical argument, but as he paced the deck, shivering in the cold, he kept thinking of everything that could go wrong.

  At last Alan gave the order to bring the Terrapin up out of the Deep Breath. The ship cautiously rose out of the mists, moving slowly, giving the lookouts time to see. They immediately sighted the Steinadler and reported that the yacht was right where Alan had predicted they would find her, still on course.

  The Terrapin increased speed, continuing the pursuit with a will, and then the wind died. Not much, but enough to slow the heavy metal-plated warship. Those on board watched in dismay to see the sleek, trim yacht race ahead; it scarcely seemed to notice the drop in the wind. Henry began to swear.

  Alan remained calm. He ordered the helmsman to gain altitude in hope of finding more wind. His crew was enthusiastic. Word had gone around that they were pursuing King Ullr and everyone on board ship worked with a will to squeeze every advantage out of even the smallest puff of air.

  “It’s going to be close,” Alan remarked.

  Henry had his spyglass trained on the Steinadler. He saw a flurry of activity among her crew: men rushing to the rail, sailors scrambling up the shrouds.