The Window and the Mirror

by Henry Thomas

  “Aye, lady, aye?” he asked tentatively.

  She smiled and left him there. It would not do to have him spitted on the sword of one of those Norandishmen. She would not have it. All those dead boys in her village, all the dead friends and family, gone now. Places gone, forgotten, but not forgotten by her. Nor were their deaths forgiven. She walked to the place where her crew stood huddled beneath the trap door that led into her cabin, or more precisely the smuggler’s hold that lay beneath the bed in her quarters. They eyed her expectantly.

  “I’m asking each of you to risk your lives with me. If any-one has any complaints or reservations, then voice them now.” She was met with silence. Her boys were with her, she had known it anyway. “Good. Ready, lads?”

  “Aye lady, aye.” They answered softly, and then Galt and Kipren let down the door. Elmund pulled himself aloft and then offered his arm down for her and helped her into the small space, and together they pushed the bed over enough to give them access to the room above. Galt and Kipren followed and soon they were grouped on either side of the door, peering out of the twin portholes that looked out on the deck toward the bow. The guards were huddled near the forecastle, wrapped in their cloaks against the chill, lanterns in their hands, looking down absently at the engines and their fellows on the ground.

  “Good,” said Ryla. She opened her closet and reached into the back where her sword was hanging and she passed it to Elmund. He drew it and tested the edge before nodding. She gave a knife to Galt, and Kipren was wielding a heavy wooden mallet they had found in the hold. She carefully opened the drawer at her desk and removed the true ship’s key and hung it from her belt again. She uncorked the bottle of Malvane Lightning and took another long draught before passing it in turn to each of her crew.

  “Courage, boys,” she said. “Everyone remember your roles. There’s no turning back from this point on.”

  They nodded.

  Ryla fished the key from inside her shirt and worked the lock on the cabin door and silently opened it a hair’s breadth. Then, mimicking the wind rattling a door left ajar, she banged the door shut and let it open again slightly wider, and then banged it shut a few times in succession.

  “One’s coming. Get ready.”

  Elmund moved behind the desk. Galt was in the corner, and she and Kipren were waiting behind the door. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Everything seemed too loud, even the sound of their own breath. She could hear Kipren’s breathing speeding up and his hands grip the mallet tighter. She saw the lantern’s glow growing brighter and brighter as the guard drew near, and then the room exploded with light as he pushed the door wide and pushed his way into the room. Time stood still for a moment, what felt like an eternity for Ryla, and then she quickly shut the door and heard a clamoring sound and a dull thud and when she looked the Norandian was being tied up by Galt while Elmund was removing the man’s cloak and helm. Kipren was stood over the man with the mallet at the ready.

  She righted the lantern and looked back out at the deck again. The other guard was looking toward the cabin. “Ready, Elmund?”

  “Aye, one moment.” He finished belting on the man’s sword and wrapped the cloak around him. “Ready.”

  He handed her sword to Galt and he took the ship’s lantern from her. He waited until they were hidden from view and then threw open the door and leaned out, motioning the other guard toward him before turning and walking back into the room. The other guard on the deck called out something to him, but Elmund pretended as though he did not hear the man and just impatiently waved him over. The man was talking as he entered the room, and his tone was getting more and more insistent, but he stopped talking when he looked down and saw the body on the floor bound and gagged. His eyes had just enough time to register shock and surprise before Kipren took him in the head with three strong mallet blows that landed the soldier in a heap next to his comrade.

  “Well done! Quickly now, get out there,” she whispered hurriedly. Kipren tucked his long beard into his shirt as Galt handed him the fallen guard’s cloak and helm. Elmund was unbelting the man’s sword.

  “I’ll do that, Elmund, you get on the deck!” She traded places with him. He took the lantern and strode out on to the deck, trying to mimick the man’s walk as they had watched him draw close. Elmund was a gem of a man, she thought. There he was, sauntering out on the deck, just like the Norandishman.

  Kipren belted on the man’s sword and donned his cloak and helm and took up the lantern. “How do I look?”

  “Hold your lantern low or your bloody beard will give you away!”

  “Aye, lady,” he said, and he hurried after Elmund.

  She helped Galt bind the fallen guardsman’s hands and gag him and then on a three count they lifted and carried the men to the smuggler’s hold.

  “Here, Captain.” He handed her sword to her. “You’ll need this if things get hot.”

  Galt went below and Ryla pulled the bed back in place after he passed. He would get the boy and together they would haul the Norandishmen to the stern and lock them in the ship’s larder. She would sneak back to the helm post when the time was right. For now, she would wait and watch. Galt still had more work to do once he had stowed the prisoners. He would have to sneak out and scurry up the rigging and see to those storm lines. Their getaway depended upon it. She picked up the bottle of Malvane Lightning and drained the last of the amber liquid from the bottle and made a whistling sound through her teeth as she swallowed it down.

  She peered out of the porthole and watched as the figure of Galt slid out of the hold and crawled out behind the fore-castle and into the rigging as stealthily as a thief in the night. Galt had no doubt been a thief before he had entered into her service. The man was quiet and quick, and he had a sound mind. He had disappeared behind the mainsail and ascended out of Ryla’s view now. He would rig the storm lines so that the knots would slip but leave them in place so that Norden and his men would be unaware.

  Elmund and Kipren were standing near the forecastle and trying to look relaxed. They were doing a piss poor job of it, too, by her estimation, but thankfully the guards on the ground seemed to be preoccupied with pleasing the excitable Mage Norden. She could hear him shrieking incoherently from time to time, though she could not make out the exact words.

  Something was amiss, though. It was apparent from her men on the deck and their body language. The mage had cried something out that got their attention and now Elmund was walking casually toward her cabin, seemingly unhurried. Had Joth and Eilyth come into view so soon, she wondered? She hooked the scabbarded sword onto its hanger on her belt and adjusted its position until it pleased her. She went to the door and cracked it open surreptitiously as Elmund drew near.

  “What’s happening?” she whispered.

  “They’ve spotted a carriage down the road, but he can’t figure out how to make the engines function. The men can’t make the things throw! It’s really pissing him off.”

  Maybe this would be easier than she had ever dreamed. “Now’s our chance, while he’s distracted. Tell Kipren and Galt. We’ll move once we are all in place.”

  “Aye, lady.”

  She left the door open and stole a look down over the side of the ship at Norden and his men. Norden was berating his clerk by the sound of it, but he broke off in midstream and looked down toward the road. She tried to follow his gaze but could see nothing from where she stood. That would have to wait, she thought, for now it was her turn to get to the helm post and ready the airship for liftoff.

  With Norden’s attention drawn to the road, Ryla crept out of her cabin door and made her way quickly to the stern. She did not even need to bother with creeping about however, for Norden’s attention was locked on something now and his rod bearing arm was being raised aloft over his bent frame. Ryla hurried to the helm post and put the key into position. They had moments to act before they lost any element o
f surprise. They had to be swift and sure now. She left the helm post and slunk back down to join her lads near the forecastle. She saw that Galt was there huddled near the ladder, sword in hand and waiting for her command. Elmund and Kipren were watching something on the road.

  “Captain, there!” Elmund whispered.

  She saw a team of six horses come into view along the road down in the distance bearing a carriage with a prisoner box atop it. Was this the quarry that the mage had been waiting for? Were her comrades inside? Ryla did not know, but she knew that the time was ripe for them to act and that a better opportunity would not present itself. She was about to call the signal when a voice hailed her from just below on the ladder.

  “Captain, there’s some activity out there just like you told me to come tell you when I saw!” Bellan whispered in a rush.

  “Thanks, Bell,” she said, “Let’s go, boys. Now’s the time!”

  The men looked at her and nodded. Then they all stood as one and rushed down the gangplank, drawing their swords. The Norandian guards had time to turn and draw their weapons just a moment before her boys laid into them. She saw one of the Norandians go down and Kipren stumbled back as Elmund and Galt tore the other man down to the ground and were on him in an instant. The clerk let out a blood-curdling scream and ran for the road toward the other soldiers, but Norden was white with shock and incomprehension for only a moment before he swung his rod at her head with all his might. She set the blow aside with her sword and thrust at the other side of him, piercing his cheek and causing him to scream.

  “Surrender! We have your men!” she urged him.

  “Whore!” he screamed at her, wiping blood away from his mouth and spitting. He hit her then and knocked her down, surprising her with his ferocity. He was near the back of one of the engines and he suddenly thrust the rod out and the engine lifted and moved rapidly toward where she lay on the ground struggling to find her feet as the world swam in her vision. Be quick, Ryla! She told herself, roll! Find your feet and get that rod from him.

  Elmund was yelling for her. Could they not see her there? She leapt up as she felt a strange weight of energy begin to push her, crush her down, and she rolled to her feet and grabbed the rod between Norden’s hands where he held it. He was stronger than she was, but not by very much. Still, Ryla was in the contest for only a moment before she realized that she would never be able to beat him. It was a losing struggle, but hopefully she could hold him long enough for her boys to get there and subdue him.

  She heard the clash of steel and briefly between the engines she saw Elmund locked in a struggle with one of the Norandians, but she had no time to gawk. Norden was raising his arms and trying to twist the rod from her grasp, his face bloody and set in a cruel malevolent grin. She felt herself failing, but she reached deep inside of her last reserves and gave a twist of her own to the rod and it sprang free of Norden’s grasp for a second, proscribing a wide arc, and as it did so a thunderously loud sound erupted from around her and the siege engines all flung their arms forward and sent the queerly fashioned barrels spinning in spirals like bullets from a sling with astonishing speed and power, whistling with a strange low sound. She stood there dumbly for a moment struggling with Norden as she realized they had whistled through the sky toward Kingsbridge and she heard and saw the first reports against the wall as the barrels exploded in fire that spread up and over the other side into the town. The engines were still firing, repeating at an astounding speed, launching the barrels randomly out at the road and into the countryside as they struggled for control of the rod.

  Ryla was losing strength, she was failing. Norden ripped the rod from her hands and hit her hard atop her shoulder and neck, driving her down painfully to the ground.

  “You stupid, stupid bitch! You’ve made a real mess of everything! Guards!” He kicked her over onto her back and looked at her there for a moment. She struggled to rise, but her shoulder was on fire and her vision was swimming. “Pity. I wanted to see you like this from the beginning.” He raised the rod over his head to bring a finishing blow down onto hers, and Ryla saw her death coming for her. And suddenly he was on the ground next to her gasping in pain, a dagger sticking out of his ribs. A figure detached itself from him and rushed to her side.

  “Captain!”

  It was Bellan. Bellan the stableboy in his fine blue coat had slammed into the mage and saved her. He pulled his dagger free and Norden screamed. “Serves you right!” he said to the mage. “Lady, quickly, let’s help you away!” He pulled her to her feet and supported her with his surprisingly strong hands, and she felt as though she was in a daze and she could not get clear of it. The engines had stopped launching the barrels and thrumming. How long since they had ceased? She had no idea, but when she looked out to the road she could see scattered fires that stretched all the way to Kingsbridge. There were bells ringing there, she could hear them now.

  “Elmund and the lads?”

  “All good, Captain. All wounded a little but, we are all right. Four more of them boys showed up out of the blue, as it were, if you take my mean—”

  “Don’t talk anymore now.” She picked up the bronze rod from the ground where Norden had dropped it and let Bellan guide her away.

  “I told you to stay below, did I not?”

  “Aye, lady, but Elmund was calling for you and I couldn’t—”

  “Thank you, Bell. You’ll never hear me say this again, but you did right not to listen to me.” He smiled at her but she saw in his eyes the fear and the innocence of his youth. He so wanted to be praised, so desired to be held in esteem, but he was stricken with the fact that he had just slain a man, no matter how it had been justified, and she realized as she watched his face that he was just a scared little boy, and her heart went out to him. “I owe you my life, and I thank you Bellan.”

  “I couldn’t just let him kill you, lady.”

  “You did well, sweet boy.”

  He blushed when she kissed his cheek.

  And then she was up the gangplank and standing there swaying slightly on the deck with her sword in hand. “All hands, report!”

  “Aye, lady!” Kipren ambled up with Galt. They were both binding wounds, Galt pressing a cloth to his left arm and Kipren holding his side and grimacing.

  Elmund limped forward.

  “Are you hurt badly?” she asked.

  “We’re all right, Captain,” Elmund answered. “Some of those Norandishmen came back when we weren’t expecting them. The others that stayed over the road got hit by those engines!”

  “Did they? That was a stroke of luck!” She looked out at the fires over the road as they raged in the wind. “Did the carriage make it through?”

  “There, Captain!” Galt pointed toward Kingsbridge and she could make out the team disappearing over a low hill, pulling the prison cart out of view as their driver cracked his whip.

  “Make ready, boys. Good work. We fly now. Elmund!”

  “Aye, lady?”

  “Let’s take one of those engines with us.”

  “Aye lady! Galt!”

  Bellan followed Elmund down the gangway as Ryla made her way to the helm post, using the ship’s rail to steady her as she walked. She watched as her crew rigged up one of the engines as it stood there floating. She wished that she could haul them all aboard, but one would do. It was hardly conceivable that any engine could reach the walls of a town from this great distance, and as she looked around at the destruction she could scarcely imagine what horror a score of the machines might be able to unleash upon a beleaguered city.

  Galt tread the wheel of the crane and Kipren moved the arm over and they placed the engine down mid-ship on the deck and watched it hover strangely there.

  “Much easier like that!” Galt exclaimed as he climbed from the wheel. Elmund and Bell carried up a dozen of the strange barrels and Galt and Kipren were heading to haul up more
when Elmund called out to her from the gangway.

  “Captain! Riders on the road!”

  He dropped the helms and swordbelts he was carrying and pointed to where the stand of trees near the road stood ablaze. She raised her spyglass and followed the direction of his gaze. It was the half-dozen riders that Norden had sent out from Torlucksford, she saw by their helms and coats. The bastards had ridden hard to have made it this far so quickly, she thought. They had slowed their advance along the road and were taking in the scene of flaming destruction all around them, and Ryla knew it was time for her to get her crew in the air. Those riders could be on them quickly if they decided to charge up the hill. They would spot the airship momentarily if they had not done so already, and with their fallen comrades all around them she doubted that she and her crew would be given any kind of quarter.

  “Raise the gangplanks! We’re lifting away!”

  Her crew made ready as she stood and manipulated the bronze wand at the helm post. The airship hummed with life and began to slowly rise and strain against the tethers of the storm lines. She saw the first line go taut and then slacken and fall and she knew Galt’s knots had been tied adroitly. She swept her gaze over the hill side and saw the cavalry forming up along the road below, their leader directing them with his sword.

  “Seven bloody bells!” she swore to herself. “Get those Norandishmen out of my larder and on the ground, boys!” She had almost forgotten about the prisoners. Kipren, Bellan, and Galt ran below as Elmund limped from one side of the ship to the other preparing to unfurl the sails when the elevation allowed. Ryla looked down and saw the figure of Norden struggling on the ground. So the worm is still breathing, she thought. That may ease Bellan’s conscience, but it presented her with a problem, an inevitable life as a fugitive once word got back to Magistry officials of her involvement. She had committed piracy among other crimes—including attacking a Magistry official, conspiracy, treason, and the list went on.

  She did not care enough to risk running down there now and ending him, and the truth was that she did not particularly wish death upon him, even though she had seen his willingness to deal it out to those who opposed him. He would have killed her, no question about it, she knew. But Ryla wished death only upon one man.