CHAPTER 8 
CHAPTER 8 Nia burst into the small bedroom. Jason jerked his head up and squinted at her, tense from being startled awake.
“Are we under attack?” he blurted.
She was smiling. “No, it’s good news! The Valiant has been spotted on the horizon.”
“About time,” Jason said, relaxing. The ship was three days behind schedule. Everyone had been getting really antsy. He blinked and wiped his eyes.
“Sorry to disturb you,” Nia said. “I thought you’d want to know.”
“I’m glad you told me.” The room had no window, so he lacked outside light to help him gauge the time. “Is it morning?”
“Not quite daybreak,” she said. “You can go back to sleep if you want. In fact, you probably should. Tonight is the night!” Nia exited, closing the door.
Jason sagged onto his side and closed his eyes, but he failed to sleep. Eventually he went and found some breakfast. There was a new energy among the drinlings. Concerns had been expressed that the Valiant might have been diverted because somebody had caught wind of the planned hijacking. Every day their strike force had remained in hiding had increased the chance for somebody to discover them. But now it looked like all would proceed as designed.
Jason stewed all morning and into the afternoon. He spent a lot of time on his feet—testing the weight of his new sword, aiming the crossbow Aram had given him, foraging for snacks, listening for news. Pacing. Fretting.
Tonight’s endeavor would be like nothing he had ever done. Hijacking a ship in the middle of the night? This was a big town, surrounded by high walls. The ship would be guarded. There would certainly be fighting. If he and his friends messed up, they would all die.
Nobody expected much of him. According to what Jason knew of the plan, he was basically cargo. After the ship was secure, Drake and two drinling escorts would hustle him aboard. But so much could go wrong. What if they ran across a stray patrol on the way to the ship? He would have to help them fight their way clear. If an alarm was sounded before they boarded the ship, soldiers could come rushing to the waterfront, and he might end up in the thick of the battle.
Jason had practiced for months so that he could contribute in a fight. But since learning to use a sword, he had never confronted an opponent with his life on the line. That test might come tonight, meeting an enemy in combat, no blunted edges, no practice gear . . . no second chances. Skill would be involved, as would composure, as would luck. Either he or the opponent would survive. The prospect sent nervous thrills tingling through his body.
Jason knew he would not be fighting alone. Drake and others would probably be there to bail him out. But anything could happen. Worst-case scenarios could leave him alone in a sea of enemies. No matter how he tried to distract himself, he could not stop anticipating the possibilities.
Not long before sunset, somebody knocked on his door. Jason had his sword out, dueling imagined enemies. He hastily tossed it aside. “Come in.”
Aram entered, still small, and glanced from Jason to the sword on his bed. “Restless?”
“Not too bad,” Jason lied.
Aram smirked. “My room is directly below yours. I could hear you clomping around.”
Jason was not one to blush, but the sudden warmth in his cheeks hinted that this might be an exception. He looked away from the undersized half giant. “I was just doing some exercises.”
Aram plopped down on the edge of Jason’s bed. “Truth be told, I’m a bit edgy myself.”
“Yeah?”
“This is a major operation. With so many people involved, I can hardly believe we haven’t given ourselves away already. These drinlings deserve a lot of credit. They have discipline.”
“Think we can pull it off?”
Aram hesitated. “You know I used to work as a smuggler.”
“Right.”
“I’ve taken plenty of chances in my day. Risk was part of the job. But the risks were carefully measured. Thanks to my precautions, the chances of getting caught remained low. I stayed in situations where nine times out of ten, if I did get apprehended, I would be able to bargain my way out of serious trouble. Even among the officials appointed by Maldor, most consider smuggling necessary to some extent. The service fills a need. I was careful about where and when I operated. I was careful about who I worked with. Careful about what goods I moved. Careful about who I bribed.”
Jason could see where Aram was headed. “And now we’re rushing into something crazy?”
Aram shook his head. “Not necessarily. Not overly crazy. This could work. How do I put this?” He stared down at his clasped hands. “During my career, I occasionally came across opportunities for a really bold mission. A job that might produce a mountain of money overnight or really enhance my reputation. A big score—a chance for glory, riches, or both. These types of jobs almost always involved harming the interests of the emperor in one way or another. Or else they had the potential to draw his attention.
“I created workable plans for several of those missions. I devised strategies that made the projects feasible, kept the risk within reason. But the price of failure in those instances was much too high, so I played it safe. I never implemented those plans. Chasing the big score gets greedy men killed.”
“But tonight . . . ,” Jason prompted.
“Tonight we’re going to hijack an interceptor. Among other duties, it will be my responsibility to captain the ship. I have the most experience at sea, so the job fell to me. I’ve drilled the drinlings on procedures. They mastered their knots and lashings with shocking ease! They’re highly adaptable. Every man knows his role. But most have never sailed a ship like the Valiant. For good or ill, our success depends largely on me—whether I trained them right, whether I lead them effectively.
“I love the sea. I’ve captained before. I’ve dreamed of becoming shipmaster of an interceptor, Jason. There is no finer vessel afloat. The basic design came from the Kadarian warships, but Maldor perfected it. To captain the Valiant will be a thrilling privilege that I never expected to actually experience.”
“But you’re also nervous?” Jason guessed.
Aram shifted in his seat. “I’m discarding years of good judgment. Our actions tonight will publicly insult the emperor and all those in his service. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve been in tight spots before. Things have gone poorly, and I’ve fought my way free. But I never sought out such situations. This hijacking will have every imperial agent on the Inland Sea after us. It will draw the personal attention of the emperor.”
“Is the plan good?” Jason hoped.
“Superb. They won’t be expecting anything this bold. They couldn’t possibly anticipate the amount of manpower we’ve assembled. This hijacking is daring enough to fall completely outside of their expectations. The Valiant made port today. Most of the crew will be carousing and enjoying the inns tonight. Those standing guard in the middle of the night will be disgruntled and careless. What could happen to an interceptor moored in a port firmly under imperial control? These soldiers haven’t seen real action for years. In combat situations surprise means a lot, and it should be entirely on our side.”
“So you’re more worried about afterward.”
“I’m worried about everything. Too much could go wrong. And if things go wrong, they will go very wrong. If our surprise is somehow foiled, this could end disastrously. If our enemy takes more clever or effective action than we’ve anticipated, we could be massacred. And even if we get away, it is only the beginning. We’ll be sailing to an island nobody has survived, with every soldier in the region after us. Not a favorable scenario.”
“Wow,” Jason said, feeling he now had a better grasp of why he should be freaking out.
“This is the sort of scheme you devise as an idle fantasy, and then lay aside.”
“But we can’t lay it aside.”
“If we’re determined to get to Windbreak Island, this is probably the only way. No better alternative exists. The prophecy claims we have to get there. Greedy or not, we’re being forced to pursue the big score. It goes against my instincts, which makes me edgy.”
“I’m pretty wired too,” Jason admitted. “I think I get what you mean. I’ve spent most of my time in Lyrian trying to avoid danger. Tonight we’re charging straight into it.”
Aram rubbed the sides of his nose with both hands, partially hiding his face. “Truth be told? My instincts keep telling me to run. And listening to my instincts has kept me alive so far.”
“You think we should run?”
“Not all of us. I was speaking about myself.”
Jason felt shocked by the admission. “You don’t really want to ditch us?”
Aram gave a weak smile. “I definitely want to run. I’ve never liked sitting still. I almost took action yesterday, before the Valiant had been sighted.”
“You almost left?” Jason gasped. “Really?”
“I wouldn’t bring it up if I meant to actually do it.”
“Then why bring it up at all?”
“I thought it might mean something for you to know that the thought of you helped keep me here.”
“Me?” Jason asked.
“I had to ask myself how committed I was to this cause. I had to confront whether I was willing to go all the way, to venture into dangers from which I had little chance of returning. I knew Jasher and Drake wouldn’t give up. The mission would go forward without me, and I could picture my presence making little difference whether it succeeded or failed. But then I thought about you. I thought about a young man who didn’t belong to this world, who had managed to make a difference without many of the skills I might have supposed were necessary. And I realized that if a stranger like you held true, a man of Lyrian like myself had no right to depart.”
“Wow,” Jason said. He could hardly believe his actions had mattered so much to a warrior like Aram. “So you’re not leaving?”
“I’ll hold true.”
“Even though your instincts don’t like it?”
“Even so.” Aram stood up and crossed to the door. “I’ll be growing soon. Antsy or not, you should try to sleep. We won’t get underway until the stillest hour of the night.”
“Thanks for talking with me,” Jason said. “It helps to know I’m not the only person feeling anxious.”
“We should all be anxious! Maybe it will keep us sharp. This is a grim endeavor. We’ll need to be at our best tonight.”
Jason wondered what his best would look like. He hoped he would measure up. “I’ll give it everything I’ve got.”
“I believe it,” Aram replied. He glanced at the weapon on the bed. “Don’t wear out your sword arm.”
* * *
Jason slept restlessly, tossing and turning, waking up at intervals. When Drake came for him, Jason was awake, staring silently at the darkness. He rolled out of bed as soon as the door opened.
“Did you sleep?” Drake asked.
“Sort of,” Jason replied. “I felt tense.”
“Hiding away like this for most of a week would make anyone edgy. I’ll be glad to get on the water. Been some time since I toured the Inland Sea.”
Jason buckled on his sword and grabbed his crossbow. “Where are the others?”
“Some are already moving into position,” Drake replied. “The idea is to reach the docks without looking like fifty people.”
A male and female drinling awaited outside his room. Jason had not learned all the names, but these two were called Thag and Zoo. Both looked to be in their twenties. Both spoke English without much confidence, but seemed to banter cheerily with their comrades in their native tongue. Zoo was slender for a drinling, but had a sinewy toughness. Thag’s hulking muscles were developed to the point where it seemed they would limit his movement.
Drake led Jason and the two drinlings down to the enclosed alleyway outside the secret rooms. Overhead, a rectangular section of black sky glittered with stars. The curly-haired barkeeper waited at the far end of the little courtyard beside a ladder that led up to a window. Jason climbed the ladder behind Drake and entered the inn. A few drinlings lingered in the common room.
“The other drinlings will follow behind us,” Drake said. “Most have gone ahead. Come.”
Shadowing Drake, Jason exited the front door and climbed the steps to the street. He kept his crossbow hidden under his cloak. Nobody had weapons visible. The street was silent.
“How late is it?” Jason whispered.
“Less than two hours until first light,” Drake replied. “The moon has set. We’re going directly to the Valiant.”
They advanced along the side of the road at a brisk walk. The drinlings had their hoods up. A calm breeze blew against Jason’s back.
“Wind from the southwest,” Drake mentioned. “Close to ideal.”
The road ended at the waterfront. The bulky shapes of sailing vessels loomed in the darkness, lit by stars and a dozen dockside lanterns. Other lamps shed light aboard a few of the ships. Fires danced along the top of the sea wall that stretched out into the harbor: torches and cressets. At the mouth of the harbor, where the two walls almost met, a pair of bonfires blazed, the flames reflecting off the dark water.
The largest ship by far was off to the right, a long vessel with three towering masts rigged with numerous sails. Four lanterns brightened the deck. Jason saw at least two soldiers patrolling.
Drake furrowed his brow. “We should have the ship by now.”
He led them back a block, then along a cross street. They carefully approached the dock again. They came out closer to the Valiant, the name of the huge ship visible on the side. At the end of the next street over, a couple of inns remained brightly lit. Music could be heard from one of them.
Nia emerged from the shadows. “Come with me,” she whispered.
“What’s the problem?” Drake asked as she led them to a dark nook shielded by a low fence. They had a clear view of the Valiant.
“A patrol of six guards was roaming the docks,” Nia said. “We had to wait until they moved beyond sight of the Valiant. We took them quietly.”
“They’ll be missed sooner or later,” Drake warned. “Probably sooner.”
“The plan is in motion.” She nodded toward one of the lit inns. Aram came staggering out, wrapped in his huge leather cloak. He lumbered toward the Valiant. “More soldiers than we would prefer are still celebrating at the inns. They must sleep less than I do.”
“This late, none of them should be terribly useful in combat,” Drake murmured.
Jason watched Aram amble along the pier toward the Valiant. As he approached the ship, a soldier came to the top of the gangplank. “You there,” the sentry called in a raised voice, “state your business.”
Aram shouted his reply. “Some seamen at the Broken Barge were bragging about sailing aboard an interceptor. Never seen one up close.” He started up the gangplank, swaying unsteadily.
“Now you’ve seen one,” the soldier said. “I must ask you to come no closer.”
Still walking, Aram waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t spoil a beautiful night! I just want a peek.”
“Turn around, sir. At once. This vessel is imperial property.” Three other soldiers had joined the first one at the top of the gangplank.
Aram kept coming, taking his time as if the steepness of the gangplank were tiring him. “Don’t be sour just because your mates are out having a good time. I wore your colors for a season, in service of the emperor. Never aboard a ship like this, mind you.”
All four of the soldiers drew swords. “I’m in command here,” a different soldier said, his voice stern. “If you wore our colors, you know our duty. You’ve been out too late, friend. You’re not thinking right. Go on home. Don’t make us remove you.”
Aram was now three-quarters of the way up the gangplank. He stumbled and fell forward. After lying still for a moment, he rolled onto his side. “More comfortable than it looks,” he said. “Maybe I’ll take a breather.”
“You will not,” the lead soldier said, sounding exasperated. “Get on your feet and shove off. Last warning.”
Aram let out a long moan. “I may have overdone it tonight, lads. Something I ate wants back out. I don’t think it means to come quietly.”
The lead soldier gestured for two of the others to approach Aram. They sheathed their swords and started down the gangway.
Aram began to sing, the words strained, halting, and somewhat off-key. “Old Ingrim was a man of the sea, the sort you’d hope to know. He’d buy you a drink if you shot him a wink, then tell you—”
Retching sounds interrupted his tune.
The two soldiers had reached Aram, but they paused, looking at each other. They spoke to Aram too quietly to be heard. Crouching, each grabbed an arm, grunting as they helped the huge man stand. Once they had Aram on his feet, they gazed up at him, clearly impressed by his size. One of them kept a hand on the hilt of his sword. The other kept a hand on Aram, steadying him.
“Don’t tell my wife about this,” Aram blustered. “The woman is hard enough to stomach when I mind my manners. Don’t send me home. I’d be safer in a nice cozy cell. Hear my advice, lads—if you’re ever tempted by marriage, get a dog instead. You’ll thank me.”
Aram took little wobbly steps without going anywhere, as if struggling to maintain his balance. He hunched, leaning from one side to the other, a hand on each of the soldiers for support. Then he doubled over, making retching sounds again.
Figures began to appear on the opposite side of the Valiant from the gangplank. They stealthily advanced on the soldiers from behind.
“This is disgraceful,” the lead soldier complained. “Walk him down to—”
His words were cut off as he was blindsided by attackers. The two soldiers at the top of the gangplank went down silently. Aram wrapped his powerful arms around one of the soldiers helping him, snapped his neck with a precise jerk, then swiftly did the same to the other man.
“Now,” Nia breathed. She led Drake, Jason, and the other drinlings out of hiding and toward the warship. One of the drinlings extinguished the dockside lantern nearest the Valiant. The night air smelled of brine and wet wood. As Jason reached the pier, he found that unless he stepped softly, his feet boomed too loudly against the planks.
Aram had hoisted the two soldiers on the gangplank over his shoulders and now carried them up to the deck. Presumably the splash would be too loud if he simply tossed them in the water. Jason was impressed by Aram’s performance. The distraction had fully occupied the soldiers while several drinlings had accessed the far side of the Valiant by rowboat and climbed up to the deck.
A drinling beside Jason carried Aram’s heavy shirt of overlapping metal rings, the armor clinking as he ran. Jason followed the drinling up the gangway.
“To your places,” Aram commanded in a loud whisper. “Do every task we rehearsed.” He shed his heavy cloak, accepted the armored shirt from the drinling, and put it on. Drinlings swarmed into position, some grabbing lines, some climbing the masts. Aram began striding about, giving specific instructions. Jason took up his position beside Nia near the top of the gangplank.
“Dousing the lantern was the main signal,” Nia murmured. “Our fighters should be advancing along the walls.” She held a bow with an arrow nocked and ready, eyes scanning the docks.
Jason stared at the impressive walls that stretched from dry land out into the water of the harbor. By the light of the distant cressets along the top, he could not yet see any activity. A sudden clash of steel rang from below the deck. Then he heard a strangled cry from beyond the ship, off to the right in the darkness.
Jason didn’t know all the details of the plan. Jasher, Aram, Nia, and an older drinling named Heg had been the architects—dividing up the teams, issuing assignments, and deciding how they would signal one another. Jason knew that Jasher was leading a group to sabotage some of the other craft in the harbor. A couple of small assault teams were supposed to charge along the walls, slaying sentries in order to stop the watchmen from closing the harbor mouth. The majority of the drinlings were working to secure the Valiant and get underway.
Crossbow ready, Jason watched the port. Every second that they went undetected increased the chances of their escape. Drake gripped Jason by the elbow and nodded off to the left. Flames were spreading across the deck of a large two-masted ship and leaping up into the sails. A moment later no fewer than five other fires started on five other ships, each moored to a different pier.
“Lantern oil,” Drake murmured. “No other ship in port could possibly outpace an interceptor. But three might be able to chase us to Windbreak Island in time to cause trouble. Jasher wanted to torch a couple others for good measure.”
Scattered drinlings began to converge on the pier alongside the Valiant—the raiders returning from the neighboring ships. A bell began to clang from the mouth of the harbor. Other bells on the wall took up the call. The sentries had caught sight of the rapidly spreading fires.
Jason surveyed the dock, finger near the trigger of his crossbow. The incessant bells made him feel jumpy. No more operating in secrecy. Trouble was coming. The only question was how long it would take to arrive.
Drinlings raced up the gangplank, making it bow and bounce. Three drinlings paused on the pier beside the Valiant to spill a generous quantity of lantern oil. Torch in hand, Jasher came racing along the dock. He sprinted onto the pier, dropped the torch in the pool of lantern oil, and kept running as flames licked across the planks behind him.
“Cast off!” Aram bellowed. “Away we go!”
Jasher pounded up the gangplank and sprang aboard just as the Valiant drifted away from the pier. A moment later the gangplank dropped into the water. Ships burned on either side, a few of them already becoming infernos as the flames spread from sail to sail. Men poured out of the nearest inns. Several raced for the pier where the Valiant was departing. They were met with a volley of arrows from the near side of the warship. At least one man was hit. Several others dove for cover.
Aram personally dumped the four soldiers who had guarded the Valiant over the side, all the while shouting orders about their heading and the state of various sails. Jason could not decipher the specifics of the nautical jargon, but it all sounded very official.
Jason heard water sloshing. Peering over the side, he saw three huge oars helping to propel the Valiant toward the harbor mouth. He assumed there were three more on the opposite side.
“The sweeps don’t accomplish much for a vessel this large,” Drake commented. “But they offer a little hope if we get caught in a calm. And they can add a little speed in situations like these.”
“Nobody rows like the drinlings,” Jason said, remembering his voyage from Ebera to the Durnese River.
“We have some of the best oarsmen in Lyrian aboard,” Drake agreed. “The harder they row, the stronger they get.”
The big waterfront bell towers added their gonging clamor to the alarm. The Valiant was now away from the pier and heading for the gap between the breakwaters. The fire on the dock was dying out as men beat at it, but the burning ships were lighting up the night. On two of them the fire had climbed to the highest sails, which meant that flames were stretching eighty feet into the sky, throwing fierce highlights onto the billowing smoke.
“We’re away,” Drake said calmly. “They can’t catch us from the docks. Their only chance is to block the harbor mouth. They have a pair of enormous winches on each side of the opening that can raise heavy chains to close off the gap.”
“Think our guys will stop them?” Jason asked.
Drake rubbed the back of his neck. “Our lives depend on it. Each drinling squad has a sledgehammer and a few flagons of lantern oil. They’ll try to smash and burn the winches into inoperability. They shouldn’t meet too much opposition. Nobody expected an attack tonight, least of all from inside the city. Their hardest chore might be to repel the reinforcements until we’re through.”
“Do they have an escape plan?” Jason queried.
“A risky one. Some of the drinlings used a skiff to board the Valiant while Aram distracted the guardsmen. Two drinlings were assigned to tie it to the stern with a long rope, so it will drag behind our ship. If the drinlings on the wall make it to the end of the breakwaters, and if we successfully slip through the gap, and if they’re still alive, they can dive in and swim for the skiff. Once out to sea and away from immediate danger, we can welcome them aboard. Any stragglers who miss the skiff will have to swim into open water and try to get away unaided.”
Jason peered anxiously ahead, trying to make out what was happening atop the sea walls. The hellish light of the blazing ships added to the illumination from the watch fires. Figures were running on the walls. The ship felt like it was advancing in slow motion. The breeze was weakening, and the oars could only do so much. Aram barked commands and occasionally climbed the rigging himself in the attempt to get the sails into the best possible position.
The bells continued to clang. Jason glimpsed fighting near the bonfire at the end of the left sea wall, silhouettes attacking one another. More combat became visible around the big bonfire on the opposite breakwater. A body fell from the wall. Jason hoped it was an enemy. After the fighting stopped, Jason could see figures attacking the great wooden winches, firelight glinting off the metal heads of sledgehammers. The left winch burst into flames, followed by the right.
Aram hollered the loudest, his rumbling voice audible over the panicky bells and the cheering of the other drinlings. Jason wondered if the drinlings on the wall could hear the gratitude. He wished the ship would sail faster. It was like riding a turtle during a jailbreak.
Back on the dock the fires were spreading. All the ships burned fiercely. A flaming mast had collapsed onto a pier, setting it ablaze. A second ship had ignited another pier. Whirlwinds of sparks spun up into the night above great sheets of flame. As a whole, the wild conflagration was beginning to look apocalyptic. If control was not soon gained over the fires, the entire waterfront would be lost.
The Valiant cruised toward the dark gap, oars sloshing, sails not slack but not bulging. Many guardsmen could be seen racing along the sea wall, best visible as they passed torches or cressets, sprinting toward the gap where the winches now blazed. The guardsmen moved faster than the ship, but they had more distance to cover.
The wind rose enough to fan the flames on the dock and fill the sails. Masts creaking, the ship accelerated in response.
The gap drew nearer. Jason tried to will the wind to push harder. As the ship approached, he gauged that the opening between the sea walls was probably eight or nine times wider than the Valiant. Standing on the deck, Jason was still a good fifteen feet lower than the walls. The closer the ship drew to the sea walls, the harder it became to see the activity up top. Jason gazed ahead at the darkness of the open sea.
“We’re through,” Drake said as the front of the ship nosed into the gap. “Too late to raise a barricade now.”
Relieved, Jason directed his attention to the unseen drinlings on the wall. He could hear blades clashing. Would any of them make it? He looked up at the breakwater as they sailed past, alternately glancing from one side to the other. The ship was nearly halfway through the gap before he saw three figures dive off the wall to the right. Moments later a pair dove from the wall on the left. Knowing there should have been five drinlings on each wall, Jason kept watching for other survivors.
“Down!” Drake shouted, tackling Jason to the deck.
For a moment the brusque action startled and bewildered him. Then arrows began thunking against the ship, a few at a time. A drinling plummeted at least thirty feet from the rigging, an arrow in his ribs. Jason grimaced as the body struck the deck with finality. Bearing shields, Thag and Zoo stood over Jason and Drake. As several drinling archers launched arrows of their own, Drake dragged Jason to a hatch and clambered down with him.
“I shouldn’t have left you exposed like that,” Drake apologized. “Very sloppy.”
“I’m all right,” he panted.
Drake shook his head. “We were target practice. They had a deadly angle on us. I was too fixated on making it out of the harbor. I should have taken us belowdecks from the start.”
“Think any of the drinlings from the wall will make it?” Jason asked.
“Depends how far back the skiff is trailing. If it was me, I would have jumped earlier. Soon as the front of the ship reached the harbor mouth, we were free.”
“They might have been stuck fighting,” Jason said.
“They did us a brave service,” Drake replied. “Without them I doubt we would have gotten away.”
“All clear,” Zoo called down from outside the hatch.
Jason and Drake returned to the deck and looked back at the sea wall of Durna. The bells rang more quietly. The winches still burned beside the watch fires. In the background, flames raged along the dock.
“Anybody make it to the skiff from the wall?” Drake asked.
Thag held up three fingers.
Drake nodded and led Jason to the front of the ship, where Nia stood with a shuttered lantern. The blackness of the Inland Sea stretched out before them, with only the stars to show where the water ended and the sky began. Jason felt unsteady, drained after the stress and excitement of their narrow escape. It had all been so frantic. People on both sides had lost their lives. He hardly knew how to handle the sudden, dark calm. He felt bad for the drinlings who had fallen, but thrilled that the daring hijacking had succeeded.
Nia opened the shutter twice for a few seconds each time, then twice quickly. A moment later four quick flashes answered from farther out to sea, just right of their current heading.
“See that?” Nia called.
“I saw!” Aram answered. He shouted steering instructions.
“Corinne and Farfalee?” Jason asked.
“Together with Bat and Ux,” Nia replied. “Four flashes means they’re all there.” She grinned at Drake. “We pulled it off.”
“Your people were spectacular,” Drake said.
“We lost some on the wall, and Gaw was killed on our way through the harbor mouth. Any lost life is tragic, but our losses could have been worse. Should have been worse.”
“They were as surprised as we had hoped,” Drake said. “Several ships will be totally lost. It will take months to repair the piers. News of this hijacking will shake up more than this region. An interceptor is a serious prize, and we torched their waterfront as well. Many across Lyrian will hear the tale. Word of this victory should help Galloran as he recruits for his revolt. Tonight the empire looks vulnerable.”
Jason hadn’t stopped to consider how the hijacking might bring hope to Maldor’s enemies. Drake was right. Any bully looks less tough after somebody stands up to them. Jason tried not to dwell on the drinling who had fallen to the deck or the warriors who had died on the wall. Tonight was a big victory, a major step toward fulfilling the prophecy. Maybe they could actually pull it off!
“Maldor will demand vengeance,” Nia said. “He’ll want to make an example of us.”
“We’ll have his full attention going forward,” Drake agreed. “It was the price we paid for transportation to the island. With imperial troops behind us, and the Maumet before us, I have a hard time imagining how the oracle saw any of us surviving to seek out Darian the Seer.”
“Don’t write us off yet,” Jason said, feeling emboldened by their success. “We have a fast ship and lots of good fighters. We’ll find a way to finish the mission.”
“Such reckless optimism,” Drake said dryly.
Jasher came up behind them. “We have another advantage. The emperor can’t be certain where we’re going. Even if he confirmed our identities, our destination would be difficult to guess. The Inland Sea is large. We will not be easy quarry.”
“The oracle saw a way for us to survive,” Jason added. “We just have to find it.”