My team had set up on the point, hiding in the lush, tropical foliage. Across the water, on the rocks forming the other side of the harbor, Sondra waited with her team. Kara, along with our entire navy, hid in some nearby bay, ready to sail in behind Anure’s fleet. Over the last few days, Kara had landed people and equipment in surreptitious batches on the nearby beaches. Lia’s map had come in extraordinarily useful for finding good hiding places, and they’d used the intervening time to set up installations at well-camouflaged points all around the bay. I knew—trusted—that they were all in place, though I couldn’t detect any sign of them.
Then we all waited. That was the thing about war—long stretches of tense boredom while you waited and waited, punctuated by the utter raging blur of battle.
Not that the waiting seemed to bother the wizard. Ambrose sat on the branch of a large tree nearby, Merle on the branch just above. The wizard kicked his heels idly as he stared out to sea, working his will in some invisible way, the raven busily preening, sending the occasional black feather wafting down.
I’d passed into that surreal state of alert awareness that came from not sleeping. I often didn’t sleep the night before a battle, and last night had been no exception. After I’d nearly told Lia I loved her—which would’ve been a huge mistake, awkward for her and humiliating for me—I’d lain awake all night.
Sleep simply hadn’t been possible. I understood why Lia had said she’d sleep when she was dead. With my death—or, worse, hers—looming so close, I wanted to savor every moment, not waste it in sleep. With Lia’s lithe form against me, I’d studied her face by the light of the single candle until it guttered out. She looked somehow even wilder and lovelier in sleep. She’d discarded the scarf and the fuzzy vines had showed on her scalp, some curling, a few sporting tiny new leaves. Even what might be flower buds.
That book that Rhéiane and I had loved … I wished I could remember more about it. I couldn’t stop thinking about Rhéiane, too. Something about the stark honesty of night, and all the ghosts it brings, had me revisiting old memories. I’d been so sure she was dead. Had she been Anure’s prisoner all this time, waiting for me to rescue her? Sondra’s words had circled round and round my brain, bruising and leaving open sores behind.
I hope she’s dead, because the alternative doesn’t bear contemplating.
Rhéiane. Now that I’d spoken her name, it wouldn’t leave me alone. Rhéiane. And Sondra was right: The alternative didn’t bear contemplating.
But if I killed Anure, and Rhéiane was his prisoner at Yekpehr—such a big if—then would I be losing my only chance to save her? Surely not. Anure’s death would liberate them all.
Regardless, I definitely couldn’t contemplate Anure laying hands on Lia. I couldn’t stay back with her and guard her myself. Not because I had to be sure to capture the toad in my own net—I wanted that, I did—but because I didn’t dare let him get so close to Lia. The thought of him even touching her sensitive skin, inhaling that green living essence of her. Of how she’d suffer at his hands. Her delicate skin bruised. Her generous heart shattered. It drove me mad to think about it.
No. I’d stop him on the water. At first opportunity, I’d kill him.
Nothing mattered more than keeping him away from Lia. I’m so sorry, Rhéiane.
I could set all that aside now that the ships were arriving on schedule. Our scouts had spotted them. Lia had known the moment they’d touched Calanthe waters, and she’d been uncannily accurate. I wouldn’t be sitting here with my thoughts much longer. Merle dug at his breast, plucked out a feather, then cocked his head to watch as it drifted to the soil below.
“Why is he doing that?” I asked.
Merle gave me a sharp look, but Ambrose took a while to respond. “Hmm? Oh, the feathers? Seeding.”
“Seeding?” I repeated, unsure if I’d heard the word correctly.
“Yes. Exactly.” Merle clacked his beak and Ambrose looked away again, attention far away.
I decided trying again would do me no good. Instead, I studied the landscape, making myself be patient. The tide was high, the water smooth and glassy. Alluringly lovely. The town peaceful and quiet at the far end of the bay. Only the fighters remained—those the Calantheans had in Cradysica—and they’d hidden themselves. Fighters, and Lia and her ladies. Hopefully she’d be smart about exposing herself to danger.
I didn’t delude myself that she would be that circumspect. You’d think a woman who’d lived this long—and ruled the last remaining intact kingdom—and had done it by keeping a low profile, would be willing to hide. But no, not Lia. Something had changed in her. She’d grown fatalistic in some way. So certain of doom that, though she said she believed we could win this, she ultimately didn’t. I could see it in her eyes.
I would prove her wrong.
Today Anure would die and Lia would be free. Even if I died doing it, I could give her that last gift. I only wished I’d kissed her goodbye.
No sense thinking about regrets. Focus on what I could control. I surveyed the area. There wasn’t much to see because our people had done an exceptional job of hiding themselves in the verdant foliage. Any moment now …
Right on schedule, the lead ship of the emperor’s fleet nosed around the rocks, Anure’s flag high. Black jagged rocks on a field of gray, the citadel worked in a red dark as liver blood. Another ship followed. And another, then five more. A dozen more. Excitement and triumph sparked through me. It had begun. I idly weighed my bagiroca, as if I could smite them from here.
More ships glided into the big tranquil bay, then still more. Anure had brought the best of his fleet, and the bulk of it. All to capture and punish one woman. The man was mad.
One of my lieutenants made a sound. “So many. We’re outnumbered ten to one.”
“Probably worse than that. But we’ll destroy them anyway. We have a few tricks on our side.”
I went to Ambrose. Reached up and shook his foot when he didn’t respond to his name. “Which ship has Anure on it?” I asked when his unfocused gaze turned in my direction.
“I’ll tell you when I know.”
I bet Lia would be able to point it out. Vesno paced beside me, a faithful companion indeed. Studying his brown eyes, I wondered if Lia looked through them even now. “Which ship is Anure on, boy?” I asked. Vesno woofed a reply. Possibly the correct answer, too.
A cannon belched fire, the boom following after, echoing off the water and curve of the hills. It landed in the water of the bay, near the harbor docks and pretty fishing boats anchored there, but falling short. Not for much longer. Their range was even better than the last time I’d seen them. The familiar stench of vurgsten rose through the air, crowding out the floral fragrance of Calanthe, making my throat tighten and my lungs ache. Fucking foul stuff.
Two more cannons boomed, the vurgsten bundles exploding midair, making a show of fire. It rained down, almost floating, and I crawled to the edge of the rocks, staying down behind the scrub vegetation and straining my eyes to see. The fire whirled, then drifted. I’d have said by an errant breeze, but it went too deliberately to the docked Calanthean boats, settling on them and setting them instantly ablaze.
Had to be magic. Anure’s wizards at work. I threw an annoyed glance at Ambrose, who seemed to be doing nothing to assist us that way. He never even noticed.
A roar of fury echoed across the water. People, fighters and others supporters, poured out of hiding, bearing buckets of water and creating a chain to pass them down and douse the fires. They might as well spit on a bonfire, but you could never persuade the locals not to try to defend their own. They never did understand how much of Anure’s tactics were designed to create surface damage initially, to soften them with fear and despair. He had an uncanny knack—or his wizards did—of pinpointing what they couldn’t bear to lose, then destroying it.
As if triggered by my thought, a tongue of flame and smoke shot out from the leading ship. The golden domed temple on the hill exploded in a fiery burst of fury. Oily smoke billowed into the sky, followed by the wail of people. I felt a momentary pang for the beautiful temple, where I’d held and kissed Lia, feeling that divine love and light.
Sawehl, though, was a powerless god against the might of vurgsten. Or whatever old spirit the people thought they worshipped here. A sad reality that the people of Calanthe would have to face along with the rest of the world. And temples could be rebuilt, if only we could get free of Anure.
Anure’s fleet wouldn’t cause too much other damage yet. He wanted Cradysica broken and afraid. To teach them that their gods had no power and their monuments could be swept away. Then he’d land—or land his people, but I was betting he’d do it himself—and pluck Lia from their unresisting arms. Then he’d level the place.
But I intended to stop him well before that point.
Another boom, from cannons on several ships. The explosions landed square in the chain of water carriers, sending bodies flying, obscured by smoke and flame. Regret stabbed me like a knife to the gut. I’d brought the fleet here, knowing they’d destroy this beautiful place. A deliberate sacrifice. Not even the worst in a long career of terrible acts. But I felt the worst about it. Probably because I cared about Lia, and through some transference had developed affection for what she loved.
That wouldn’t stop me. I would do it all again, I told myself. The end justified the means. It was worth whatever it took to trap Anure exactly this way, and finally remove his blight from the world. One little town on a small island was nothing compared with all that Anure had decimated.
Turning my back on the bombardment of the town, I studied the ships, speculating on which carried the emperor. Would he sail straight up to the dock? Maybe. Depended on how confident he felt. Or how his obsession drove him.
“Conrí.” Bert, once Kara’s squire, acting as runner for this battle, came up, out of breath. “Should we fire on the ships?”
“Not yet. Hold all fire until my command.”
“Yes, Conrí.”
More ships entered the bay, a seemingly unending chain of them. How many had he really brought? All the while, the ships at the front bombarded the vulnerable village along the bay, the docks falling into the water, the houses on their stilts crumbling into flame and ash. For a while, some of the broken dome of the temple shone on the hilltop, but smoke eventually obscured it.
We did nothing as Cradysica shuddered under the relentless barrage—maintaining the illusion that the peaceful place had no defenses to mount—and still Anure’s ships entered the bay. We had to get them all in before we could attack. At least they so crowded the bay now that they’d have trouble maneuvering. With anticipation, I watched the tide. It would be turning soon and then we’d have to act regardless. If some of Anure’s fleet escaped the trap, we’d run them down.
A flare shot up. Finally. Kara signaling that the last ship was in—and blowing our cover. They’d know we were here now. I ran for Ambrose, hidden in the foliage of the tree. “Which ship is Anure’s?” I demanded.
He was frowning, Merle now on his shoulder. “He’s being obscured.”
“His wizards?”
Ambrose shrugged, then held up a hand. “Feel that?”
The ground shuddered beneath us, a great groan going up. I turned to see what could be doing that, but spotted nothing beyond the ordinary. If you counted the fires of hell raining down on a peaceful village ordinary. In my benighted life, it pretty much was.
“Calanthe,” Ambrose supplied. “Blood spilled in violence is waking Her. Just as Her Highness predicted.”
“What does that mean for us?” It still seemed like the least immediate of our problems. And yet … rattled, I put a hand on Vesno’s head, at the level of my hip. A big hound, steadfast and faithfully sticking to my side, just as Lia had promised he would. Hopefully he’d let me know if Lia was in trouble.
“I don’t know.” Ambrose swung his bare feet like a boy climbing a tree for fun, not a man part of an army in hiding. “It will be very interesting to witness.”
I had no time for this conversation. As if confirming it, a massive boom hit the rocks we stood on.
“We’ve been spotted!” one of my people yelled.
More likely the ships were just peppering the surrounding countryside, to add to the general confusion—and the smoke clouding the sky. They’d been keeping clear of the fancier houses uphill, Anure presuming that’s where Lia would be. He might have better intel now that he’d arrived in the area, pinpointing Lia’s exact location. At least he hadn’t been able to have a stealth team kidnap her before his ships arrived.
Another reason I’d lain awake all night, just in case they tried to grab her. Adrenaline surged through me now, banishing all thoughts of anything like lack of sleep. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.
“Fire on the fleet,” I yelled. “At will. Maximum chaos.” At least Lia’s healer had repaired my lungs and throat enough that I could pour volume to the orders without the agonizing pain. My people fired the cannons we’d hidden under the vegetation. They concentrated on the imperial fleet ships near the mouth of the channel, discouraging escape in that direction, taking advantage of the opportunity to barrage them for the short time our own ships weren’t at risk.
The imperial fleet’s orderly formation dissolved quickly under unexpected return fire from unknown directions. Surprise, fuckers.
Several of the faster-thinking captains had their ships wheeling about to refocus their cannons on the unexpected attack from their flanks and behind, but they couldn’t move fast enough. My people were good. We rarely had the luxury of battlefield communication, so each group acted as an independent unit, making decisions more or less autonomously. Pretty much what you’d expect from a bunch of rebels, ex-slaves, and escaped prisoners. What we lacked in military training and cohesiveness, we made up for with sheer inventiveness, tenacity, and bullheaded independence.
It made us nearly impossible to predict, a quality we’d learned to use to best advantage. Vurgsten—the old-fashioned method of flaming rocks hurled at the ships to explode on impact—barraged some ships while others sailed unmolested. I studied the overall effect. We were doing well, keeping them bunched and confused. Like one of Lia’s clocks, ticking right on schedule, a well-oiled plan springing the trap.
Bert appeared again. “Conrí—that’s the first of ours.” He pointed at the battleship—one of Anure’s that we’d stolen back at Keiost—coming into sight, also flying Anure’s flag. We’d saved the things with meticulous care, finding it ever so useful to pretend to be part of the empire we loathed. Until we stabbed them in the back. That would be Kara’s flagship.
Right on schedule, it belched fire.
The smoke looked different, the boom that followed quieter. Had to be whatever refinements Brenda, Agatha, and Percy had made. I frowned, not seeing much effect.
Ah, there it was. The nearest ships began to founder, as if they’d lost their rudders, then sinking lower in the water. Not big explosions but pinpoint strikes.
Others of Anure’s fleet tried to react to this new attack from their unguarded rear. Sailors swarmed the rigging, working the sails, trying to come about and fire back.
Too late. A boom rattled our installation, off target and causing us no damage, revealing their panic. I studied the water and the sky. Perfect timing. The final piece of the trap was about to spring, everything falling into place, piece by piece. Not there yet, but so close I could taste it. Soon Anure would be dead at my feet, at long last.
Which ship are you on, you loathsome toad?
There. The currents began to change. “Bert! Pass the signal to our ships. Stay back from the bay. Ambrose! Time to move.”
Bert saluted, sending up the signal flare for our fleet. The wizard leapt lightly out of the tree, then leaned heavily on his staff, dragging the bad leg as if it pained him. Merle rode on his shoulder, bright-eyed and cawing.
“Which ship?” I demanded.
Ambrose shook his head. “He’s here and he’s not. I can’t pinpoint him.”
“Then we’ll get closer. The slippery bastard won’t get away. Second stage!” I roared.
At my command, my team began pulling their cannons. Groups carried them down the rocks on the side of the ridge away from the Bay of Cradysica. On the beach below, more of our people pulled rowboats from cover, others loading cannons and people into them.
I lingered on the point a moment longer, watching as the tide turned.
“This is going to work,” I told the wizard with savage glee. With the turn of the tide, Anure’s ships began veer off course. Their vurgsten missiles went awry, landing in the trees and water.
Sailors scrambled to get their ships into position to fire back at the attacks from our installations that remained under cover all around the bay, or to attack our ships beyond the mouth of the harbor, now drawing back to safety, sails rigged to ride out the tide.
The changing tide was in full swing, the currents moving into a circular pattern that began spinning the ships in Anure’s fleet. Already wheeling about to fire back on Kara and the selective barrage from our landside installations, Anure’s ships found themselves continuing the spin too far. One battleship fully rammed into another, panicked orders and shouts of wounded men ringing across the water. Some frantic idiot sent cannon shot into the ship next to them. The close impact cracked both ships, pieces of wood and sailors flying, setting both ships ablaze.
Would shedding the enemy’s blood so violently into Cradysica’s bay count? Probably. Nothing to be done for it now. Besides, we were winning. Lia could do all the rituals to placate Calanthe that she liked in the coming days.
The spinning accelerated, ships lurching into one another or being flung out from the center to founder on the rocks of the bay’s embracing arms. Waiting for them, more of my people would take them prisoner where possible. A concession to Lia’s stricture on shedding blood. I’d rather have them cut down. I no longer needed to build an army for revenge. Vengeance was mine. After winning this final battle, the Slave King would no longer exist, and his army would disperse.
At least Cradysica was taking the biggest bite today, Her massive whirlpool spinning and savaging Anure’s fleet. Violence, sure—but of nature’s forces. Surely blood spilled by Calanthe Herself didn’t count.
It was a glorious sight to behold, and I would’ve liked to stay longer and watch the fleet shatter with the immense spin of Cradysica’s whirlpool. Time for me to board my own rowboat, however, and join Kara for the final phase of the battle. Sondra would be on her way, too, so we could all be together for the killing blow. This was going so cleanly, the trap sprung so neatly, that we might be victorious by sunset. I might even survive. Then I’d take Anure’s head and lay it at Lia’s feet. I could just picture it. She’d been so fucking stunning in her warrior queen garb.
She might even love me a little, if I could deliver the death of her enemy.
Full of that vision, on fire with victory, I started down the slope, Vesno bounding ahead. Ambrose, however, didn’t follow.
“Can you make it down the hill?” I called to him. He seemed weary, as he never did.
“I’m not going with you,” he said. “I promised Her Highness I’d help to keep an eye on Calanthe. That’s a lot of blood you’re feeding Her.” He gestured with his staff at the frenzy below.
One of Anure’s ships managed to fire back on our position, and leaves shattered around us. “You’re not safe here, wizard.”
“Oh, I’m as safe here as anywhere.” The ground groaned under us. Merle hopped down, rearranging a feather on the soil, and the shuddering receded. “See?” He waggled his eyebrows. “We’re needed here.”
“I need you—to show me which ship is Anure’s.”
“I can’t.” Ambrose shrugged, which became a weary shake of his head. “He’s here and not. Sometimes you can’t fight wizardry with wizardry.”
“Then I will hunt him down myself,” I snarled. So far as I could tell, wizardry fought nothing at all.
Ambrose gave me a placid look. “As ever has been your destiny. Remember: Claim the hand that wears the Abiding Ring.”
“I did. Today the empire falls.” I took one last look at the chaos in the bay, savoring the triumph. It did feel good. Not like ash at all. But of a future filled with promise. Ambrose had guided us to this victory, and I owed him for that. “Be careful, wizard. Keep an eye on Lia for me.”
“Conrí,” Ambrose said as I turned to go. “The empire will fall.”
“I know,” I replied impatiently. “I know the prophecy. Anure will die today, and his foul empire with him.”
“Just remember my words,” Ambrose called after me.
I waved a hand, skipping the path to leap from boulder to boulder, Vesno bounding before me, the last rowboat of soldiers waiting. The battle rage filled me with heat and boundless energy, and I couldn’t wait to engage. At last at last at last, the vengeful voices of the past chanted in my brain. Like me, they felt the glory of this moment, their voices finally joyful.
We had won.