AMID THE HOWLING WIND AND STINGING SEA SPRAY, Shailiha and Tyranny held on to theTammerland ’s rigging for dear life as Jessamay strained to keep the great ship rising.
Her hands firmly grasping the ship’s wheel, the sorceress screamed as she struggled to augment her power. The angle on the ship’s bow was so severe that from their places in the stern, all the women could see before them was the looming, nearly vertical deck. As the ship’s timbers and masts groaned torturously, Shailiha doubted that theTammerland could hold together for much longer, even if they could avoid the pursuing wave. In the darkness and chaos she had lost sight of the other surviving vessels.
The princess turned to look at the terrible wave chasing after them. Tyranny had done the right thing by changing course and keeping the fleet from hitting the wave head-on. But two of the Black Ships had already been consumed by the wave’s awful power, never to be seen again. TheTammerland had to be at least one hundred meters in the air and climbing quickly, but the wave was looming larger with every passing second. In moments it would engulf the ship’s stern and she would be done for.
Racked with fatigue, Jessamay summoned every scrap of power she could. The stricken ship lurched noticeably higher. Scars helped Tyranny claw her way up the slippery deck to stand beside the sorceress. Once there, the only thing keeping the privateer from sliding aft and tumbling into the sea was her first mate’s massive arms-one holding fast to a wheelhouse cleat, the other wrapped around her waist.
Desperate to give Jessamay an order, Tyranny inched closer. By now the thunderous noise and salty spray accompanying the wave had struck theTammerland full blast, drenching everyone and making it nearly impossible to communicate.
“If you can escape the wave, immediately reverse course and let the ship fall!” Tyranny screamed. “It’s the only way she’ll survive the stresses! But even then I can’t be sure she won’t break apart!”
Although she heard Tyranny, Jessamay didn’t acknowledge it. Screaming, she somehow granted the stricken ship a final burst of energy.
Just as the wave was about to engulf the stern deck, theTammerland lurched violently higher. Even so, the deadly wave’s crest slammed into the ship’s stern keel, levering it upward and suddenly returning her level flight. The wave crest surged onward, thunderously smashing its way forward along the length of the keel.
Jessamay immediately did as Tyranny had ordered. As she turned the great ship one hundred and eighty degrees to starboard, theTammerland literally pivoted atop the foaming wave crest. Then Jessamay recalled her spell, allowing the ship to plummet unaided down the wave’s backside.
Pushing Jessamay to one side, Tyranny and Scars quickly took command of the ship’s wheel. As theTammerland lurched and skidded down the opposite side of the wave, suddenly everything was reversed. Her bow facing down at a sickening angle, the great flagship nearly heeled over and floundered. Then she righted again to continue tearing down the wave’s rearward slope at incredible speed.
Almost as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. With a mighty splash theTammerland plowed into the bottom of the wave’s following trough, throwing Shailiha to the deck. For several frightening moments the ship rocked violently as she tried to find her equilibrium. Finally she settled. In the calm after the storm the wind was still, the sea smooth as glass. The clouds had vanished, leaving behind a moonlit sky.
Shailiha stood shakily to see Jessamay collapse to the deck. They all ran to her. Sitting down, Scars lifted the sorceress’s head into his lap. Still trembling, Jessamay slowly opened her eyes.
“You’ve done it!” Tyranny said. “We escaped the wave. You saved us.”
Jessamay raised her head a bit. “What about Wigg and Faegan?” she asked weakly.
Running to the port gunwale, Shailiha looked westward. About one-third of a league away, the terrible wave was continuing onward. Just like theTammerland, one after another theEphyra, theCavalon, and theFlorian had struggled to the pinnacle of the wave’s crest.
Following theTammerland ’s example, they too reversed course and plummeted down the wave’s backside. Each ship threatened to flounder but later righted. Soon they hit sea level, plowing mightily into the wave’s trough. After rocking back and forth they too settled down.
Shailiha worriedly looked to the sky again. The battling swarms were smaller now, but still killing each other with abandon. The combatants’ forms were merely dark specks, and it was impossible to say which side might be winning. The valiant Minions had apparently kept Serena’s creatures from breaking through their lines. But how many warriors had that cost? she wondered. Was it enough to tempt those monsters to dive on the ships?
Shailiha took a moment to look overboard. Bodies and body parts from the Minion forces and Serena’s monsters littered the waves, as did lakes of blood, pooling on the ocean’s surface. As she watched, more carnage from the battle above fell to splash into the dark sea.
Just then she heard the sound of boots landing solidly on the deck. She turned to see that the same three warriors who had spirited Wigg, Faegan, and Jessamay away had brought them back. Wigg and Jessamay quickly stood while the warrior carrying Faegan looked around for the crippled wizard’s chair. To no one’s surprise, it had apparently been washed overboard. Faegan ordered the warrior to carry him to where the others were standing.
“Is everyone all right?” Wigg asked urgently.
Tyranny nodded. “And you three?” she asked.
“Yes,” Wigg answered. “But we lost two ships, and the acolytes who so bravely captained them.”
“We know,” Tyranny answered sadly. “The acolytes died heroes.”
Like they were reading each other’s minds, everyone turned their eyes to the sky. The moonlight showed fewer warring specks than before. They soon joined up for a few moments, then started plummeting earthward toward the ships. Wigg gave Faegan, Jessamay, and Adrian a wary look. All their senses on alert, the four mystics immediately raised their arms in defense of what might be coming.
As the thousands of figures neared, Shailiha let go a deep sigh of relief. Blessedly, they were Minion warriors. Not knowing what else to do, those who had been stationed aboard the lostMalvina andIllendium seemed to be heading for theTammerland. Exhausted beyond all endurance, they crashed haphazardly to the deck. Shailiha gasped as she saw how many were seriously wounded.
Soon theTammerland was awash in warriors. Many were bleeding profusely, and others had lost limbs. Taking up every inch of deck space, they tried their best to be stoic. But even those who were not wounded were so spent that they could barely move. TheTammerland ’s top deck became slippery with their blood, and soon the air filled with calls for help.
Aghast, Tyranny looked at Shailiha. The privateer was captain of the fleet, but in Tristan’s absence, Shailiha was the Minions’ mistress.
“What are your orders?” Tyranny asked urgently.
Shailiha thought for a moment. “We will use theTammerland as a hospital ship,” she announced. “Have all the wounded who landed on other ships brought here. Use each ship’s skiffs if you must. Only then will we truly know how many wounded we are dealing with.”
Hearing Shailiha’s orders, some warriors who could still fly started heading toward the three other ships as best they could. After looking around the crowded deck again, Shailiha suddenly remembered Duvessa.
“Does anyone know what has become of Duvessa’s group?” she shouted.
No sooner had the princess asked the question than more warriors started crashing to the deck. Shailiha immediately recognized the red and white crossed feathers on their chests, telling her that they were Duvessa’s warrior-healers.
Then Duvessa fell to the deck. Although exhausted, she looked unharmed. But it was obvious that her group had suffered its share of casualties. She did her best to come to all fours.
Wigg and Tyranny ran to her and helped her to her feet. After surveying the deck, Duvessa’s face became grim.
“Can you give us a report?” Wigg asked.
As Duvessa tried to speak she started to faint away. Laying her on the deck, Wigg put one hand to her forehead then called the craft. As he did, it saddened him to see Traax’s pin feather still attached to her armor. He gave Shailiha a quick shake of his head. Soon Duvessa’s eyes fluttered open.
“What can you tell us?” Wigg answered.
“The battle was…indescribable,” she answered. “But we managed to beat them back. Some of the beasts survived and retreated east. From what I saw, our losses were heavy. TheMalvina and theFlorian went down.”
“We know,” Shailiha said.
A look of worry suddenly overtook Duvessa’s face. She tried to rise up on her elbows, but Wigg forced her back down.
“Where is Traax?” she demanded. “Is he safe?”
Wigg couldn’t help but give her a concerned look. Duvessa started to bolt upright but Wigg stopped her again. Panic gripped her.
“Where is he?” she shouted. “Is he dead? I have a right to know!”
“Traax and his patrol are missing,” Shailiha answered. “They should have returned some time ago. But that doesn’t mean that they are dead.”
“How late are they?” Duvessa demanded.
“About two hours,” Wigg answered.
“We must send out search parties!” Duvessa insisted. “They have to leave at once!”
Wigg shook his head. “We are as worried about him as you are,” he said. “But what you ask is impossible. We sent every warrior into the air to fight off Serena’s creatures. Each one returned as exhausted as you-not to mention the many who are wounded and dying as we speak. Although I’m sure that there would be no shortage of volunteers, if we sent a search party out now they would all crash into the sea before they flew ten leagues. We need to concentrate all our efforts on the wounded and dying, and since you are the Minions’ premier warrior-healer, we need your help to do that.”
Pausing for a moment, Wigg looked commandingly into her eyes. “I promise you that we will send out a search party as soon as we are able. But for now, you must follow orders. It’s what Traax would want.”
Duvessa finally calmed. “All right,” she said. “But when the search starts, I want to be the one to lead it! As his betrothed, I have earned that right!”
Wigg gave her an encouraging smile. “Very well,” he answered.
Wigg and Shailiha lifted her to her feet. Without further argument, Duvessa doggedly started organizing the care of the wounded. It would be a massive undertaking.
Just then Shailiha saw two warriors wending their way across the crowded deck. They were carrying a wooden chair on wheels. It looked like it had been quickly hammered together from scrap pieces of rough-hewn wood. The warrior carrying Faegan gently lowered the wizard into it. It wobbled and squeaked a bit as it moved, but it would do.
Wasting no time, Faegan quickly wheeled himself over to where the others were standing. He urgently gathered the other Conclave members closer.
“There are far too many wounded for us to handle on our own,” he said, “to say nothing of how many will be coming from the other ships. I have seen several die already during the short time we have been talking. We need help!”
“What do you suggest?” Adrian asked.
“I brought the craft tools needed to conjure the azure portal,” he answered. “I am reasonably sure that I can place the portal’s exit on or near the palace grounds. We should send the worst of the wounded through and let them be dealt with on the other side. Those who can’t walk can be carried through on litters. A sizable Minion force was left behind. Their healers and the Redoubt acolytes will do a far better job caring for them than we. Working together, we will save more of them. Besides, the severely wounded will not be battleworthy for a long time, if ever.”
“I agree,” Wigg said. “What say you, Princess?”
“He’s right,” she answered. She turned to Faegan. “Get started as fast as you can. In the meantime, I want Duvessa to start singling out those whom she thinks should go.”
Wasting no time, Faegan started wheeling his way toward Duvessa. After conferring with her for a moment he headed for the stern stairway. Shailiha guessed that he would be locked away in his quarters for hours while calculating the needed spell.
Looking around, Tyranny found Scars on the deck’s port side, helping to bandage a wounded warrior. She quickly called him over.
“I want a damage report on each of the four surviving vessels,” she said, “and I want it fast. Take one of the skiffs. I need to know where we stand.” Scars hurried away.
Tyranny turned to look forward. If the other ships had suffered no more damage than theTammerland, the situation was salvageable, but it would take time. Two of her flagship’s masts were cracked but still standing, and from where she stood she could see at least four broken spars and much torn rigging. The sails had been furled, so they should have been unharmed. Tousling her hair, she bristled at the notion of again being delayed to effect repairs. She produced one of her dark cigarillos, lit it, then luxuriously exhaled some bluish smoke into the air.
From the throng of wounded warriors, an exhausted Minion officer approached Shailiha. His dark wings drooped so badly that they dragged along the bloody deck. Standing before her, he did his best to come to attention.
“Yes?” Shailiha asked.
“Begging your pardon, mistress,” he said. “Some of us officers request permission to burn our dead.”
Shailiha thought for a moment. She knew full well that Minion funeral rites involved cremation. She also knew that she could never allow funeral pyres to be built and used aboard the ship-especially in the sizes and numbers that would be needed. She gave the officer a questioning look.
“What do you have in mind?” she asked.
“We will place our fallen onto the sea with their brothers,” he said. “We ask that the adepts set the bodies alight. In that way the fires will be contained, and be of no danger to the ships.”
Shailiha looked at Wigg. “Can you set fire to the dead without endangering the fleet?”
Taking a step closer, Wigg clasped his hands before him. “Yes,” he answered. “But with all due respect I believe that we should be tending to the living.”
The princess looked over the ship’s side. Bloated and mangled bodies-ally and foe alike-littered the waves. As she turned back to look into the officer’s eyes, she found herself disagreeing with the First Wizard. To the Minions, the culture of death was easily as important as that dealing with life, and she would honor it.
“Permission granted,” she said. “The mystics will see to your needs.”
Immensely grateful, the officer went to one knee and bowed his head. “Thank you, mistress,” he said, “from both our living and our dead.”
Shailiha walked to the starboard gunwale and tiredly leaned up against it. After a time she heard bodies splashing into the sea. To her great discouragement, the sounds went on for far longer than she might have guessed.
After a time she saw a broad azure beam extend from theTammerland and streak into the night. Its gentle embrace washed over the sea to collect the bodies together then slowly push them east, a safe distance from the ship.
Almost at once the dead burst into flames. Shailiha turned to see that every warrior who could stand had silently come to attention. Those who were conscious but too severely wounded to stand were being held upright by their fellow warriors. At that moment Shailiha realized she had done the right thing.
Tyranny came to join her at the rail. For a time they watched the corpses burn in silence. As the privateer saw the sun slowly start creeping up over the horizon, she tossed her spent cigarillo into the sea.
“We have survived, but our losses have been great,” she said softly. “You are faced with a difficult choice.”
“I know,” Shailiha answered. “To continue on to the Citadel, or to lick our wounds and go home.”
Shailiha cast her gaze farther out to sea. The burning bodies were fewer now, and their roaring flames were starting to ebb.
“But first we must search for Traax,” she said.
Turning away from the railing, the two women tiredly went to help with the wounded.