“Once we are ready,” said Matlock, “it will be a waiting game. We will have to depend on the Royal Navy to bring some of the ships down.”
Being ‘ready’ was hardly an easy matter to accomplish. There were not enough Warders — just Elizabeth, Darcy, Redmond, and Mr. Bennet. With Bingley, they would have been five, but he was not here. It was very likely they would have to stay up all night.
Elizabeth threw herself into her work, hoping to avoid that fate. The sea was a never-ending roar in her ears. The air was loud with the crunching of shingles as the rounded stones slipped underfoot. Very soon, as the jagged stones began to bruise her soles, the crunching began to vex her. Her half-boots – made of nankeen cloth — were no protection against the edges of the stones. Elizabeth felt inelegant. She was like a duck waddling from side to side as she found her footing.
To make matters worse, the waves were coming closer and closer as the tide changed, surprising her every now and then with a splash of cold water that soaked her stockings. The inclined slope of the beach, moreover, soon made her feet ache.All in all, she was tired and cold, and wanted nothing more than a warm fireplace and something hot to warm her insides.
It was, however, unlikely that her wishes would be satisfied. There was no time to rest, not until she was satisfied that she had woven a thick web that would protect them from attack.
Everyone threw themselves into their tasks. There was no room for error. Their only hope of defeating the Imperial Mages was to prevent them from reaching land.
They worked steadily together, weaving the threads of magic that would keep the enemy mages out. It was hard work. The beach was a wide-open area, vulnerable to attack, and it would take hours to weave something strong enough to withhold a full-force attack. There was nothing to protect them, nowhere to conceal themselves, no bricks and mortar to shield them. There was just their magic, and it had to be perfectly structured to withstand any magical attack that was thrown at them.
After a brief retreat to the Bell Inn for a dinner of cold cuts and pies, they made their way back to the beach, accompanied by a small army of soldiers carrying equipment for their vigil. The lights of the Martello Towers were visible. The fishermen’s black wooden huts were outlined against the moonlit sky, huddling behind the fishermen’s boats as if looking for protection.
Captain Laker had arrived by boat with a few of the men from Walmer. He was issuing instructions while the boatmen were setting out, presumably to spy on the French, while others huddled in small groups, organizing themselves and preparing for the fray.
“Should we allow them to do that?” said Lady Alice, loudly. “What if they warn the French that we are waiting for them here?”
“We will just have to trust they do not,” said Lord Matlock.
“How can you be certain they are loyal to the Kingdom? They are all smugglers, after all.” Lady Alice’s contempt grated on Elizabeth’s nerves. She was already tense enough. She did not need Lady Alice to cast doubt on the boaters when they depended on them for information.
“Not all of the boatmen are smugglers,” said Lord Matlock, calmly. “But even if they were, we have been more than generous with our coin. I trust them that far at least.”
“Then we have to hope the French have not offered them more.”
“For heaven’s sake, Alice,” said Mr. Bennet, in a harsh whisper. “Must you keep talking? Do you want to turn the boaters against us? This is hardly the time to question their loyalty. They are risking their lives to discover if the French fleet is coming.”
Elizabeth was distracted for a moment by his use of Lady Alice’s first name, but she was otherwise occupied and did not dwell on it. She resolutely turned her attention to checking the Wards they had set up earlier, knowing how crucial it was to hold back the enemy.
First, she reached out to Darcy. His magic gleamed as it touched hers, and she basked in the gentle love that settled around her. Then she reached out to Redmond. As he joined them, she could sense his uncertainty and fear. She did not blame him, considering that he had almost died at the attack on Founder’s Hall almost a year ago. Nevertheless, she could sense he was much stronger than he had been then. He had changed a lot since she first met him.
Meanwhile, she had to stop herself from peering into the darkness, looking for signs of invasion. Those watching from the Martello towers that dotted the coast would signal them if they saw anything. It was hardly logical to think that she would spot the enemy from the beach before they did.
When some clouds covered the moon, they were enveloped in darkness. The night stretched onwards to the horizon. The sea was a breathing mass of the deepest ink, indistinguishable from the sky. The black fishermen’s huts on the beach had been swallowed up in the dark. The only lights were the castle behind them and the Martello towers where mages and military officers watched like hawks over the Channel. Not for long. Soon the moon emerged once again, casting a silver light on the beach, touching the whites of the waves with silver.
There came a point when holding the Bond became impossible. They had not completed their work, but if they continued without stopping, they would not be able to draw on their magic anymore. Elizabeth could feel Redmond’s magic fading, but he was not complaining. Darcy was doggedly fighting exhaustion. It was up to her to put a stop to it.
“I think it is time for a rest. We need to rest to replenish our strength.”
“We have not finished.”
“I know, but it will not serve us well if we use every last drop of our magic and cannot defend ourselves if attacked.”
Darcy sighed. Reluctantly, he withdrew from the Bond, followed by Redmond. They sent a soldier to fetch them some food. When he returned with some cold pies, Darcy and Elizabeth sat down on the rounded shingle, their bodies touching. It was not cold, but a cold dampness was seeping into her bones.
Lulled by the sea’s lullaby, Elizabeth must have fallen asleep. She was woken by a loud grating sound. Startled, she droppedher blanket and stood up in alarm. The sound was an unfamiliar rhythmic grinding noise that was a contrast to the sibilant swish of the sea. It did not sound like carriage wheels.
“What was that?”
Suppose they were caught in a trap, and the French mages meant to attack them from behind instead of from the sea? How could they escape? It could be an ambush from both sides. She reached with her magic in panic, seeking unfamiliar magic signatures.
“’Tis the Scarecrow of Romney Marsh,” said one of the boatmen. There was a rumble of laughter among the other boatmen.
Elizabeth was too busy trying to detect any unusual magic to pay them much attention.
“Could the French have crept up behind us?” she asked.
