Sticking close to the hull so he wouldn’t be spotted, he maneuvered around the ship, the air now hazy with smoke. Flames burned on the deck and also the docks.
Vorik peered upward, wondering if Syla had seen and was on her way. But what if Lesva had already gotten her? His gut churned at the thought, and he second-guessed letting Lesva and her team continue unopposed to the palace. Maybe he should have fought her, but that would have assured their men that what she’d claimed was true, that he was a traitor. And he was not that, damn it.
“There’s a team in the water!” someone on the deck yelled over the chaos.
A team? Vorik was hardly that and didn’t think anyone had yet seen him, but he angled under the dock for cover. He spotted the kayak, farther downriver and caught against the grassy bank.
“Now I just need Syla to make my escape,” he murmured.
Except that he couldn’t leave while his men were fighting above. They’d willingly stepped up to his side to assist him, and he couldn’t abandon them.
Vorik sheathed his weapons and grabbed an algae-slick piling, intending to climb up to help them, but paused when he sensed a dragon approaching. Wreylith. Was Syla on her back?
He was tempted to remain in the water and hidden so he could choose a time to pounce, but with the dragon on the way, his men were in more danger. He pulled himself onto the dock and into the midst of the chaos. Fires burned around him and also on the nearby ships. One was sailing away from the docks. Trying to escape the stormers? Syla’s vessel remained in place and sat low in the water.
“We’re sinking fast!” someone cried.
“There’s the one who did it!” A crossbowman spotted Vorik and raised his weapon.
Vorik dove behind a post, a quarrel buzzing through the air where he’d been. As he drew his own weapons, he spotted the red dragon soaring toward them. Yes, that was Wreylith, and Syla did indeed ride on her back, the sunlight glinting off herspectacles. Her face was set with grim determination. He hated that they were on opposing sides, but when one of his men cried out in pain from the deck of her ship, Vorik didn’t hesitate to run and leap over the railing to assist.
The crossbowman had reloaded and pointed his weapon at him again. With so many skirmishes ongoing, and the deck slanted, the straps that held the weapons platform in place groaning, nobody had come to help the Kingdom man. He fired, but Vorik anticipated it and threw himself into a roll, somersaulting across the tilted deck and springing up in front of his foe. His attacker tried to skitter back but realized he didn’t have time to reload or escape and hurled the crossbow at Vorik.
Concerned far more about Wreylith than the man, Vorik calmly slashed with his sword, slicing the stock in half. Surging forward, he grabbed the startled soldier and spun, throwing him into the railing. Weakened by fire, the wood snapped, and he tumbled into the water.
“We’re winning, sir!” a stormer blurted, spotting Vorik and charging up beside him, his sword bloody and his eyes gleaming.
If only Vorik felt that they were. But he nodded. “Yes, good work, Tems. As soon as the ship sinks, take the men and get out of here, all right?” Smoke tickled his throat, and he struggled not to cough as he glanced around, ensuring no enemies were sneaking up on them. Several crewmen leaped off the vessel, realizing its fate was inevitable. “Hide in the forest until we can get ships in to retrieve you.”
“Yes, sir, but what about you?”
“I have another mission.”
A roar came from the sky. The wind had shifted, blowing smoke across the deck and the docks, so Vorik couldn’t see the dragon’s descent, but he sensed it. And he sensed his danger. Syla might hesitate to kill him, but he doubtedWreylithwould.
“Go.” Vorik pushed Tems away, not wanting him to be taken out because he’d been standing too close to the dragon’s target.
Agrevlari,Vorik asked silently, sensing his dragon ally flying out at sea, not far from the barrier.I’m going to come to you soon.
I do pine in your absence.
We might have to get out of here quickly.
Fleeing enemies?
One big red enemy.
Ah. The mighty Wreylith.
“You!” called a familiar female voice. The engineer aunt. Tibby.
Eyes watering behind her spectacles, she’d come up from belowdecks and was running through the smoke toward the weapons platform as she glared at Vorik. She reached it before he could stop her, climbed up, and grabbed the posts. By now, Vorik knew that was how the platform was operated, and he ran, intending to spring and knock her away, but Wreylith appeared through the smoke, her fanged maw opening right behind him.
Vorik doveunderthe weapons platform. Jaws snapped, fangs clinking off the corner of the marble device, and Tibby cried out, as alarmed as anyone.
“Sorry, Aunt Tibby!” Syla called from Wreylith’s back as the dragon landed on top of the weapons platform.
Bloody daggers, how was Vorik supposed to kidnap Syla when herdragonwas right there?
