“Nobody should want to harm them. And I’ll make sure you’re paid for what you lost.”
“Oh, you don’t need to do that, Your Majesty. I’m not doing anything except eating the food and trying to stay out of the way. I didn’t mean to whine.”
“Maybe you can help the cook if you feel you need to do more.” Syla chomped on the second dragon dropping, then joined Teyla at the railing.
Her cousin was alternately looking pensively toward the volcano and running her finger down a page of a book. It looked like one of the titles that Aunt Tibby had been dragging along with information on artifacts made by the gods.
“I have a bad feeling about that.” Teyla pointed toward the clouds.
But Syla spotted a dinghy rowing toward them from one of the original ships from Bogberry Island. Was that Lord Ravoran standing among the rowers? She groaned. She didn’t want to interact with him untilafterthey’d successfully activated the shielder for his island. Even then, he probably wouldn’t be a delightful conversationalist—not with her. Not after his island had endured so much destruction with winter storehouses raided and the landsover-hunted, as Wreylith had said. People had died there too. Far too many people.
“I have bad feelings too,” Syla said. “Trust me.”
“I would think you’d have anespeciallybad feeling after that.” Teyla shifted her pointing finger toward the weapons platform.
After being hurled away from it by the lightning strike, Syla was surprised the marble wasn’t cracked and charred black.
“I’m trying to maintain an optimistic outlook to counter the lack of optimism in those around me.” Syla remembered Fel and Tibby discussing her naiveté as they’d walked away, but when Ravoran climbed aboard, already glowering at her, she decided the words applied to almost everyone around her. Vorik hadn’t been gone even a day, and she already missed his support.
“I’ve found a few passages about strange weather phenomena in this book.” Teyla tapped the pages.
“A book on magical artifacts discusses the weather?”
“There’s a chapter on objects where the power of dragons was funneled into the making. There’s also a chapter discussing the power of thegods.” Teyla looked at her with significance, then flipped to a section in the back. “This page has a snippet about how, when the Kingdom was first being established and the gods still walked among men, the storm god, who had, until that point, been busy in his laboratories, realized that the other gods were a threat to his beloved creations. He sometimes hindered his fellow deities in their efforts to protect mankind from them.Hewanted to protect his creations.”
Syla eyed the dark clouds and the shadows they cast. Out over the sea, the sun was sinking below the horizon, the blue of the sky deepening everywhere but around Harvest Island.
“Do you think that’s a hindrance?” Syla waved toward the cloud-shrouded volcano.
“I think that’s abighindrance.”
“What exactly do you believe the dragons did?” Syla pointed at the text. “I know they’re powerful, and in the early days, they reputedly changed the courses of rivers and struck down thetops of mountains, but I always assumed most of their magic involved pure force. This is… weird.”
“It feels more like the work of a god than a dragon, doesn’t it?Dragonscan’t hurl lightning bolts.”
“You think… a god is present in the world?” A few times along the way, Syla had wondered if the moon god or another benevolent deity was watching over her, but it had seemed arrogant and self-centered to believe they would concern themselves with her, even if they had returned to the world in some manner.
“If oneis,we both know which one would create something like that.” Teyla glanced at the clouds. “Maybe the storm god was irked with us for tearing up his laboratory.”
“Allwedid was take that orb. The dragons and those giant security bugs were what did most of the damage.”
“You did use the weapons platform to blow up the magical cannon-things shooting from the walls.”
“That was self-defense.”
“Yes, but you can’t claim you didn’t do any damage. Maybe the storm god saw it and is holding a grudge.”
That was an alarming thought. Syla rested a hand over her heart, feeling more grateful than ever that the lightning bolt hadn’t struck her directly. It could have slain her instantly.
“It might just be that the dragons got together on the volcano,” Teyla said, “and collectively had the ability to call out to their maker, not that the storm god was hovering about, watching his centuries-abandoned laboratory. One would think gods have more important things to do with their time.”
“Quite,” Syla murmured. “But if that happened, now that he’s awake… Well, he never had any love for humans. He made all those creatures that like to gleefully kill and even eat us.” The memory of wyverns scavenging for food among the dead in the castle courtyard would haunt Syla forever. “And he might beholding a grudge because the other gods helped humanity by making the shielders.”
“He might not be pleased we’re replacing one that was damaged.” Teyla gave her another pointed look.
Syla gripped the railing. “Maybe I shouldn’t have sent Fel and Tibby in alone.”
She hadn’t wanted more people than necessary to learn of the chamber’s location, and Wreylith couldn’t have carried more, regardless, but she shifted uneasily, again worrying that she’d made a mistake. She should have at least sent some of the fleet soldiers in on foot afterward so they would be in the area if something happened to Fel and Tibby. Of course, that would have meant more people in the area to be hurt or killed if something catastrophic happened, such as if lightning bolts started raining down and slaying anyone near the volcano.
