“Hold!” I order. Not yet.
They’re nearly in range. Their swords are held aloft over their heads as they charge. I have to marvel at their foolishness—are they unaware of what awaits them, believing the city has already been destabilized by the first round of soldiers? Or do they have such a low opinion of the Ophir that they think they can best an entire city with only a few men? Either way, the confidence in their superiority is remarkable, and shortsighted. And fully to our advantage.
“Now!” I scream.
Arrows fly. One hits a Blackcoat immediately, knocking him from the dock into the sea. The others keep running with their swords. More climb from rafts onto the dock. Some carry bows, which they shoot back at the Lashing. But they’re too far away, and at a disadvantage. They’re out in the open, while the Ophir are shielded by the tent city.
I crouch and wait as arrows fly all around me. I don’t flinch, feeling calm in the midst of it, assured, and focused intently on the ships.
The dozen or so soldiers who think they can access the city from the dock are taken out effortlessly. Yet that doesn’t dissuade the rest from still coming. Three ships are almost close enough for their cannons to do some damage. Six more are close behind those. More rafts arrive at the dock. The Blackcoats hesitate this time, having seen what happened to their comrades. One comes charging in anyway, and receives an arrow to the chest for his efforts. After that the rest wait for the bigger ships to back them up.
The boats drop their anchors. Rope ladders roll down the sides of the ships. Blackcoats climb to the docks. On the ship decks, soldiers load the cannons.
I hear Eban again; his strong, confident voice carries across the docks. I fight the urge to look in that direction, keeping my eyes on the Blackcoat ships, but in my periphery, I catch glimpses of Ophir boats and Blackcoats clashing near the water, and Blackcoats falling into the sea.
A cannon fires. Theboomis so loud this time, it startles me. The ball reaches the edge of the city raft, clipping off a piece of it as it hits the water. Dozens of soldiers run up the dock. Arrows fly from the Lashing again. Some of the soldiers stop and return the favor.
Another round of cannon fire strikes the docks. Two cannons at once. No. Three. A whole volley erupts from one ship, followed by a second round from another. The cannon fire throws broken wood and rent cloth into the air. Smoke follows, a dark cloud rising upward in the distance. Screams fill the air, and panic takes hold. I see it in their eyes. This isn’t the first time the Blackcoats have raided the Lashing. For a moment, their fear infects me. What can we do against an armada of ships? What can arrows do against cannons?
I watch as a whole section of the Lashing, three or four rafts, floats away, severed from the rest of the colony by the first cannon strike. Flames quickly engulf the severed portion of our floating city as the attackers shoot flaming arrows at the rafts.
It’s a warning. That’s my best guess. They’re telling us to lay down our arms or they’ll burn us all. I don’t doubt that they could do it. These rafts are made of wood and the tents are woven from seaweed. There isn’t anything here that isn’t flammable. A few dozen arrows tipped with fire could doom all of us, and I see thirty or forty archers gathering on the ships and dozens more cannons ready for yet another volley. Something in my stomach drops, and for the span of a heartbeat, I share in the hopeless fear that’s washed across the faces of these people. I sense their despair roiling my stomach. It would be easy to give in to it.
Instead, I stifle my emotions.
I’m not helpless.
I have power.
I find a place where I’m concealed from view, hidden amid a warren of tents tucked along the edge of the Lashing, and I wait.Come closer.I only have one chance. The moment I reveal myself, their archers will send arrows hurtling toward me and cannon fire will surely follow, so I wait until they are close. I wait until I make a single strike that’ll hit every person and every ship.
Wait all you want. That won’t help you.
I put my hand in my pocket.
It’s almost time. Any second.
Another round of cannon fire strikes the lashing. It cleaves a whole section of rafts, breaking them apart before they sink into the sea. I hope no one was inside. I pray that my hesitation hasn’t cost anyone their life. Because I have the power to end it all.
I take the relic from my pocket.
An arrow flies over my head,thwacking into a tent behind me.
My heart races, and my hands shake. There are four large ships in the armada and they’ve each taken up position, two in front, two behind. They are packed in close because they know we don’t have cannons. Soon, we’ll run out of arrows. We’ve made a valiant stand. We’ve taken lives, but they still do not fear us. Their captains shout orders. Above the cries of the dying and the twang of the bows, I hear them marshaling their soldiers, readying them for the final push.
More soldiers are coming. More cannons are loaded. To my left, an Ophir grunts, then falls. Slain by an Ophir arrow. Chaos. Confusion. We’re shooting our own people.
We’re going to lose, overrun by the Blackcoats. I see them drop boats into the water, and the soldiers leap from the ships, filling the rafts.
In a moment they’ll make their push and they’ll take the city.
I stand up and hold out the relic. “Tadhana! Now!”
The relic shakes in my hand. I feel it glow warmly.
I hear a scream—another arrow met its mark.
“Tadhana!” I shout, but nothing happens.
