“...Really?”
Harfor grins widely. The gold cap on her right incisor winks.
“Boredom has me halfway to the Death-God’s door. Should we move the crates around to clear some space?” Harfor looks almost excited as she eyes the room.
“Well…” I scratch my neck, then shrug, the movement clanking in my armor. “Let’s see if we can find some cushions first. Maybe a spare hammock. See what we’re working with.”
Harfor nods, and we head up the stairs. How do I talk her out of this?
“How long until lunch?” I ask, even though food’s the last thing on my mind.
“It’s only—” Harfor starts.
The alarm bell rings above us.
The clear sound pierces down from the top deck into every fiber of the wood. My mouth goes dry and Harfor stumbles.
“Fuck,” Harfor says. She steps aside to let me pass her. I take the stairs two at a time, surging toward the deck. The ship shudders as Rampage’s weapons power in response to the alarm.
I burst up the stairs and break onto the deck, into a whipping stormwind and brine so thick it pickles my tongue. My sailors scramble for the mounted catapults, moving to reload them even as the ship aims and shoots the first volley herself. My heart falters, then pounds in double-time.
I can’t worry about the Enchanted hidden downstairs. We’re days from the frontline, which means we’re alone on the Wild Seas. There are no other Hellion ships in firing distance. Which means we’re screwed.
Because the black dragon emerging from the storm bank in front of me is the biggest one I’ve ever seen.
2
I stare up at the dragon in disbelief. It, and the storm, came out of nowhere.
The witch’s familiar is as big as the War-Father’s castle on Amkreig. Its wings flare with aboom, blocking the smoky gray sky and plunging the ship into shadow. No rain falls yet, but lightning splinters down toward the waves.
The black dragon’s heavy-jawed head is densely spiked, its eyes like small glossy beads. It hovers just out of range of the catapults.
There's only one dragon of this size or coloring, and it belongs to the worst of them: the King of Witches. One lone Hellion would never willingly go against a target like this one, and he doesn’t usually come this far north. No matter how skilled I am, our odds of survival are low. My stomach churns.
“Keep loading,” I shout as I unclip my gauntlets and pull them on. There’s no time to get my helmet from my cabin. If Rampage doesn’t keep up a volley, it will be too easy for the dragon to get in close. Already its eyes dart around, following the catapults and deciding when to drop close enough to flame us.
Blue light punches up the ship’s spear like lightning, casting the whole deck into bright relief.
Rampage has three masts: the first and third carry sails. The one in the middle is bare. It’s painted with enchantment lines, made to carry the ship’s magic to me and to the battle.
I hate that this is the only way we can fight. Using Rampage’s full power will drain the Enchanted terribly. If I can’t get rid of the dragon quickly, not all of them will survive the battle.
The ship's power hums through the air, an acidic tang burning in my nose. The sailors keep loading catapults as others scale the masts to take in the sails.
The nearest catapult hurls a sphere of blue fire through the air, straight toward the dragon’s chest. When it reaches halfway the sphere abruptly changes course, whizzing to the left.
Magic. The dragon isn’t being controlled from afar. Its master must be riding on its back.
Rampage’s power hums so brightly my teeth rattle in my gums. My limbs buzz with energy for the fight. But until the dragon dives, all I can do is wait, and watch. It beats its wings slowly, hovering in place and sending waves of air blasting across the deck. The sailors hurrying to cut the sails dangle from the netting as Rampage spins in the heavy wind. One, not tied in properly, falls with a ragged scream.
“Reef those gods-damned sails, sailors.” Harfor’s voice booms across the deck.
My squire isn’t keyed to the ship’s magic. She can only take over to fight for the ship and the crew if I die first.
The dragon folds its wings and finally dives toward us. This is it.
A blistering cannon of fire shoots from its mouth as lightning spikes towards us. Bright white heat meets the blue of Rampage’s shield. One of the sailors shrieks in fear as fire and lightning roil over the edge of our ship’s light. The coiled ropes and barrels of water in front of me dance and shimmer under waves of heat.Sweat beads on my forehead, but my enchanted armor keeps the rest of me cooler.
