“Dag, fire a gun to get their attention. Miri, all hell is going to break loose, and we’re now right in the middle. We need to-”
He paused a moment to look at the Silver Raven. The merchant vessel was ahead of them by several hundred yards. Rodrigo would understand the nature of the peril swooping down on them. So would Henry Wallace.
The Cloud Hopper’s four-pound cannon fired with a boom that reverberated off the towering walls of the fortress. Stephano could imagine all the spyglasses on all the navy vessels now searching for the boat that had fired. He watched Wallace standing on the deck of the Silver Raven. The gunshot had caught his attention. He would be certain to think that the Cloud Hopper was firing on his ship.
Wallace, his expression grim, aimed his gun at Rodrigo.
Raising a speaking trumpet, Stephano bellowed through it. “Demons!” He jabbed his finger in the direction of the approaching swarm.
Rodrigo heard and understood. He looked over his shoulder and even from this distance Stephano could see his friend’s horrified expression. This apparently convinced Henry Wallace, for he turned to see the demons closing in. The bats were no longer a homogenous mass. They were individuals, their mouths wide, fangs gleaming. Their riders with their hideous faces twisted in fury, orange eyes glowing, were raising the green-fire, handheld cannons.
Stephano could not see Wallace’s face, but he could tell by the fact that he took an involuntary step backward and had to steady himself by grabbing onto a mast that he was astonished and alarmed.
The naval ships had heard Stephano’s warning cannon shot and seen his flag. Most captains would summarily dismiss a small Trundler boat signaling danger. A few astute captains might take the signal seriously. Every lookout in the crows’ nests above and every officer on deck below would have their spyglasses sweeping the skies, searching for the threat.
They did not have far to look.
The heavy mists of the Breath below the ships shredded. More bats and their demon riders rose from below. The demonic forces were already causing havoc in the harbor, firing their green blasts at the helpless merchant vessels, which were essentially sitting ducks. Already flames were starting to rise from burning hulls and masts. Naval gunboats were racing to their aid, but the navy was now coming under attack, as well.
A flurry of signals sailed up mastheads, captains asking the flagship what was going on. Beating drums on board all the ships sent the gun crews to their stations. The shore batteries were already prepared to enforce the blockade, their gun crews were at their posts, gunports open, guns ready to fire.
“And we’re in their sights!” Stephano realized.
Henry Wallace had reached exactly the same alarming thought.
“Miri, take her up!” Stephano shouted frantically.
“Gain altitude!” Wallace yelled.
The ship’s balloons billowed with magical energy, giving them full lift capacity. A flag with a blue cross on a white background soared up the mast on board Wallace’s ship. The flag meant: “Break off your intentions and communicate with me.” Stephano wondered what the hell Wallace was up to. Now was hardly the time to try to open negotiations with the Royal Navy! Probably a mistake, he thought. Some panicked sailor sent up the wrong signal. He was proved right in that the next moment, that flag came down and they sent up a distress signal.
Stephano shouted. “Stay on Wallace’s tail! I don’t want to lose Rigo.”
Miri tossed her red hair. “I’m supposed to sail through an army sent by the Devil himself, keep this boat from going down in flames, and all the while try to fly this boat fast enough to catch a ship that has three times her sail?”
“I have every confidence in you,” said Stephano. He grinned as he ran past her.
“You’re enjoying this!” she said accusingly.
Stephano considered her statement as he crouched behind the swivel gun and looked down the sights. “Enjoy” wasn’t the right word. He didn’t enjoy the idea that their boat might come under attack or that innocent people were dying or that he and his people might be blown up at any moment. But he knew what Miri meant.
This was danger he understood. Danger he could fight. No more hiding in the darkness, skulking about alleys or crawling over rooftops. No more getting slammed on the head from behind or sneaking out through wardrobes. No more of his mother’s sneaking, underhanded, lying way of doing business. This was war, plain and simple. Stephano knew what to do in war and he knew how to do it and he was damn good at it.
Dag had loaded both the swivel guns. While in Westfirth, he’d found time to buy more canisters of ammunition, for they were stacked neatly on the deck. Dag had said nothing about it, of course. All part of his job.
Stephano looked at Dag: steady, cool, calm, undaunted in the face of danger. He looked at Miri, her lips pressed together in grim determination, her hands flying over the brass helm, paying no heed to the demons or the bursts of green fire or the flashes of fire from the guns of the shore battery. He looked out across the widening expanse between their ship and the Silver Raven and saw Rodrigo, seated at his ease in a deck chair while chaos erupted around him. Stephano looked at Gythe, who was now crouched on the deck at the bottom of the mast, terrified nearly out of her wits, but refusing to hide, singing softly to maintain the magic that would protect the Cloud Hopper.
Stephano’s eyes dimmed with tears, his throat and nose clogged. These were his friends, and he loved them. For a moment, he couldn’t see to aim his weapon. He gave himself a mental slap and wiped his eyes in time to witness an astonishing sight.
The Breath boiled and out of it rose a ship. The vessel with its wide beam and a squared bow looked cumbersome and unwieldy. The short forecastle was overshadowed by a high sterncastle that extended out beyond the hull. The Estarans had built ships like this during the Bishops’ War, but that was more than one hundred years ago. He’d never actually seen one in person, only in books. Three masts rose from the deck, but none of them supported any balloons. Black sails flapped in the air. In the center of each sail, a human corpse dangled from a rope.
Stephano grabbed a spyglass to get a better look. The ship’s hull was covered in leather marked with strange sigils. Glowing green lines ran from sigil to sigil, connecting them all in a grotesque construct. Green energy crackled along the black sails as the ship leveled off.
Miri’s eyes widened at the sight. Her hands trembled and the Cloud Hopper’s forward speed slowed.
“Miri, whatever that is, it’s not after us!” Stephano shouted, hoping he was right. “Keep up with Raven.”
Miri nodded and turned back to her task. By this time, the Cloud Hopper and the Silver Raven had gained altitude and were floating above the Old Fort, looking down on the battlements with their shore batteries. The hapless merchant vessels in the harbor and the navy gunboats and warships were all under assault. Smoke and flames rose from the docks.
Stephano wondered how the Trundlers were faring. Probably not well. Unlike the Cloud Hopper, few Trundler ships were armed and would be illprepared to fend off the demon attacks. Miri was worried about her uncle and family; he could see her cast agonized glances over her shoulder in a vain attempt to see what was happening far away at the Trundler village.
A few demons had been flying toward the Silver Raven. The merchant vessel carried a score of large swivel guns to fend off pirates. They had manned their swivel guns and were ready to fire when, surprisingly, the demons broke off the attack and flew, instead, toward the Cloud Hopper, which was closing rapidly on the Raven.