Miri glanced at him from beneath her long lashes and said demurely, “Too bad we’re sailing for Westfirth.” She held her hand poised over the helm.
“We might move in a little closer,” said Stephano. “Just to get a better view.”
“Now who’s daft,” said Miri, jabbing him in the ribs with her elbow.
An offshore breeze carried the Cloud Hopper landward. The sky and mists were now a pale pink. The orange flashes were no longer as bright as they had been in the darkness. The cannon fire was more sporadic. The strange green lights continued to flare. Rodrigo and Gythe brought up crockery mugs filled with steaming tea and handed them around. Doctor Ellington jumped up to his usual place on Dag’s shoulder.
“What is going on?” Rodrigo demanded suddenly. “Do you know we are sailing closer to the battle? Why are we sailing closer?”
He jabbed his finger at the cutter, that could be seen quite clearly now. “People are shooting at each other out there!”
Stephano was searching the skies. “There he is!” he called, and he pointed at the cathedral spires. The dragon could be seen flying over the cathedral. Wings spread, he was soaring upward, gaining altitude.
“He’s spiraling around for a dive!” Stephano said. His brow creased in a frown. “He’s not climbing very fast, though.”
“He’s an elder dragon,” said Miri, looking through the glass. “I can see the silvering of the scales on his head and mane. I don’t think he was in the Brigade, Stephano. This dragon is not a trained fighter. He has no idea what he’s doing.”
“Things are not going well for the cutter,” said Dag, shaking his head. “I’ve been watching the flashes, and I count only nine cannons firing. That means five of their guns have been knocked out. Has to be Freyans, sir.”
Stephano took the spyglass and aimed it at the cutter. He drew the glass away, rubbed his eyes.
“I must be seeing things.”
He handed the glass to Dag. “You take a look.”
“I have narrowly escaped certain death three times in as many days,” Rodrigo was saying. “That’s way over my limit. Can we please turn around and get the Hell out of here?”
“Just a bit closer,” said Stephano. “We can always slip away without being noticed. Dag…”
“You weren’t seeing things, sir. Those black creatures flying around the cutter. The green fire seems to be coming from them.”
“That’s what I thought,” said Stephano. He hesitated a moment, then asked, “What do those creatures look like to you?”
Dag scratched his jaw. “You’re going to think I’m daft, sir…”
“If you are, then so am I. Bats?”
“Bats the size of a bloody horse, sir,” said Dag.
Rodrigo snorted. “Oh, come now, you two-”
“You look,” said Dag, and he handed over the spyglass.
Rodrigo set down his tea mug on the table, took the glass, stared through it for a long moments, then handed it back to Dag. “I need something stronger than tea. Where’s the Calvados?”
“That’s for medicinal purposes only!” Miri called after him, as he dove into the hold.
“This is medicinal!” Rodrigo’s voice floated up from below. “I’m seeing giant bats!”
“Oh, for mercy’s sake!” Miri said in disgust. “I think you’ve all gone daft.”
Stephano raised the spyglass. “The beasts fly like bats, that’s for certain. The way bats dart and flit about.”
He stared, eyes squinting, trying to see. “It looks as though the bats have riders…” He lowered the glass. “Riders with glowing eyes. Like demons…”
They were all startled by a crash. Stephano turned to see Gythe, white to the lips, staring at him in horror. She had dropped the mug she was holding. It lay broken on the deck.
“This isn’t funny! You’re scaring her! Stop it, Stephano!” Miri cried. “Gythe, dear, they’re not serious. I’ll prove it. Stephano, give me the glass!”
Wordlessly, Stephano handed her the spyglass. Miri brought the glass to her eye. Her face paled. She watched a moment, then took the glass away and returned it to Stephano.
“Dag, take the helm,” said Miri. She walked over to her sister. “Gythe, come below…”
Gythe shook her head. Crooking her fingers into claws, she made a motion of tearing at flesh. Then she pointed at her eyes and pointed in the direction of the battle.
“My God!” Miri said in a low voice. “Is that what you saw? Gythe, tell me…”
Gythe shook her head wildly and began to sing. Her song was frantic and wild and desperate. She flung out her hands and strands of brilliant blue magic streamers arced and flared around the ship.
Rodrigo emerged from the hatch, Calvados bottle in hand, and stared about, appalled.
“Gythe, what are you doing? Gythe! No! Stop!”
Gythe kept flinging magic into the air. The bright blue coils twined about the masts, sparked on the balloon and danced over the deck.
“What was that about slipping away without being noticed, sir?” Dag asked worriedly. “We’re lit up like the palace on His Majesty’s birthday.”
The others stared in shock and amazement at the dazzling display, the magical blue light reflected in their faces. Gythe’s song ended in a strangled cry. She collapsed, sobbing, onto the deck.
Rodrigo handed the bottle to Stephano, then knelt down beside her, took hold of her in his arms, patting her and soothing her. She clung to him, sobbing. He looked at the others, who were standing, transfixed.
“What happened?” Rodrigo demanded. “What did you say to her?”
“It’s what she said to us,” Miri replied, her voice quivering. “Giant bats! That’s what she saw on board our ship. Blood and claw marks and…” She choked and covered her mouth with her hand.
“Giant bats with demon riders,” said Stephano.
“I suggest we leave now! ” said Rodrigo in stern tones. “This isn’t our fight, Stephano.”
“The dragon is attacking the bats, breathing fire at them.” Dag reported, keeping an eye on the battle as he steered the ship. He suddenly began swearing. “Bloody Hell! The dragon flew too close to the cutter. He set one of the masts on fire. The balloon will go next. The cutter’s liable to sink, sir.”
Stephano ran to the rail to try to see better. “Damn it! Miri was right. That dragon has never been trained for battle.”
He watched a moment longer, then said, “Dag, turn over the helm to Miri. We need to get out of here.”
“We can’t just leave, sir! There are over sixty sailors on that cutter,” Dag protested. “We can’t let them die!”
“We are five people on a houseboat,” said Stephano. “We can’t do anything to help them. Besides, there’s Gythe to consider.”
Dag glanced at Gythe, who was sobbing and shivering in Rodrigo’s arms, and he reluctantly relinquished the helm to Miri. She touched the sigils on the brass panel and sent the magic flowing out to the sails and the airscrews. The Cloud Hopper was starting to veer away when Miri, looking to the north, gave a cry and a gasp.
The mists of the Breath, generally wispy, peach in color and calm, drifting on gentle breezes, had changed. Thick clouds, black and turbid and shot with spiky, white-purple lightning, were rumbling across the sky.
“What the Hell is that?” Stephano gasped. He’d flown the Breath since he was a child through rain and snow and every type of weather and he’d never seen anything like this.
“They call it a wizard storm!” Rodrigo cried. “The magic in the Breath has gone berserk. Take cover! There’s nothing we can do except ride it out.”
He dragged Gythe through the hatch. The wind slammed it shut behind him.
“Grab hold of something and hang on!” Miri cried.
Stephano flung his arms around the mast. Dag thrust Doctor Ellington under one arm and wound his other arm around one of the ropes securing the cannons. Miri glanced around, nodded, and remained standing at the helm.
“Miri! Get down!” Stephano shouted.