Miri shook her head. Her red hair streamed out from her head, her skirts whipped around her. She was bent nearly double, her hands gripping the helm. Stephano could do nothing to help her. He tried letting go of the mast and was slammed back against the bulkhead. Dag battled the wind and managed to drag open the hatch. He tossed the terrified, spitting, and yowling cat down the stairs, then struggled over to Miri.
He braced her with his body, reaching his arms around her-one strong arm on either side-and took hold of the top of the helm. Gripping the brass helm with all his strength, he shielded Miri’s body with his own just as the wizard storm hit.
Black clouds, dark as night, engulfed the boat. Buffeting wind came at them from every direction. The boat heeled violently and Stephano thought for an agonizing moment that they were going to flip over. He couldn’t see anything until the lightning sizzled, and then everything was lit for an instant and then went dark. Thunder rolled over the boat. He clung to the bottom of the mast to keep himself from sliding across the canting deck. He heard a crash from below and he thought he heard a scream, but he couldn’t tell if the howl was a voice or the wind. His biggest fear was that one of the two cannons would break loose and go careening about the deck, crushing everything in its path. Another blast of wind hit the ship, this time from a different direction. One of the deck chairs flew across the deck, slammed into Stephano’s shin, and then went skittering off.
As quickly as the storm struck, it was gone. The clouds rumbled past. The wind was no longer wild and erratic, but no one was relieved at the change. A strong, steady breeze was blowing the Cloud Hopper directly into the line of fire.
Stephano jumped to his feet and looked around. Miri was safe, held fast in Dag’s arms. He released her and she remained at the helm, both of them flushed and breathless and unable to look at each other.
Stephano opened the hatch. “Rigo! Gythe! Are you all right?”
Rodrigo came up onto the deck, followed by Gythe, holding fast to Doctor Ellington. Rodrigo was bleeding from a cut on his forehead. Gythe was unharmed and so was the cat, though he was howling and spitting angrily, all “furred out,” his tail bristling like a bottle brush.
Gythe deposited the cat onto the deck. The Doctor ran immediately to his hiding place beneath one of the cannons and glared at them, certain they were responsible. The houseboat was being carried straight toward the battle. The wizard storm evaporated. The sun shone on the twin spires of the cathedral, the burning cutter, and the attacking bats.
Stephano whipped out the spyglass and brought it to his eye.
“Miri,” he said, keeping his voice deliberately calm, “you need to take us away from here.”
Miri’s hands flew over the sigils. She turned her head, glared at him.
“I’m trying, damn it! We’re being sucked into a vortex-”
“It’s the magic,” Rodrigo said, dabbing at the cut on his head with his handkerchief. “This storm wasn’t caused by atmospheric changes in air pressure. This storm was caused by a disruption in the magic of the Breath.”
Dag was frowning. “Remember the writings of Saint Marie. ‘And on that day the Gates of Hell will open and the fell legions of Aertheum will fly forth on hideous beasts and the Breath will erupt in fire and the stars fall… ’ ”
“Ah,” said Rodrigo, looking at the blood on the handkerchief. “Hit by a falling star. That explains it.”
Dag glowered. He was a devout man and took his faith very seriously.
“Not the time for jesting, Rigo,” said Stephano quietly.
Rodrigo nodded his head toward Gythe. “Look at her if you don’t believe me. She feels the magic. And so can I. I’ve gone all gooseflesh and it’s not because I’m shivering with terror-even though I am. Our little boat is caught in the wild, foaming waters of a magical rapids.”
Rodrigo pointed to the giant bats and their demonic riders. “Wherever they have come from, that green fire is not ‘fire.’ It’s magic of some sort. Very powerful magic. So powerful that it is fomenting this wizard storm. Which must mean…”
He paused, his brows drawing together in thought.
“But it can’t be… It’s not possible!”
“Rigo-”
“Not now. I have to think.”
Rodrigo went back down belowdecks. They heard a thud and a crash and a “Bloody Hell! Where are my books?” Followed by, “Oh, never mind, I found them,” and then silence.
Stephano was only half-listening. They were being sucked rapidly closer to the coastline. The abbey and its walls were now visible through the mists. Bats swarmed over the walls. The abbey itself was under assault. On board the cutter, the sailors had managed to douse the flames, but the mast was gone. The captain had ordered chains dropped over the sides, to keep the bats from attacking the ship from below. A few cannons continued to fire. The cutter, though crippled, was gamely fighting on. But as Stephano watched, the cutter fired a distress signal.
The dragon flew in circles above the ship, no longer fighting the bats. Naval officers had small use for dragons, anyway, and Stephano could imagine the captain’s rage at the dragon who had accidentally set the mast on fire. The captain must have furiously ordered the dragon to keep his distance.
And yet, Stephano thought, the dragon has a much better chance of killing these monsters with his fire than the naval gunners have of hitting one of the swift flying creatures. The Cloud Hopper was being drawn ever closer.
“They’ve seen us,” said Stephano.
Several bats had veered off from the attack on the cutter. The demon riders, with their strange fiery orange eyes, seemed to be staring straight at him. He hurriedly lowered the spyglass and turned to Gythe.
“Those spells of yours. Will they protect the boat?”
Gythe cast a frightened glance at the bats and shrank away. Shaking her head, she put her hands over her ears.
“She is afraid of the… er… demons,” said Miri with a glance at Dag. “Gythe says their words hurt her. They’re trying to get inside her head.”
“Words? I don’t hear any words. And how can they get inside her?”
Miri gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know what she means.”
Stephano took hold of Gythe’s hands and drew them away from her ears, forcing her to listen to him.
“Gythe, dear, we don’t have a choice. Those demons or whatever they are have seen us. They may attack us at any moment. Those spells of protection you cast… This is the reason you cast them! Does your magic work?”
Gythe looked uncertain, then she gave him a tremulous smile and tilted her head and made a gesture with her hand as of something coming out of her throat.
“She needs to sing the magic,” said Miri, translating. “If she sings, the protection spells will work.”
“Good,” Stephano said. He paused, struck by a sudden, unwelcome thought. “These spells won’t stop us from firing our guns at the bats, will they? I mean, the cannonballs won’t bounce off the magic and hit us…”
Gythe flashed an indignant look at him and made a rude gesture. Miri started to translate. Stephano grinned.
“No need. I understand. I’m sorry, Gythe. It was a stupid question. Dag-”
“Yes, sir.”
Stephano cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “If those creatures are demons…”
“ ‘The righteous will be called upon to drive them back through the gates,’ sir,” said Dag.
“Yes, good,” said Stephano, relieved.
“We’ll use the swivel guns,” said Dag. “No time to load the cannons.”
The swivel guns were small, breech-loading cannons mounted on the rail of the boat. The guns had removable chambers that could be preloaded with powder and grapeshot and then inserted into the breech. Once the gun had been fired, all the gunner had to do was to remove the spent chamber and ram home another. The four swivel guns also had the advantage of mobility. The gunner could pick one up and carry it to another part of the ship, whereas the cannons were mounted on trucks that were roped in place.