Stephano searched among the group of demons that were attacking the cutter, looking for the leader and he finally spotted him-a demon flying over the cutter, directing the battle from above. The fiend looked like all the others, but as he and his bat made a sweeping turn, Stephano saw the demon’s armor was emblazoned with intertwining knot work set in a triangle. The insignia glowed red, probably so that it was visible through the reddish clouds that trailed from the demons.
“Orders, sir?” Droal yelled. “Claw or fire?”
Stephano thought this through swiftly. The bats were flying too fast for the lumbering dragon to attempt to outflank them or circle around to attack from the rear. From what he had observed of their green-fire cannons, the demons had to come within musket range of the target. Whereas a dragon in good physical condition could blast the demons with his fiery breath from a much greater distance.
All three of the demons carried the handheld cannons. Stephano had seen the damage the demon fire inflicted on the Cloud Hopper’s magic. He no idea what the green fire might do if it struck the dragon or himself and he wasn’t about to chance it. He noted the position of the cutter to make certain Droal was not likely to accidentally hit it again and calculated the direction of the wind, not wanting the dragon’s flaming breath to blow back and engulf him, then gave the order.
“Fry them, Flight Master!”
The demons were flying nearer and nearer, lifting the cannons to their shoulders and taking aim. Apparently, they had never fought a dragon before. They were in for a shock.
Droal sucked in an immense breath. Stephano could feel the dragon’s rib cage expand beneath his legs. Droal exhaled. Orange-red fire washed over two of the demons, who blazed up like torches. The bats screeched in agony as they spiraled down into the Breath, trailing smoke, taking their hapless riders with them.
“They died,” said Stephano, watching the smoldering corpses trail downward until they vanished.
“Burnt to a crisp, sir,” said Droal in satisfaction.
“They can be killed,” said Stephano.
He was suddenly vastly relieved. He had been harboring the fear that these fiends were immortal. The fact that these demons could be killed was comforting, although, Stephano had to concede, the knowledge that these demons were mortal didn’t really tell him anything about them. He still had no idea who they were or what they wanted or where they came from.
He heard again the demonic commander’s piercing whistle and saw the third bat break off the attack and fall back. Stephano was certain now that the demon wearing the knot work insignia was the source of that piercing whistle. He kept an eye on this demon and ordered Droal to fly over to the cutter.
“Come in straight,” Stephano told the dragon. “Keep the ship at eye level.”
The name of the ship was painted on the stern: HMS Suspicion. Stephano had not heard of it. He did not know its captain, who was glaring balefully at the dragon, waving him off and shouting obscenities. Then the captain noticed Stephano mounted on the dragon’s back and stared in astonishment.
Stephano raised himself up on the dragon, so that he could be seen and heard.
“I am Lord Captain Stephano de Guichen of His Majesty’s Dragon Brigade. What is your status, sir? Can you still fight?”
The captain continued to stare, dumbstruck, at Stephano, all sorts of questions undoubtedly running through his mind. Stephano didn’t have time to explain. He pointed at the Cloud Hopper, sailing toward the cutter. Rigo must have patched the helm because Miri had steered the little boat into position some twenty feet above the cutter.
The captain saw and finally understood. His first reply was cut short by a blast from his sole remaining cannon. Smoke drifted over the deck.
“What’s wrong with your guns?” Stephano shouted.
The captain was grim. “When that damn green fire hits them, they blow up.”
“Can you hold on, sir?” Stephano asked.
The captain glanced about his ship. He was an older man, with grizzled hair and a jaw like a bulldog. Captaining a small cutter at his age meant he had been passed over for command of the larger, more prestigious ships. Either he’d made enemies at court or he was inept. Judging by the fact that he had fought a valiant and intelligent battle against an enemy that must have seemed to fly straight from a nightmare meant that he’d made enemies.
“Two guns are gone and the others are disabled!” the captain shouted. “But we can hold on, sir.”
Stephano saluted in acknowledgment and then told Droal to make a wide, swinging circle that would take him close to the demon commander. If Stephano had been riding Lady Cam, he would have been able to communicate the direction they should take through a shifting of his body in the saddle, the pressure of his legs. Droal had not been trained to carry a rider, so Stephano had to tell him where to fly. Droal was an old soldier, and he immediately understood Stephano’s plan. The loss of the demon commander would hopefully throw the rest of the troops into confusion.
The demon saw the dragon coming for him. The Cloud Hopper was in position and its swivel guns were firing, two at a time. Now that she could leave the helm, Miri must be assisting Dag. The swivel guns were finding their marks, dealing damage to the demons. Stephano heard the screeching of wounded bats and he saw one go tumbling into the Breath.
With his force reduced to about fourteen, plus a few bats that had lost their riders, the commander had to know he could not hope to battle a dragon who could wipe out at least six bats with one breath. In the commander’s place, Stephano would have pulled his troops from the cutter and flown off to join the assault on the abbey. Stephano planned his attack accordingly, telling Droal to fly into position to kill the commander and then attack the demons who might try to retreat back to the abbey.
The shrill whistle sounded. Stephano was close enough to the commander to see the details of the insignia on his armor. The bat hissed and screamed at the dragon. The demon turned his frozen, hideous, expressionless face to stare directly at Stephano. Reaching around to his back, the demon seized hold of an ax. The bat carrying the commander made a steep, sudden, darting dive, flying off so swiftly that by the time Droal breathed his fiery breath, the commander had flown safely out of range.
Droal rumbled angrily and was preparing to chase after him when Stephano called to the dragon to halt. The commander had not given his troops the order to fly back to the abbey. He had given them the order to make a last, desperate assault on the Cloud Hopper and the Suspicion.
Bats darted and swooped at the two vessels. Green flames spread over the ship and the little houseboat. The cutter fired its last working cannon. The ball whistled harmlessly past its target and fell into the Breath. The swivel guns on the Cloud Hopper continued their firing. Dag was managing to keep the bats and their riders at bay.
Catching sight of Stephano, Dag pointed to the preloaded chambers for the swivel guns and then held up one hand, fingers spread. Only five rounds left.
The demons flew low, firing their strange cannons. Green fire burst on the protection spells. They were still holding; the Cloud Hopper was not yet badly damaged. But each shot weakened them, weakened Gythe. Dag fired and missed. One round gone. Miri fired and winged a bat, causing it to veer off with a screech. Two rounds gone.
The demon commander left his troops to continue the assault. Flying his bat perilously close to the Cloud Hopper, the demon looked straight at Stephano. The orange eyes flamed in derision. He jumped off the bat and landed on the deck of the boat. Two more demons joined him, leaping from their bats and landing on the deck. They had abandoned the green-fire guns and carried axes.