Page 15

I come. I kill.

No , I growled. Remain high.

No , Kaia retorted. Run. I kill them.

You can’t ? —

Net throwers destroyed. No archers. I kill these, you safe.

Safe being a relative term given the situation, but there was little point in arguing with her. She wasn’t listening anyway.

I forced my body upright, using the sword to help me balance. But the movement had another wave of agony pulsing through me, and sweat broke out across my brow. I had to do something about the arrow, otherwise movement was going to be impossible. I sucked in a deeper breath, then caught the end of the arrow to stop it moving and drew a knife. Then, before I could really think about it, I swept the blade down hard, slicing the shaft away from either side of my calf, leaving the bulk of it embedded inside. I had no idea what it might have hit—whether it was just flesh and muscle or something more serious like an artery—so it was better left in rather than pull it out and cause Vahree only knew what other damage.

And without the inner section sticking out and hitting my other leg, I could at least move around a bit easier.

But my attackers had passed the shattered remains of the metal tents now. I was out of time. I streamed fire at them, briefly scattering them, then turned and hobbled away through the wreckage of buildings and bodies, using my sword to steady myself over the rougher patches of ground. The back of my neck twitched, and the knowledge of impending doom rose, but I ignored them both and hurried on.

Then a fierce wind hit my back, sending me staggering forward. It wasn’t a storm of air caused by one incoming drakkon, but multiple. The men didn’t scream. They likely didn’t have time, because Kaia and Yara swept through them with deadly precision and killed them all.

A few seconds later, Yara appeared above, blood dripping from her claws and fierce waves of bloody satisfaction running through her thoughts. Kele was little more than a small knot of humanity sitting behind the young queen’s wing spine. What do now?

Join Rua and do a thorough sweep around of the entire area to see if there are any other pockets of riders or gold-clad ground soldiers. Destroy them if you find them.

As I said all that, I signaled to Kele, letting her know what was happening. She acknowledged, then asked if I was okay. I punched up a yes. She didn’t say anything—and I probably wouldn’t have heard it over the wind noise anyway—but tossed something down. As Yara banked away, I hobbled over to see what it was. A medikit. Thank Túxn for that.

I join, Kaia said.

If you move that wing about too much, you could permanently damage it.

Won’t.

I didn’t argue. It was still pretty obvious she wouldn’t listen. I hobbled over to the wall remnant to sit, then opened the kit. It not only contained all the usual pain tonics, numbing and antiseptic salves, and bandages needed to treat wounds in the field or keep them stabilized until proper medical help could be reached, but also additional bone straps, wound sealers, and some silk webbing. Even though there wasn’t much of the latter, the combination of the three should be enough to make Kaia’s wing strong enough for the flight home.

I carefully sliced open the side of my boot—I didn’t want to risk taking it off entirely in case my foot swelled, and the last thing I needed was to be walking around shoeless in a place like this—then did the same to the leg of my pants. The entry and exit points were small and neat, and very little blood oozed from either side of the wound. Hopefully, that meant nothing major had been damaged. I grabbed the antiseptic salve and carefully applied it. Pain surged, and I had to grit my teeth against the scream that rose up my throat. After several deep breaths that did absolutely nothing, I repeated the process with the numbing lotion. Unfortunately, relief was not instantaneous; I knew from past experience it would take a good ten minutes to fully kick in.

It was the longest fucking ten minutes in my life.

Once the numbing salve had done its stuff, I tugged out the bandages and securely wrapped the entire bottom half of my leg, not only to stop the swelling but also to ensure the remaining bit of arrow didn’t move around too much.

As I uncapped and drank one of the pain tonics, Kaia appeared overhead, the force of each wing sweep stirring the ashen splinters of buildings, beasts, and men that littered the ground, sending them rolling away from me.

No more gilded ones.

I nodded, not really surprised. When they’d all but erased Jakarra, they’d done so with a force of twelve riders. They’d increased that to fifteen here, but the main change was the fact they’d apparently sent in their boats—and their ground forces—at the same time, perhaps in response to a perceived greater threat. If they’d scouted before they attacked, they would have been aware of the military presence here, even if they had no knowledge of the numbers they’d be facing.

In truth, while Hopetown’s forces were well trained, they didn’t have the battle experience of those who protected Esan, simply because, up until now, it hadn’t been necessary. And given the utter destruction of the port and admin quarters, I couldn’t help but wonder if the military had simply abandoned those areas in order to protect its evacuating citizens. After all, a town and its buildings could all be replaced. It’s people could not.

So why had the gilded riders left the outer reaches of Hopetown untouched? Was it because they planned to use the port as their base in Arleeon? It made military sense to do so, giving them a foothold on our continent from which they could reach the rest of Arleeon. It wouldn’t help their attack on Esan, however, as we’d see them coming from Hopetown far more easily than we would from Jakarra. Unless, of course, they took the course we had coming here and flew along the sea side of the Black Glass Mountains.

How bad hurt? came Kaia’s soft question.

She was well aware how bad it hurt, because she’d feel it in my mind. I’ll survive.

No want die .

I half smiled, despite my annoyance. Not something I want either.

Next time will listen.

Which was probably as close to an apology as I was likely to get from our queen. I’d appreciate that. If it’s safe to land, do so, and I’ll remove the net.

She carefully obeyed, raising another storm of dust and debris and forcing me to tug up the neck of my undershirt in an effort to stop breathing in the muck. Once she was down, I carefully pushed upright. My leg twinged, but the expected tidal wave of pain didn’t eventuate; the potion and the salve had both kicked in. Which, of course, meant I needed to be extra careful, because I likely wouldn’t feel anything if I somehow damaged the leg further, and that could be deadly.

I picked up the medikit, then hobbled over to her. She hunkered as close to the ground as she could, then spread out her wing. I thanked her and began the odious task of cutting away all the damn rope. In some areas, it had bitten so deep there was nothing but bare bone. Left any longer, and there might not have been even that.

By the time I’d removed the last of it, I was drenched in sweat and shaking with fatigue, the latter not helped by the multitude of cuts littering my back that continued to ooze blood. Still, Kaia was bleeding a whole lot more than me, so she had priority.

I sealed the worst of her wounds and patched the torn section of membrane as best I could, then stepped back. “That’s the best I can do for now.”

Is good. I heal fast.

“That is certainly a gift I wish I had.” I rubbed my head wearily. “Could you ask Yara to land so Kele can dismount, then tell Rua to fly over the ocean and see if there’s any boats approaching the port. But ask her to fly over us first so I can signal Hannity and let her know what is happening.”

She immediately did so. Rua, who was closer, swept in and hovered low, creating yet another mini storm of soot and debris. Once Hannity had acknowledged my message, she slapped Rua’s shoulder, and the drakkon immediately swept away. The two might not share mind communications, but they’d obviously worked out a crude means of communication. That definitely gave me hope that this whole crazy scheme of ours to pair fire witches with drakkons might just work.

But would it be enough to stop the riders? That was a question none of us could answer just yet.

With the younger drakkon gone, Yara landed with a harrumph and a quick, Am hungry, go hunt.

Night comes. Hunt not safe, Kaia said.

Find roost. Will be.

I hesitated, not wanting either to go too far or get too close to the Black Glass Mountains. As Kaia had noted, the approaching night brought with it the danger of more riders. Those who’d been sent here undoubtedly had some means of direct communication back to their main encampment, wherever that might be located, so it was logical to presume they’d managed to send a missive off before we’d wiped them out. Even if they hadn’t, the lack of subsequent communications would be warning enough of a calamity having befallen them, and would no doubt elicit a response. I didn’t want the drakkons in the way of that.

There’s a small island off the coast that would provide a perfect roost for the night, I said, sending Kaia an image so she knew what to look for. It’s about fifty wing sweeps from here if you head in the direction of the sunrise ? —

What sun? Yara immediately cut in.

Light in sky that gives day, Kaia said for me.

It’s not inhabited by humans , I continued, and the cliffs are a popular roosting grounds for birds. But there’s large herds of wild, fat capras inland, and the riders aren’t likely to attack you there, even if they hit us overnight.

What you do? Kaia asked.

Look for survivors, and see if we can contact those who rule here.

And Rua?

I’ll send her over once she returns. To Kele I shouted, “The drakkons are going to hunt. You need to dismount.”

She immediately grabbed all her gear, then quickly slid down Yara’s extended leg. After scratching the offered eye ridge, she slung her stuff over her shoulder and walked across to me. “You want me to grab your gear before Kaia takes off?”

“That would be great, thanks.”

I glanced up at Kaia, and she immediately extended her leg. Kele dumped her packs beside me, then climbed up, unhooked all my stuff, and slid back down. As Yara took off, Kaia ambled away so the wind of her rising wouldn’t knock us over, then leapt skyward and followed the younger drakkon into the clouds.

“That,” Kele murmured, her gaze still on the spot where they’d disappeared, “was possibly the most exhilarating experience I’ve had in my entire life. Of course, it was possibly also the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.”

I grinned. “That feeling of exhilaration and danger never goes away. At least, it hasn’t for me yet.”

And I truly hoped it wouldn’t. Truly hoped that riding Kaia continued to remain as magical and as special as our very first flight together.

“I don’t think it’ll fade for me, either.” Her gaze came to mine. “What’s the plan now?”

I reached for the pack containing my quill pen. “I’ll message Esan and let them know what’s happened. Hopefully they’ll have reestablished contact with the council by now and can pass them a message that we’re here.”

“And if they can’t?”

“Then we find a safe place to wait out the night.”

“We can’t stay here indefinitely. Aside from the fact we’ve little in the way of supplies, it’s not safe for the drakkons—too exposed.” She paused, her gaze dropping down my length. “And I’m thinking that leg of yours will need attention before too long.”

“If the arrow had hit anything vital, I probably would have bled to death by now.”

“No doubt, but Vahree only knows what nasties they might have laced their arrowheads with. I mean, we’re talking about a people who use shit as a weapon.”

“I did put some salve on it.”

“Salve doesn’t help the internal festering though.”

“True.” I motioned toward the two riders who’d been taken out when my flame had exploded the tube. “Can you check the condition of those two over there? I think at least one of them might be alive.”

“You want me to kill them if they are?”

I shook my head. “The only chance we might have of finding out who the hell these people are—and what their full intentions are when it comes to Arleeon—is to interrogate a prisoner or two.”

“I think it’s pretty clear what their damn intentions are,” she said, but nevertheless headed over, picking her way cautiously through the rubble.

I dug the quill and tablet out, then messaged my father, giving him what amounted to an itemized list of what had happened.

The cursor blinked for several seconds then he came back with a simple, Any injuries on your side?

An arrow through the calf and a damaged wing, but neither is life threatening.

Right . I could almost hear the dry disbelief in that short reply. But then, I did have a habit of understating things when it came to personal injuries, and he was well aware of that. Any gilded riders left alive?

Kele’s just checking that now. Were you able to reestablish contact with Hopetown’s council?

Yes, a couple of hours ago. They’re underground, and safe.

Let them know we’re here and need some help.

With those injuries that aren’t life threatening, you mean?

I smiled. In part, but also in setting up sentry positions. I fear the riders will be back, as Hopetown provides a good jumping-off point into the rest of Arleeon.

We’ve been discussing defensive priorities. They’re intending to temporarily restrict access into the harbor.

That won’t stop the riders. Or indeed, the boats. They could just sail farther down the coast or even anchor offshore and use rowboats to access the shoreline.

The air mages are also working on a wind cell around the city, with the hope it’ll stop the riders.

We’d used wind cells in the past, with varying degrees of success. They were basically an envelope of fierce winds placed around a city—or fortress, in Esan’s case—that prevented anyone or anything from entering. If humans, beasts, or indeed weaponry did enter the wind zone, they were swept up then around, until they reached the very top of the funnel storm and were spat out. Usually with enough force that they broke—or in the case of the Mareritt, died on impact.

The trouble was, the cells were also easily dismantled by magic. The Mareritt had certainly become successful in doing so over recent decades, which was why we rarely used them now.

You’re forgetting they’ve mages of their own, I said, and I don’t think something as simple as a windstorm is going to stop them.

We’re aware of that, but they’ll likely not be expecting the move, so that alone makes it worth the effort. Plus, it gives us a little additional time to find a means of combating their weapons and their riders.

I personally doubted that the little additional time we gained was going to be of much help, simply because I had a growing conviction that a shitstorm was coming straight at us. Which, considering what their riders used as a weapon, happened to be quite a factual statement.

We’re going to remain here overnight, just in case the riders hit the port before the council has time to raise the defenses.

Good idea. We’ve just messaged them, letting them know you’re on the ground. They’re sending in a team, and I asked for a medic to be included.

Who had no doubt been ordered to report back on my condition. He was my commander and would never hesitate to send me into a dangerous situation if he deemed it prudent, but he was still my father, and he would never not worry about my safety. Could you please update Damon on the situation?

Yes. The cursor blinked for several moments, then the message scrolled on. He has taken possession of the quill and tablet linked to Angola and has been sequestered in your room all day.

And is no doubt directing the search of the Angolan spell library with the help of their masters. He believes there might be one that would allow the drakkons to gain the ability to flame from us.

Yes, that is what he has said.

You don’t believe him?

I do. But there is much more going on than that. And I do not think it a coincidence that he protected our rooms from his aunt’s intrusions only after he’d discovered we had the Angolan scribe quill.

And his reasons for doing so might be nothing more than the fact that his father—and his aunt—disdain magic.

Yes, but I fear the secrets he keeps. Fear that they will end badly for us all.

Trepidation stepped through me. Does Mom share your fears?

No, but she has far more faith in the overall goodness of people than I do. The cursor blinked a second or so. Though it has to be said that that belief does not extend to Aric .

It certainly did not . Well, whatever else he might be up to, let’s hope he can get that damn spell. We were lucky today, but that luck can’t hold.

I agree, and we are working on contingency plans. Be careful out there, Bryn.

Always , I replied with a smile, and signed off.

I replaced the quill pen and tablet, then grabbed my sword sheath and strapped it on. I kept the sword free, however. Aside from the fact it was a handy brace, it was also better—given my calf did restrict my speed and movement—if I kept it to hand. The drakkons had assured us there were no more riders or even magic here, but that didn’t mean this place was empty. And given the untouched nature of Hopetown’s outer edges, there could be a whole battalion of them hiding out there for all we knew.

I doubted it, but still...

“We got one live one,” came Kele’s comment. “He’s not in a great state though.”

“Conscious or unconscious?”

“In between.”

“I’ll grab my kit and wander over.”

“Should you be moving around with that leg of yours?”

“Probably not,” I said cheerfully and, after retrieving the kit, hobbled over to her.

The rider was on his side, partially propped up by the chunk of building rubble sitting against his stomach. He was in pretty bad shape, with finger-width chunks of flesh taken out of his exposed face and hands. The feather armor he wore had protected his torso and the front part of his legs from the bulk of the explosion, but the back of his legs had no such protection. Perhaps they figured there was little point, given that area was not exposed to normal attack when flying. When the tube had exploded, something large and obviously very sharp had sliced through his leg just above the back of his knee and had all but severed it. He’d been conscious enough at some point to put a torniquet around his upper thigh, but he’d very obviously lost a lot of blood before he’d managed to do that. The odds of him surviving weren’t great, even if we could get medical help here soon enough. It would be very inconvenient if he died before we’d had a chance to question him.

I handed Kele the kit. “Give him the bloomweed. We need him awake and aware.”

Bloomweed was a small herb bush that had wiry stems and small, hairy white flowers. It was used mainly to reduce fevers, but it had two rather odd side effects. One was the adrenaline kick it provided, and two, it was something of a truth serum. While it was usually used in the field for the former, there had been occasions when we’d needed to keep a captive conscious and talking, and the bloomweed had certainly helped achieve both aims. Hopefully, it would work on this rider as well as it had the Mareritt.

“Might be wise to leash him first,” she said. “We have no idea what these bastards are capable of.”

“Good idea. There’s a length of rope in my smaller pack.”

Once she’d retrieved it, she bound his hands to his good foot to prevent any sudden attempt to lash out at either of us, then tied the rope to a nearby chunk of building. I moved his weapons beyond his reach with my foot—balancing a little precarious on my sore leg—then gave Kele the go ahead. She unstopped the small vial from the kit, forced several drops into his mouth, and then stepped back.

The good thing about bloomweed was its effects kicked in within a matter of minutes.

The rider growled deep in his throat, then muttered something that, while I couldn’t actually understand his words, very much sounded like a curse. Then his eyes snapped open, and he immediately began to struggle.

I pressed my blade against his exposed throat and said, “Stop.”

I wasn’t sure if he actually understood me, but the point of a sword against an exposed bit of flesh was a pretty universal language. He stilled, but his expression was murderous and his yellow—almost bird-like—eyes promised death. It was something I’d seen more than once in the eyes of Mareritten captives, but there was something about this man’s glare that sent a chill through my soul.

“You name and country of origin, soldier.”

He growled something unintelligible—at least to me—and sent a globule of spittle my way. I sidestepped it, then repeated the question.

He fought the order and bared his teeth, but eventually reeled off a short sharp sentence in which the only word I understood was Grie-i-ton .

“Is Grie-i-ton the name of your country?”

He bared his teeth but eventually ground out, “Grie-i-ton.”

Amusement twitched Kele’s lips. “Either Grie-i-ton is his country’s version of ‘fuck off’ or it is indeed the name of his country.”

“There’s no such place marked on any of our maps.”

“Then maybe he’s simply not understanding the questions.”

“Oh, I think he can understand us, even if only partially. He wouldn’t be fighting the urge to reply otherwise. We’re the problem here when it comes to communication, not him.”

“I take it he’s not using a language common to any of our trading partners?”

“No.” While I wasn’t fluent in all the different languages our trading partners used, I’d heard a good range of them over the years, thanks to the ambassadors and advisors who’d been sent our way to renew or renegotiate trade deals. But there was also a common language used by most of our trading partners, so I tried that. “Your name and place of birth, soldier.”

Kivlighan was added to Grie-i-ton this time .

“Well, that did elicit a different response. Not sure it helps us all that much more though.” Kele frowned. “There’s a rumor running around the barracks that the Mareritt are constructing larger versions of the tubes the riders use—is that true?”

“It seems the military grapevine remains a force to be reckoned with, but yes. Why?”

“Well, it means there must have been at least some trade contact between the two, and that, by default, suggests they found a way to communicate. So, it’s worth trying Mareritten.”

“The problem being I only know a few words. Besides, any interaction would have been between the commanding forces of each party, not the grunts.”

“Grunts or no, they’d pick up a word here or there. As you said, we have.”

“Yeah, but we’ve had more than a decade of interaction with them.”

“For all we know, Mareritten and this man’s people have been trading partners for decades.”

“True.” I hesitated, then added in Mareritten, “Why you here?”

It, and the phrase, “Stop or I’ll kill,” were the only two I really knew, and the latter definitely wasn’t appropriate right now.

He reeled off another answer, his voice more guttural this time, almost echoing the tonality of many Mareritt.

“Most of his reply went straight over my head,” Kele said grimly, “but I did recognize the words ‘conquer’ and ‘resettle.’”

Most of us were familiar with those two words, mainly because many a captured Mareritt had uttered them over the years. Conquering Arleeon and resettling their people in our richer lands had been their goal for almost as long as our two people had settled on the continent.

“Where is your homeland?” I tried again, switching back to common tongue.

His reply remained all but unintelligible, though the word Grie-i-ton featured once more. It had to be his homeland. There was no other reason for him to be repeating the word every time I asked the question. Unless, of course, it was his version of “fuck off.”

“Where is Grie-i-ton located?”

I didn’t understand his response. I swore and wearily rubbed my head. The pain wasn’t getting worse, but it wasn’t easing, either. I needed sleep, I needed food, and more than anything, I needed to go home so I could talk to my husband.... And that was an alarming development, given the murky wall of secrets that might yet destroy us.

I returned my attention to our captive. “Point to where Grie-i-ton is located.”

He cast a hand to the northeast. The bastard was understanding me.

“At least they’re not coming from Mareritten,” Kele said. “That has to be something, right?”

“Just because Grie-i-ton lies northeast doesn’t mean their main invading force is also there.” I studied him for a second, then added, “Where are your boats, soldier? Where do your birds roost?”

Another unintelligible reply, this time far fainter. The bloomweed’s adrenaline effect was fading fast.

“Point in their direction,” I said.

He growled something but nevertheless obeyed, pointing first to the east, and then to the north. Mareritten lay to the latter.

“Do the boats lie that way?” I asked, pointing to the north. “Or the birds?”

He said something that sounded like barques , which I knew from a couple of meetings my father had had with ambassadors from both Kaligorn and the Green Islands was their term for three-masted galleons. And if he was using the term, it suggested his people might be from the same area. They might also be the reason those two islands had not replied.

“How many barques that way?” I said, pointing north. “Use your fingers to show us.”

He thrust up three, the gesture obviously a rude one even if it did answer my question. Then his eyes fluttered closed and he coughed; blood-colored spittle dribbled past his lips.

“Internal injuries,” Kele commented.

“Looks like it.” I kicked his good foot lightly, and he jerked briefly, his yellow eyes opening to glare at me. I pointed to the east. “How many ships that way? Show on your fingers.”

He muttered something, then thrust up both hands. I sucked in a breath. If there were ten boats the size of the ones we’d burned here today, we were in deep trouble. While the galleons docked here had appeared to hold little more than supplies, the men to move them, and at least one ground regiment, they were similar in size to ours, which meant they were capable of holding more than one hundred and fifty men plus whatever livestock and supplies they might need for the journey.

“How many flights of birds?”

He coughed, spraying more bloody spittle. Then he grinned and growled, in a rough form of common language, “The Stymphalian will cover your skies with gold. All will die.”

And on that charming proclamation, he did so.

“So the bastard did understand us,” Kele muttered. “But at least he had the decency to die and thereby save us the decision of whether or not we should get him medical help—although we both know I would have fallen on the side of ‘not.’”

“Had it not been for the need of information, I would have too.” The fact they’d killed Kaia’s drakkling made it an easy enough choice, let alone everything else they’d done since then.

“Captain Silva?” someone called from the ruins of the administration building. “It’s Commander Iker Green, of the Hopetown Brigade. We’re told you’re needing some help.”

“Over here, in the field,” I replied.

“The drakkons?”

“Well clear, and there’s no indication that enemy ground forces remain in the vicinity.”

“They don’t,” came the response. “We had our earth mages checking before we resurfaced.”

A tall, broad, middle-aged man with a thick thatch of silver hair and a rather impressive moustache strode through the ruins of two pillars. With him were six fully armed men and a tall thin woman with a nest of red hair tied back at the nape of her neck. She wore the brown robe and loose pants of a field healer and had a sizeable medical kit on her back. After ordering the soldiers to form a defensive circle, the commander added, “I’m told there’s been an injury?”

“I took an arrow through the calf,” I said. “You’ve come up through one of the tunnels?”

He nodded. “This whole area is littered with them—it’s how we were able to evacuate so quickly. Once Teagin stabilizes your wound, we’ll take you both underground to our field hosp?—”

“We’ve a drakkon still out on patrol,” I cut in, “so I can’t go anywhere until she returns.”

“And how long is that likely to be?” the commander said. “Night approaches, and it’s not likely to be safe above ground until we can get our protections up and running.”

How long is a piece of string? I wanted to retort, but kept it to myself. The commander had the look of a no-nonsense sort of fellow who wouldn’t take kindly to that sort of backchat. “She’ll be here before nightfall.”

The commander didn’t look particularly happy at the delay, but motioned the healer forward rather than reply.

She hurried toward me, her movements sharp and quick, reminding me somewhat of the fragile spur wings that played around the peaks in spring.

“Please sit on the half wall behind you,” she ordered.

Once I had, Teagin dropped to her knees and began unwinding the bandage. The numbing effects of the salve and the painkiller I’d taken remained in force, so even though I could feel the small movements of the arrow in my flesh, I wasn’t in any sort of pain.

“I have to say,” she said, “there is a rather odious smell emanating from both you and your companion.”

“That would be the scent of drakkons,” Kele said cheerfully. “You get used to it after a while.”

“If they smell that bad, then perhaps it is a good thing they do not enter populated areas too often. It could wipe out entire towns.”

“If drakkon scent did have that effect,” Kele replied, “we’d already be using it as a deterrent against the riders.”

“Given how bad their birds smell, I’m thinking it won’t be an effective ploy.” I twitched in pain as she tugged the final bit of bloody bandage off my leg.

Teagin tossed the bandage to one side, then swung the field kit from her back. “Glad to see you’ve sense enough to immobilize the foreign body rather than try to pull it out like most do.”

“It’s something we’re all taught in basic field medicine,” I said.

“Yeah, but you’d be surprised how many fools don’t actually remember their training in the heat of battle.”

“Teagin,” the commander snapped, “please do remember who you’re talking to.”

She glanced up sharply. “No offense meant, Captain.”

As far as apologies went, that was as insincere as they came. I returned my attention to the commander. “What are the plans for sentry positions? I’m aware an air cell will be created, but it won’t be enough.”

“They’re working on extending the Sinopa’s toes to create a temporary barrier into the port as we speak. We’ve four earth witches, and they’re working in rotation to ensure no one burns out completely. It should be done within a day.”

“And sentry positions?”

“Will be placed either side of the new barrier. Even if they drop anchor in deeper waters, we will see them.”