Storm Riders Read online

  Stephano came running up behind them. “Rigo, go look for your tankard.”

  Rodrigo returned to his search. Miri glanced hurriedly at the sails, the balloon, the hull. A few holes and tears, a couple of charred places on the wood.

  “Over here,” said Stephano.

  He led her to the lift tank, which looked as if it had been bounced down the side of a mountain. Miri could hear the slow hissing of the gas.

  “Is there any way we can patch the tank?” Stephano asked.

  “What with?” Miri returned bitterly. “Rigo’s silk shirt?”

  The deck began to heave. The mast wavered in Miri’s vision and seemed to be falling down on top of her. She was hot and then she was terribly cold. The next thing she knew Stephano was carrying her over to a chair. He vanished into the hold and returned with a tin cup containing the Trundler liquor known as Calvados. He handed her the cup and hovered over her, regarding her with concern.

  “I’m sorry, Miri. I’m a bloody idiot,” said Stephano remorsefully. “After everything you’ve been through…”

  Miri reached out, squeezed his hand. She was afraid if she said anything she’d end up in tears. She took a drink and the warmth of the liquor drove away the chill. The world wobbled and then slowly settled back into place.

  “If it’s any comfort, the port-side tank wasn’t damaged,” Stephano told her, trying to sound cheerful.

  Can’t we sail with one lift tank? Rodrigo had asked only yesterday.

  Could we? Miri wondered.

  She was deep in thought when Dag returned with Gythe, carrying the cat in her arms.

  “I tried to make her come back to rest, but she wouldn’t leave without finding the Doctor,” Dag explained. “As it turns out, he found us. I think he was more frightened of the dragons than he was of the bat riders.”

  Gythe handed the cat to Dag, then ran to her sister. She smoothed back Miri’s hair, signing to her repeatedly, asking if she was all right. Miri assured Gythe she was fine, then, with a sigh, she glanced over at the lift tank. Gythe took one look and gave a little gasp. She sank down onto her knees on the deck beside Miri’s chair.

  “Everything will be fine,” Dag said gruffly, resting his hand on Miri’s shoulder. “We’ll get through this.”

  Dag’s touch warmed and comforted Miri more than the Calvados. She smiled up at him. His hand remained on her shoulder. Miri thought he might actually come out and say the words of love she had sometimes seen in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” Dag said again, giving her a pat. He turned away.

  Miri had the impression he wasn’t talking about the boat. She gave an inward sigh and forced her thoughts back to their predicament. Ignoring everyone’s protests that she needed to rest, she left the chair and walked over to examine the second lift tank, the only tank they had left.

  Miri had made a rough guess as to their location when they were first marooned, using the old Trundler maps, the location of the stars, and the sun. She had already calculated the distance back to Rosia and how long it would take them to sail across the vast expanse of the Breath to reach home.

  Risky, but we might make it work, she thought. She was about to tell them when Rodrigo gave a glad shout.

  “I found it!”

  “Found what?” Dag asked.

  “The tankard!”

  Rodrigo was down on his knees in the charred grass, heedless of the dirt. He picked up the tankard and immediately dropped it with a curse.

  “Hot!” he exclaimed, sucking his burned fingers.

  He sought out a stick, poked it through the handle, and lifted it. Inspecting the tankard, he gave a low whistle.

  “I was right.” He hurried to show them, carrying the tankard on the stick back to the Cloud Hopper. “Everyone! I was right!”

  Stephano started to give him the bad news about the lift tank. “Rigo, the tankard can wait—”

  “No it can’t!” Rodrigo said excitedly. “Look at this! The tankard was hit by a blast of green fire. Contramagic. The blast destroyed the table, set fire to the grass, and seared the bark and leaves off a nearby tree.”

  He waved the tankard in the air like a flag. “Observe what the green fire did to that brass lift tank. This tankard should be cracked, dented, maybe even a puddle of pewter. Instead it is untouched, unscathed. A miracle! Or it would be a miracle if it wasn’t science. This is astounding. Alcazar’s magical constructs protect against the effects of contramagic!”

  They stared at him in silence, then looked at each other and looked away.

  “My dear friends, you must see how important this is!” Rodrigo faltered.

  “It doesn’t matter, Rigo,” said Stephano, his voice tight.

  “What are you saying? Of course it matters—”

  “It doesn’t because we’re stranded here!” Stephano said savagely. “Forever. We’re not going home.”

  Rodrigo paled. “You don’t mean that.”

  Stephano pointed to the wrecked lift tank.

  “I can’t live like this!” Rodrigo said with a catch in his throat. “There must be a way. There has to be a way!”

  “There may be…,” Miri said slowly. “We use the gas in the remaining tank to fill the balloon. The flight will be dangerous and not very pleasant. There’s a possibility we could sink into the Breath and perish.”

  “I’m dead already,” said Rodrigo. “I’ll risk it.”

  “Hear me out,” said Miri. “We’ll have to lighten the load the boat carries. That means jettisoning everything except what we need to survive the voyage.”

  She pointed to the cannons.

  “They weigh far too much. The cannons and the frog—”

  Dag groaned.

  “The galley stove, the swivel guns—”

  “No,” said Dag firmly. “We need the swivel guns—”

  “Not if we can’t get off the ground, we don’t,” Miri said flatly. “Rigo’s clothes, the trunks, and everything inside—”

  “My clothes?” Rodrigo gasped in dismay.

  “And your shoes,” said Miri.

  Now it was Rodrigo who groaned. He began to plead, Dag started arguing.

  “It’s Miri’s boat,” said Stephano.

  The arguing stopped.

  “Dag, we’ll leave the cannons well oiled and under cover,” Stephano continued. “We can always come back for them. Rigo, you were going to need a new wardrobe anyway. Miri, do you really think this will work?”

  “I believe it might,” Miri said. “We’ll be cutting it close, but once we’re away from here and out in the shipping lanes, we can hopefully find a vessel that will give us a tow.”

  “We might find bat riders, too,” Dag said grimly. “And we’d have no way to defend ourselves.”

  “It’s up to the rest of you,” said Miri. “We either stay here or we sail for home with the knowledge that the voyage will be dangerous. I say we risk it.”

  “I agree,” said Stephano. “But this is life or death. Rigo?”

  “I agree, so long as I can keep this,” Rodrigo said, holding up the pewter mug.

  “I think we could manage that.” Miri smiled.

  “Gythe?”

  She nodded emphatically.

  “Dag?”

  He heaved a sigh, then said, “It’ll be one hell of a job hauling those cannons off, sir.”

  “We’re agreed then,” said Stephano. “Let’s clean up, patch our wounds, and have something to eat. Tomorrow morning, we start to work.”

  “I’ll mix up the healing potion. Rigo, you’re my first patient. I might be able to keep that gash from leaving a scar,” Miri added, when he started to protest.

  Rodrigo held his tongue and followed her below, still clutching the pewter tankard. Dag remained on deck, bidding a sad farewell to the cannons, especially his favorite, the frog.

  In the rebuilt galley, Miri went to work on her potion. She had lost much of her store of herbs in the fire, but she had managed to replace almost all of them and
had even found some herbs growing on the island that she hadn’t been able to find on Rosia.

  She brought out her jars of unguents and potions and began to mix together her famous yellow concoction, singing to herself as she worked. The pungent odor wafted through the galley.

  While she mixed up the healing potion known to the others as “yellow goo,” Rodrigo stretched out comfortably on Miri’s bed to study the remarkable tankard.

  “Can I come in?” Stephano asked from the doorway.

  “You want to know about the dragons,” Miri said, stirring vigorously.

  “Did Petard say anything to you? What did you say to him? I know now that they understand us when we speak to them. What happened on the flight?”

  Miri thought back to that dreadful experience and shivered.

  “I’m sorry, Stephano, I can’t talk about it. Not yet. I know it’s important to you, but I came so close to losing Gythe—” Miri’s voice broke.

  “I understand. Maybe later…”

  Stephano looked so disappointed that Miri relented.

  “There was one thing…”

  “Yes, what?” Stephano asked eagerly.

  “Petard was attacked by a bat rider. A blast of green fire hit him. The fireball was small, I didn’t think it would do much harm. But the effect on him was horrible. Green lightning sparked over his body. I could feel him shudder in pain. His scales were burned so badly I could see the flesh beneath.”

  “The same happened to Hroal when he was hit by the fireballs,” said Stephano. “Only in his case, I thought he must have sustained multiple hits. Dragons have the ability to heal themselves using their own magic—”

  “The contramagic would break down a dragon’s magic, just as it breaks down Gythe’s protective magic,” said Rodrigo from the bed.

  “Viola was upset by the attack,” Miri added. “I could tell by the way she hovered around him when we landed. The dragons didn’t seem surprised to see the bat riders, Stephano. They were alarmed and angry, but not surprised.”

  Stephano considered this, his brow furrowed.

  Miri pointed with her spoon to a stool. “Rigo, put that mug down and sit here.”

  “You don’t seem to realize the importance of my discovery,” said Rodrigo. His voice was muffled due to the fact that he was holding his nose. “The tankard took a direct hit from the contramagic and yet there is not a mark on it. Sir Henry must have known the magical steel is resistant to contramagic. That is the reason he gave this to me.”

  He settled himself on the stool.

  “Let me see it,” said Stephano. Walking over to the galley window, he held the tankard to the fading light. “You’re right. Not a mark on it. This is pewter. How do you know the same magic will work on steel?”

  “Because Alcazar told me it would,” Rigo said with a shrug. “He said he melded the constructs in a pewter tankard to send to Sir Henry because no one would suspect an everyday object of holding the secret to an invention that will revolutionize warfare.”

  “So a tavern tankard can’t be hurt by green fire,” said Miri, shrugging. “Rigo, take your hand away from your nose. The smell isn’t that bad.”

  “It is, too,” he said under his breath.

  Miri ignored him. Washing the blood from his face, she cleansed the wound, then began to spread the yellow goo over Rodrigo’s cheek.

  He winced and gagged.

  “You explain about the steel,” he said to Stephano. “I’m busy being nauseous.”

  “Let me put it this way,” said Stephano. “If the HMS Royal Lion had been outfitted with protective armament made of this same magically enhanced steel, the ship would not have exploded. The green fire would have had no effect on it. What was it Sir Henry said when he gave this to you?”

  “Something about others looking at their feet while he looks far ahead to the distant horizon. ‘I foresee a time when your country and mine will stand back-to-back battling a foe intent on destroying us both. In that eventuality, I want my ally to be as strong as I am,’” Rodrigo quoted.

  He eyed Stephano. “That is conclusive evidence that Sir Henry can’t be the one who ordered the Bottom Dwellers to attack us.”

  “It was someone named Eiddwen. Gythe heard the Bottom Dwellers in her head. Rigo, stop squirming! I’m almost finished. There now. You can go. And don’t wash that off! Let it harden.”

  Stephano had his hand over his nose and mouth. “Go someplace far away.”

  “I will,” said Rodrigo with a plaintive sigh. “I’ll go bid farewell to my shoes. I don’t suppose I could keep my imported Estaran leather boots?”

  Miri shook her head. Rigo heaved a doleful sigh and departed.

  “So someone named Eiddwen sent them searching for the boat,” said Stephano. “Why?”

  “And why come after Gythe?” Miri asked. “Why did they want to take her with them? And who is Eiddwen? Do you know anyone by that name?”

  Stephano shook his head. Miri sighed.

  “If she did send the Bottom Dwellers after us, they’ll come back.”

  “Most likely,” said Stephano. “Though the presence of the dragons on the island might make them think twice.” He reached out, stroked her shoulder. “You’re worn out. Let’s think about this tomorrow.”

  “There’s something I have to do first,” said Miri. “I’ve made up my mind. I’ve put this off too long. If we don’t survive this…” She drew in a deep breath. “Would you tell Dag I need to talk to him? In private.”

  Stephano was silent, regarding her with grave intensity. His hand on her shoulder tightened. Miri felt her cheeks grow warm. She had told Stephano when they first set out on this voyage that she had fallen in love with Dag. Stephano had told her he understood and that he was happy for her, but Miri guessed he didn’t and he wasn’t.

  “Of course, Miri,” Stephano said coolly. He paused, then added, using his formal, well-bred tone, “I wish you both joy.”

  Miri heard him shout for Dag and her courage nearly failed her. She wondered why she was so nervous. She had known Dag for five years now and she admired him. He was strong and courageous, yet he also could be gentle and tender. He had become a father to Gythe. She loved him for the way he loved and protected her sister.

  Dag had worked for the gangs of Westfirth after he had left the army. He had done things of which he was ashamed. Dag didn’t like himself, and Miri was wise enough to know that if you didn’t like yourself, it was hard for you to believe anyone could like you. He would never tell her he loved her. So now was the time for Miri to tell him.

  She heard his heavy footfalls tramping down the corridor and her heartbeat quickened.

  “Don’t be so silly,” she scolded herself. “You’re thirty-some years old, Miri McPike. Not a giggling girl of sixteen.”

  Dag entered the galley. He had washed off the worst of the grime and sweat and had removed his armor. He greeted her with the gentle smile he always wore.

  “Stephano said you needed me.” Dag looked around. “Is it the Doctor? Is he in trouble? Did he eat your potion again?”

  “No, it’s not the Doctor,” said Miri.

  She looked down at the hem of her blouse, which she was twisting in her fingers, drew in another deep breath, and let her words tumble out in a rush. “Dag, I know you love me. At least I think you love me. I feel so safe when I’m with you. I want us to be married.”

  She looked up, smiling, waiting for Dag to say how happy he was and take her in his arms.

  Dag didn’t say anything. He stared down at his boots.

  “Dag, I just said I loved you.” Miri drew near him and put her hands on his chest.

  Dag wrapped one of his big hands around both of hers and pushed them away. He shook his head. “No, Miri, you didn’t. You said you feel safe with me.”

  He was quiet a moment, then added, “It’s not the same.”

  “Don’t tell me how I feel!” Miri said angrily. “Are you … refusing to marry me?”

  Dag
’s face contorted in pain. “Let me explain, Miri. Or try to. You know how I am with words.”

  “I’m waiting,” Miri said coldly.

  “When the bat riders attacked and you and Gythe were down at the lake, I wanted to rush off to defend you.” Dag spoke slowly, thinking about his words before he said them. “Stephano stopped me. He told me that the Cloud Hopper was your life. He said you would want me to stay to defend it. He was right.”

  “Well, of course, he was right,” Miri said, “but that doesn’t—”

  “I’m not finished,” Dag said abruptly. “You see me like a father, the man who defends your boat and protects Gythe. You turn to me for help, Miri. You don’t turn to me for love.”

  “You’re wrong,” Miri protested.

  “Am I, Miri?” Dag asked gently.

  She wanted to say yes. Her lips moved to form the word, but there was no sound. He was right. His touch made her feel safe. His touch didn’t thrill her. Not like Stephano’s touch had once thrilled her. Not like sometimes Stephano’s touch still thrilled her.

  “You love Gythe and the Cloud Hopper. Those are your true loves, Miri. I’m the man who watches over them. And I always will.”

  Miri couldn’t answer him for the burning in her throat. Dag gave a little sigh and turned and walked out of the galley. Miri could have called him back. She could have run after him, told him he was mistaken. Instead she stayed in the galley and let the tears fall down her cheeks.

  * * *

  Night soon put an end to the dreadful day. Stephano paced the deck of the Cloud Hopper, gazing up at the stars, watching the fireflies, feeling the sweat dry on his neck. All the while he was picturing Miri and Dag down in the galley, embracing with joy.

  He tried practicing his happy smile. He rehearsed words of hearty congratulation. The smile made his face hurt. The words were lies.

  He wasn’t jealous, he told himself. He and Miri were friends, dear friends. They had decided friendship was the best relationship for both of them. It was just … he never thought she’d fall in love with someone else.

  At the far end of the boat, Gythe sat on the deck, cradling Doctor Ellington, singing softly to the cat, who dozed on her lap, his eyes half closed. Stephano leaned on the rail and looked at her. She seemed so fragile, her fair hair shining in the lambent light of the moon.