Page 162 of Of Empires and Dust
A hand signal to Alina’s right drew her attention: now. Attack. Question.
Mera wore a white glove on her left hand, as did Alina and the others, to make signals more visible at night.
Alina answered, then touched her spread palm to her chest: by blade and by blood.
Mera reciprocated the gesture, and Alina pressed a hand to Rynvar’s neck and shouted over the wind. “Dive.”
Dayne treaded water,keeping his head just above the surface, the spray of the waves lapping at his face. He wove thin threads of Water around the satchel that bobbed in front of him, preventing the contents from flooding. In his years with Belina, he’d found that most mages couldn’t sense the use of the Spark if the threads were thin enough and the distance great enough. Few useful functions could be performed with threads that thin, but this was one of them.
“I’ve still not forgiven you.” Belina floated in the water beside him, ceaselessly shaking her head.
“Shut up,” he whispered, watching the sky, his shoulder stinging from where she’d bitten him.
“You know I hate jumping from cliffs like that. You remember Karvos? I thought I was dead. Not all of us can do your little la-dee-dah magic tricks. Besides, do you have any idea how long it takes my hair to dry? Hair doesn’t look this fabulous on its own.”
Dayne curled a thin thread of Water around himself and used it to splash Belina in the face.
“I know that was you.”
“No idea what you’re talking about,” he said, purposefully not looking at her. The closest ship sat in the water no more than fifty feet away. A handful of Lorians occupied the deck, garbed in red and black leathers. They called to each other, their shouts echoing.
The port itself was a different story. Patrols of both Lorians and Valtaran traitors moved in groups of twenty across the dock, lanterns illuminating their path.
Mera’s scouts had reported numbers of over a thousand in the garrison, set behind a freshly erected palisade wall and augmented with several Lorian mages. The Lorians should have sent more spears.
Something moved in the sky at the edges of Dayne’s vision. A flash and then it was gone. A low whistling noise touched his ears, followed by a series of crashes and shouts as Alina and the Wyndarii swooped low and launched the Godfire down onto the decks.
The substance was a concoction used for naval warfare. Its makings were guarded ferociously by the Narvonan Pyroclast Guild, and the secret of its creation was one of few things all the kingdoms agreed on. But if a person had the right connections, it could be obtained in small quantities. Belina had first introduced him to it almost seven years ago during the burning of the fifth fleet in the Bay of Light. He had no idea what comprised it, but as soon as it was lit, the liquid burned with the ferocity of dragonfire. Even water couldn’t quench its flames. And when launched in small clay vessels, there was nothing that could sink a ship faster. Thankfully, Belina knew more smugglers than a bird does trees.
“Time to move,” Belina whispered, swimming towards the closest ship.
“What in the fuck was that?” a voice called out from the deck above.
“There’s bits of it everywhere,” another voice called back.
“Smells kind of nice,” another answered.
Dayne pressed his finger to his lips, holding his position a few feet from the ship’s hull, the waves lifting him up and down.
Belina mimicked his gesture, mocking him.
From the satchel that floated around his neck, he produced a tin with flint and quenched steel along with two clay jars plugged with waxed stoppers and handed them to her. Without a word, she twisted onto her back, stuck the tin between her teeth, held the jars above the water, and swam past the ship’s bow.
More crashing sounds signalled the wyverns’ second run, the vessels of Godfire smashing onto the decks of the ships.
Dayne moved himself to the bow. He could just about make out Belina fifty or so feet away, her dark hair bobbing in the water.
He removed the waxed stopper from the first jar, the horrid stench of the rags soaked in rendered fat wafting from within. One thin thread of Fire later and flames burst from the small jar. Dayne launched the jar up and over the ship’s rail.
A heartbeat passed, followed by a smash, and then the ship’s deck erupted with raging fire, the flames burning like a signal fire in the dark. Soldiers shouted and boots slapped on wood, and before long, the sails and rigging were ablaze as well.
A moment later, another ship erupted in flames as Belina did her part.
While the fires raged, Dayne swam to the next-closest ship and tossed his second jar. Smash. Flames.
Dayne ducked below the water and swam as hard as he could towards the eastern edge of the port, rising only for air. By the time he reached the docks, three more ships had caught fire, the wind fanning the flames. There truly was nothing like Godfire. All it took was the whisper of flames, an ember on the breeze,and another ship exploded in a blazing inferno. Before long, the entire fleet would be nothing but smoke and ash.
Bells rang out, men and women shouted, and feet pounded against wood as the entire port descended into pandemonium.
