Hero, Traitor, Daughter (Of Crowns and Glory—Book 6)

CHAPTER ONE Akila hung in the rigging of his ship and saw death approaching. It terrified him. He’d never been one to believe in signs and omens, but there were some he couldn’t ignore. Akila had been a fighting man most of his life in one form or another, yet still, he’d never seen a fleet like the one that approached now. It made the fleet the Empire had sent to Haylon look like a series of paper boats being floated across a pond by children. It made what Akila had look like less than that. “There’s too many,” one of the sailors near him in the rigging said. Akila didn’t reply, because right then he didn’t have an answer. He’d have to think of one, though. One that didn’t involve the leaden certainty that was crushing his chest. He was already running the things that needed to be done through his mind as he started to climb down. They would need to raise the harbor chain. They would need to get crews to catapults on the docks. They needed to spread, because charging headlong into a fleet that size would be suicide. They needed to be the wolves hunting the great snow oxen, darting in, taking a bite here and there, wearing them down. Akila smiled at that thought. He was almost planning as if they could win this. Who’d have taken him for an optimist? “There’s so many,” one of the sailors said as he passed. Akila heard the same words from others as he clambered back to the deck. By the time he reached the command deck again, there were a dozen rebels at least, all waiting for him with worried expressions. “We can’t fight them,” one said. “It would be like we weren’t even there,” another agreed. “They’ll kill us all. We have to run.” Akila could hear them. He could even understand what they wanted to do. Running made sense. Run while they still could. Form up their ships into a convoy line and go, running along the coast until they could break free and make it to Haylon. A part of him even wanted to do it. Perhaps they would even be safe if they could get to Haylon. Felldust would see the forces they had, the defenses of their harbor, and would be wary of coming after them. At least for a time. “Friends,” he called, loud enough that everyone on the ship would be able to hear it. “You can see the threat that waits for us, and yes, I can hear the men who want to run.” He spread his hands to quiet down the murmur that followed. “I know. I hear you. I’ve sailed with you and you’re not cowards. No man could say that you are.” But if they ran now, men would call them cowards. Akila knew that. They would blame the warriors of Haylon, in spite of all they’d done. He didn’t want to say that, though. He didn’t want to force his men to do this. “I want to run as well. We’ve done our part. We’ve beaten the Empire. We’ve earned the right to go home, rather than stay here dying for other people’s causes.” That much was obvious. They’d only come here after Thanos had begged, after all. He shook his head. “But I won’t. I won’t run when that means abandoning the people depending on me. I won’t run when we’ve been told what will happen to the people of Delos. I won’t run, because who are they to tell me to run?” He jabbed a finger at the advancing fleet, then turned it into the rudest gesture he could think of on the spur of the moment. That, at least, got his men laughing. Good, they needed all the laughs they could get right then. “The truth is that evil is everyone’s cause. A man tells me to kneel or die, then I punch him in the face!” That got them laughing harder. “And I don’t do it because he’s threatened me. I do it because the kind of man who tells people to kneel needs punching!” That one got a cheer. It seemed that Akila had judged this right. He gestured to the spot where a scout ship sat, tied up alongside his flagship. “Down there is one of us,” Akila said. “They took him and his crew. They whipped him until the blood poured from him. They lashed him to the wheel and they put his eyes out.” Akila waited a moment to let the horror of that sink in. “They did that because they thought it would scare us,” Akila said. “They did that because they thought it would make us run faster. I say that if a man harms one of my brothers like that, it makes me want to cut him down for the dog he is!” That got a cheer. “I’ll not order you, though,” Akila said. “You want to go home… well, no one can say you haven’t earned it. And when they come for you, maybe there will be someone left to help.” He made himself shrug. “I’ll be staying. If needs be, I’ll stay alone. I’ll stand on the docks, and their army can come to me one at a time to get cut down.” He looked around them then, staring at men he knew, at brothers from Haylon and freed slaves, conscripts turned freedom fighters and men who had probably started off as little more than cutthroats. He knew that if he asked these men to fight with him, most of them would probably die. He was probably never going to see the waterfalls that plunged through the hills of Haylon again. He’d probably die not even knowing if what he did was enough to save Delos or not. A part of him wished then that he’d never met Thanos, or been dragged into this wider rebellion. Even so, he drew himself up. “Will I be alone, lads?” he asked. “Will I have to punch my way to the stoniest-headed fool among them by myself?” The roar of “No!” echoed across the water. He hoped the enemy fleet heard it. He hoped they heard it, and he hoped they were terrified. Gods knew he was. “Well then, lads,” Akila bellowed, “get to your oars. We’ve a battle to win!” He saw them run to it then, and he couldn’t have been more proud of them. He started to think, to give orders. There were messages to be sent back to the castle, defenses to be prepared. Already, Akila could hear the sound of bells ringing out across the city in warning. “You two, get the signal flags up! Scirrem, I want small boats and tar for fire ships at the harbor mouth! Am I talking to myself up here?” “Quite possibly,” the sailor called back. “They say madmen do. But I’ll get it done.” “You realize that in a real army, you’d be flogged?” Akila shot back, but he smiled as he did it. This was the strange part of being on the cusp of battle. They were so close to possible death now, and it was the moment when Akila felt most alive. “Now, Akila,” the sailor said. “You know they’d never let the likes of us into a real army.” Akila laughed then, and not just because it was probably true. How many generals could say that they had not just the respect of their men, but true camaraderie? How many could ask their troops to throw themselves into danger, not from loyalty, or fear, or discipline, but because it was them doing the asking? Akila felt that he could be proud of that part at least. As the sailor rushed off, he had more orders to give. “Once we’re clear, we’ll need to put the harbor chain up,” he said. One of the young sailors near him looked worried by that. Akila could see the fear there in spite of his speeches. That was only normal. “If we have the chain up, doesn’t that mean we can’t retreat into the harbor?” the boy asked. Akila nodded. “Yes, but what good would it do, retreating to a city that’s open to the sea? If we fail out there, do you think the city will be a safe place to hide?” He could see the boy thinking about it, trying to work out where he would be safest, most probably. Either that, or wishing that he’d never signed up. “You can go be one of those who helps put the chains up if you want,” Akila offered. “Then head for the catapults. We’ll need good people firing them.” The boy shook his head. “I’ll stay. I won’t run from them.” “Don’t suppose you fancy taking over the fleet so I can run?” Akila asked. That set the lad off laughing as he went about his duties, and laughter was always better than fear. What else was there to do? There was always something else, always something to move to next. There were those who spoke about warfare being waiting, but Akila had found that waiting always contained a thousand smaller things. Preparation was the mother of success, and Akila wasn’t going to lose for lack of effort. “No,” he muttered as he checked the lines of his flagship. “The part where they have five times as many ships will do that.” The only hope was to hit and move. Draw them onto the fire ships. Crush them against the chain. Use the speed of their own ships to pick off what they could. Even then, it might not be enough. Akila had never seen a force this size. He doubted anyone had. The fleet sent to Haylon had been one designed for punishment and destruction. The rebel army had been a coming together of at least three great forces. This was bigger. This wasn’t so much an army as an entire country on the move. This was conquest, and more than conquest. Felldust had seen an opportunity, and now it was going to take everything that the Empire had. Unless we stop them, Akila thought. Maybe his fleet wouldn’t be the ones to stop them. Maybe the best they could hope for would be to slow down and weaken the invading army, yet maybe that would be enough. If they could buy Ceres time, she might be able to find a way to win against what was left. Akila had seen her do more impressive things with those powers of hers. Perhaps she would take on Felldust’s entire army and save them the trouble. Most likely, Akila would die here. If that could save Delos, would that be worth it? That wasn’t the question. If it could save the people there, and the people of Haylon, would that? Yes, that was worth everything to Akila. Men like this didn’t stop with what they had. They would descend on Haylon as soon as they were done here. If his sacrifice would keep the farmers of the island safe, Akila would make it a thousand times over. He looked out over the water to where the fleet advanced, his voice softening. “You owe me for this, Thanos,” he said, just as the prince owed him for coming to Delos, and for not cutting him down on Haylon. Probably his life would have been a lot simpler if he’d done that. Looking at the fleet ahead, Akila suspected it might have been longer, too. “Right!” he yelled. “Get to your places, boys! We’ve a battle to win!”