They all, gasping for air, finally reached the edge of the jetty. Waves crashed all around them, foam spraying up over their feet. Reece lost his footing for a moment, and Stara reached out and steadied him. Beside them, Srog and Matus hurried to tie the rope to the end of one of Stara’s arrows.
“The warning sign first!” Reece called out, reminding Stara.
Stara took three arrows from a closed quiver wrapped around her back. These were wrapped with an oil-soaked cloth, prepared in advance, as all good archers did, in their own separate quiver. Out of the quiver she also removed the dry flint rocks and struck them together, creating sparks. She did it again and again, the sparks not catching in the rain. Reece turned to see Tirus’s men storming the jetty. He knew their time was short.
“Come on!” Reece cried.
Finally, the cloth sparked, and all three arrows lit up.
“Shoot them up high!” Reece said. “Nearly straight overhead! But angle a little toward the ships! That is the sign!”
Stara fired the three flaming arrows in quick succession, and they shot up, close to each other, perfect shots. It was the flame of the falcon’s claws, high up in the sky, the ancient sign of the MacGils, and any good commander watching the skies would see. Reece was relieved to see that the arrows stayed aflame for a good five seconds, until finally, all three fizzled out.
“The rope!” Matus said. “Fire it now!”
Stara took up the rope and arrow, aiming high, long distance for the ship.
“We’ve got one shot at this,” Reece said to her. “Do not miss.”
She turned and looked at him, and he was struck by how beautiful her face was in the rain, how proud, how noble—how fearless. He stared back at her and nodded reassuringly.
“You can do this,” he said. “I have faith in you.”
She nodded back.
Stara turned and fired, and they all watched, Reece holding his breath, as the arrow sailed up high, arching through the air. Reece knew that if it fell short, they would all be finished.
Finally, in the distance, Reece heard the satisfying thunk of arrow piercing wood, and as Reece saw the rope stiffen below, he knew she had hit: the arrow was lodged in the ship. The rope uncoiled as it sailed through the air, and there were but a few feet of it left as it finally lodged into its resting place.
Reece turned and saw hundreds of Tirus’s men shouting, too close now, drawing their swords and bows and closing in on them.
“The water’s not getting any warmer!” Matus cried out, looking down at the churning sea.
As one, the four them of them grabbed hold of the rope and jumped off the rocks and into the foaming sea.
Reece was shocked at how cold the water was; he struggled to catch his breath as he swallowed a mouthful of salty seawater, bobbing up and down in the raging ocean. He held onto the rope, not letting go no matter what, and he pulled himself up, one foot at a time, heading toward the distant boat.
Reece pulled hard and fast, along with the others, and they all began to move their way through the water, with each pull getting farther from shore and closer to the ship.
Reece heard the muted shouts of Tirus’s men on the shore behind them, and then he heard another noise which disturbed him—the noise of an arrow piercing water. The noise came again, and again, and Reece looked over to see arrows sailing through the air, piercing the water on either sides of him. He realized that Tirus’s men were firing on them.
Reece heard a scream in his ear. Stara. He looked over and saw her leg pierced by an arrow, the arrow protruding from her thigh. He looked back and saw a host of arrows airborne, whizzing by their head.
Srog cried out next, and Reece saw that he, too, was pierced by an arrow.
Reece knew he had to do something fast. He reached out and grabbed Stara, draping one arm around her as she flailed.
“Hang on to me tight,” he said.
He positioned his body over hers so that he was between her and the shore, putting himself in the path of the fire. Then, as she hung on, he pulled the rope for them both.
Reece shrieked as he suddenly felt an arrow pierce the side of his thigh. The pain was excruciating. But at least he took comfort in knowing that had he not been in its path, it would have hit Stara.
More and more arrows sailed by their heads, and Reece wondered how much longer they could keep this up, how much longer it would be until one of the arrows was fatal. He pulled for dear life, doubling his speed. Reece knew their situation was desperate; if they didn’t have help soon, they would all be dead.
Reece heard another noise, that of an arrow sailing over his head—but this time, from another direction. He looked up in surprise to see arrows flying overhead toward shore, launching from the Queen’s ship. At first Reece braced himself, thinking the Queen’s men were firing upon him. But then, as he saw more and more of them fly overhead, and as he heard the cries of Tirus’s men, he realized: the Queen’s men were coming to their aid.
Hundreds of arrows suddenly flew overhead from the Queen’s ship, killing Tirus’s men firing at them. Soon, the arrows from the shore stopped landing beside them.
Out of danger’s path, they pulled harder and harder in the churning sea—and soon, Reece felt a tug, and realized he was being pulled in by the Queen’s men. Dozens of sailors grabbed the ropes and yanked hard, and soon they were being pulled, faster and faster, right for the ship.
Bobbing desperately in the waves, gasping for air, all of them, wounded, reached the edge of the ship. A hand reached down for Reece, and as he grabbed it he looked up and saw one of his own, a MacGil from the mainland, eager to help.
The sailor looked down and smiled.
“Good to have you on board,” he said.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Romulus led the way, marching before his million-man army as they crested the final hill on the approach to King’s Court. As his horse reached the top, Luanda bound behind him, the vista opened up before him, and his heart soared with anticipation.
But Romulus was puzzled by what he saw. He had expected to see the city packed with people, had expected to catch his nemesis, Gwendolyn, unaware. He had expected to see all of her men, the Silver, the last bastion of strength of the Ring, conveniently assembled in one place for him to wipe out with his dragons. He had been looking forward to this moment, reliving it in his head, preparing to revel in this peak moment of his victory.
But Romulus was dumbfounded at what he saw before him. From here, he could see through the gates, into King’s Court, and he could not reconcile the image: it was empty.