Брайан Макклеллан - Blood of Empire

“Excuse me?” Bonnie’s head jerked toward him, a look of disbelief on her face.

“You heard me. Get us as close as you can to the shore and weigh anchor. I want both your cranes put up and plopping my horses into the ocean. Give us three longboats and all our supplies, then you can run from those frigates to your heart’s content and head straight back to Starlight.”

“You’re insane.”

Styke tapped his knife. “Find us a beach where I can swim twenty-five horses ashore without getting them all killed.”

“Don’t you need us to get back to Fatrasta?”

“Not if I can meet up with the rest of the fleet.”

“And you’ll do that going overland?”

Styke grinned at her.

Hesitantly, Bonnie turned her eye to the shore and gave a weary sigh. “I think we might be near a place. I’ll give the order. Tell your men to be ready to go in an hour. This will be the fastest landing you’ve ever experienced.” Bonnie strode away, barking orders, and Styke turned back to Jackal.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jackal asked.

“Not in the slightest,” Styke responded. “But I’d rather cut through a hundred miles of swampy wilderness than sit on this goddamned ship for another three weeks while Ibana twiddles her thumbs.”

“And if Ibana never made it to the rendezvous?”

“Then this will be the smallest invasion ever.” Styke knelt down, putting his arm around Celine. “How well do you remember all that shit your dad taught you?”

Celine gave him a suspicious glance. “I thought you told me I’d never need to steal again.”

“You don’t want to?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Good. Because I need you to pilfer all of Bonnie’s maps of Dynize.”

Celine scowled. “If she catches me, she’ll throw me over the side.”

“We’re about to do something really stupid, and those maps are gonna be the only way to accomplish it. Besides, we’re all going overboard anyway.”

Celine considered this for a moment, then gave him a wicked little grin that he swore she learned from Ka-poel. “Okay, I’ll do it. But not until we’re about to jump into the longboats. That’ll be the best way to make a clean getaway.”

“Smart girl. Now, go wake up Ka-poel. Tell her she’s home.”

Styke stood on a rocky outcropping and watched as the Seaward disappeared around a nearby bend, heading north at full sail just out of gun range of the nearest of the two pursuing Dynize frigates. It would be close, but Captain Bonnie had been confident she could still make a clean getaway. The Dynize frigate fired off a single shot from a small bow gun, but Styke watched it splash into the ocean, well short of its target. Waiting until the Seaward was completely out of sight, he climbed down from his outcropping and headed down to the stream outlet, where his men were unloading the longboats.

“Report,” he said to Jackal, splashing into the water and eyeballing a long-snouted swamp dragon half-submerged a little way upstream.

“Everyone made it safely ashore,” Jackal responded. He sucked gently on his teeth. “One of the spare horses broke a leg coming around that reef. Had to put him down.”

“Just the one?” Styke had heard the beast screaming, and the gunshot that put it out of its misery.

“Just the one,” Jackal confirmed.

“That’s better than I expected.” He groaned inwardly. They had five extra horses, and more than a hundred miles of wilderness to cross with them. Facing difficult terrain, swamp dragons, big snakes, and whatever the pit else this blasted continent would throw at them, he expected to lose plenty more before they could meet up with Ibana. But having his feet on firm ground again felt good. At least he was in control of his own fate again. “Everyone has their armor?”

“They do. Markus has loaded up Amrec. Sunin is helping Celine get Margo saddled.”

“Saddles stay dry?

A nod. “Sunin dropped her carbine. I had to give her one of the extras.”

Styke rolled his eyes. “Why is she so old?”

“I think…”

“It was a rhetorical question.” He looked around until he found Ka-poel and Celine sitting on the opposite bank of the inlet, then waded over to them. Even after two weeks of rest, Ka-poel looked thin and strung out, but her eyes were alert. She flashed a series of signs, most of which Styke followed. He let Celine translate anyway.

This looks like the Tristan Basin.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Styke felt something fly into his mouth and quickly spat it out. “Same shitty trees and bugs and snakes and…” He trailed off, spotting the eyes of another swamp dragon watching them from forty feet upstream. “Swamp dragons look a little different, though. Keep your eyes out for them. Some of the bigger ones won’t hesitate to snap at a man, and may even go for a horse.”

Ka-poel rolled her eyes. I know , Celine translated the next gesture.

“Right. You grew up in that shithole, didn’t you?” Styke glanced at the surrounding terrain. Despite the similarities, it was actually quite different from the Tristan Basin over in Fatrasta. While the Basin was very flat with thick, almost impassable flora, this swamp was littered with rocky outcroppings that ranged from boulders a few feet high to violent spines of rock that thrust above the mighty cypress trees. They hadn’t even started their trip to the interior yet, but he could already tell that the rivers would be deeper, the lowlands unpredictable, and the terrain difficult for horses. “Just keep your eyes out for swamp dragons,” he reiterated before turning back and wading to the longboats.

He cleared his throat loudly and gestured for the men to gather around, giving them a long, hard stare as they secured their horses, set aside inventory, and came to join him. He took a deep breath. Twenty men. Over a hundred miles of unpredictable swamp. This was going to be terrible.

“All right, here’s the plan. Some of you might have already heard – we made landfall because our alternative was running with Captain Bonnie all the way back to Starlight and trying, from there, to rendezvous with Ibana.” He gestured to Celine. “Bring me those maps,” and then continued speaking to the Lancers, “Dropping us here means we have a chance to cut across the interior a damned lot faster than three weeks.”

Someone coughed.

“Who was that?” Styke demanded. “Zac? Speak up.”

Zac coughed again and looked around sheepishly. The scout tried to find some sort of backup from his brother, but Markus just shook his head. “Uh, Ben,” Zac finally said. “Is this what the whole wilderness looks like?”

“As far as I know, yes.”

“There isn’t a damned way we’re going to make it a hundred miles much faster than twenty days, not in this terrain.”

Styke took the waxed leather map tube Celine stole from Captain Bonnie and popped the cap, then rummaged through the maps inside until he found the one he wanted. He spread it gently on the lip of the longboat, and everyone shifted to crowd around him. It was a map of a region in the northeast of Dynize called the Jagged Fens. “We’re here,” he said, pointing to a nondescript little inlet. “The rendezvous is here.” He tapped on another spot. On the map, the distance seemed negligible, but Zac was right; it would be impossible in these conditions. “You see this?”

A few of the men leaned forward to squint at the paper. “Is that a road?” Markus asked.

“It’s a coastal highway cutting through the Fens.”

“This map is a century old,” Jackal pointed out quietly. “Is the road even there anymore?”

It better be , Styke thought. This plan had sounded less crazy in his head back aboard the Seaward . Aloud, he said, “I don’t see why it wouldn’t be. We’re just a couple miles to the east. I figure we can get there by morning. Once we’re on packed dirt, we’ll be able to ride hard to meet up with the rest of the Lancers. There are a handful of small towns between us and them. Worst case, we throw on our armor and ride through.”