Boats hit sand; hooves hit ground. Breyr’s group piled out of their transports onto the unoccupied beach. Far around the curve of the harbor, the sounds and flashing lights of fire and steel broke the night air as the pirates fell upon the camel ships, but Breyr’s immediate surroundings were calm.
“There, boss,” said Zillian, pointing north, to a warehouse near the last long piers of the harbor. “How’s that for a target?”
“Sir,” reminded Breyr. He squinted into the dark, immediately spying the camels Zillian was pointing at. It was a small team, perhaps one of their advance landing parties. They were standing near the entrance to one of the innumerable storehouses that lined the docks, hammering on the door with a ram. “Yes, there must be Zyrans inside that building. Everyone, tight on me.”
His team, thirty zebras strong, fell in behind him. They swiftly cantered along the pavement, weapons at the ready. The black-and-navy-blue uniforms concealed their stripes handily in the darkness. As they drew closer to the Dromedarian shore party, Breyr’s group slipped across the street, steering down the bank of the shoreline from the road, staying concealed from the enemy sentries.
Coming to a halt, barely ten meters away from the camels and hidden only by the slight slope of the beach and the darkness, Breyr waved his hoof in a signal to halt. The zebras crouched around him, machetes and knives at the ready.
He studied the camel group. Two were standing guard, their spears locked upward in a rest position. Another pair held the ram, sitting on either side of it and using both of their front feet to swing it in metronomic rhythm against the door. Another dozen lounged beside them, most speaking quietly to each other or turning their heads toward the commotion further down the harbor. Breyr spared a glance in that direction and was gratified to see that three of the camel ships had already erupted into a blazing conflagration.
Breyr nodded to Zillian, pointing a hoof at the rightmost sentry, the one furthest from the main group. Zillian hefted one of his throwing axes in his mouth, swinging another idly from a leather strip on his left hoof. Breyr lifted a foreleg, waiting for the right moment.
It came when the other sentry looked down to scratch his foot with the butt of his spear. Breyr jerked his hoof, and the throwing axe instantly flew through the air to thud home into the first camel’s chest. The second axe caught the other sentry in the throat before the first one’s spear had even hit the ground.
The camels barely had time to register that their comrades had fallen before Breyr’s force fell upon them. The black-clad pirates dashed across the street in silence, blades and bludgeons whipping forward. No war-cries from this lot; for the final stage of his plan, Breyr had picked the most hardened, professional killers he could find among the Pit Vipers. Caught off-guard, the Dromedarians were utterly demolished in moments.
While his zebras wiped down their blades, Breyr stepped up to the door and knocked. “Hello? Anyone left alive in there?”
After a few moments of quiet, a trembling voice responded. “Wh-who’s that?”
“I’m Acting-Captain of the frigate Falerian.”
“The Falerian? I thought Zamellik was the captain of that ship.”
Breyr gave a weary, regret-filled sigh. “He was.”
Zillian, who had retrieved his axes and was swinging them jauntily, began to whistle. Breyr glared in his direction. Shape up, he mouthed at the zebra, who gave him a sheepish nod and stowed the blades.
Restraining the urge to roll his eyes, Breyr turned back to the door. “We were sabotaged. A traitor in our crew blew the whole ship to hell. Some of us managed to swim back to the island. I’m just a Commander, but now… I’m the highest-ranking officer left, as far as we’ve been able to tell.”
He ought to be, anyway. The agents who’d set off the barrels had also been instructed to ensure that their commanding officers “drowned” in the confusion of the sinking. Not all could have been successful, but enough surely had been.
“An all-too familiar story,” sighed the voice. “Let me get this door open.” With a rattling of the lock, the door swung inward to reveal a haggard-looking zebra. Behind her, Breyr could see dozens more, many with light wounds, and even more with shadows under their eyes. The zebra in front snapped him a salute. “Corporal Zelly at your service, sir. I didn’t catch your name…?”
Breyr returned the salute with a nod. “Call me Breyr.” His true name was only a liability in Sleipnord, after all. He wasn’t going to rule Zyre under a pseudonym. When King Eberhardt and all the thanes who’d turned on him learned of his new position, he wanted it to burn them.
“A Nordpony,” said the zebra, her eyebrows rising and a faint smile creeping onto her face. “Well, we may just survive the night after all. Come on out, everyone.” The other zebras began to exit the building, uncertain hope on their faces as they met Breyr’s crew.
“How’d you end up in that warehouse, Corporal?”
The zebra’s mouth twisted unhappily. “Like I said, your story’s a familiar one. One of my ship’s crew set off some sort of explosion in the hull. I think the same happened to all of us. There are survivors here from at least four frigates. We managed to get to the shore and hide before the camels reached us, but we were too exhausted from the swimming to fight.”
Breyr’s lips pursed. “And now?”
“I’ve had a rest,” said Zelly, her eyes burning. “I’m ready to give these camels a taste of steel.” She stomped her hoof, her hoof-mace ringing off the paving stones.
“Good.” Breyr pointed to the flaming ships in the bay. “We’re avoiding that, for now. If the camels and their thugs want to have it out, I say let them.”
“Their thugs?”
“Yes, those Pit Viper bastards. The lot of them showed up not long ago.” Breyr frowned. Much later than expected, thanks to the camels, Zevan, and that damnable Metrel tripping the signal early. “They seem to be fighting each other. Perhaps the pirates want to loot the city in the chaos? It doesn’t matter right now. We’ve got to get into the Serabine district before the camels do.”
Zelly blinked in confusion. “The upper class estates? Why?”
“If all of us fell prey to inside traitors, then this isn’t an invasion,” said Breyr.
“A coup,” she hissed. “Zahira! We’ve got to save her and the oligarchs. All right, we’ll come with you and—”
Another zebra strode up beside her and placed a hoof on her shoulder, frowning. “Hold on, Zelly.” He eyed Breyr suspiciously. “I haven’t heard of any Nordponies in the Navy.”
Breyr immediately spotted the silver circlet around his fetlock. “There aren’t many of us. I’m not surprised you haven’t met one before—especially as you’re not in the Navy, are you, Officer?”
The Watchzebra’s brows furrowed. “No, but you’ll pardon me for being a bit suspicious of newcomers. I’ve lost a lot of friends to treason tonight.”
Internally, Breyr steadied himself. This had always been the most hazardous moment of the plan—gaining the Zyrans’ trust. Once he’d killed Zahira’s bureaucrats and his own backers placed him in charge, he wouldn’t need to sweet-talk this rabble into supporting him, but until then it was vital that he did.
He summoned up an air of soul-worn weariness. “As have I, Officer. My—” He took a shaky breath. “My nephew. He was stationed on the Falerian with me. I’d actually… pulled some strings to get him there. I thought I could help him… perhaps advance his career. And now, because of me…” He looked away, swallowing.
Zelly gave him a sympathetic nod. “I’m sorry, Breyr.”
“Hrm,” said the Watchzebra, his eyes narrowing to slits.
Breyr looked at the zebra with buried grief in his eyes, but felt his spine tense up. If this zebra forced his hoof, he was willing to kill the lot of them and find more Zyrans to start over, but he was hoping it wouldn’t come to that. This was taking long enough already.
With a frown, Zelly plucked the other zebra’s hoof off of her shoulder. “Don’t be such an insensitive ass, Zeke. They’re obviously no friends of the camels.” She swept a hoof around at the dead Dromedarians. “Come on, we’ve got to get into the city. The Watch wanted to take most of the nobles to one area, right?”
“Yes…” said Zeke, like the words were being pulled from his teeth. “Commissioner Zireena had us move them to the Marquis’ manor. The logic then was that they’d be easier to protect in a single location, especially on that hill. But—”
Breyr let his face open in unexpected hope. “They’re being guarded by the Watch? Excellent. We might be able to reach them in time, then.” And more importantly, they’re all in one place, ripe for a culling. Exactly as he and Zireena had planned it.
Zeke looked around at Breyr’s crew, his eyes falling on Captain Zillian’s bloodied axes and his frown deepening. “Zelly, I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
A new voice suddenly carried over the bustle of the two parties. “You always have a bad feeling, Zeke,” came the dry tones of Commissioner Zireena.
She was trotting toward them with considerable speed from the south, the volcano looming large behind her. Breyr turned to her with one of his rare genuine smiles. “Commissioner! I hadn’t expected to see you so soon.” His smile faltered as he saw the strained look on her face.
Zireena reached their group, exhaling heavily. “Zeke, this is Commander Breyr. You’re right, there are a lot of traitors around tonight, but not Breyr. We’ve worked together before. You can trust him.”
Zeke nodded, saluting. “Of—of course, Commissioner. It’s good to see you alive, ma’am.”
Zireena gave him a nod with a tired half-smile. She looked back to Breyr. “You have a plan?”
“Yes. We must reach the oligarchs and cut out the traitors before they and their camel allies can complete their coup. All of you, get ready to move. We’re on a tight schedule now.”
The zebras milled around, tightening breastplates and stripping the fallen camels of any bandages or other supplies they carried. Breyr pulled Zireena to the side, glancing up at the fading column of green smoke on the mountain above. He leaned close to her. “So,” he whispered into her ear, “is it done?”
Zireena avoided his eyes. “Zahira’s alive.”
Breyr felt a cold pit in his stomach. “What?” he hissed. “You had one job, Zireena. I can’t imagine she put up that much of a fight.”
“Enough of a fight to kill Milliden,” muttered Zireena. “She set him on fire and threw him off of a building.”
That was enough to shock even Breyr. He blinked, momentarily dumbfounded. “Even so, you should have been able to—”
“I tried. She was rescued,” said Zireena, biting back a snarl. “It was Tatius Gableclaw, a rogue officer of the Watch, and that damnable pegacorn ambassador. Where’d he come from, anyway? I thought your people had killed him.”
Breyr’s icy eyes turned sharp as daggers. “Strudel?”
“Yes. He was up on that tower, trying to talk Zahira into helping him. Nearly succeeded, too,” said Zireena with a shudder. “For a moment, I thought she was going to turn on me.”
Breyr stood quietly, his blood pumping with sudden vigor. He’s ruining my plans yet again, he thought, feeling a fuzzy rumble of rage building at the edges of his consciousness. No. Not this time, Strudel.
“Take some of my crew,” he ordered under his breath. “Zillian and fifteen others. Head back the way you came and intercept the Marquis. If she reaches the manor before we do, this entire operation will have been for nothing. Kill her.”
“All right,” said Zireena, grimly nodding. “What about Tatius and Strudel?”
“Kill them all,” said Breyr, jerking the collar of his uniform. “And when you’re done, cut off the pegacorn’s wings. I’ll pay you six hundred florins for each.”
Poorly hiding her distaste, Zireena nodded. “I’ll get it done.”
“You’d better,” said Breyr, striding away from her. He called out, “All right, time to move. We’ll check a few more warehouses for more survivors, but then it’s straight on to the Marquis’ manor.”
“Yes, sir!” said Zelly, throwing a salute. She waved, and the zebras began to follow her forward. Breyr joined her at the head of the group, turning only slightly to catch a glimpse of Zireena and a group of his zebras vanishing into the city streets behind them.
* * *
Tyria jerked awake, gasping in pain and pressing a hoof to her eye. How long had she been out? The last thing she remembered was rowing, the tiny shape of the Copperhead vanishing into the moonlit distance…
She must have lost consciousness—from blood loss, or simple exhaustion? At this point, it was a coin toss. Tyria adjusted her hat with a weary sigh. Reaching down, she rested her hooves on the oars.
One hoof, anyway. Tyria cast about for the other oar, and realized that it was gone. She grabbed the side of the boat and craned her head around, searching the water for it, swearing to herself. It had slipped away during her unplanned nap, and now she couldn’t see it anywhere.
Nothing for it, now. She gave a resigned sigh, yanking the remaining oar out of its socket. Awkwardly grasping it near the middle, she bent over the side of the boat to use it like a paddle. Canoes were one of the few aquatic craft that had never been part of her training, but the principle seemed simple enough.
She struggled on for a few minutes, swapping sides and straining against the seawater, working up a profuse sweat. Panting for breath, she paused, glancing up at the island. It didn’t seem to be getting any closer. In fact, it seemed smaller now than it had when she’d been aboard the Copperhead.
The tide was going out, she realized, and carrying her with it. Her nearly-crippled attempts at locomotion weren’t enough to overcome the inexorable flow of the sea.
Tyria tossed the oar down into the bottom of the boat with an aggravated sigh, flopping onto her back. What now? She couldn’t possibly swim that distance in this state; she hadn’t come this far just to drown herself. If only she’d brought her airstar with her… Alas, it was still back in that cabin on the Adder’s Bite along with the bag of money, both now completely useless.
She gazed up at the sky, looking into the piercing eye of the Mare in the Moon. “Any advice, Goddess?” she asked dryly, but the dark princess gave no answer. Probably for the best.
With another sigh, she pulled off her hat, spinning it around on her hoof the way Zevan did. So much for his “lucky” hat, she thought. Maybe it was Zevan himself carrying all the good fortune. How else could he have steered them through the Maw?
Tyria yawned, resting her head back against the bottom of the boat with a clunk. Would anyone notice her out here for a rescue? She supposed that eventually the tide would carry her back in to the island. By that time, all the fighting would be long over.
She could get into the water and kick the boat forward, climb into it when she needed to rest… but gods, did she need to rest already. Her eyes fluttered closed. The lapping waves against the sides of the boat were like a lullaby, softly soothing to her ears. She rocked gently on the water, slipping slowly into dreamless sleep.
As she drifted on the edge of consciousness, there was a BANG, and the boat tipped violently. Tyria jerked upright, slapping her hat back on with one hoof and grabbing the side of the boat in alarm. The rocking continued for a few moments, until the boat settled.
Did I hit a reef? Tyria scanned the water below her boat, but saw nothing. Looking up, she caught sight of a triangular gray fin cutting through the water’s surface away from her boat, and she swallowed. No, much worse.
It seemed the hundreds of shipwrecked Zyrans had finally begun to draw predators. It was going to be one grisly feeding frenzy once the first kill was made and blood got into the water. Looks like my kicking plan is out.
Of course… where there’s smoke, there’s fire, and where there are sharks… A faint hope sprang to life. She leaned over the side of the boat, looking around, trying to see through the water. It was like a mirror under the white shine of the moon, completely opaque. Her own reflection stared back at her, bruised and bloody. Tyria grimaced, turning away from it.
She didn’t see a single sign of any seaponies, but she didn’t have any better plans. Cupping her hooves to her mouth, she called out as loud as she could, “Meri!”
There was no reply. Tyria waited in the rocking boat, listening intently, but all she heard was the gentle rolling of the waves. “Meri! Meri, is that you out there? It’s Tyria!”
She called for another few minutes, eventually stopping when her throat grew dry and her voice hoarse. Sighing with disappointment, she sat back down in the boat, kicking the oar.
“Hi, Tyria,” said a voice from behind her.
Whirling around, she found a teal pony with her forelegs crossed on the rim of the boat, a smile on her face. Meri winked. “Nice hat.”
“Meri!” Tyria grabbed the seapony, who twitched in surprise, and wrapped her in a hug. “Oh, Meri, thank the Sisters. What are you doing here?”
“It’s not just me,” said Meri, patting her on the back. She pulled away, slipping further back into the water. Tyria looked up and saw dozens of heads popping up around her boat, all at a less intimate distance. “All of us are here. Even my uncle.”
Indeed, one of the heads was a very worried-looking Keron. He gave Tyria a stiff nod. Meri’s smile grew firm. “I told you, remember? Call upon the seaponies, and we will answer.”
“You had to have started swimming a long time before I started calling,” said Tyria, grinning.
“Well, yes,” said Meri, with a small laugh. “We left the same day I returned to New Phoenixia. The direct route here from the city is a lot faster than going around Zendruga, it turns out. Not to mention I didn’t have to carry anyone, this time…”
She took a deep breath. “After all that talk about war and politics… I thought maybe you and Rye could use some more help. Uncle Keron didn’t want us to come, but…” Her eyes twinkled and her smile sharpened. “That’s not his decision anymore.”
Tyria gave a low whistle. Oh, to be an underwater fly on the wall when that argument happened. “And whose is it?”
Another familiar pony surfaced beside the boat. Tyria did her best not to recoil at the sight of Berin’s mutated visage, but his crab mandible was terrifying in the pale moonlight. His eyes, however, were calm and proud. “Tha would be my dawt’r,” he said. He’d clearly begun to learn to speak around his alterations; he was far more understandable now than he’d been when they first met. “She’sh righ, we can’ sit in tha reef all our lifesh.”
“So,” said Meri, redrawing Tyria’s attention, “how can we help?”
“The Zyrans,” said Tyria immediately. “There’s got to be at least half a thousand of them shipwrecked around the bay. Clinging to debris, treading water, who knows—point is, some of them might still be alive. You’ve got to save them, Meri, as many as you can.”
The seapony nodded. “We’ll see them safely to shore.” She turned and issued a few whistles and chirps. The seaponies behind her dove into the water and vanished. Meri looked back to Tyria. “What about you? That eye doesn’t look good.”
“It’s nothing,” said Tyria, wearily sitting back. “The Zyrans are more important right now. I’ll have a doctor look me over, when all of this is done.”
Meri’s brows furrowed with concern. “That’s a lot of blood, Tyria…”
“Dry blood. If I was going to bleed to death, I’d have done so an hour ago. Go on, they’re going to need your help, too.”
“I’m not leaving you alone.” Meri looked to her father. “Stay with her, please.”
He nodded with a smile. Meri gave them both a nod, then vanished beneath the water. Tyria watched the ripples spread across the surface before they were wiped away by a wave, and inhaled thoughtfully. “Well, Rye, looks like your seed’s sprouted…”
Berin barked an approving laugh. “I wash prou’ when she helpe’ you two againsht my brother’sh wishesh. Eve’ moresho now.”
Tyria watched splashes of water in the distance, as the seaponies got to work. Could they rescue enough Zyrans to make a difference? Was the battle even still going? The camels might have won already, if Zevan had been right… She bit her lip, watching the entrance to the harbor, all thoughts of sleep wiped from her mind.
* * *
Zanaya’s sense of unease had been growing ever since they’d left the embassies. Her group, still led by the Marquis, had not yet encountered any resistance on their way toward the docks. The streets had been deserted all the way from Jellico Avenue to Vallum Street, nearly halfway to the harbor.
They were coming up on the edge of the market district, where Mykon Street—the main thoroughfare that led to the piers—began. Zanaya gritted her teeth anxiously, wondering when they would finally encounter the camels or the pirates. The clinking of the manacles still tied around her neck was beginning to set her on edge.
“Lots of fires down there,” said Tatius, breaking the silence.
“Burning ships,” said Zanaya. “Rye said that the camels and pirates would turn on each other… I guess he was right.”
“More time for us,” said the Marquis. “Keep moving.”
They reached the corner that would turn onto Mykon Street, and Zanaya held up a hoof. “Hold on.”
“We haven’t got a moment to waste, Officer,” said Zahira, pushing past her.
“Wait, Madame—” With a frustrated sigh, Zanaya trotted after her. “Madame, this road’s an excellent place for an ambush. We should take a back way, through the alleys.”
“It would take too long. That snake Viridian is down there right now, and I’m not letting him get away.” She continued on, ignoring Zanaya’s protests.
Reluctantly, Zanaya followed. The next several minutes were an exercise in growing paranoia, until she was searching every shadowed corner for assassins as they passed.
Just as she was beginning to think that perhaps the Marquis was right, and that the camels were still busy down in the bay, she heard something crash to the ground with a noise like shattering ceramic. Zanaya hissed, “Everyone, freeze.”
The group held still as if they were made of stone. All eyes darted around, looking for the source. Zanaya turned her head ever so slightly to the right, eyeing the alley that the sound had come from. Beckoning one of the griffon guards to follow her, she crept toward it.
There was a ladder in the alleyway, leaning up against the left building, and a broken shingle lying on the ground. Zanaya’s eyes turned up toward the roof, pointing silently. The griffon nodded, and his wings sprung out. The guard shot upward, and there was a surprised yelp from above. “Wait!”
Zanaya recognized the voice instantly, her mouth gaping in surprise. “Hold on, she’s a friend!”
The griffon fluttered back, tilting his head in impatience, but Zanaya beamed upward. A moment later, Captain Petalbloom’s head appeared over the edge of the roof. “Detective!”
“Good to see you,” said Zanaya. “I thought maybe those zebras had caught you.”
“No, but it was a close thing,” said Petalbloom, scrambling down the ladder. Her hooves thudded to the ground. “They were tenacious. They’ve been on my tail for nearly an hour. I finally managed to lose them about fifteen minutes ago by going all the way down to the docks. The fighting there was just starting in earnest, so they either got caught up in it or were scared off.”
“What were you doing up on the roof?”
“I’ve been moving from place to place. Partly to hide, partly to look for you.” She looked over Zanaya’s shoulder. “Is the Marquis safe?”
“Yes.” Zanaya began to trot out of the alley. “And we’re in a bit of a rush, so come on.”
As they rejoined the main group, Marquis Zahira gave Petalbloom a suspicious look. “Captain.”
“Hello, Madame,” said the captain with a tired yet sunny smile. “Glad to see you’re still breathing.” Zahira replied with a curt nod. Petalbloom looked around, her smile turning to a frown. “Where’s Ambassador Strudel?”
“We… lost track of him. I’m not sure where he ran off to.” Zanaya’s heart thudded painfully, trying not to think about why he’d left.
“Why in the world would he—” Petalbloom sighed. “I swear, he wanders more than a foal in a toy store. I suppose we’ll have to get Tyria to hunt him down for us, she seemed to be rather good at it.”
Zanaya swallowed. “About Tyria…”
“Yes? Where is she, anyway? Poor girl’s got to be terrified. She’s always been shy, but trapped in a city under siege…”
“She’s…” Zanaya found that she wasn’t ready to deal with it after all. “She’s not in danger anymore. I’ll explain later.”
“Right, then,” said Petalbloom. “If we hurry, we might be able to join up with that group of Zyrans I passed on the way here.”
Marquis Zahira’s eyes sharpened. “What group?”
“They were about thirty strong when I left, but maybe they’ve picked up more since then. They were tangling with a group of camels they’d run into. Someone’s getting them organized, I saw a stallion at the front spurring them on.”
Zahira sucked in air through her teeth. “What color were his eyes?”
“No idea. I didn’t get a close look at him; I wasn’t going to get risk getting dragged into the fighting before I found you again.”
“Where were they?”
“Not far, about half a kilometer that way.” Petalbloom pointed down the street.
Without another word, Zahira charged off. The rest of them raced to catch up, as Zanaya wondered how a zebra with a broken leg could move so fast.
* * *
“Quiet,” said Corporal Zelly, holding up a hoof to her mouth. Breyr slashed his own hoof in the air behind them, and the chatter of the zebras instantly silenced.
His force had grown twice more in the last half hour, picking up another group who they’d found locked in a fight with some camels and a complement of Watchzebras who’d been busy barricading the roads. Nearly sixty zebras and a smattering of ponies now followed him, including those of his original team that had not left with Zireena.
“What is it?” he asked Zelly.
“Up ahead. I heard glass breaking.”
Breyr made a stay here gesture. “I’ll check it out. Stay here. I’ll signal if I need help.”
“Yes, Commander Breyr.” Zelly nodded. “Be careful.”
Silently, he crept ahead through the darkened streets, turning the corner and spotting the source of the commotion.
A group of green-swathed Pit Vipers had smashed in the windows of a jewelry store. They were still mingling around the storefront, decking themselves out with gaudy gold necklaces and gems.
“Pity we don’t have a chest on hoof,” said one, laughing, “There’s more in here than we can haul out just by ourselves…”
Breyr strode up to them, scowling. One of the zebras noticed him and snapped into a combat stance, whipping out his dagger, but then his eyes widened. “Boss!”
All the Vipers' attention turned toward him. Breyr came to a halt in front of the gathering. “What are you doing?”
“Looting the city, boss, just like you said.” The zebra grinned, lifting a silver broach with an emerald the size of a chicken egg. “Check this out. That’s got to be worth at least four hundred florins, yeah?”
“I didn’t say loot the city, I said kill the camels. You can steal at your leisure once they’re all dead. Why aren’t you at the docks?”
The zebra shrugged. “Figured we could get a good head start on the fun bit.”
Breyr took a deep breath. “I have no use for tools that don’t work.”
The zebra’s eyes drew together in bafflement. “Huh?”
Breyr flung a punch at the zebra’s face, knocking him to the ground. “ZELLY!”
The roar of a crowd broke the night, and sixty Zyrans charged around the street corner. The pirates’ eyes shot wide and they dropped their jewelry. Most were still scrambling for their weapons or fleeing when the Zyrans fell upon them.
As the last straggler fell, Zelly clapped Breyr on the back. “You all right, Commander?”
“Yes, thank you. I wouldn’t have been able to take them all myself.” Breyr dusted his shoulder. “We can’t stop now,” he said, looking up at the outline of the Marquis’ manor on the hill. It was less than a kilometer away. “Keep moving!”
His prize had never been closer. Even if the commissioner failed, Zahira would never reach them in time now. Breyr watched the manor with hungry eyes.
* * *
Zanaya was still alert for an ambush, but it was Tatius’s keen griffon eyes that spotted the group first. “Look!” he said, pointing with a claw.
She squinted into the night, barely making out a rapidly approaching party of zebras.
“Those are Navy uniforms,” said Tatius, with relief in his voice. “I don’t see any ponies in there, though—not the group you’re looking for, Marquis.”
Zahira cantered to the front again, leading the way toward the Zyrans. “Soldiers! I am your Marquis! I need a report on the situation in the bay, immediately. What the hell’s going on down there?”
They were close enough now for Zanaya to see the blue-and-black uniforms worn by the group—all but one. An unclad zebra stepped out of the crowd, leaning her head idly. “Don’t worry, Marquis Zahira,” she said laconically. “It’s all under control.”
Zanaya’s eyes shot wide. Zireena. She dove for the Marquis, screaming “Get down!”
An axe came whistling out of the formation of zebras, grazing Zanaya’s mane as she tackled Zahira to the ground. The zebras ahead of them charged forward, suddenly bearing a lethal array of weaponry.
Zanaya threw the Marquis backward. “Tatius, get her out of here!”
Aetia and the two griffon guards flew past her. Petalbloom and Zanaya rushed forward with them, hoof-maces at the ready. There were too many, she thought frantically, almost two dozen armed zebras against the five of them. The best they could do would be to buy Zahira time to escape.
The first zebra she met swung a machete at her head, which Zanaya slapped aside with her hoof-mace. She slammed her shoulder into the imposter Zyran, but was immediately forced to retreat by another one with a truncheon. Beside her, one of the griffon guards was tangling with two of them at once, dodging their blades but unable to get any hits in.
Tatius took to the air, hauling the Marquis with him. He flew over the group, his wings straining and soot flying. “Hold on,” he shouted to his charge, “we’ll head for the—”
Another axe came soaring out of the group, spinning through the air. It flew right past the Marquis’ head, sinking deep into Tatius’s chest. With a cry of pain, the griffon’s wings went slack, and he and the Marquis crashed to earth in a tumble of feathers.
Zanaya shoved through the fight, bulling forward and knocking aside zebras as she went. One slashed at her, scoring a light wound with his knife, and Zanaya gasped. She pushed on, using the tangle of confused combatants to her advantage as they got in each other’s way. She burst out of the other side of the melee and sprinted toward her fallen companions.
Tatius wasn’t moving, but Zahira was scrambling to get away. Zanaya helped her to her hooves, and the two of them turned briefly to see the zebras chasing them.
“Run,” said Zanaya, stepping forward.
“On this leg? I won’t make it fifty meters.”
Zanaya didn’t have time to argue. The zebras were coming fast. She braced herself.
Something rocketed down from above, a golden flash smashing to the ground between them like a meteor. Everyone paused, the sounds of the fight vanishing for a brief moment. Zanaya blinked in shock, taking in the new arrival. “Wheatie?”
Wheatie turned his head and flashed her a tight smile. Then, so fast she could barely follow it, he exploded forward.
He collided with the zebras. Zanaya thought she’d seen him fight before, in that little tussle at the brothel. Now, her eyes as wide as saucers, she realized that he’d been holding back against those poor guards. That hadn’t been real combat at all.
Wheatie’s hoof took the first zebra in the head, then the chest, then the neck, all faster than a blink. He grabbed the zebra’s body and flung it sideways, knocking another one aside as he burst forward into a third, his golden-armored hooves moving like lightning. He hit the pirate so hard that the zebra’s head spun nearly a hundred degrees with a crunch, and followed through by sweeping his back hooves into the air to buck backwards against a fourth zebra with a bone-crushing blow to the chest.
Another came in with a blade, but it bounced off of Wheatie’s golden armor without leaving a mark. The Firewing locked his hooves around the zebra’s foreleg, twisting it hard with a snap and a cry of agony from the pirate. He whirled, hauling the zebra like a bludgeon, bowling over another one that was rushing in.
Only a few still fought with Petalbloom and the griffons; the rest had abandoned them to join in the brawl with the new, greater threat. Zanaya wanted to move in to help, but she held back, worried that she would simply be in the way of Wheatie’s dance of death.
He flowed like water around the zebras, vaulting over them and under them, breaking bones and sending them flying into each other with seeming ease. None of them seemed able to land a blow on him. Zanaya felt that same sense of transcendent awe she got when watching Tyria paint; the slow realization that one was in the presence of a master of their art.
Eight zebras had fallen to his hooves already, and the rest were pulling back in terror. Caught between the Firewing and the griffons, they searched for an escape. Petalbloom’s group held back, wounded but preventing the zebras from fleeing.
One zebra stepped out of the remaining group, squaring off with the Firewing. His eyes were slits, the axe in his mouth stained red with blood. It was the same make as the one that had downed Tatius, Zanaya noted.
Wheatie sprang forward, hooves locked, and the zebra barely whirled aside in time to dodge. His axe came down on Wheatie’s flank, bouncing off of the armor plate. Wheatie converted his dive into a roll, coming up facing the axe-zebra with a flourish of his wings and springing at him again.
The zebra ducked the first punch, sweeping his hooves against Wheatie’s to knock the Firewing off-balance. They connected, and Wheatie began to fall.
Wheatie slapped him in the face with a wing, seizing the momentum from the kick and spinning around to land a crushing hoof blow to the zebra’s back. The zebra smacked into the ground with a wheezing gasp. He rolled onto his back, slashing upward with his axe. The blade caught Wheatie’s breast, slashing into the blue star on the front of his armor and lodging there. The zebra jerked at it desperately, trying to yank the blade free. Wheatie tilted his head as if to say good try, and smashed his hoof down to end the fight.
Zanaya thought the rest of the pirates might surrender, but they apparently decided on one last try instead. Together, they rushed Wheatie, weapons raised.
Ten seconds later, all of them were dead.
Wheatie stood in the circle of bodies he’d created, taking off his helmet and setting it on the ground. He released a puff of air from his lungs. “I haven’t been in a fight like that since the war,” he said, sounding mildly out of breath.
Zanaya rushed forward, embracing him. “Wheatie!”
“Hey, Zan,” he said, hugging her back. “Good to see you. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to find you in the city, but the streets outside the harbor are deserted. You're the only ones out here.”
“Thank the gods you’re back. The Equestrian fleet, have they arrived?”
He shook his head, but the smile remained. “Not yet. They’re still several hours out. I decided I couldn’t wait any longer. The commander wasn’t happy, but he couldn’t stop me.” He looked around. “Where are Rye and Tyria?”
“They’re… busy,” said Zanaya, bowing her head. “Wheatie, we have to—”
“So!” said Zahira, from behind them. “Sergeant Specklestraw returns.”
“Yes, Madame,” said Wheatie, with a nod. “I see your rescue was a success.”
“More of a work in progress, really,” said the Marquis, glancing down the road toward the bay and the glowing orange fires beyond. “Now that the pirates have arrived, we’ve got more problems than ever.”
Wheatie’s eyebrows lifted. “Actually, that particular problem might be solving itself.” He jerked his head toward the bay. “When I flew in, I saw the pirate fleet peeling off from the city. They’re leaving.”
“What?” Zahira’s face scrunched up in bafflement. “But they’re still in the city!”
“Well, their ships aren’t sticking around to pick their crews back up. They all set sail a while ago. I could see the green flags on the masts as they left.”
“Did Viridian give up?” asked Petalbloom, striding up to them.
Zahira gave a sardonic laugh. “No. His cronies have. Unreliable bunch of brigands. Serves him right.”
Zanaya turned her head to speak to Zahira, and froze. Far behind the Marquis, moving very slowly down the shadowy street toward the docks, she spotted the dim outline of a striped figure. “ZIREENA!”
Dropping her hooves from Wheatie’s shoulders, she turned and galloped at full speed toward the commissioner. Casting a look over her shoulder, Zireena broke into a run, fleeing for her life. Zanaya’s hooves thudded on the cobblestones, closing the gap.
A golden blur flashed down in front of Zireena, and she skidded to a stop, recoiling with a howl of terror. “No! Please, please! Don’t kill me!”
Zanaya slid to a halt beside her, slapping her former commander with a hoof. Zireena gave a pitiful whimper, curling into a ball on the ground. “I’m not going to kill you,” said Zanaya, seething. She swung the manacles off of her neck, clapping one of them around Zireena’s left forehoof. “The Marquis wants you alive. You’ll get to spend plenty of time in a cell, don’t worry.”
Tears streaming down her face, Zireena nodded. “I surrender. Just please, please, keep that pony away from me.”
Wheatie stepped back, a faint smile on his face. “As you wish,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to scare the suspect.” He gave Zanaya a wink.
Managing a brief, wry smile for him, Zanaya turned back down to the traitor at her hooves. She was not in the mood to play good cop. “Viridian. Where is he?”
“I don’t know—”
Zanaya gave a short, exasperated sigh. “Wheatie.”
“I don’t know!” Zireena’s eyes bulged with panic. “Not for sure—last I saw him, he was at a warehouse by the docks, but he was moving on with a group of Zyrans. They were heading for the oligarchs at Zahira’s manor. They could be anywhere in between.”
Behind them, Zahira hissed through her teeth. “He’s going to behead my government.”
“Yes, that’s his plan,” said Zireena, nodding with frantic over-helpfulness. “They left a while ago; they might have already reached the hill.”
Marquis Zahira swore. She looked at Wheatie, biting her lip. “Sergeant Specklestraw, against my better judgement, I’m going to have to ask for Equestrian aid once again.”
“I’m happy to give it,” he said calmly. “To the manor?”
“Yes. We don’t have time to walk.” Zahira turned to the griffons. “You three, accompany me.”
Aetia shook her head. “I have to see to the ambassador.” She turned and ran back toward the aftermath of the fight.
“Fine. The two of you, then.” She beckoned to the guards, who nodded. Sighing, Zahira bent her head. “Sergeant?”
Wheatie bent a leg to allow the Marquis to clamber awkwardly onto his back, wrapping her forelegs around his neck. “Hold on tightly, Madame.” She nodded mutely.
Zanaya touched Wheatie’s hoof with a worried smile. “Be careful, soldier boy.”
He beamed, and leaned forward to kiss her. “Come find me at the embassy when this is all over.”
“You can bet on it,” she said, grinning and slapping his flank, her hoof ringing off the metal plate. Wheatie’s eyes flashed with amusement. Zahira made a disgusted noise.
With that exchange, they parted. Wheatie and the griffons shot into the air, rocketing away toward the Serabine district. Zanaya watched them go, sighing.
She looked back down to the pathetic, quivering lump that was Zireena. “Come on, Petalbloom,” she said, jerking the free end of the manacles. “Let’s get this traitor to a cell.”
As she and the captain hauled their prisoner upright and began leading her down the street in the direction of the Watch headquarters, Zanaya spotted Aetia walking toward them with a weary expression. Zanaya handed the chain to Petalbloom, who took it and continued on.
“How’s Tatius?” asked Zanaya quietly.
Aetia appeared to mull the question over, her eyes downcast. She shook her head. “The axe bounced off his clavicle, but on the way in it nicked an artery. He bled out in seconds.”
Zanaya’s shoulders fell. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” Aetia gave a slow sigh. “Perhaps it’s for the best. He would not have had a warm welcome, back home.”
“Yes, he mentioned…” Zanaya looked past the griffon, her eyes narrowing. “Aetia, where’d the body go?”
Aetia’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. “I took it out of the street. He doesn’t deserve to lie out here rotting like those filthy pirates. I’ll bury him later, when there’s time.”
Zanaya studied the griffon’s face carefully. “So…” The corner of her mouth curled upward. “He’s gone, then. Dead as a doornail. No point in telling the Watch to keep looking for him.”
A faint flicker of understanding entered Aetia’s eyes, and a wary smile found its way onto her face. “Absolutely.”
“Hmm.” Zanaya looked back over her shoulder, scanning the sky. It might have been her imagination, but she fancied she could see a faint dark smudge with wings among the stars, heading away from the city. “Where do you think he would have gone, if he’d lived?”
“Hard to say,” said Aetia, setting off after Petalbloom and Zireena. “It sounded like those pirate ships were turning tail and heading as far away from Zyre as they could get. A new identity on one of those… a good way to hide from both the Gryphans and the Zyrans, don’t you agree?”
Zanaya followed her, smirking.
* * *
Breyr’s hooves thudded on the hillside path. Above, the manor waited. Behind, his force of zebras followed in a long formation.
Corporal Zelly kept pace beside him, peering up at their destination. “I think we made it in time, sir,” she said, her words punctuated by the rumbling of hooves. “I haven’t seen any camels since that last group at the edge of the markets.”
“Good.” Breyr looked down at the bay, where all ships but one were guttering with flames. The Adder’s Bite. Breyr smiled thinly. Kind of you to leave my ship for me, Zevan. He wondered where the renegade captain had gone to, in all this chaos. That the ship was still here was surprising, he would have expected Zevan to give this city up for a lost cause long ago.
Zelly and the other Zyrans he’d assembled had proven a good investment. They’d run into a mob of camels nearly eighty strong, likely trying to beat him to the manor, and caught them from behind. The fighting had been brutal, but thanks to the zebras he’d duped into serving him, he’d come out on top once again.
Now, however, they could turn into a liability. The corporal would not take kindly to him slaughtering all the oligarchs not part of this coup in front of her.
“Zelly,” he said, as they neared the peak of the hill. “That camel group won’t be the last. You need to stay out here with the rest of our force and keep the hilltop secure.”
“Yes, sir. What about you?”
“I’ll take the rest of the Falerian crew inside and check on the oligarchs. We need to make sure that their guards weren’t traitors as well.”
Zelly looked ill. “Oh, gods… if they are, then we’re already too late.”
They reached the end of the path, arriving at last before the huge wooden structure. A tiny party of zebras waited for them there, standing at the entrance of the manor.
“Halt!” yelled one, his voice wavering with obvious fear. Breyr’s host came to a slow stop, spilling around to encircle the entrance.
The zebras before them all wore silver circlets. Zelly breathed a sigh of relief. “The Watch is still here, Commander.”
“But are they loyal?” whispered Breyr. He stepped forward. “Let us through, Officer.”
The zebra swallowed. “I can’t do that. Who are you?”
“Commander Breyr. I seem to be the last officer standing tonight. Step aside, we need to see that the oligarchs are safe.”
Nervously, the Watchzebras drew together, casting scared looks at the huge group of military Zyrans that had surrounded them. “Protocol says we can’t let anyone in, sir. Not even the military. Marquis Zahira and Commissioner Zireena wrote those rules up themselves.”
“Please,” said Zelly, lifting a supplicating hoof. “The whole city’s depending on us.”
“And it’s depending on us,” said the zebra, more firmly than his body language could back up. “The island’s full of traitors tonight. We’re not letting anyone past.”
“Yes,” said Breyr, scowling. “The city is full of traitors. How many loyal governors in there have you already murdered?”
The zebra was taken aback. “What?! We’re not—”
“They’re stalling us,” said Breyr, with a snarl. “They must be slaughtering them as we speak. Zelly!”
With grief in her eyes, Zelly nodded. “Please don’t make us fight you,” she said. “Just step aside.”
The head officer’s eyes narrowed. “No! Don’t listen to this madpony. If anyone’s a traitor here, it’s—”
Breyr roared, and thrust a hoof. “Forward! We must save the oligarchs!” His Zyrans knew he had the backing of their chief of police. He’d stopped pirates from looting their city. He’d led them through battle and saved them from the camels.
They followed his orders.
The Watchzebras fought back, but they were no match for dozens of war-bloodied military forces. The entire fight took less than a minute. When it was over, a small pile of bodies lay slumped on the steps of the manor.
Zelly, crestfallen, placed a hoof on one of the dead zebras’ shoulders. “Why…?” she asked, her voice cracking. “How’d the camels turn so many? Even the Watch…”
“Corporal Zelly, listen to me,” said Breyr, waving over the remaining members of his crew. “You have to guard the manor. Don’t let anyone in, even if they seem like friends.”
“That’s what he said,” she sniffed.
Breyr shuffled through the dead guard’s belongings, coming up at last with a ring of keys. “We can’t afford to trust anyone right now,” said Breyr. “We’ll figure out who’s a traitor and who’s not after the fighting is done.”
Closing her eyes, she nodded. “Go, Commander. See how many governors are left alive.”
Breyr fiddled with the key ring, testing each of them in turn. On the fourth, the door lock clicked open. He flung open the doors, entering the mansion with his coterie of disguised pirates. He nodded, and they shut the entrance behind them, twisting the lock back closed.
The foyer was beautiful. Breyr admired the diamond-patterned hardwood flooring and the lush red carpeting on the grand staircase. All mine, soon enough.
The oligarchs were gathered in the room, nearly thirty zebras all together. Ministers of trade, grain, and war; the levers of power. Most were garbed in fine robes. None carried weapons. All of them watched the new arrivals with trepidation.
Breyr walked calmly further into the room, looking around at them. “Is everyone here?” he asked.
One of the zebras gazed into his bright blue eyes and smiled. “Ah, you’ve arrived. Yes, we’re all here.” He reached into the pocket of his robes and withdrew a long length of green cloth. He wrapped it around his neck like a scarf.
Others followed suit, standing back from their fellows. The oligarchs without any scarves looked around in confusion. “What’s the meaning of this?” asked one, drawing her robes tight across her chest. She was the chancellor who governed the Zyran outposts in the Zerubian Isles, judging from the insignia on her clothing. “Who are you?”
Breyr allowed himself a leering smile. “You may have heard my name before, Chancellor. A very special shade of green.”
The zebra paled. “Viridian?”
“Vipers,” said Breyr, lifting a hoof. “Get to wor—”
There was a BANG on the door. The wood shook a few more times, as all heads turned toward it. The lock rattled.
What was that corporal doing? It wasn’t like she’d get the door open without a key, and he had the only one besides Zahira’s—
The lock clicked. The door swung in, and a zebra strode through flanked by a pony in golden armor and a pair of griffons. Zelly and several zebras followed them inside, the corporal’s face filled with glassy fury.
Breyr felt his blood turn to ice. “Y—”
“Quiet,” spat Zelly. “You’ve said enough.”
His gaze locked with Marquis Zahira’s, and Breyr’s spine chilled further. She was no Rye Strudel. There would be no naïve mercy here. The Marquis had death in her eyes.
Lost for words, he licked his lips. There was a frozen silence. His crew tensed, drawing their weapons.
Marquis Zahira raised a hoof, centered on his forehead. “Kill him.”
The room exploded. His pirates ran forward, the motley group of Zyrans and foreigners surging around the Marquis to meet them.
Breyr fled. He raced up the stairs, shoving aside one of the governors. His heart pounded madly in his chest as he swerved left, racing down the hallway.
No. NO! It was happening again, all his careful planning and madcap on-the-fly reactionary genius, the skills he prided himself on bringing him this far; they had come crashing up against the machinations of a single pony, shattering at his hooves and leaving him with nothing. Rye Strudel. Somehow he’d saved the Marquis, and foiled Zireena’s second attempt to kill her. He’d forced the camels to attack early, he’d ruined everything. EVERYTHING. This couldn’t be happening.
The sound of rushing air told him that Zahira’s pegasus was hot on his tail. Breyr dashed through a doorway, spinning around and slamming it shut behind him. He swiftly toppled a nearby dresser in front of the door, blocking it. The wood immediately buckled as the pony smashed into it. Blows pounded on the wood.
Panting, Breyr looked around. He was in a hallway, with four doors on either side. No room in this place would save him. His eyes fell instead on the window at the end of the hallway.
Sprinting to it, he heaved the bottom half of the window up, letting in the breeze. Sticking his head out, he looked around. Zelly’s military group was still gathered at the front of the building. There was no one below him.
It was a long drop, but he was out of options. Breyr delicately climbed over the windowsill, clinging to it for a moment of hesitation. Then the pegasus slammed on the door hard enough to splinter the wood beneath the hinges. Breyr let go.
He hit the ground hard, rolling down the hill to absorb some of the impact. The breath whooshed from his lungs as he slid to a stop. Staggering upright, he turned and began a limping canter into the night, down the hill.
Rye Strudel. Breyr wanted nothing more now than to find that half-breed and wring the life from him. Four long years he’d seethed and fumed in distant impotence, waiting for the opportunity to exact his revenge, and when he’d finally found the chance he’d let it slip through his hooves by playing mind games with that cunning little whore Metrel. That temporary satisfaction had cost him Strudel and his crown.
No more games. He’d find the pegacorn again, and this time he wouldn’t toy around. It was clear now that he’d tried to be too clever for his own good. Well, lesson learned, message received loud and clear; next time he’d go right for Strudel’s throat and tear it out with his own teeth.
But first, there had to be a next time. Breyr stumbled away from the hill, heading for the docks. The city was lost, now that Zahira had seized control of her forces back from him. His grand dream of ruling the Golden Isles was dying by the moment; but he still had ships and loyal crew. It was time for the Pit Vipers to leave. Perhaps they could start again elsewhere. Being lord of the pirates was a poor replacement for King of the Carriagibbean, but it would do until he found another opportunity to seize power somewhere.
It took him nearly half an hour to creep his way through the city streets toward the front lines of the harbor fighting. He was sure that by now that pegasus was lurking above, scouring the city below for him, so he stayed in the shadows and moved swiftly from building to building. At some point, he stripped out of the Zyran uniform. He left it behind in a muddy alleyway, spitting on it as he departed.
Twice, he had to avoid groups of camels. They looked ragged, most with wounds of varying severity. Their ships burned and their commanders dead, the camel forces had no doubt fallen into chaos, and were looking for places to hole up against the rallying Zyran military.
He found some Vipers at last, a small group sitting in the flickering light of the burning camel cruisers. Most of them were wounded, he noticed on his approach, which explained why they weren’t trying to push further into the city.
“Boss?” said one, her head lifting at his approach. The zebra smiled at him. “We thought the camels got you, boss!”
“Nearly,” he rasped. “Where are the rest of the Vipers?”
One of the other zebras grimaced. “The camels ripped us up bad. The fighting’s moved further into the city, but we lost at least a hundred in that first battle by the ships.” He sneered up at the flaming hulks behind him. “Got them all, though.”
“It’s time to go,” said Breyr, casting a wary look at the skies, searching for a glimmer of golden armor. He was relieved when he saw none. “We’ve failed. The Zyrans and the camels are too strong for us to fight both at once. Let’s take what loot we have and get out of here.”
“Way ahead of you,” said the mare. “We’ve been packing loot from the warehouses onto the Adder’s Bite down there in the harbor.” She pointed toward the ship, rocking gently at a pier three hundred meters away as if unconcerned by the burning cruisers or the shattered pieces of the Zyran Navy surrounding it. “We can get her ready to sail in a few minutes. How long before the rest of the Vipers get back?”
“They’re not coming,” said Breyr, setting off for the Bite. “If we wait, we die.”
The pirates followed, several of them limping. “You sure? Almost the whole gang’s still on the island.”
“We can find more recruits,” said Breyr. “There’s never a shortage of down-on-their-luck sailors looking for easy gold.”
The mare grinned. “Eh, true enough. Besides, the fewer ways to split the cargo…”
Breyr glowered as he trotted toward his ship. This isn’t over, Strudel. I will find you. And I will kill you.