Page 320 of The Priory of the Orange Tree

There would be black powder on that ship. Lots of it. She took a huge breath and swam downward.

When the ship exploded, she felt the flash of heat through the water. Foul orange light stained the Abyss. The force of it took hold of her and spun her off-course. She kicked back, blinded by her own hair. As she neared theDefiance, she surfaced.

Black smoke swelled from the flaming carcass of the ship. For a moment, Tané could only stare at the destruction.

The black High Western settled on the ruins as though they were a throne. Flesh-fed and banded with muscle, it was a grotesque size. The spikes on its tail were each ten feet long.

Fýredel.

“Sabran Berethnet.” His voice bled with hatred. “My master comes for you at last. Where is the child that will keep him at bay?”

As he mocked the Queen of Inys, a Seiikinese elder dragon, glowing all over, shattered the surface of the Abyss. One great leap took him high over theDancing Pearlto catch a wyvern in his mouth. Lightning flashed between his teeth. His eyes shone blue-white. Tané saw the wyvern erupt into white flame before the dragon plunged back into the sea, taking his trophy with him. Fýredel watched the display with bared teeth.

“Dranghien Lakseng.” The name boomed across the water. “Will you not show your face?”

Tané kept swimming. The cannons of theDefianceseemed as loud as the thunder. She found the handholds and climbed.

“Behold the Roar of Hróth, who hides in the snow,” Fýredel sneered, exposing his teeth again. Cannons barked from theBear Guardin answer. “Behold the Warlord of Seiiki, who preaches unity between human and sea-slug. We will throw down your guardians and scatter them like sheep, as we did centuries ago. We will leave black sand from shore to shore.”

Tané reached the deck of theDefiance. Seiikinese soldiers wielded longbows and pistols. An arrow skittered off a wyvern. She pulled a sword from the hand of a dead woman. Somewhere in the night, a dragon was keening.

“Gone are the days of heroes,” Fýredel said. “From North to South and West to East, your world will burn.”

Tané took the rising jewel from its case. If Kalyba was close, she would be drawn to its power.

Sterren punched through the waves like a needle through silk and drew them like a shroud over Fýredel. He launched himself skyward with a snarl, droplets raining off his wings, scales billowing steam.

“Black sails, west sou’west!” came a shout.

In the distance, through the haze of smoke, Tané could see them.

“Yscali ensign,” the captain of theReconciliationbellowed. “The Draconic Navy!”

Tané counted them. Twenty ships.

Another wyvern swooped, and she rolled behind a mast. A full line of archers fell to its tail. A soldier hurled his halberd at the creature, straight into its haunch.

An archer was slumped over the gunwale, bones shattered. Tané shoved the jewel away and took his bow and quiver. Four arrows left.

“Fire-breather,” the lookout above her roared. “Port, port!”

The remaining archers turned and drew while matchlocks were reloaded. Tané nocked an arrow of her own.

A second High Western, pale as a crane, came out of the night. Tané watched the wings fold inward, the scales change seamlessly to skin, the green eyes gain their whites, and black hair flow where horns had been. By the time it landed on theDefiance, the wyrm had become the same woman Tané had seen in Lasia. Red lips closed over the last flicker of a forked tongue.

“Child,” Kalyba said in Inysh, “give me that jewel.”

Something in Tané urged her to obey.

“It is not a weapon. It is the imbalance.” The witch stalked toward her. “Giveit to me.”

Shaken, Tané pulled back her bowstring and forced herself not to look at what Kalyba held. The blade was the bright, pure silver of a star.

Ascalon.

“A bow. Oh, dear. Eadaz should have warned you that you cannot kill a witch with a splinter of wood. Or fire.” Kalyba kept striding toward her, naked, eyes wild. “I should have expected this defiance from the seed of Neporo.”

With every step Kalyba took across the deck, Tané took one away from her. Soon she would run out of ship. The bow was useless—her enemy could shape-shift away from an arrow in a heartbeat, and it was clear the sword could transfigure with her. When it was in her hand, it was like another limb.

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