Page 220 of The Cradle of Ice
All eyes turned to her.
She stared them down, unbending. “The imperium will not survive a thousand voices squabbling, nor even the five here. One must lead. Will you honor my father or dismiss him? I will abide by your decision but will not tolerate waffling. Either you all agree or none.”
Sail Garryn did not hesitate, responding to the firmness in her voice, looking relieved to hear it. He bowed his head, raising fist to forehead. “Empress.”
Shield Angelon waited a breath, looking briefly at Prince Jubayr. The hesitation he saw there bowed the Shield’s head and raised his fist.
The Wing followed suit, though it looked like he was bending iron to do it.
Jubayr stood and reached to undo the clasp of his cloak.
“No,” Aalia said, striding forward. She refastened the clasp in place. “Our father gave you his cloak. I will respect that. You have spent your life under his tutelage. I will always seek your counsel. You will forever be at my side.”
She turned to Mareesh. “I know you do not agree, dear brother. You were never one to hide your heart, and I’ve loved you for that passion.” She placed her hand atop the circlet. “In respect for your doubt, I will not don this. Not until the empire is safe. But for now, can you … will you be my warrior in the clouds until such a time comes?”
Mareesh stared at the circlet, then at his sister. The Wing put a hand on his shoulder. He nodded and placed his fist to his brow. “I agree. As you say, for now.”
“Thank you, Mareesh.”
She turned to the room. “I will head to Kysalimri with the council. Prince Kanthe, I’ll ask for you and your alchymist to remain here. Animosities toward Hálendiians are already running high. Best you stay here until these storm clouds clear.”
Kanthe bowed his head and placed a fist to his forehead. He clutched the signet ring in that same hand. He couldn’t argue with her.
It’s stormy enough right here.
84
MIKAEN STRODE THROUGH the legion’s mooring fields toward the majesty of the Hyperium. It was a sight to behold, to stir hearts in wonder and inspire terror in an enemy.
It had taken two decades to build the ship. Entire forests had been cleared to shore its hull and build its decks. Hundreds of seamstresses had worn fingers to the bone sewing and waxing the fabric of its gargantuan gasbags. Unlike other warships, three large balloons pulled overhead, straining their draft-iron cables, each the thickness of a century-old tree trunk. Three rows of cannons poked from its sides; triple rows of ballistas lined its middeck, stacked one atop the other. The open deck itself spread to twice the size of a tourney field.
Mikaen’s heart stirred at the sight of it. His pace increased. He was anxious to be aboard and to assume the captaincy of the mighty flagship. Thoryn kept to his side, trailed by a phalanx of his Silvergard. They all wore heavy armor, which glinted in the morning sun. They were the shining arrow of the kingdom, ready to pierce the heart of the imperium.
For once, his father had shown the true steel of a king. There would be no mercy for the torching of the Shield Islands, for the thousands killed, for turning those islands into scorched rocks, where nothing would grow.
Mikaen approved this course of action. He stared at the Hyperium’s massive hold, picturing the giant steel drum hidden inside, twice the size of any Cauldron. He hardened and stirred at just the thought of the Madyss Hammer and the destruction it would wield.
Its thundering quake will make the imperium tremble.
He headed to the large ramp that led into the lower bowels of the ship. He ached to place his palms against the Hammer’s steel flanks. Ahead, at the foot of the ramp, King Toranth waited with Liege General Reddak. As with the prior mission, Mikaen would have someone watching over his shoulder, questioning and judging his every decision. Still, he would tolerate such a position for the chance to captain the Hyperium on its first voyage.
He swept up to King Toranth and Reddak. Mikaen gave a swift bow to his father and a curt salute to the general. “I’m ready to carry out your will, Father. We will knock the imperium to its knees and keep them there.”
Toranth nodded his agreement. “We all know this undertaking is critical in asserting our dominance. A sixth of the legion’s winged force will be sailing forth. There can be no mistakes or mishaps that make us look weak.”
Mikaen placed a fist to his breastplate in acknowledgment of these words.
“For that reason,” Toranth said, “I’m assigning the captaincy of the Hyperium to Liege General Reddak, along with full command of this mission.”
Mikaen fell back a step, no less shocked than if his father had slapped him hard in front of the entire legion—which, in truth, he had.
“No hesitancy in command will be tolerated,” Toranth finished. “Nor will any rash or imprudent choices be allowed.”
His father stepped forward and clapped Mikaen on the shoulder. It took all of Mikaen’s effort not to knock the arm away. “I know this wounds you, my son. But you’re still young. You have much to learn from Reddak. Use this opportunity. Bring glory to the kingdom, and nothing will ever be held back from you again.”
The king shifted his hand to cup Mikaen’s neck. His voice lowered to a sincere pitch. “I’m hard on you because I have faith in you. You will bring great honor to the Massif name. In this, I have no doubt. You just need to tame that fire inside you. The flame that best serves the kingdom should be that of a forge, one that tempers steel, not a wildfire of destruction.”
“I understand, Your Majesty,” Mikaen said stiffly.
