Dark blue-black smudges blurred the entire southern quadrant. Closer to shore, rain fell in sheets, illuminated by bursts of lightning. And then Galena saw them—three ships flying straight toward land, their sails filled to bursting. Her skin prickled, as though touched by the storm’s electricity.
“Where are we going?” she murmured to Lanzo. “Where are they going?”
“Western sands.”
She wanted to ask if he meant the ships or their wing, but Spenglar was barking and snapping like a wild dog. The winds blew harder. She had to shield her eyes from the whirling sand. Now they were off the hard-packed dirt and gravel highway and onto the flat lands between the lower hills and the sea. Two patrols split off and took up positions along the highway. Falco and the other two patrol leaders shouted for theirs to keep going, damn it, or the Károvín would be landing in the middle.
Károvín. But that was impossible.
Galena stopped in surprise, her gaze yanked outward to sea. The storm had leapt closer to shore, driving the ships before it. Then she hurried to catch up with her file. But she had not missed that hideous rending noise she knew too well. It took a master navigator to clear the shoals off Osterling’s shores, and these ships …
Like a bubble burst, the storm vanished. The clouds faded into gray wisps, and the towering waves rolled outward until their force died away. Beneath the roar of the surf, Galena heard three strange tones, like midnight bells.
“March, you idiots!” Falco shouted. “Faster, keep time, turn about. Halt!”
From months and years of practice, the two files in his patrol swung about as one.
“Weapons ready!”
Galena and her companions drew their swords.
“Watch and wait!”
The clouds had vanished. The sun’s rays now beat against Galena’s back and shoulders. Only a damp wind, rising from the south, and the clear scent of pine, reminded her of the storm. From her position in the file, she could not see much except the sky and the thin line of ocean horizon.
“Pirates?” she whispered to Lanzo.
He shook his head. “You heard them. Károvín.”
She’d heard but not believed. “All that fuss for three ships.”
He grinned, as though he saw beyond her indifference. “It’s not just the three ships. Last week, the king’s patrol sighted twenty ships with Károvín flags off the northern coast. They were sailing east. If they followed the current ’round, these could be the point of that entire fleet.”
Twenty ships. Galena’s mouth went dry at the thought.
“What happened to the others?” she asked.
“We don’t know. I’m worried they decided to double back and take us by surprise—”
“Hush,” whispered Tallo, their file leader.
Muttering died away at once. This was no drill, Galena thought as she examined her blade’s edge. Her sword was sharp. Her other hand rested on her dagger hilt. She was as ready as she knew. But would they fight? And why? Oh, sure, she’d heard rumors about tensions along the border between Veraene and Károví, and her father had muttered about how Armand of Angersee wanted any excuse to launch a war. But Armand hadn’t declared war, and neither had Leos of Károví done anything to provoke one.
She strained onto her toes to see more. All three ships were closer now. She could see dozens of figures hurrying over the decks. The glint of sunlight on metal. The masts broken and trailing in the water, dragging the ship to one side. There, they’d cut the mast free. The ship righted itself momentarily. She could see some of their faces. Definitely Károvín.
Several boats launched from the nearest ship. Soldiers and sailors dived from the railing into the water.
“What do we do after they land?” Lanzo whispered to Tallo.
“Wait for orders,” Tallo said. “What else?”
Two of the leading boats skimmed over the waves to shore. The Károvín tumbled out and dragged their craft up the sands. As Galena watched, five more shot from behind the other two ships, which tilted heavily to one side. By now, fifty or sixty Károvín had landed. Soldiers, all of them armed and clad in heavy armor. One of them was a tall man. He carried in his arms a young woman clad in layers upon layers of soaking wet robes, which dragged in the receding waves.
The man deposited the woman on the shore above the water line. She struggled, then jerked around to vomit onto the sands. The man placed a hand on her forehead. The air around them shimmered.