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fire at will! Ren shouted into the relative silence. Aim for the gunports!
It was a slaughter, her women trying to sharp shoot in the deadly hail, dying
before they could get their shots off. The aft gun was useless. As the fore
gun was run out to fire, the ironclad turned, forcing them to take another
glancing shot. The ball careened off the thick plating. Beside Ren, the pilot
fought the fast current to try and close with the ironclad while keeping clear
of the boulder-strewn shores. They circled, wary as knife fighters, moving
upriver as they cut each other with cannon fire.
There s the Portage River mouth! the pilot shouted. But I can t get past
her! She s forcing us up the
Bright River, toward the falls. It runs shallow from here on up! Either we ll
run aground or we ll be forced under the falls!
Ren swore. The ironclad s steep side offered no purchase for her marines to
board, and closing with
Kij s ship would only increase the damage that the grapeshot would do. They
were running out of river, though, and soon would be at the foot of the falls
itself.
Do you hear something? Raven shouted.
How can you hear anything over this hellish noise
? Ren tried anyhow. Over the thunder of the cannons and the endless roar of
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the waterfall, there was a high-pitched sound, ceaseless, growing louder.
A steam whistle, she recognized suddenly, blowing without stop, and coming
closer.
Where is that coming from? Ren asked.
Look! A marine on the deck suddenly cried, pointing upriver toward the white
curtain of water. The falls!
Half a mile upriver, and hundreds of feet up, the underbelly of a boat speared
out over the edge of the falls. It came and came, unending, its steam whistle
screaming a death keen that was now being caught and echoed back by the
granite cliffs of the gorge. A hundred feet of hull showed before the side
wheel appeared at the brink, and the whole mass pivoted on its weight. Sluing
sideways, the boat started to fall,
and the cannon fire picked out the lettering on its side wheel.
Destiny
.
Ren shouted in wordless protest.
Jerin! Halley
!
With a curse, the pilot swung the wheel hard, turning suddenly without regard
to the ironclad. If that hits us after it comes over the falls, it ll take
us under!
The ironclad too was turning, trying to escape the massive ship now tumbling
over the falls.
No! Ren caught the wheel and jerked it back. Kij s giving us her
broadside! Ram the bitch! End it here! Kill her now!
The pilot threw her a panicked look, and then shouted into the tubes, Full
speed ahead! Full speed!
The
Red Dog leaped forward, its bow arrowing through the dark waters. Ren ducked
down low behind the shield, bracing for the impact. They struck with a great
splintering crack, the braced bow of the
Red
Dog cleaving deep into the ironclad. Ren was slammed forward into the
shielding, striking her head, eclipsing the world with a flash of dark and
pain. Then the fore gun fired, more felt than heard, the muzzle apparently
buried in the guts of the ironclad. The ball punctured one of the boiler
engines of the ironclad, and the shriek of escaping steam and screaming women
joined with the crack of rifles.
Raven had her by the arm then, and was hefting her up, crying, It s going to
hit us!
Ren turned, and saw the shattered decks of the
Destiny rolling toward them, out of the night, tumbled by the fast shallow
rapids. Her mind only understood flashes of what she saw: a railing here, an
open doorway there, a hanging flight of stairs breaking off in mid-tumble.
Raven dragged her backward, back along the
Red Dog s top deck to the stern gun. There Raven pushed Ren down and caught
her by the foot. Strip! Get your boots off! We re going to have to swim for
it! The nearest Queens Justice is Annaboro. When you get to shore, stay low.
Kij might have backup troops!
They went into the dark, fast water then, Ren stripped to only a shirt while
Raven was still fully dressed.
Caught in the icy current, Ren struggled to keep afloat. She looked back. The
water was littered with bodies, some thrashing, some still. The wreckage of
the
Destiny struck where the two ships were joined, and the river forced it up,
rearing above the gunboats. Borne down by the weight of its plating and the
water filling its bowels, the ironclad sank quickly. The
Red Dog
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, still caught by its ram, rolled as the ironclad sank, the
Destiny toppling over its dipping bow.
Oh, Jerin, love, I m sorry. I m sorry that I took you away from your mothers
farm where you were safe. I m sorry I let Kij take you as bait. I m so very
sorry that I ve gotten you killed.
Ren came ashore downriver of the Portage River confluence, teeth chattering
from the cold, bone weary and heartsick. Raven had vanished into the waters,
and Ren could not remember if her captain even knew how to swim. Two guards
kept faithfully to her. The sergeant, Buckley, apparently swam like a fish and
had helped Ren keep her bearings as they struggled for shore. The other was a
young private whose face Ren could not recall, and in the dark could not see,
by the name of Cherry. For miles the fast current had carried them, and they
could only keep their heads above water. Then the river turned, and in that
bend, the water deepened and slowed and they thrashed ashore.
The wind had kicked up, tossing the trees and cutting cold as sharp as knives
through their wet clothes.
Buckley knew approximately where they were, and knew too of a nearby mansion
laid to ruin in the last war. It would give cover and shelter well away from
the exposed river-bank. Ren wanted only to lie in the mud and grieve, but
dragged herself up anyhow. She couldn t give up until she was sure Kij was as
dead as her father, her elder sisters, Halley, and Jerin. She had to be sure
Kij paid.
They were past the escarpment, and the land was flat here, smoothed by
countless floods. They kept to the cave-black shadows of the windbreaks,
hedging fields of freshly cut hay. The night was full of distant cracks of
rifles, faint echoes of shouting, and the rolling thunder of racing horses.
The gray of false dawn touched the sky as they reached the mansion sitting
alone on a hill, the short summer night fleeing before the sun. In the silence
before dawn, the dark, broken structure, surrounded by shorn fields, seemed
ominous.
They paused in the windbreak at the foot of the hill, shivering, scanning the
fields.
How close is Annaboro? Ren asked.
Another ten miles south. Your Highness, Buckley murmured, then cocked her
head, listening intently.
Riders are coming.
Ren swore. In their white shirts and red uniform pants, they stood out in the
scanty cover of the windbreak. Let s try for the mansion.
They ran. The sharp stems of the cut hay stabbed like a thousand needles in
their bare feet as they raced for cover. The riders broke out of a woodlot
behind them, and came sweeping toward them. A glance was enough to show the
riders weren t the Queens Justice. Even as Ren and the others reached the old
front yard of the mansion, the riders cut them off. looping around them in a
rough circle of lathered, blowing horses.
Kij looked worse for wear, at least. Her beautiful face was cut and bruised.
Part of her shirt had been torn off, and a bloody bandage showed beneath. But
she was alive, damn her soul, when everyone else was dead.
Don t you know when to die? Ren asked her.
I could say the same for you. I ve been trying to kill you for six years,
Kij growled.
So, how did you find me? Ren asked, wondering how she had ever thought this
woman to be her good friend.
You washed up where all the dead bodies come to shore. Kij gave a bitter
laugh. You just don t have the decency to realize you re dead.
Give it up, Kij. Killing me will only dig your grave deeper. My sisters know
of your crimes. I ve blocked all your plots in Mayfair. I ve sunk your gunboat
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