Lyrua pushed until the arm clicked back into place, and Lander glared at it until the cables snapped together and the seams smoothed away. She handed him the other, and he connected it on his own. He tested his arms by waving them around, then leaned with his elbows on his knees, satisfied with the repair.

“Takes far too much mana to do that,” Lander said, slouching. “Exactly why I insist on armour; it’s much easier to fix.”

Wolfram nodded. “I’m impressed the Lady could even lift it. She’s quite strong for a human.”

She rolled her eyes. “Some of my servants would say things like that, but they were all dainty women. I assure you I am no stronger than most, you merely underestimate a human’s strength.”

“My arm weighs over sixty pounds.” Lander gestured at the ground, as if his arms were still there. “More than each of those hummingbirds outside. You lifted it like nothing. You do the same with your boy for that matter.”

“Sixty pounds is not heavy,” she said firmly.

Lander shrugged and let the topic fall, instead turning to more important matters, and telling his father of their journey and the cannons.

“This young woman is the High Queen?” Wolfram bowed slightly.

“There is no need for that,” Lyrua said. She shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. It would not do to have her past follow her all the way to Morgen.

“Still…” He froze in thought, unmoving except for the lurching of the ship. “I have to say, I was not expecting this. Certainly not at Highest Tide.” He squeezed his hands together. “I can’t sail you to Morgen before Highest Tide, nor can I miss it to take you there. What I can do is take you to Paradise Dawn, east of the Krakensea. Remain there until after Highest Tide, and I will return to take you the rest of the way.”

“That will do,” Lyrua said. “Paradise Dawn should be safe for us.”

“Good, then I’ll just need to get those cannons installed before the sea gets any rougher.” Wolfram ducked through the doorway. Lander followed, bending excessively to pass under the low door frame. As Ove hopped out of the room after them, Lyrua began to wonder whether she should take Athen to watch them work. She did want to see how they would fasten the cannons to the ship.

“Can we go?” Athen tugged her arm. “I would like to see the cannons. Lander even promised he would show me around the ship.”

She smiled at him. “I do think I recall him saying something like that. Very well, but remain close to me, and far from the weapons.”

She took his hand to lead him above deck. The narrow halls of the Legendarisk were padded with rugs that lended them warmth and dulled the echoes of metal grating metal that bounced throughout the ship. The metallic groaning of the walls took her back to Manataklos, and she was surprised to find that she did not revel in the old memories. She craved her hot baths and her gardens, fresh food every day and pleasant scents all around her, but she remembered those things in the context of safety that she no longer had.

She reminded herself that that life was gone, thrown away like waste water to evaporate in the sun of a new day, and with the dawn came new things to appreciate. The company of her son and friends at all hours; wards against the hollowness of solitude, and wonders she witnessed each day that inspired new strength in her and excited her imagination. These steel walls, like miniatures of the Citadel’s, ferried her towards the glorious unknown that awaited her.

Despite her confidence, her footfalls clinked loudly on the spiral stairs, resounding sharply in her mind and threatening to take her thoughts back to the Citadel. As they breached the deck, and warm light from the morning sun washed over her, her thoughts finally cleared. She shielded her eyes against the light.

Lyrua watched the hummingfolk crew settle, perching on rails and crowding the crow’s nest. They mirrored her curiosity as Ove shook the ends of the cannons out of the cloak and Lander tugged them free. They retrieved only six, and Wolfram hauled one atop the heavy rails to fasten it. The rails warped under Wolfram’s stare, and bent into a frame more complex than Lyrua anticipated. With a wheel at its base it could swivel, while the gears and rods allowed the base itself to swing vertically for aim. Wolfram installed three cannons to the port and starboard sides of the ship, as Athen helpfully explained, and then stomped off below decks with Lander and Ove to do the rest.

First Mate Anastatius approached her, bobbing amusingly as the wind tossed up his head feathers. He was eaglefolk, and stood tall enough to meet eyes with some humans. His massive wings were folded at his second joint, at his wrist as all birdfolk’s did, but his were a bit too long and his massive feathers made him seem rotund.

He bowed slightly to her. “My Lady,” he squawked, in an accent thicker than Ove’s. Straightening, he turned his hooked beak towards Athen and nodded before addressing her again. “You must be someone quite… important to afford Lander’s protection.” His beady eyes watched her knowingly, but he did not wait for a response. “Would the young Lord like to see how the spellbolt cannons work?” His massive wing unfolded, twice as long as he was tall, pointing at the starboard cannons.

“Yes!” Athen bounded forward and startled two of the hummingfolk. They darted away, and all of them filled the air with excited twittering. They squeaked to each other, but Lyrua could not understand their high-pitched snippets.

“Easy lad,” Anastatius said, blocking him with a wing. “Stay back and watch your mother.”

Athen was too excited to even pout. He bounced from foot to foot waiting for something to happen. Lyrua approached the weapons hesitantly. Instead of fuses, they were adorned on the back with ten jewels in myriad colours. One for each element of mana, she presumed.

“I’m sure a Lady such as yourself has seen proximity enchantments,” he said. “Just use the bar to aim, and remember it triggers on release.”

There was little to the ship’s starboard but the swelling waves, so she did not think hard about her aim. She pulled the bar down to tilt it higher, and pressed her finger to the white gem. Mana flourishes suddenly awakened upon every curve of the barrels, like excited roots of white light. She jerked back with a start, and her finger slipped off the gem.

Immediately the markings withdrew like a line of ants returning to their hill, flooding the gem with radiance. The cannon rattled, and the top barrel recoiled as a bolt of Light launched into the sea a hundred feet away. The Light sped through the water until she could no longer see it.

“That was amazing!” Athen clapped, “may I do it next?”

Lyrua frowned. “It was not quite as exciting as I expected.”

“Light won’t do much unless it hits something solid,” the First Mate explained. “Why don’t you try another, Lad. Water or Fire should do well if you have the attunement.”

Athen looked up at her for permission. She gave it, but made him stay at arm’s length. When he touched the blue gem, a wave of mana rippled across the surface. As he released it, the ripples receded and the barrel again recoiled as a bolt of Water fired from the barrel into the sea. It smashed an oncoming wave, bending the surface into a slanted whirl that rent the sea in a decimating rage. Expended, the whirl petered and broke, and only the torrent of drops returning to the sea remained of the blast.

Athen gawked with high-pitched awe escaping his open mouth. Without seeking permission, he touched the purple gem. Nothing happened, so he reached for the yellow.

“Stop it!” Lyrua shouted, grasping his wrist. “Weapons are not toys.”

Her son frowned, but he did not put up a fuss. He turned his gaze past her, and she picked up the lazy footfalls approaching. She thought she recognized the gait, and turned to find herself disappointed that she was correct.

“Good day, Sermeledy,” Kraesten nodded to her, “and Lord Aellig.”

Her lip curled into a snarl. “Thank you for showing us the cannons.” She said to Anastatius. He squawked in response. She took Athen’s hand and began leading him away. “Good day, Kraesten.”

“Now hold on,” he protested, “we never get to chat without a wall between us.”

“That is by design,” she said firmly.

The spellbreaker’s eyes showed no emotion beneath his nasal helm, but a smile crept across his face. “Don’t you trust me?”

“My trust is not easily earned.” She crossed her arms to distance herself from him.

“Nor should it be, but surely I’ve earned some by now?” He looked hopefully at her.

“What is your name? Your true name?” Lyrua demanded. “You have earned nothing while you continue to deceive me.” She knew all along he used an alias, since the Signature Recorder failed to recognize his name, and now she was fed up with the man. He was always lingering like an unwanted smell, curling your nose with a whiff as soon as you thought it was finally gone.

The spellbreaker sighed, and let his shoulders sag. “You must understand, I meant no harm by it. It’s just a precaution.” He winked at her. “My name is Xerarch.”

“Xerarch? Of what family or title?” She would not let him off so easily. The name sounded familiar to her, but it sat just past the tip of her tongue.

“Xerarch Kraesten of course. I’m not a liar.” He grinned as if pleased with his own wit. She did not like it.

“Yes you are!” Athen shouted, pointing his finger accusingly at the man. “Your name is Xerarch? Xerarch Metaxas I bet, like Lord Sorenrov said.”

The spellbreaker choked on his spit as all of the colour drained from his face. His eyes darted around as if searching for an escape. “Little gets by you, eh lad?”