Sea Dragon (Dragon Knights Book 9) (23 page)

“Even though I had siblings, none were near my age. We talk about it sometimes—on the rare occasions when we’re together—and it feels like we were all raised as only children because of the age differences. But there were other kids in the Lair for me to play with, and dragonettes. It was a good way to grow up,” he admitted.

They started walking, and Seth led the way toward another spot on the shoreline where Livia could see a small group of men clustered. As they drew nearer, she could hear the clank of metal on metal and saw that most of the men were standing around, scratching their heads as one of them worked on something at the center of their group.

“There’s an old cannon there,” Livia said as they walked. “I thought that was just a statue, but I guess all the things down here that I thought were monuments of some kind are really supposed to be functional, right?”

“That’s about the size of it,” Seth agreed. “Nobody seems to have bothered keeping the things functional. I hope we don’t end up paying for that inattention.”

As they approached, the scene became clearer. There was, indeed, the cannon Livia remembered, and a group of local men was trying their best to unstick rusted parts on it. Another group was busy stacking cannon balls and bringing in oak barrels filled with what she assumed was gunpowder and placing them nearby. Apparently, they were optimistic about getting the cannon to function and were setting up the supplies they would need to take on the enemy.

Someone spotted them as they approached, and the small knot of people around the cannon opened up. Seth stepped forward, taking charge in a way that impressed Livia. He might not be a knight, but he was definitely a born leader. Every man in that group looked to him for his opinion, and when Seth took up a heavy hammer from the blacksmith and began hammering on the rusted metal in carefully placed blows, they all watched and waited for the results.

Which weren’t long in coming. With one final whack of the metal hammer, the part popped open to the great delight of the people gathered all around. The men actually cheered as Seth straightened and handed the hammer back to the smith with his thanks.

Seth gave the group a few words of advice and encouragement before rejoining Livia.

“That’s one more in the functional column,” Seth said as he came up to her. “Just one left to check, and then, we can go back to the hall and report in.”

They set off walking again, heading a little farther down the shore. Livia was glad to be outdoors. The sun was beginning its slow descent, and there was only a slight chill in the air as night began to fall. She had spent most of the day closeted in the town hall with a group of very nervous men. It was good to escape that atmosphere of fear and anxiety, if only for a few minutes.

“So how many working cannons does that make?” she asked as they walked along.

“Not enough,” Seth answered, his expression grim. “The big problem is the weaponry of the opposing side. If they can take out a lot of dragons—and they will, if they have enough diamond-tipped blades, because the dragons won’t stop defending Draconia, regardless of the danger—then with this few guns, Dragonscove will most likely be overrun.”

“I wish we could talk to Gowan,” she said wistfully.

“He and Genlitha are most likely out of range, and if not, they’re too busy preparing to risk interrupting them.” He wished he could change that, but those were the facts.

“I know. I wouldn’t want to distract either of them right now, but I just…miss them.”

Seth took her hand and squeezed it. “I know. Me too.”

“I had Rosie pack a few keepsakes and evacuate to the Lair,” Livia thought out loud, trying to change the subject, but a pang of regret ran through her at the thought of losing her home and belongings. Of course, lives were more important than things. Things could be replaced. Lives couldn’t.

“You should evacuate to the Lair too, Livia,” Seth said, stopping in his tracks to look at her, emphasizing his point.

“I will, but not until I have to,” she assured him.

He put his hands on her shoulders. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” she replied, holding his gaze.

He drew her closer, and she went willingly. When their lips met, it was in a kiss of solemn union, of caring, of worry and of promise. The promise was for later, when the danger was past. And the rest of it reflected all the emotion of the moment, and what was to come. The feeling was intense and special, and she gladly went into his embrace, feeling more secure just being held in Seth’s strong arms.

When he drew back, it was as if something profound had changed between them. Not only had they shared pleasure, but now, they were sharing more serious things. Life and death. Threat and preparation. Anxiety and hope.

Seth
was
hope to her.

They checked the last cannon with good results. The crews had already gotten the rusted parts unstuck and were preparing the ammunition. Seth went over the process of firing with them and left them going through the motions, practicing for when, and if, they would have to actually fire the cannon.

All in all, Seth was satisfied with the outcome of his weapons review. The harbor wasn’t as well-defended as it could be, but at least they had some functioning cannons and crews to man them. It wasn’t ideal, but he’d heard from his fathers enough times that battle conditions were seldom ideal. They’d just have to make do with what they had available and hope for the best.

When they were on their way back up to the hall, Hrardorr contacted them.

“There shouldn’t be any boats out by the headwaters right now, right?”
Hrardorr asked.

“Only the two scout ships I sent out. But I wouldn’t expect either of them back until tomorrow,”
Livia answered.

“Can you tell me about their hulls?”
Hrardorr said, his tone skeptical.

“The
Belinda
is about seventeen feet in length and has a long keel for a boat her size. She is fast under sail and won last year’s harbor races. Her hull is narrow compared to her length and she is built for speed. The
Cassiopeia
is a sister ship, built along the same lines, but smaller, at only about fifteen feet long. They were built by the same shipwright,”
Livia told them.

“Would either of them be riding low in the water and have something metallic sticking out just above the water line on either side?”

“Cannons?”
Seth was quick to ask the dragon.

“I can’t be sure. It isn’t in the water, but I am perceiving long, thin outlines of something that tastes metallic on either side of the boat. It’s about twenty feet long and wide in the middle. I don’t think it’s either one of your scout ships, Livia.”

Seth and Livia exchanged glances, and then, she took off running up the hill to the hall. The enemy was a lot closer than they’d thought. He took off after her.

“Don’t engage them, Hrardorr,”
Seth warned the dragon as he ran.
“Just watch them. Be our spy. That’s what we need most right now.”

“I would like to chomp on their rudder, but I understand the need for stealth.”
The dragon sounded disappointed, but Seth was relieved Hrardorr wouldn’t try to fight them. Hrardorr was brave and a proven warrior, but in his condition… Well, Seth didn’t want to see him get hurt. Or worse.

But the idea that Hrardorr could do damage to a ship from below was something worth considering. The enemy wouldn’t be expecting that.

Seth and Livia arrived back at the meeting place in record time. Breathless, they ran into the hall, and Livia began to tell those gathered what Hrardorr had reported. People started scrambling and asking questions. Seth offered his take on what was happening when asked, then saw a familiar face entering the hall.

He went to meet Petr, one of the smiths from the Lair that he’d requested to help with the cannon. Introducing him to one of the men who had been leading the efforts with the broken installations, he asked Petr to do what he could in the time they had.

As he was about to leave, Petr stopped him, pulling a sheathed sword from the folds of his cloak and holding it out toward Seth. Not sure what to make of the gesture, Seth was puzzled.

“Sir Gowan sent word to bring this to you, with his compliments,” Petr utterly surprised him by saying.

Slowly, Seth took the sword from Petr’s big hands. It weighed about the same as the weighted practice blade he’d been using when sparring with Gowan. It was like the sword had been made for him. Seth looked up at Petr, catching an amused look of satisfaction on the smith’s face.

Only then did Seth connect the fact that Petr was, perhaps, the finest sword smith in southern part of the country. This blade was one that he’d made. And Seth knew he didn’t just give his works of art to anyone. He had a waiting list a mile long. If he had made a blade just for Seth, someone must have…

“Gowan commissioned this?” Petr nodded as Seth pulled the blade partway out of the scabbard. As he’d suspected, this was one of Petr’s beauties. It gleamed in the low light of the meeting hall, its edge honed to perfection.

“He said you were ready.” Petr was beaming when Seth looked up at him.

Petr was an older man. A master craftsman who’d had his choice of positions and chose the Southern Lair because he’d been raised nearby and loved the sea.

Petr had been like an uncle to most of the Lair kids, and Seth had taken his turn at the bellows in Petr’s workshop when he’d been a teen, given chores to help out around the Lair. Seth had seen Petr making swords very much like the one he now held and knew the amount of labor and love that went into them.

Seth had seen Petr present his masterpieces to knights, knowing they would carry the weapons into battle in defense of their homeland. Such occasions were special. Like this. This felt very special, indeed.

“I don’t know what to say,” Seth thought aloud. “Are you sure…?”

“Aye, lad.” Petr put a fatherly hand on Seth’s shoulder. “If Sir Gowan thinks you’re ready, then you are. He’s a good judge of men, is Sir Gowan. He’s been overseeing the making of this sword, and I’ve gotten to know him. He knows his blades.” From Petr, there could be no higher compliment. “Use it well.”

Seth felt the weight of Petr’s approval and was glad of it. He’d never expected such generosity and kindness. Overcome with emotion and unable to speak, Seth merely hugged the older man, pounding his back a couple of times while he brought his emotional state under control.

Stepping back, he bowed his head, holding Petr’s gaze—a sign of the greatest respect among warriors.

“Thank you,” Seth said, simply, unable to put into words the intense feelings he was experiencing, but Petr seemed to understand.

There was no time to say more, but Seth hoped Petr understood. He probably did. He’d bestowed many swords over the years and knew how much a warrior valued a gift such as his. And that’s when Seth realized he was thinking of himself as a warrior for the first time since childhood.

He’d been training with Gowan for a while now, and the early lessons had come back to him as if he’d never had a break from training. He felt confident enough to accept and use a blade of this caliber, and more than that, Gowan had felt the same. Otherwise, he never would have commissioned Petr to make it for him.

As Petr went off the with cannon crew, Seth took a moment to just absorb that new knowledge. He had changed drastically in the time since befriending Gowan. He’d become something he’d never thought he’d be. He’d evolved.

Seth wondered if he’d be able to stuff the genie back into the bottle after this was all over, on one hand. On the other, he wondered why he would even try. He liked the new man he’d become. He suddenly realized that his desire and ability to help Bronwyn hadn’t changed, even though he’d reclaimed his heritage as a warrior. Maybe it didn’t have to. Maybe he could continue to train—out in the open, after this—and still be there for the woman who’d been as a grandmother to him. Maybe he could do both, and the two desires were no longer mutually exclusive.

Maybe things had changed for the better.

Although…there was still the pending invasion to deal with. Which reminded him. He had work to do.

Seth buckled the sword belt onto his waist as he moved back toward the small group that surrounded Livia. He caught up to them as they were discussing the information he’d brought them about which cannons were working and which weren’t.

“Livia, Seth, there are more ships arriving.”
Hrardorr’s voice sounded urgently in their minds.
“I swam out a bit, and their fleet is not far. I’ve counted twenty ships already. All of a larger size than the first I described to you. I think this is their main fleet, though how they got here so fast, I do not know. I have already informed Gowan. He and Genlitha are going to scout from above.”

“They must’ve been at full sail since the encounter with the patrol. Even then, they’d have to have favorable winds to reach us so quickly,”
Livia told them.
“Tell Gowan and Genlitha to be careful,”
she added, worry clear in her tone.

“Genlitha is perhaps the only dragon who could fly above them without being seen,”
Seth assured her.
“Her natural coloring will keep her well hidden.”

Seth broke away from the silent conversation to announce Hrardorr’s observations to the room at large. Without giving it much thought, he gave the orders to set the plans they’d been working on over the past hours into motion.

When Seth realized that even the mayor was looking to him for leadership, the weight of responsibility suddenly descended upon his shoulders. But it was all right. It actually felt good. Like that’s what had been missing from his life for a very long time.

Seth shouldn’t have been so surprised. He’d been born to a fighting family. His fathers were leaders of men and dragons. He’d been going against type since deciding to help Bronwyn and turning his back on his heritage. Maybe he’d never be a knight, but he could still be a warrior and hold responsibility for helping keep the town safe. That was right in his comfort zone, and something he had almost been born to do.