The sun returned to the city of Sinasekan with summer fire after the afternoon rain faded away over the sea. The streets were all but still, the harbor emptied of all ships that could flee before the coming onslaught. The news had come across the waters, whispered in taverns and brothels by night, passed from slave to servant to laborer to sailor in low-pitched voices. No one who had ears to hear did not know that the enemy was coming, that the demon queen who commanded a fleet of warships was coming with the evening tide.
Merchants had packed their wares and fled, travelers had climbed aboard anything that would float and set the city in their wake. Smugglers, traders, explorers, seekers of fortune all knew what was on the way, and none wished to remain in the path of destruction. Seabirds cried as they flew over the harbor, their shadows racing across the still blue water. There was a beauty in the stillness, in the poised and expectant quiet.
The Viceroy, lord of this place, was not a fool. He had gathered all he could to try and stave off the coming attack, though he doubted it would be enough. The entrance to the harbor was blocked by ships, rafts, and boats his men had seized. They were lashed and chained together to make a barrier no ship could pass without pausing to chop a path through, and his men were on the sea walls with crossbows and rifles and cannons to stop that from happening. The streets behind the outer gates were barricaded, and he had to hope he could reinforce the men holding them when it came to that. He was sure after their attack on the harbor was blocked, they would come to the city by land as they had when they tried to kill him.
The Viceroy, Lord Dasato, looked down from the high window of his rooms to the jewel blue of the harbor. He had served here for six years, and it had made him wealthy and respected. He had never intended to return home. This place was too beautiful, too lush and ripe with pleasures and ease. Why would he ever go back to the moody, cold forests of Achen? No, he had planned to die here in this faraway country, and now it seemed he would.
He had sent word for help, knowing it would take months to come, if it came. Pleading for more aid so soon after the first time and the loss of the treasure fleet would destroy his reputation. There would be no honorable retirement for him now, only disgrace. He would be fortunate to attain an ignominious life on a plantation here somewhere, even if he could escape the rebels. Now it seemed less and less likely that he could. Perhaps he should have left with his family while there was yet time. He had rejected that choice as a further disgrace upon his name, casting aside all pretense at courage. Now he could not be sure if he regretted it.
She was coming, and it was with a sense of fate that he looked east over the sea and saw the white specks of ships gathering on the horizon. Survivors had already told the tale of Aurich’s fall. The paladin was gone and could not save them. She was coming. Jaya. That was her name.
They said she was the daughter of a sea-devil. That she rode a dragon and conjured storms. The stories said she took the heads of those she slew, and that much he believed. She had come here once before to kill him, and only the presence of the paladin had stopped her, now there was no such protection. He watched the ships draw closer in the steep afternoon light, and he took a long breath. Tonight would come the decision, and whatever deliverance he might hope for. He called for the signal fires to be lit, to summon every man to arms. Battle was coming on the night wind.
