A Solitary Journey Read Free

up and down the wet, salt-encrusted ropes and ladders, adjusting the trim according to their captain’s orders so that their ship passed close to their target without giving the Shessian sailors any chance of using their grappling hooks, and Future felt the excitement of the first clash building. The sails flapped, wood creaked and groaned, and the waves slapped against the hull.
    The Shessian ship started turning desperately to intercept Future’s ship as another Kerwyn ship swept down on its starboard. The second Kerwyn ship erupted in a puff of smoke extending along its starboard railing, followed by a staccato booming, and sailors aboard the Shessian ship leapt and fell as if tugged on wires. Then Future’s ship drew alongside and the thundermakers exploded in a riot of noise and smoke, and again men on the Shessian ship danced erratically as the pellets struck. A lone Shessian sailor launched a grappling hook in the chaos, but it fell short and Future’s ship sped past, heading for the second Shessian vessel.
    Future looked back at the ship they’d raked with pellets and watched the sailors frantically trying to restore order as the third Kerwyn vessel bore down on them. The Shessian ship was out of control, its black sails flapping wildly while the helmsman fought the rudder. As the third Kerwyn ship passed a soldier hurled a tiny package, a thunderclap exploded and a fireball tore the heart out of the Shessian vessel. Future smiled at the Kerwyn tactical efficiency. Combined, their seamanship and his Seers’ black powder magic created a ruthless navy that was rapidly destroying his mother’s sea strength and eliminating Western Shesstrade. Since escaping incarceration in the Bogpit and enduring the subsequent ten years of foreign exile he was finally heading home to claim from his mother what was rightfully his, as the Prince and as a Jarudhan disciple. The Seers promised that the wheel would turn its full cycle and so it was. He was rising.

C HAPTER T WO
    ‘ Y our Majesty?’ the Royal Intermediary inquired, bowing before the Queen. Queen Sunset looked down at the dark-haired man who was bringing her bad news again. All the news was bad. No one ever brought good news. ‘Yes, Goodman?’ she asked.
    Kneel Goodman raised his head and was transfixed by the Queen’s blue-eyed gaze. Wearing the royal black she was a very attractive woman, her blond hair loose around her shoulders. He had served her for ten years, since his predecessor betrayed her by aiding her treacherous son in his bid to take her throne, but of late he wondered at the folly in his loyalty with the war on both fronts going badly. As her private consort, there were benefits to his position that other men could only dream of, but he knew he was not the only man to appease her sexual appetite and sometimes that grated on his sensibilities. ‘Your Majesty, a messenger is here from the Coalition of Chiefs.’
    Sunset raised an eyebrow. The Coalition of Chiefs sent messengers every ten days to negotiate a peace treaty along her southern border and every time she sent them away with a firm refusal to negotiate whilethe chiefs’ armies remained on her territory. ‘Tell the messenger that I will see him tomorrow morning.’
    Goodman bowed his head and said, ‘Shipmaster Farseeker sends word that the Kerwyn fleet is less than two days to the north, Your Majesty. He wants permission to take the full fleet to attack the enemy.’
    Sunset’s demeanour soured. King Ironfist’s forces were making too much headway too quickly. ‘Tell Farseeker I expect nothing but victory. He has royal permission to commandeer whatever vessels he needs to drive Ironfist’s ships to the bottom of the ocean.’ She caught her breath. ‘What else, Goodman?’
    Kneel Goodman’s ashen face told her the worst was yet to come. ‘Your Majesty, I regret to inform you that Marchlord Longreach was killed in battle. His army has retreated.’
    The Queen’s face blanched.