The horn’s call faded. Archers stared down at us, bows drawn, armor scuffed and sun-bleached. Dekka let out a warning growl, which did nothing to make anyone relax.

  A commander in crested armor marched out from the line. His face was lined, and there were bags under his eyes, but his mouth was firm, like he had not slept in days and was tired of pretending otherwise.

  “Identify yourselves.” It was an order, not a request.

  Copperbeard straightened his coat. “Copperbeard Bard Exrodinaire, and these are my friends. We approach under peaceful intent.”

  Before the commander could reply, the hatch behind us swung open hard enough to clang against the frame. My heart sped as I watched fingers tense on bows and spears, but the soldiers were disciplined and no one reacted.

  Soup stumbled out, tripping and sliding with the angle of the deck. “Why is the ship at a forty-degree angle? Did we park wrong?” Then he noticed the army and blanched.

  The commander blinked once. Slowly.

  Barry cleared his throat. “We’ve had a long night.”

  I lifted my hands in an attempt at calm. “We stole this ship from privateers. They were holding prisoners. Then a storm mage tried to drown us. The ship took damage, and we lost our bearings. We had no idea we were headed toward a military line.”

  The commander looked at me, and his eyebrows rose. Was he not expecting a reasoned response from a massive barbarian? Stereotype much?

  Copperbeard added, “Our plan was simply to find land.”

  Movement caught my eye, and I looked over at the ship, hearing the hatch again. Rose emerged, and as she was walking across the deck, Ayerelia appeared.

  Rose took in the armed army as she stopped beside me. “What did we miss?”

  Ayerelia had stopped well back and asked loudly enough it carried over the crash of waves and cries of seabirds, “Why are there so many people pointing bows at us? And do they know their banners are ugly?”

  The commander exhaled through his nose. This was clearly not how he was expecting his day to start. To be fair to him, no one expects Ayerelia.

  “You entered a restricted military zone. This coastal line is under active military lockdown for the safety of the populace. We are conducting field operations under the command of His Highness the Prince.”

  Barry nodded. “Field exercises?” He asked, probing for more information.

  I looked around at the barren land that stretched from horizon to sea. Populace?

  The commander’s jaw tightened. “Originally. The situation has changed. We encountered a foreign invasive foe during maneuvers and were forced into a defensive posture. We need your ship.”

  Soup frowned. “You can’t have our ship.”

  “Yes, we can,” the commander corrected, his voice finally expressing exasperation. “I am sure you have noticed the lines of archers, backed by footmen.”

  “We did not intend to interfere. Truly, we did not know how far we had drifted. We left from Mare’s Meet,” Copperbeard said placatingly.

  “You know now, it doesn’t matter if you intended to arrive here or not,” the commander said. His gaze moved sharply to the crates on our deck. “Your vessel carries goods.”

  Soup wrapped both his hands around the pendant on the gold chain he was wearing. “Our vessel carries our goods.”

  Ayerelia folded her arms. “Which we obtained lawfully by right of salvage.”

  The commander raised his eyebrows at her skeptically but kept his voice level. “The Crown reserves the right to seize property and goods in the service of the country. My men will board and assess your cargo for immediate military needs. You will be well compensated by the Prince.”

  Soup narrowed his eyes. “How compensated is well compensated?”

  “It is the law,” the commander said, ignoring Soup. “My men will begin inspection now.”

  He signaled, and several soldiers started forward toward the hull. The way we were listing, it wasn’t hard for them to throw a rope ladder that had grappling hooks that snagged the edge of the deck.

  They boarded and headed for the hatches. Shortly after there was a commotion below. Mage! He must have logged back in to find himself surrounded by soldiers. There was another shout below deck, and another, then something that sounded very much like Mage threatening to call the very seas down upon everyone.

  I swore under my breath and jogged across the slanted deck. Mage was wedged between two footmen, hands raised, eyes furious. One soldier was poking at him with the end of a spear like he expected Mage to be cowed. The fury in the water mage’s eyes belied that.

  Things were going to get bad fast. “It’s fine,” I blurted. “They are just inspecting the ship. We aren’t under attack.”

  Mage lowered his hands an inch, and the glow around his fingers dimmed. “They should have said that. I don’t enjoy being startled.”

  “We were all startled,” I muttered, shooting the soldiers a warning look. “He is with us. Stop prodding him.”

  The nearest footman stepped back. “Apologies. Though he was part of the ship’s crew.”

  “He is,” I said. “It’s our ship.”

  The soldiers didn’t argue. Mage and I walked back topside together. The commander waited there, arms crossed, the picture of a man who had not received a single pleasant surprise in weeks.

  He gave us a curt nod. “Commander Halric of the Third Field Battalion.”

  Copperbeard bowed with theatrical flourish. “A pleasure, Commander Halric. As I said previously, I am Copperbeard Bard Exrodinaire.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  Halric’s expression did not change at all, but I could feel his disdain.

  Barry stepped forward next. “Barry. We mean no trouble.”

  Ayerelia, who clearly did not trust anyone causing the pointing of bows at her, stated her name in clipped tones. Rose smiled when she introduced herself but neglected to mention her class.

  Halric turned to me last. His gaze lingered a fraction too long, probably assessing how dangerous I was.

  “Elizabeth,” I said. “And this is Dekka. She’s a dog.” Dekka wagged her tail politely.

  A small muscle in Halric’s cheek twitched. Was the man going to have an aneurysm? I wouldn’t blame him, really.

  We waited while the soldiers finished trampling about below deck. Halric stayed at attention, but the rigidity lowered from DEFCON 2 to 3 as the tension ebbed.

  Then his gaze landed on the ring on one of Mage’s fingers. His eyes sharpened. “That is a royal signet ring.” His voice was balanced between accusation and deference.

  Mage looked down at his hand, inspecting the silver ring with the royal seal. “Yes.”

  Halric waited, expecting Mage to elaborate. Mage just held eye contact calmly.

  Rose spoke up. “I have one too. We both received the for service to the country. We were told to seek out his Highness the Crown Prince.

  Halric paused, then studied us in a new way. Less suspicious, but with more concern. “If you hold those rings, then you are tied to matters greater than mere chance. I will speak plainly.”

  He paused, his mouth opened, then closed it again as his thick eyebrows drew down, then his face relaxed. “We have been trapped here for weeks. A foreign invasive force has pinned it against the coast. The prince himself is present, coordinating defenses, yet even with his leadership we cannot break free. We had hoped a ship could get around the front and carry word to the mainland requesting more troops.”

  Mage spoke quietly beside me. “The foe you mentioned earlier.”

  Halric’s jaw tightened. “Yes. I have been told they are called the Weta. They are not from our lands, and we had only heard about them. These beasts are not intelligent, but they are relentless. The ground behind the hills is alive with them. They have cut us off from all supply routes. We haven’t even managed to get a scout out.”

  Before he could say more, a squad of soldiers climbed back onto the tilted deck. The lead one saluted.

  The soldier continued. “The keel is cracked midship. The hull is too damaged for sea travel.”

  I watched the hope die in Halric’s eyes, but e nodded once, sharply. “Understood.”

  He straightened and addressed us again. “You will accompany me to our encampment. His Highness will wish to speak with anyone carrying the rings. You will be treated as guests of the Crown while you are here.”

  Ayerelia glanced at the army line. “Guests. With extremely pointy welcoming committees?”

  Halric ignored this. “Your presence may be of use to all involved.” He looked past us to the empty horizon. “And we are running out of time.”

  He gestured toward the path leading up from the beach. “Come, I sent a runner; the prince is expecting you.”

  We followed Halric off the ship and onto the hard-packed sand. Dekka stuck close to my leg. “Stay small,” I murmured to her. She did, but her hackles stayed raised as she eyed the wall of soldiers watching us. The archers shifted aside to create a corridor, each one of them tracking us with the flat, exhausted stare of people who had slept with one eye open for too many nights in a row.

  The path up from the beach was narrower than I expected, carved into the bluff. Possibly by the few feral sheep that were grazing and giving us the side eye. If the army had low supplies, perhaps they had good reason to keep an eye on us.

  Steep stone rose on one side, sun-bleached and cracked, and on the other side the ocean hammered the rocks below with steady, angry rhythm. A few scattered soldiers stood along the trail, spears grounded, offering tight nods or no reaction at all. Halric walked like a man with blinders, answering no questions and ignoring Soup’s persistent questions about how much compensation we would be getting.

  We all kept glancing at the hills inland You could feel something wrong in the land. It was a silence that should not exist. No birds. No insects, just those few sheep, and now that I looked they were hugging the beach.

  The ground, which had looked like a smooth plain from the distance of the ship, was now shown to be lumpy and uneven. Humps a couple of metres tall dotted erratically around. The only level area was where the men were camped and the horses were picketed.

  Mage murmured quietly, “The manna tastes strange.” Rose nodded.

  That did not help my nerves.

  As we climbed, a low rumble drifted across the plains. It vibrated in my bones, faint but steady, like distant thunder made of teeth. Dekka froze mid-step and pressed into my leg, asking if now was the time to get big. I scooped her up.

  Halric did not turn around. “That is your foe,” he said simply. “The Weta tunnels extend for miles. When they move, the very ground trembles like a giant walks near.”

  Great. This wasn’t creepy.

  We reached the crest of the bluff, and the encampment spread out before us. Lines of neat rows of tents where men milled around. Some sat looking after their armour, others on errands about camp.

  Fire pits smoldered low. There wasn’t much in the way of wood out here, only scrubby bushes, no trees. A healer’s tent stood open, revealing soldiers lying on bedrolls, limbs splinted or wrapped, some staring blankly at nothing.

  Farther back, stacks of crates sat under a tarpaulin, most of them opened or emptied. A training yard had been converted into a defensive line with earthen ramparts and the odd sharpened stakes hammered into the ground. Everything smelled of smoke, sweat, and desperation.

  A soldier jogged up to Halric, saluted, and whispered something. Halric nodded once.

  “The prince will see you shortly,” he said. “Remain here.”

  He stepped away to speak with another officer, leaving us under the watchful eyes of several guards. I tried smiling at one. He did not smile back.

  Soup shifted from foot to foot. “Does anyone else feel like we are not in trouble, but also we are definitely in trouble?”

  Ayerelia crossed her arms. “I feel like their banners could use a redesign.”

  Rose glanced at her. “Please do not antagonize the army that has surrounded us.”

  “Not enough sparkle?” I teased her.

  “Hardly, and they better not waste that silk on something so pedestrian. "

  I looked over the banners. The blue and red clashed across the canvas “The colours are a bit unpleasant.”

  Copperbeard took in the camp with a more somber expression than usual. “These men have not been resupplied for some time. They look hungry.”

  Mage crouched, pressed his palm to the ground, and frowned. “There is movement beneath us; they feel big.”

  “Please do not elaborate,” Soup said immediately. “I would like one moment of peace before I find out what a weta looks like.”

  Rose rested her hand on his back. “We will be fine.”

  Decent lie, Rose. Very soothing.

  Halric returned, his face somehow even more severe than before. “His Highness is concluding a tactical report. You are to wait here until he calls for you.”

  He gestured toward a bench made from stacked crates. We sat. I tried not to stare at the nearby wounded, but one soldier caught my eye. He was younger than I expected, with dirt smeared across his face and a hastily bandaged arm. His gaze flicked to me, then to Dekka, and back again. Something like curiosity.

  If they died when we are here, these young men would be for real dead.

  “Did you see them?” he asked, calling over to us. “The Weta?”

  I shook my head. “Not yet.”

  “You will,” he said, and his voice cracked. “Pray you never see a swarm. They swarm sometimes.” Then he began to shake, and his gaze because unfocused. One of the healers came and guided him gently back into the tent, giving us a dirty look.

  Horns sounded again from the far side of the camp. A wave of stillness rippled through the soldiers. Archers paused mid-motion. Mages put hands to their staves. Even the wounded tried to sit up.

  Then it faded. Just another tremor. Another test of nerves.

  A lieutenant approached Halric at a brisk walk. “Commander. His Highness requests their presence.”

  Soup straightened his tunic. “Should we bow or kneel or do a little wave? I am open to suggestions.”

  “I will do none of that,” Ayerelia said.

  “Just behave.” Barry said.

  “Define behave?”

  “Avoid being Soup.” I suggested.

  “That seems excessive.”

  Barry gave us a long-suffering look.

  Halric returned to us. “Follow me.” He led us deeper in the camp toward a tent the size of a small house.

  The commander paused at the entrance. “When you speak, speak truthfully. His Highness has little patience for games.”

  Behind the canvas, voices murmured, a mix of strategy and frustration.

  My stomach tightened.

  Whatever came next, we were already in the heart of it.

  Halric lifted the flap.

  “Enter.”