Chapter 16

James looked down at the small boat bobbing in the afternoon surf.

It was hastily made, canvas pulled over a frame of thin branches which still retained their bark. Something designed for lakes, rivers, not the open sea. It did have an outrigger, an enclosed pontoon jutting out one side to add stability. Its sailors had been risk takers, not idiots.

"Where did you find it?" He turned to the soldier beside him. They stood at the mouth of the Anne river, where the island's central lake drained into the sea. Across the channel, a two masted sailing ship was leaving Fredrick's harbor.

"About a half mile away, Your Grace. The surf had driven it up onto the rocks."

"Or its crew pulled it up."

"It's possible, Your Grace, but that would have been a foolish place to land. There is no way up the cliffs."

James nodded, glancing west. He was sure there WERE landing places a good, determined climber would find useful. What would stop an army could be just annoying to a handful of invaders.

"I think," another soldier said, "they tried to sink the boat, or push it back out to sea, and it just washed back onto shore."

That was certainly possible. And the boat was human made. That was clear. More, given the currents it could only have been launched from inside the Polish borders on the mainland. He did not like the implications of that.

Piotr stepped forward, his armor's feathered wings humming in the ocean breeze.

"Your Grace, we should return to the palace. We're too exposed."

"I think here among my trusted men I'm as safe as can be." James smiled at the soldiers, saw them puff up in pride at his words. They were common grunts, those thrown onto the front lines or used for hard labor. He preferred them to the officers, frankly. "Still, I agree we should go. Lieutenant." He turned to those in charge of men. "I know you're stretched thin, but I want the entire northern coast scouted. See what you can find. While you're doing it, select locations for watch posts. We're going to have to start keeping a better watch." The wind gusted. James looked up. "Although, I suspect soon the seasons will help protect us."

The wind was picking up.

Shanna looked out over the parapet at the approaching clouds. A storm was coming. A large one. She could already, she thought, see flashes in the dark. Lightning striking the sea, nature testing its weapons before moving over its true target. Or, perhaps, there was some unlucky boat out there, or a whale which had pissed God off. Who could say. All she knew was she was glad it had come now, and not while all were gathering and dancing. That would be a bad omen.

She looked west. The sun was now gone. Behind her, torches flickered at strategic points along the walls, far from the actual sentries so as to not make them easy targets of a good archer. Despite her words, that attack had spooked her.

"I want the guard increased once the storm hits." She looked at the soldier beside her. "I don't want anyone using this as cover to get over the wall."

"Yes, Lady." He did not sound happy. She didn't care. She was not in a good mood, and saw no reason for anyone else to be any different.

Something wet touched her nose. Snow. And then a rain drop. Wonderful. She was glad she didn't have to out driving anywhere. Cars would be sliding all over the road.

Great. Add homesickness to the day's mental worries.

She heard a rider. Armored, she thought, from the direction of the Palace. Moving down the wall, she peered out. Yes. It was Piotr, in full winged regalia. Was he trying to impress her, remind her of their first meeting? Or ... Her smile faded before it could even start. Maybe the armor had been needed that day.

"Open the gate!"

Piotr was inside before Shanna had finished descending the steps, handing the reins to two of the stable hands as he dismounted. His body looked tired. His eyes, too, as he turned to her.

"Evening," he said, removing his helmet. A gust of wind sent his long blond hair off to his left, joining the fluttering wings. He reached a gloved hand up to clear strands from his face. "Sorry I'm late."

"Trouble?" She stood before him, a hand unconsciously going to his arm. He shook his head, sending more strands across his face. She resisted reaching up to clear them herself.

"Don't know. His Grace decided to go out and about today, instead of just reading reports. We spent half the day out by the coast. I think he was just bored."

There was a faint flash to the north. They both turned, Shanna unconsciously counting. No thunder came. She laughed.

"That's quiet lightning."

"I think it'll get loud enough later."

"Let's get inside," she said. "I don't want those feathers of yours to get singed."

"We knew about the cave, of course."

James nodded absently, looking down at the map spread over his desk. The Lieutenant pointed to a spot on the northern coast.

"We mapped it in the first survey of the island, but it was too isolated to be of much use. One of my men thought to check it after you left. There was a fire pit, the ashes only a day old. Footprints. No other signs."

"You're keeping watch on it, I assume?"

"Yes, but they won't be back. If they intended to, we would have found a supply stash."

"Which means they're out in the forests."

"Or in someone's home."

James sighed. He had not wanted to truly think about that.

"Your Grace," Ola said, "might I recommend searching the town? We know who should be here, and should not. I have all the records."

"What," he asked, looking up at the man, "declare martial law? Send troops into every home, round up everyone not on some list?"

"It can be done easily enough, Your Grace," the Lieutenant said. "The people will understand."

"Some, yes. Others will have it confirm whatever the fears are which sent these intruders here in the first place." James shook his head. "Besides," he added, looking at Ola, "you KNOW those records aren't complete. People slipped through, intentionally or accidentally. Filling the..." He frowned. "We don't even have a dungeon yet."

The chuckles from those around him broke the tension. James let out another sigh.

"I want watches patrolling the edge of the city. Passwords, in case these assholes have uniforms. We haven't had to deal with humans before. I want this to be the last time."

Why had Shanna agreed to this?

She sat at the small square table in her quarters, a plate of pan fried fish set before her. Piotr, armor discarded, sat to her left. Anelie sat to her right, her two friends staring at each other across the table.

She didn't think the two had said a single word to each other.

This was all her fault, of course. She had never been great at relationships. Never had done the right thing to keep those she wanted to keep, nor had tried very hard to stay with those who had given up on her. Worse, she had no experience with two people competing for her at the same time. She had never been THAT popular, or 'lucky'. It had always been a string of boys, one after another. She had prided herself at never two-timing on anyone.

That streak was now out the window.

Anelie was just glaring at Piotr, her green eyes full of murderous hate. That was just wrong! They had always been ... well, not friends, not really, if she was to be honest about it. They had not hated each other, though. Any conflict had been reasonably friendly.

Damn it. Why had Shanna let it get this far?

Piotr took a long drink. Water, she noticed. Was he expecting to be called to duty tonight? Or did he want a clear head? She had a mug of beer. The alcohol was much needed, in her mind. Putting the cup down, Piotr looked across the table at the redhead, hands folded together on the table.

"I apologize, Anelie."

The shock on the girl's face was amusing. Shanna did not dare say anything. Piotr had wanted this meeting, most likely had a plan of attack all set up. She knew better than to do anything to foil it.

"Um..." Anelie shot a quick glance at Shanna. "Thank you?"

"I mean it. I haven't taken you seriously, Anelie, and that is completely my fault."

"Taken me seriously?" Her green eyes hardened again as they returned to him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." Piotr sighed. "I thought ... well. I thought you were like I was." The girl frowned. "When I was young, I mean. There was a man. A hussar. He was in my Father's squad. Tobiasz, his name was. I ... I idolized him. I mean, yes, Father was, is, great, and I always looked up to him, but Tobiasz was somehow different. Better. Whenever I was at the barracks, he'd stop what he was doing to talk to me. Answer my questions. Teach me. He's the one who first taught me how to ride. Father taught me how to fight, but Tobiasz sparred with me as he would a regular soldier. Never held back. I wanted nothing more than to grow up to be like him."