"Rescued? But you've already set me free!"
"I'm thinking nobody's as told him that."
"But if they storm the ship--"
"A lot of people will get killed," Morgan said flatly, "either defending our lives in battle or hung for piracy if captured."
"Hung! But you're not kidnapping me! And all this treasure wasn't stolen, it was salvaged! And you deliberately left any Prairie Tribe relics on the island!"
"Yer forgetting the attack on that ship o' yers as started it all," Mel put in. "Not ta mention the assorted warrants and such out on the notorious 'Hell Mel' fer past offenses against the common welfare." He turned away and roared, "Another thirty degrees ta port, Goss! Steer due north and we can ride the wind. I've never met a steamer yet that could sail worth a damn without her engines, and if we can make her run hot we might be able ta shake her when she has ta shut down ta cool."
We were already turning long before the explanation was finished; Mel's crew obeyed orders during battle without asking why.
"She's turning too, Cap'n!" cried the lookout.
"We may have ta jettison some o' the treasure," Mel said with a sigh. "It may give us a fighting chance ta lighten the load. If we don't, she'll catch us." Indeed, the Fancy's sails were billowing full, but the pursuing ship had gained ground quickly, so that I could start to make out some details with the naked eye.
Mel nodded to himself, as if settling a discussion.
"All hands, prepare ta--what in Althena's name?"
Morgan and I were standing in identical, slack-jawed, gaping poses, as I suspected was anyone who had been looking astern at the time. The entire pursuing ship seemed to be swallowed by the translucent image of a gigantic white dragon at least three times the height of her masts. I still swear that I could see the wrinkles on the leathery hide of its face and the strands of fur waving in the wind. Then, the dragon spread its wings majestically, opened its jaws, and roared.
The sound seemed to race across the water like a tangible force; I could see the air ripple in its wake and the expanding circle in the sea. It echoed in our ears, noble and defiant, as it washed over us, and in its wake the wind died.
"Literally," Ace noted belatedly.
We looked at one another in desperation. The Dragonmaster had called upon the power of the White Dragon and stilled the wind for miles around his ship, and eliminated any chance of escape. We could hurl every piece of treasure overboard and it wouldn't do a bit of good. A kind of terrified despair seemed to fall over us as we saw the steamship inexorably close the gap.
"Ahrrr. It do be times like this, as it do seem unfortunate ter have chosen a life o' villany," Patch said grimly.
"Indeed," said Morgan, the laconic tone returning as he watched destiny close in, "it seems that the Goddess has a sense of humor, to bring us to justice just when it looked as if we'd finally hit the one we could retire on."
"Wait a minute," Jack cried. "Let's think this over. They might have the Dragonmaster and, for all I know, half the magicians of Vane on board, but they can't just burn us into the sea or call up the waves to swallow us. It's a rescue mission, and Dragonmasters don't go around sacrificing the damsel in distress just to kill the villains."
"So what?" somebody called out.
"So if they want us, they'll have to come get us in a fair fight! They aren't ghosts that can't be hurt; they're men and women like us. Oh, they might be the high and mighty Althena's Guard, but we're the best damned pirate crew in the Meribian--no, in all Lunar--and I say, if they want to give us their brand of justice, then we'll make them pay for it in blood!"
He thrust his sword into the air, and loud huzzahs burst from nearly every throat on the ship (including, I'm afraid, my own--and I'm still not sure whether to be ashamed or proud of that). The significant exception to that was Mel.
"Enough!" he roared. "That were a fine speech, Jack, and I'm hoping ya remember it ta tell yer grandchildren one day, but we all know how a fight like that'd end. I'll not be having ya throw yer lives away."
"I'm not going back to dance the hempen jig," Jack snapped, "and I don't think anyone else here wants to, either!"
"No more do I, but dead is dead. I don't much favor one way o' getting there over another, not when there's a better way."
"What way?"
Mel scowled fiercely at the one-handed pirate.
"Am I or am I not the captain o' this ship?" he roared.
"You are."
"And is this or is it not a battle we be talking about?"
"It is."
"Then I ain't obliged ta explain myself, am I? Just follow my lead and stand ready if things go wrong." He unslung his great axe and pounded the butt on the deck for emphasis. "D'ya hear me, all o' ya?"
"Aye!" Some shouted it boldly, while a few grumbled, but they all said it. It was a strong sign, as if I needed any more, of how much confidence the crew--even those used to serving under Captain Stede--placed in Mel. Their blood was up, fired for battle, but they'd reined it in on his say-so alone.
"Then ta battle stations, and ready for a fight--but mark me well, the first one o' ya who looses a bolt or hurls a grapnel without my say-so, I'll keelhaul with my own hands!"
As they sprang to, he turned to me.
"Amelie, ya get yerself below, out o' the line o' fire."
"No."
"What!?"
I shook my head.
"No, I won't go below. For one, if I'm not in sight the Dragonmaster might not know I'm here at all and could just sink the ship outright. Then again, if I'm hidden safely away he can just sweep the deck with arrows and lesser spells. I know you don't want to hear it, Mel, but if I'm not out in plain sight in the line of fire your idea won't stand a chance of getting started. You'll have two choices: surrender or die. If he offers a choice."
He gave me the kind of look men get when a woman is completely correct and it's driving them crazy. He hovered on the point of saying something stupid because he didn't like being wrong, then got past it and moved on.
"Amelie, I don't want ya in danger if some hothead on either side goes off half-cocked and touches off a fight."
"I know, but that's no worse than if I'm hiding below and Dragonmaster Dyne turns the Fancy into Nautical Flambe a la Red Dragon."
"How did ya get so good at tactics anyway, lass, when ya've never been in a battle afore now?"
"Clearly, you have never attended a society ball. I can stay?"
"Aye, ya can." Mel clearly hated to do it, but he knew that I was right; having me on deck was the best way to keep not only myself but everyone else safe from immediate risk.
None of which had anything to do with the reason I actually wanted to stay, but they made for much better arguments. Thus I watched along with the rest of them as the steamship drew nearer and nearer, entering into archery range, then finally pulling alongside, as close as the Black Fortune had come to the Swiftsure when the pirates had first kidnapped me.
The Dragonmaster's ship was an impressive sight, I had to admit. Her name gleamed in gold letters from the bow: Swallow. That surprised me, as I'd expected something more belligerent or else something that recalled dragons or the Goddess. Twice as long and half again as wide as the Fancy though with equally low freeboard, she screamed elegance. Even the sailors in their bright white shirts and buff trousers seemed fresh-scrubbed, and more ominously there were the marines as well, their breastplates and helms shining. I counted no less than three white-robed priests and a bearded man in green and red who had to be a magician. Considering the source, the mage was probably a full-fledged member of the Magic Guild of Vane.
Althena, please let Mel's plan work, whatever it is. Don't let this come to a fight! I prayed silently. It was a reflex action, and I realized the irony of it a moment later, but I went ahead and finished it anyway. Don't let my friends die because of me.
They were friends, I realized. People I cared about and wanted to help, and whom I trusted would help me in return. Ace with his ready wit and quick mind; Morgan's dandified airs and core of steel; Anne with the courage and bravado as a woman that I wished I possessed; Patch, who seemed to be every good and bad stereotype of a pirate rolled up into one...
And Mel. Mel, who'd proven a dozen times over to have triple the character, the decency, the moral courage of any of the pampered sprigs of Meribia's merchant nobility who'd bowed over my hand at parties and dances. His physical prowess was impressive, even thrilling (there, I admit it), but it would have meant nothing without the man.
"Ahoy, the Fancy!" someone called from the Swallow's deck.
"Ahoy yerself!" Mel roared back. "Step forward, ya rogue, if ya wants ta talk."
I wasn't sure that being so aggressive was the right approach, but boys will be boys. Sure enough, the ranks parted and the unmistakable figure of Dragonmaster Dyne strode to the rail.
The black-and-tan armor and the crimson shield and helmet were unique, of course, but there was more to it than that which marked Dyne for whom he was. He carried about himself an aura of sorts, a tangible energy that I could sense even from several dozen feet away. Mel carried with him something of the same force, but it was different in Dyne, something that proclaimed that he was not just a man wearing the Dragon Armor and wielding its magic, but that he was truly Dragonmaster--that when it was all over, it was the man who defined what he was, not the power. His physical appearance was almost an afterthought: nearly Mel's height but not so massive, his features not particularly handsome--there were too many angles and not enough curves, especially in chin and nose--but with a certain relaxed confidence and even a hint of humor.
This was the man I--all of Lunar, really--had been taught to see as the ultimate hero, Althena's personal champion, the last resort of all that was good and decent. Never in my life had I dreamed he'd end up being my enemy.
"So, you're 'Hell Mel.' Your appearance matches your reputation," Dyne said. "I see Miss de Alkirk still seems hale and healthy."
"Of course she be well. Did ya think otherwise?"
"Not really; you're supposed to be a man of your word in these matters. The question is, are you going to give yourselves up peacefully or do we have to do this the hard way?"
"Neither, if I have me way."
Dyne glanced at the magician, who shook his head. I assumed he was checking to see if we had some sneaky magical surprise in wait, which of course we didn't. To bad Dyne hadn't shown up when we were on the island; we could have let him fight Grimzol and Van Dierken while we slipped away.
"Neither?"
"Think about it. We've got an important hostage here. Ya can't be sinking us out o' hand. Likewise, I wouldn't suggest an all-out battle, else some stray arrow might go in the wrong place."
I supposed if Mel was going to listen to my arguments, he had might as well use them.
"I wouldn't necessarily count on that, Mel. For example, Eryx, here"--he pointed to the wizard--"could hit that fellow standing next to Miss de Alkirk with a thunderbolt and not even make her hair frizz from static."
Was it a bluff? Who could say, but I felt that I had to do something. With a quick movement I snatched the knife from Morgan's belt and pressed the edge against my own throat.
"Is he this fast, Dyne?" I shouted. "If you so much as raise a hand, I'll--"
"Are ya daft, lass?" Mel gasped, even as his big hand closed over mine. He pulled the knife away harmlessly and took it from my grasp. "Althena's tears, but don't ya ever be trying something so bloody stupid again!"
"But I--"
"No buts! I'll have none o' that foolishness from ya, d'ya hear me?"
Dyne, meanwhile, had burst into rich, powerful laughter.
"Oh, not 'The Lady and the Pirate'! That's the oldest routine in bad melodrama!"
I blushed scarlet and wished the Dragonmaster at the bottom of the ocean, preferably tied to a heavy weight.
"If yer finished amusing yerself at a lady's expense, then perhaps we can get ta talking business?" Mel growled. "This ain't a farce fer yer benefit."
"It's apparently a farce for someone's benefit," Dyne replied, the grin refusing to leave his face. There were more chuckles and grins--from both ships, now--and I saw red. I'd meant what I'd said, blast it, yet between that and Mel's reaction, Dyne had contrived to turn the whole thing into a joke. A joke!
A joke... which had two crews no longer on the point of drawing a weapon as an instantaneous reaction. You couldn't be laughing and wound to the sticking point with tension at the same time. By keeping his comments light, Dyne was reducing the chance someone on either side would do something stupid before he and Mel had finished negotiating. Clever, and not too different what I'd done after Mel had announced that he was freeing me.
I still wished him to Blue Dragon's Deep, of course, but that was a matter of hurt pride.
"This be a matter o' life and death," Mel growled back at him. He was the only one who didn't look even a bit amused, though in his position I wouldn't either. "The life o' my crew and yers, if we gives the orders ta fight it out. I know my crew would die fighting fer their freedom, and yers, I'm sure, would die fer their Goddess. Ya be the bloody Dragonmaster, so's yer side would probably win, but whose blood would run in the scuppers afore it were through?"
"Every one of us has a duty to Althena. As you yourself said, we're willing to accept that risk."
"But are ya willing ta order them ta fight and die if ya don't have ta?"
Dyne looked thoughtful.
"What are you proposing?"
"That instead o' the people under us fighting and dying, we settle it between ourselves, you and me?"
"A duel?" Now the Dragonmaster looked vaguely amused. "And if you lose, will your crew happily surrender themselves to justice?"
Mel snorted.
"O' course not."
"Then I don't see how you and I fighting would settle anything."
"That's cause ya ain't heard me terms yet."
Dyne inclined his head.
"Very well. Try me."
"If ya win, Miss de Alkirk goes back ta her parents with ya, the Fancy and all her contents become the prize o' the law, and ya agree ta put me crew ashore at Blue Dragon Key, free and unhurt, and leave them be from then on."
"And if you win?" He didn't bother with any bluster about Mel having no chance of winning, which was not good. I'd have felt a lot better about Mel's chances against a blowhard.
"Then yer crew gives up the chase, and the Fancy and all o' us get ta sail away, free and clear--but Amelie goes back with yer crew, so's yer rescue be a success either way."
"This is your brilliant plan?" I exploded. "You're going to fight the Dragonmaster?"
"It's better than all o' us fighting the Dragonmaster and all his magicians and soldiers, and this way there's no chance of ya getting killed in the crossfire."
"Indeed it is," agreed Dyne. "Very well, Captain Mel. I agree to your terms."