could do more than ready her spirits, Josef stepped in front of her, sword out.
“I’ll handle this,” he said. “Get your wizards ready to stop the rest.”
“The rest?” Miranda said, bewildered.
Josef nodded and jerked his head toward the water. Miranda turned, and her heart sank. The sky was full of smoke trails as countless red-hot spirits launched from the decks of the palace ships. Most were already flying high overhead to fall on the city behind them. Miranda could only watch in horror as the first one crashed into the mountain, landing in the houses on the eastern slope with an impact she felt through her boots.
But even as the first wave hit, more war spirits were launching. The second volley hit the palace itself. One struck the crumbling tower at the top, taking it clean off. Another crashed into the palace’s eastern face, cracking the wall as it tore into the inner halls.
“Miranda,” Mellinor whispered in her ear. She barely heard him. She was staring in horror as a war spirit crashed through the palace roof, shattering the floors below with a distant boom of pulverized stone.
“Miranda!” the sea spirit shouted.
She snapped out of it. “Right,” she muttered, running for the lee of the tower where the Spiritualists were hiding.
“All of you!” she shouted, pointing to no one in particular. “Get to the city and get those spirits under control!”
The Spiritualists stared at her dumbly.
“Go!” she shouted again.
This time, they obeyed. The air was full of flashes as they called their mounts and took off toward the burning city, but Miranda didn’t see it. She was already marching back toward Durn’s wall.
“We have to stop those ships,” she said. “Where’s Master Banage?”
“Still in the tower, I think,” Gin said, hunching down behind the stone spirit.
Miranda bit back a frustrated groan. “What’s he doing? We need him.”
“Don’t know,” Gin growled. “Look sharp, Sara’s on the move.”
Miranda snapped her head to see her dog was right. Sara had all ten of her wagons lined up along the edge of the storm wall. She and Sparrow were beside the first one, untying the canvas cover.
“What are you doing?” Miranda shouted, marching over.
“What does it look like?” Sara said, undoing the last knot with a snap of her fingers. “I didn’t come here to enjoy the show. The war spirits that have already landed are more than enough to overwhelm your small force of Spiritualists. If we’re going to save this island, we can’t have them launching any more, which means we have to sink the ships.”
“Sink the—” Miranda said, coming to a stop beside her. “How?”
“Same way you sink anything,” Sara said. “Put a hole in it.”
She flashed Miranda a thin smile and tugged the canvas aside. It slid off the wagon, revealing… Miranda wasn’t actually sure. The wagon was full of straw and raw wool, like a packing crate, and nestled neatly in the padding were five black orbs. Each one was slightly larger than a man’s head, perfectly round and as shiny black as a puddle of freshly spilled ink. The sun was well down now as evening shifted into night, but Miranda could see the orbs well enough thanks to the grim glow of the burning city behind her. The spheres glistened wetly in the fire light, and though she could hear nothing, something about the orbs made Miranda very uneasy.
“What are those?”
“You’ll see soon enough,” Sara said, picking one up.
The orb fit neatly between her small hands. As Sara rested it against her chest, Miranda swore she saw the orb’s black surface tremble.
“Sparrow,” Sara said, lowering the orb. “Ready yet?”
“Almost,” Sparrow answered.
Miranda glanced up at his voice to see that he’d uncovered the next wagon. This one held no soft packing or strange orbs. Instead, the wagon contained a miniature catapult. The weapon was very cleverly made, with several different levels of tension to fit the most power into the smallest space. So cleverly made, in fact, that Miranda was only slightly surprised when it greeted Sara in a calm, professional voice.
“Hello, Sara. What is our objective today?”
Miranda gaped. “You brought an awakened catapult?”
“Of course,” Sara said, placing the black orb in the small depression at the end of the catapult’s arm. It didn’t look big enough at first, but the catapult shifted as the sphere settled, moving the grain of its wood to hold the glassy ball neatly in place.
“Shaper-made,” Sara said with a smile. “What’s the point in slaving for the Council if you can’t spend some money once in a while?”
Miranda stared at her, eyes wide. “Why do you need a Shaper-made catapult?”
“Because I put far too much effort into these to waste them on bad shots,” Sara said dryly, running her hand over the orb. “We’ll start with the center ship.”
This last bit was directed at the catapult. It obeyed instantly, turning the wagon until it was pointed at the palace ship in the very center of the line. “Ready on your mark,” it said, gears creaking as the arm wrenched back.
Sara held out her hand, checking the wind. The moment it fell slack, she gave the order.
“Fire.”
The catapult slung, and the black orb flew silently through the air, vanishing almost instantly into the dark. Miranda held her breath, listening for… she wasn’t sure. An explosion, perhaps. But all she heard was the slight, musical sound of glass breaking, so soft it was nearly hidden by the waves. But what followed couldn’t have been hidden by anything. Miranda bent double, slamming her hands over her ears as the night began to scream.
CHAPTER
25
The scream was high and terrified. It cut through Miranda’s skull, drowning out even her own thoughts. But horrible as the scream was, it was nothing compared to what Miranda saw out in the water. At the center of the Empress’s line, the prow of the middle palace ship was gone. Not wrecked, not cracked, gone. The place where it had been was now solid darkness. No, Miranda squinted, not solid. It was more like a shadowy cloud, but there were glints inside it, tiny flashes of fast-spinning light.
The cloud crept down the ship, screaming as it went. The Empress’s soldiers rushed forward, but when they reached the cloud, they vanished as well. After that, the soldiers turned and fled, running for the wizards at the stern of the ship. Miranda watched in horrified amazement as the shadow pushed forward, slowly consuming the enormous ship while a rain of sawdust and powdered metal fell like snow into the sea below.
When her body could move again, Miranda turned to Sara.
“What is that?”
“I should think you’d recognize it,” Sara said, picking up the next orb. “I got the idea from your report.”
“No,” Miranda said, shaking her head. “It can’t be.”
“Of course it can,” Sara said as she lovingly loaded the glassy black ball into the waiting catapult. “Clever idea, actually, compressing a sandstorm. So much power and destruction at your fingertips.” She shook her head. “Only problem was the deadline. It’s not like I can just make storms. What you see here is my entire stock. Now do you understand why I didn’t want to risk them on a nonawakened launcher?”
Miranda was barely listening anymore. “You copied Renaud’s glass storm?” she screamed. “Are you out of your mind?”
Sara gave her a sideways look. “It was very effective.”
“It was Enslavement!” Miranda roared.
Sara winced. “Not so loud, if you don’t mind.” She turned to the catapult. “Next shot will take out the second-to-last ship on the left.”
“Yes, Sara,” the catapult said, dutifully turning itself.
