As Nicholas promised, Whalehost comes into view on the evening of the third day of hard travel. Even Kalanthia is starting to flag a bit – but then, the rest of my ground Bonded have spent more time on her back today than in the two days previous. Ivor, Sirocco, and Noir are also clearly getting fatigued up in the air.

  Just a little further, I murmur to the massive nunda, stroking along her neck. You’ve done so well and I’m incredibly grateful to you for your help.

  She doesn’t respond in words, but in a carefully directed caress across the Bond – tiredness intermingled with pleasure and relief over helping to make up for what she sees as her failing.

  Nicholas’ tattoos have definitely proven themselves practical. Apart from the scouts, the only time I’ve seen them out was yesterday when, against expectations, we ran into a group of bandits. Suicidal bandits, blind to the fact that challenging our party was the worst possible idea.

  With no Classers between the twelve of them, they were clearly relying on numbers alone. Honestly, the battle took less time than their attempts to threaten us. Nicholas summoned his Tier three demon horse and lighting-griffin and the two of them utterly destroyed the group of attackers before any of my companions were able to get involved. It was a slaughter.

  I’d feel sorry for the bandits but for the fact that they were criminals preying on innocent travellers – their threats and demands were very explicit. If Nicholas hadn’t cleared them away, they would have posed a threat to the next people to come along.

  And yes, Nicholas could have left them alive and brought them with us to Whalehost, but apparently banditry receives an automatic sentence of slavery or even death if their crimes were too bad to let them live even as slaves. Nicholas deemed it not worth the effort.

  The guards definitely seemed grimly satisfied with Nicholas’ decision. From their comments, I suspect that patrols often don’t bother taking bandits prisoner. Hopefully, they only target the obviously deserving and not just any vagrant trudging the roads or seeking shelter in the local forest.

  It also makes me wonder why there are bandits at all – is it that opportunities for young men are so slim on the ground that running away to become a criminal seems like a better option? Even though they have to know the consequences if they get caught?

  By this point, I’m aching to sleep in a proper bed again – I forgot to bring my mattress with me so I’ve been sleeping on the same kind of padded bedroll as Nicholas. Not bad, and better than bedding down on the floor, but it hasn’t taken long for me to become reaccustomed to luxury.

  We can’t see much of Whalehost at the moment from ground level – the land undulates gently and we’re currently heading out of a dip. According to Nicholas, past the next rise, it slopes down towards the river mouth and ocean.

  Technically, Whalehost only extends from the top of the hill to the foot, but the city lord permits those too poor to pay taxes and be acknowledged as full citizens to live on the floodplains that extends from the city to the estuary.

  I frown.

  Don’t floodplains, you know, flood?

  Frequently, yes, Nicholas agrees, not seeming too bothered by the fact. But the residents just return and rebuild their shacks after it reduces again. The advantage to their location is that it’s near the docks which offer a fair amount of work to unskilled labourers.

  Let me guess, the higher up the hill the house is, the more important and expensive? And the lord’s manor is at the top of the hill, safe from any sort of flood? I ask with full expectation that I know the answer.

  Correct, Nicholas agrees, surprising me not at all. It does make me shake my head, though – I thought slavery was the worst of the inequality in this society, but it turns out that I was being optimistic. People who don’t pay taxes – which is a good portion of the population, albeit a minority – are considered barely a step up from slaves themselves, and that’s before they’ve committed any crimes. The consequence of that is that they don’t have access to any of the amenities of citizens – schools, legal representation, the right to petition the local lord, and more. Heck, the lord isn’t even obliged to give them the right to build their shacks at all – floodplain or not.

  Ahead, I see the roofs of some buildings that have sprawled over the crest of the hill. They’re silhouetted against a rich orange sky.

  I bet the sunset is beautiful from the top of the hill, I say to Nicholas a little wistfully – it’s been a while since I saw a nice one. A pity it will be gone before we get to the top. We’re moving fast, but we’re still a good few miles away – or leagues as they seem to measure distance here. It’ll probably take us another twenty minutes or so to reach the viewspot.

  That’s not the sunset, Nicholas replies, and I look over to see him crouched close to Tempest’s neck, his eyes squinting at the city ahead.

  Confused, I look closer at what definitely looks like a sunset. Then I narrow my own eyes. Wait. Is that a flicker? I come to the realisation just as Nicholas says it, his mental voice tense.

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  There’s a fire. A big one.

  I need eyes in the sky.

  Sirocco, can you fly ahead? Use your Fire Wing if you need to. We’ve discovered that, angled and timed correctly, her Fire Wing can propel her forwards like a rocket’s blasters might. She can’t use it constantly – it’s too mana-hungry for that – but she can use it several times in quick succession to build her speed and then glide forwards.

  Upon agreeing to my request, she does just that, soaring forwards quickly. It’s still a tense couple of minutes before she gets close enough to be able to send me useful information.

  I’m grateful for the harness holding me to Kalanthia’s back as it allows me to focus entirely on Sirocco’s sight. And what I see has me very alarmed indeed.

  You’re right, I say, focussing on sending my message to Nicholas. There’s a big fire.

  Where?

  Through Sirocco’s eyes, the city sprawls below me, covering the area where sea, river, and land all meet. Looking almost like a picturesque Mediterranean seaside town, the pale-coloured and orange-tiled wealthy houses cover the slopes of the rise, with the lord’s manor in pride of place just below the crest of the hill. They offer stark contrast with the shacks of the poor that extend from the foot of the hill towards the river mouth.

  The fire isn’t in the city itself – which is something of a relief. It’s not even in the slums. Instead, it seems to be….on the water? No, I realise.

  It’s the dockyards! The ships are burning.

  Alarm surges through Nicholas.

  All of the ships?!

  Just the big ones, I clarify – there are a whole load of small vessels, probably for fishing, which seem to have been left untouched. Then I make the connections. Lord Pevril…he’s lord here, isn’t he?

  He is, Nicholas’ tense reply confirms.

  Damn. My mind races. Then these ships are most likely to be my ships. If they burn, I won’t be able to set off until they’re fixed. Which then puts me at a disadvantage – I know from overhearing the other heirs at dinner times that those taking part are intending on leaving as soon as they have finished building their crews.

  But beyond my own interests, the fire poses a threat to the city – and the people who live here.

  When I pull back from Sirocco’s sight, I realise that everyone has come to a halt. Nicholas is dismounting from Tempest.

  “What are you doing? We need to go and help!” I exclaim in surprise and not a small bit of anger.

  “That’s exactly what we’re going to do,” Nicholas tells me sharply. “Gather whichever Bonded you feel would be most appropriate and which you can bring with you in flight.”

  Even as he speaks, that black smoke starts billowing off him – he must be summoning one or more of his Bonded.

  Reassured, I consider the matter. Flying…. I can grow wings, that’s not a problem – in fact, I start doing that right away. Ivor, Noir, and Sirocco can all fly too, but they won’t be much help with a fire of the size I saw there. Honestly, Aingeal is likely the best option here – most of my current Bonded are better at making fires than stopping them. Kalanthia might be able to help if it was on land, but for ships on water, her earth is likely to cause more problems than it saves.

  “Have you decided?” Nicholas demands. He’s already mounted on top of his lighting-griffin – that makes sense.

  “What will happen to the rest?” I ask in return. Nicholas looks at Mathis.

  “Lead the guards, Tempest, and whichever Bonded Markus leaves with you to the lord’s manor. Ensure no harm comes to them, in my name.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Mathis salutes sharply. Nicholas looks at me. We have no time.

  Without me needing to say anything aloud, most of my companions have understood that they can’t help me in this fight.

  Be safe, Bastet warns me, Lathani, Ninja, and Fenrir seconding the notion.

  I’ll do my best, I tell them. Be good, please. Then I undo the harness holding me to Kalanthia’s back. I move around to her face and look at her pleadingly for a moment.

  I’ll do my best to stay calm, as long as they don’t come too close, she promises, a little grumpily. And as long as they feed me – I’m hungry.

  I’m sure they will, I promise, relieved that she’s not going to object to me not being present when she enters the city. I open a pouch at my waist, and a ball of fire slips free to bob beside my head. Are you hungry, Aingeal? I ask the little elemental, hoping that he’ll be able to do the same to this fire that he did to the vine-stranglers.

  The excited reaction I get from him answers that question.

  “I’m ready,” I tell Nicholas.

  He doesn’t answer, but I get a distinct – and very deliberate – feeling of ‘finally’ from across the Bond. The next moment, his mount pushes off the ground. I quickly follow, beating down with my air-formed wings with all the force I can muster. Feeding more mana into the wings, I increase the airflow that propels me forwards. Aingeal dances around my head, unbothered by the increased speed.

  Ivor and Noir, however, are left behind. When I glance back, I see them doing their best to catch up with me. I don’t know what they’ll be able to do to help, but since they can fly by themselves they’re not holding me back in any way. As for Sirocco, she continues flying forwards, aiming to give me a better idea of what’s happening.

  I quickly catch up with Nicholas and his storm-griffin, and then shoot past.

  Go around the city itself, he warns. They’ll be on high alert right now – you don’t want to get mistaken for an enemy and be shot down.

  That’s a very good point and I follow his direction. Honestly, given the position of the dockyards, I’d need to avoid most of the city anyway.

  The closer I get, the bigger the fire appears. Sirocco’s scouting has already let me see that this is definitely a targeted attack – I’m no expert, but it looks like the fire started on the four large ships at berth, and spread from then to the dockyards.

  Already, there are people swarming the area, water arcing towards the blaze from hands and machines. But the ships are clearly highly flammable and blaze like torches, the fire eating everything.

  If they can’t stop it, then I will.

  here!

  here!

  here!

  here