Free War of the Princes 02: Dragoon by A. R. Ivanovich Page A

11: The Flying Fish
     
     
     
     
     
     
    At two hundred feet in length, the ship was smaller than the other boats on the Black Harbor and still larger than any floating vessel I'd been on. As if rowing canoes on Dragonfly Lake counted for anything. This one was eye-shaped, and fitted with a pair of bulky cabins topped with upper decks on either end of its length. A pair of twenty-foot metal masts obstructed the main deck in the middle, where I stood. Curiously, two horizontal poles intersected them at their full height, spanning nearly the width of the ship, but there was no sail that I could see.
    On the rear of the ship, I counted six pipes leading to steam stacks that twisted out of the hull like trumpets. The cargo hold was on that end too, as were the stalls for the horses. Dylan had called the ship ugly, but I found it strangely beautiful.
    “ I don't like this,” Sterling said, peering over the side at the water below. The tide was kicking up and we were rocking and creaking against the docks.
    “ You didn't have to come,” I chided.
    “ Can you please take these blasted things off now?” Dylan swooped in, blocking my view of the rear deck. He held his wrists up and jangled them. He was still favoring his side, despite the wound having only reached just beneath the skin. “For pity's sake, I treated you better than this.”
    Ire cracked my nerves. “Don't! Don't you dare ever say that to me again.”
    “ Fine,” he frowned at me, attempting to blow the long hair from his hazel eyes. “I won't. But neither will I be much use to you in my current state.”
    I looked at the mass of supplies huddled near my feet. They wouldn't put themselves away.
    “Fine!” I gave in, fishing the key from my pocket. “Why, why, of all people, did I get stuck with you two?”
    Sterling glanced at me , then away.
    Dylan glared. “The loathing is mutual.”
    I didn't want to touch him, but I had to. My skin crawled, despite his beauty. I grabbed his hands, one at a time, twisting the iron key in each lock, freeing his wrists. He pulled his arms away from me, seeming to hate the contact as much as I did.
    “Thank you,” he said inclining his head and forcing a smile. Each of his hands worked at rubbing the other wrist. “You see, some of us retain our good manners despite traveling with backbiters.”
    And there it was. We weren't even out of the harbor and I already wanted to kill him.
    Before I could act on my desires, the boat groaned and trembled with the vibrations of a working engine. Muted cheering wafted up from below decks where Kyle had no doubt worked more of his machine magic.
    When they resurfaced, they both looked a little more than pleased. Kyle's sleeves were rolled up and there were splashes of grease on the front of his shirt. He and Carmine's hands were both covered in the stuff.
    “ You got it running?” I asked hopefully.
    “ Just needed some love,” he grinned.
    “ Your friend is talented,” said Carmine. “I hadn't thought of stripping the couplers and using them to bypass the auxiliary lines.”
    “ Just going off a hunch,” Kyle said, stuffing his greasy hands into his pockets.
    “ And he's modest too,” she said, giving him a smile so charming it nearly made him blush. “We can take to the water at your command.”
    After hefting our supplies into the rear cabin cargo hold, we followed Carmine to the front of the ship. A door led us down a narrow hallway. It was constructed of honey-toned wood, floor to ceiling. We passed three doors on either side, entered a fifth at the very end of the hall, and found ourselves at the helm. It was a wide, triangular room, and the front two walls were glass. Facing the windows was a raised desk the shape of a horseshoe. Dials, levers, switches, gauges, and a great round wheel filled its surface. Behind us, the single solid wall was covered in dozens of maps, plastered one over the other to form haphazard wallpaper.
    “ We should be underway,”