This long drawn out section of the way wore hardest upon him. He was already exhausted, unable to focus as well as he had. He dragged a hand down his face and rubbed his stinging eyes. Then he thought of the oarsmen still pulling below him and shook off the mood. None of them had been spelled through any of this. The Lady simply didn’t have a large enough complement.

‘We might be through,’ he told Gren.

The steersman rolled his massive shoulders to loosen them. ‘We might.’ Then he frowned. ‘I smell smoke.’

Reuth squinted ahead. Smoke? How could there be … He caught coils of black smoke now curling round the rocks ahead. What in the Lady’s name …?

The stern of a tall three-tiered vessel came edging out from behind the looming centre tooth – an enormous galley entirely engulfed in flames.

Shouts of alarm sounded from the crew below.

‘Lad …’ Gren murmured.

Reuth simply stared. A sea battle ahead? A sea battle in the middle of the narrows? But the Lady’s entire crew was given over to the benches. How could they possibly hope to —

‘Lad, choose …’ Gren prompted, louder. ‘Now.’

Reuth shook himself. Choose? Now? He studied the vessel’s aimless spin as it came heading broadside down towards them like a wall of fire. Black smoke billowed, cloaking a portion of the channel.

‘Hard Port!’ he shouted.

Gren thrust the tiller arm over. The Lady’s bow swung towards the port shore of the narrows while the burning vessel, helpless in the current, came directly across their line. Smoke blew across their deck in thick sooty billows that blinded Reuth.

‘Pull!’ Tulan urged, coughing. ‘Keep pulling!’

The hungry roar of flames now overtook the rush and hissing of the waters about them. Gouts of flame penetrated the wall of smoke like bursts of those damned Moranth munitions. A firestorm much taller than the Lady came crackling and thundering, as searingly hot as an enormous kiln, directly past their starboard side. Reuth covered his face. He coughed and gagged in the thick oily smoke. Something hot kissed his hand and he yelped, jumping and waving the hand.

‘Put those fires out!’ he heard Tulan barking. ‘Douse those embers!’

The pall of smoke began to clear. ‘Sail’s caught!’ Storval shouted.

‘Drop it!’ Tulan ordered.

‘Cut the ropes!’ Reuth heard Storval call.

Blinking, Reuth felt more than saw the bundled sail come crashing down, crossbar and all, while flames licked about it. ‘Overboard!’ Tulan bellowed. ‘Now!’

Men grunted and heaved. Wood grated, then a heavy splash announced that the burning bundle had struck the waves.

Reuth started then, remembering his duty, and called out: ‘Back over, Gren.’

The steersman grunted his surprise and slammed the arm across. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured.

Reuth wiped his face and his hands came away black with soot. ‘Is it a sea battle, Gren?’

‘Don’t know, lad.’

‘Because we can’t—’

‘Never mind. You just get us through.’