The Sail Weaver (33 page)
“It’s true, Tristan Weaver,” the deep voice of Darius added. “And your service to dragon kind will not be forgotten for many ages.”
“I did nothing, it was Captain Barrett and the crew of the
Victory
, Darius.”
The dragon snorted. “Yes, of course. It’s a good thing I was there to see it. You saved ten dragons that would have become slaves to the Vermin, Tristan Weaver. We will not forget.”
“Like I said, there is a lot to do when you get back,” Brian said. “You should know there is a full enquiry into those sails that they put up on the
Victory.
Everyone is denying knowledge.”
“And the dragons are not happy,” Darius said. “It is a breach of the Treaty, the Edicts, and there is tension between our peoples.”
“Well, between some of them,” Brian said. “Not everyone is being painted with the same brush. The dragons acknowledge the ships that fought at the Battle of the Line. You should know there was an attack on the Weaver offices on Terra
Decimus
two days ago. The Stars Plot isn’t dead, it seems. There are still sympathizers in the Navy and elsewhere. We discovered that when the ship carrying Fuhrman and the prisoners disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“Supposedly taken by pirates. We obviously have doubts about that,” Brian said grimly.
“I would, too.”
“For now, we celebrate this victory, though,” Darius broke in. “The Vermin are running, and they know we have something new they have to overcome. The
Winged Victory
stands between the Vermin and our space, and they will have to fight very hard to get through that line. She is a ship like no other—and that is in no small part thanks to you, never forget that, Tristan,” the dragon chided gently. “I saw what you did to the sails with my own eyes. I saw how the ship flew. It is special. She is our hope and saved us all.”
Tristan didn’t know what to say to that, he thanked them both and promised a report as soon as possible, then broke the connection.
“They’re right, you know,” Thom said from where he was leaning on the door.
“Shouldn’t you knock?”
“Fenfyr let me in.” Thom stepped into the office. “I told you this ship was special when we first met.”
“I knew she was the first time I saw her. I wanted to Weave her sails even before I was asked, even knowing that it might kill me. And, honestly, I was jealous that Alden was to fight her. I wanted to see her sails, see her in space.”
“She is as much your ship as she is mine, Tristan. I’m not sure another Warrior could fight her,” Thom said uncertainly.
“No, the sails—I can’t explain it—but no, they won’t accept another Weaver.” He smiled. “I guess you’re stuck with me. I’m not sure how that’s going to work with the Guild.”
“We’ll figure it out. We can’t be at the Rim all the time, that’s what the frigates and privateers are for.” Thom grinned. “Are you feeling up to a little formal company?”
“What do you mean?”
“Admiral O’Brian and
Polaris
are getting ready to head out, but before they go, there are a few medals they want to hand out. You’ll have to wear your formal uniform.”
“When?”
“Four bells in the first dog,” Thom said with a grin. “On the
Winged Victory’s
quarterdeck.”
“Why are you grinning like that?”
Thom just laughed.
It was a few minutes before four bells when Tristan walked onto the quarterdeck. Fenfyr had left the cabin a few minutes before and Riggan had also disappeared shortly before the bells chimed. When he reached the deck he could see why. The officers of the
Winged Victory
, Chris Muher, Cook, Harkins and Alden from the
Noble Lady,
Taminick and Fenfyr as well as Riggan were all lined up, waiting. A man in an Admiral’s uniform was pacing back and forth.
“There you are, Master Weaver!” the admiral said with a smile,
walking over and shaking his hand. “Admiral O’Brian, it’s a pleasure to meet you! Now that you are all here…”
A drum tapped out an unfamiliar call over the ship-wide comm. It sounded a little like the call to quarters, but Tristan hadn’t heard it before. That was when he realized the deck was full of men and women in uniform, and space around them was full of ships. It hadn’t been the ship-wide
comm
, but the fleet-wide one the call had gone out over.
“We are gathered here today to honor those who, by their service, led the fleet to victory during the Battle of the Line.”
A cheer broke out on deck. The admiral waved at a man wearing a captain’s uniform, and he walked over with a box in his hand. “The Silver Cluster is hereby awarded to Boatswain James Shearer, First Officer Patrick Aubrey, Gunner, now Second Officer, Jacob
Raiden
and Doctor Rose Webber of the
Winged Victory.
To the officers and Warrior of the
Noble Lady,
Commander R. Cook, Ship’s Master Harkins and Alden
Soldat
, the Navy hereby awards you the Civilian Silver Cluster for service during the battle. Marty Riggan, for service above and beyond your station, you are awarded the Gold Star and promoted to the rank of chief petty officer, honorable.”
Tristan grinned at Thom as the cheers on deck got louder.
“Finally…” t
he admiral said, and a hush fell over the deck. “The Medal of Honor, with the Constellation Cluster, is awarded to General Chris Muher, Captain Thom Barrett, Master Tristan Weaver,
Lokey
Fenfyr
and
Taminick
of the Guild Dragons.”
The admiral moved down the line, dropping the medals over each man’s head, and hanging them from the dragons’
foreclaws
. Tristan stared at the admiral in shock as he stopped in front of him with the heavy medal hanging in his hand. Shaking his head in disbelief, Tristan bowed so the man could slip the medal over his head. He stared at the plating for a moment, waiting for the blush to recede. Tristan glanced up when a gasp ran through the assembled crew. Darius
was dropping down
towards the quarterdeck. The officers scrambled out of the way as the dragon landed.
Darius looked at them. “The Guild Dragons wish to acknowledge the crew of the
Winged Victory
for their aide in the Battle of the Line.” The dragon waited as the cheering on deck quieted. “Thom Barrett and Tristan Weaver without your help, we
would have lost many of our own. For this service, above and beyond
the normal call of
duty, we, the Guild Dragons
,
award you the Order of the Silver Wing.” Darius held out a set of silver wings
to Tristan and Thom. The dragon
glanced over the crew again and leaped from the deck. Tristan stared at the Wings, as far as he knew, he and Thom were the first humans outside of the Dragon Corps ever awarded the honor.
The admiral smiled and stepped back, then raised his hand in a signal. The
Winged Victory,
along with the other ships gathered there fired off a salute. Tristan counted, his blush getting deeper and deeper as the count rose to twenty-one, an honor unheard of in more than a century.
“Thank you all for your service,” O’Brian said again. “We will meet again!”
As the man walked off the quarterdeck and was piped into his barge, the cheering on deck increased. Tristan was still staring at the deck, not sure what he had done to deserve the highest honor the Worlds could offer.
“Well, look at us,” Harkins said with a laugh. “We’re heroes!”
At that, Tristan started laughing, and Thom took the opportunity to thump everyone soundly on the back. The dragons were fluffed out, holding their medals like they weren’t sure what to do with them. The look on
Fenfyr’s
face increased Tristan’s laughter.
It was eight bells in the morning watch and the crew was on deck as Tristan and Thom walked up the steps from Tristan’s cabin. Riggan was still fussing when they left. Even though he’d been promoted, he’d chosen to stay as Tristan’s—and Thom’s—servant and split his time between the two.
After a short argument, Tristan had convinced Thom he was not only well enough to repair the small hole in the mainsail, but that they could unfurl the sails and start towards home at a decent pace. It had taken nearly two pots of coffee and reassurances from Fenfyr and the threat of pulling rank, but Thom had finally acquiesced. They were both anxious to head back towards the inner system. There had been another attack on a Guild outpost, and someone had reported what might have been a Vermin ship on the other side of the Rim. Thom doubted the report, but they wanted to get in closer to get more
information.
Tristan stopped by the Elemental Interface and set his hands on it. The willowisps recognized him immediately, happily moving back and forth as he gently began Weaving together the hole in the mainsail. The willowisps moved easily, flowing together into a whole with very little effort on his part. He barely had to utter the spell, it was more like they were connected and they understood what he wanted and did it.
“The sail is ready, Captain Barrett,” he said.
“Loose the sails!” Thom called.
“Loose the sails!” Shearer repeated. “Sails loose, Captain!”
“Ship to the Weaver.”
“Ship to the Weaver!” Shearer repeated.
“Ship to the Weaver!” Fenfyr bugled from the Dragon’s Roost before launching off to fly beside the ship with Taminick.
“Weaver has the ship!” Thom said, smiling at Tristan. “The ship is yours. Take us out.”
Tristan reached out and felt for the Winds, shifting the sails until he felt the first flutter of the Winds touch the royals. The ship shivered as she started to pick up speed as the sails slowly began to fill. Finally, with the now familiar
boom,
the mainsail snapped into place, full of the Winds, the ship wheeled over and headed into the stars.
Acknowledgements
There have been so many people who have helped, encouraged, held my hand and kept me writing during this project.
I would like to thank my e
ditors, Anne
Nielsen and
Merisha
Anderson
, for their amazing work. Without their tireless efforts this book would not be what it is
today
.
I can’t thank Gina Brooks enough for the artwork she has created for
The Sail Weaver
, not only the cover art, but the badges and banners. Her enthusiasm for this project has been wonderful and I can’t thank her enough. I also would like to thank her for
offering me the use of a name that led to a fabulous character.
I would also like to thank
Mish, Anne,
Ruth,
Shann
on Linton, Maria Mews, Rob Cook, Janice Grove, Sheila
Gratsinger
,
and my friends and family
for encouragement, kind words and hand holding throughout this project.
And t
hanks to Matt
Youngmark
who listened to me one night as the idea was first forming and
asked why enough times to poke me in the right direction
.
About the Author
Muffy
Morrigan
began her writing career at the age of six, when after completing her first hand written novel she attempted to sell it to the neighbors for the lofty price of ten cents.
After myriad careers, including archaeological consultant, teacher, herbalist, shop keeper, news editor, reporter and columnist, she has settled in to her first love and passion—writing. She currently lives and works in the Pacific Northwest.
Twitter @
muffymorrigan
Facebook:
www.facebook.com/MuffyMorriganAuthor
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