Darrok shook his head. ‘Just a porthole about the size of Vance’s head. I’d pay good money to see him try to get through that.’

‘Stand by then.’ He gave the signal.

The ram crew took a run at the door. A tremendous crash rang out. The door stayed closed.

‘Again!’ Darrok bellowed.

The ram pounded the door a second time. Still it held. They didn’t wait to be told to try again, and the third impact broke through, leaving the door in splinters. Caldason dashed forward. He ducked into the entrance, sword raised, the rammers crowding in behind him.

The cabin was large, and although poorly lit, no one seemed to be there.

A grand, elaborately carved bed stood against one wall. Beneath its brocaded silk sheets was the outline of a figure, which Caldason approached cautiously. Blade poised, he reached down and tore away the covers.

‘Gangway!’

Darrok manoeuvred his flying dish through the doorway. Tilting at a perilous angle, he just managed to scrape through.

‘Well?’ he said, arriving beside Caldason.

‘Just this.’

The thrown-back sheets revealed a couple of shabby flour sacks, stuffed with straw.

‘Shit,’ Darrok muttered dejectedly.

‘Looks like our information wasn’t entirely up to date.’

‘I should have known better than to think he’d be caught this easily.’

‘There’ll be other times.’

‘I was keyed up for this, Reeth. Ready to pay the bastard back, you know?’

‘You’ll get your shot. But right now we need to leave.’

They went back on deck.

Darrok produced a cloth satchel. Inside was a quantity of the rust-coloured powder called dragon’s blood. He placed it, open, at the base of the ship’s main mast. Then he lashed a clay water bottle above it, stoppered neck downwards.

‘This is going to sink the ship?’ Caldason said.

‘There’s nowhere near enough for that. But it’ll act as a useful diversion.’ He took a small rubber vial from his pocket. ‘Vitriol. A smidgen of this on the bottle stopper will burn through in a minute or less. Then the water hits the powder and…boom.’

‘What about them?’ Caldason pointed at the hatch set in the deck. The pirates trapped below could still be heard clamouring.

‘I suppose we’ve got to give them a sporting chance. Haven’t we?’

‘I’ll gladly kill any of them we meet in other circumstances.’

‘I’ll take that as a yes. If I do this, can you…?’

‘All right. But make sure our people are off first.’

Darrok bellowed the evacuation order and men began running towards the rail. ‘I’ll hold off until you get to the grille. But it won’t do to linger, Reeth. The rate the vitriol works at is unpredictable.’

‘Right.’

‘You’ll need this.’ He handed Caldason an iron key. ‘And get clear of that hatch fast. Those crewmen aren’t going to be in a happy mood when you free them.’

‘Just be sure to wait for me.’ He sheathed his sword and jogged off.

Darrok watched Caldason reach the hatch. Then after checking everyone else had gone overboard, he carefully opened the vial.

Caldason was on hands and knees, scrabbling for the chain and trying to avoid the swords thrust through the grid. He managed to get hold of the padlock and inserted the key. There was a sudden movement at the edge of his vision as Darrok’s dish took off, heading out to sea. Caldason turned the key and prised apart the arch of the lock, then he was up and running.

The hatch cover burst open behind him, and a flood of howling men poured out. As he ran for the ship’s rail an arrow whistled past his head. Another missed him by an even narrower margin. He heard the sound of many boots, thundering in pursuit. The rail was just ahead, and he leapt, skimmed it with his heels and went over the side.

There was what felt like a long drop, followed by the impact of freezing water and seconds of swirling confusion.

Hands were hauling him out. They dragged him aboard a large rowing boat, an old whaler with seating for twenty rowers. Somebody threw a blanket around his shoulders and he was guided to an empty bench. Kinsel sat closest to him, swathed in a blanket and wearing a glazed expression.

Arrows zipped into the water all around the boat, a few burying themselves in its timbers. One sliced through the thigh of a rower, at which several men took up bows and began firing back.

Then Darrok swooped in, scattering the pirates on the ship, buying the whaler time. Skipper Rad Cheross was at the rowing boat’s helm. Rows of thick metal tubes had been attached to the stern and sides, their forward ends hammered shut. Cheross sat by a makeshift valve.

‘I hope your friend Phoenix was right about this!’ he shouted at Caldason. ‘Oars up! Hold on to something!’ He turned the valve.

Sea water flooded the tubes, meeting the dragon’s blood packed inside. The boat shuddered violently. For an infinite moment everyone on board fully expected to be blown to pieces. Instead the vessel lurched forward, plumes of flame jetting from the tubes.

The craft moved faster and faster, its nose raised, and the passengers were thrown back by gravitational force. At the helm, Cheross struggled to steer a straight course.

An explosion sounded at their rear as a fireball rose from the pirate ship. The central mast was ablaze and panicked men could be seen running on deck.

A ragged cheer went up from the whaler. Then Darrok’s dish flew in from above, keeping pace with the speeding boat. Ahead, the outline of the Diamond Isle loomed against the night sky’s blue velvet.

The whaler kept up its velocity, swift as an arrow. Caldason was pummelled by wind and drenched with icy spray, yet couldn’t help feeling exhilarated. And he wasn’t alone. Grinning, he turned to his companion.

Kinsel was sobbing.

A wing of the redoubt was used as an infirmary. But due to Kinsel’s state he was put by himself in a room nearby. In the corridor outside, Caldason and Darrok waited.

‘I’ve only seen your friend once before,’ Darrok said, ‘at the concert I mentioned, years ago. So I can hardly compare now with then. But to me he seems a shadow of the man he was.’

‘You’d be right. I just hope it’s only his body the last few months have left their mark on.’

‘He should be grateful he came away from Vance alive. That’s quite a feat in itself.’

‘You should know,’ observed Caldason.

‘Something else I know is that Vance is going to want retribution for this. He must be spitting blood.’

‘No change there, then.’

‘And I missed my chance to repay him. That rankles.’ Darrok’s floating dish rocked, as though shadowing its master’s agitation.

‘The way things are going, you’ll get another crack at him.’

‘Assuming a fleet from one of the empires doesn’t arrive first.’

‘That would solve the problem, wouldn’t it?’

‘Not quite in the way I hoped.’ Darrok glanced at a window opposite. A pink dawn was breaking. ‘Can we hold out,’ he wondered, ‘if an empire moves against us?’

‘They will, be sure of that. Whether we can hold them…well, that might be down to the Source, and we’ve chewed that over often enough.’

‘Forget the Source. I don’t want to sound negative, but we can’t count on you finding it. There’s no way we can hold off an invasion just by force of arms, is there?’

‘I think you know the answer to that. We could delay things, at best.’

Darrok sighed. ‘I would love you to have said something else.’

A door banged and the sound of running feet reached them. Kutch and Pallidea arrived.

‘Is it true?’ Kutch blurted, panting. ‘You rescued Kinsel?’

‘We got him, yes,’ Caldason confirmed.

‘Great! How is he?’

‘Kinsel’s been through a pretty rough time, Kutch. That’s bound to take its toll.’

‘He’s not mutilated or dying or anything, is he?’