“Empress!” The cry rose from hundreds of throats as the realization of who was standing on the deck spread through the ship. Everywhere, men stopped their attack and fell to their knees, pressing their heads to the deck.
Nara ignored them all. She stomped to the prow of the ship. Ahead of her, the swirling black madness of the storm blocked her view, screaming as it tore through the ship’s nose. Irritated, Nara let a flash of her true nature show. The glass storm froze when it saw her, all anger gone. She dismissed it with a wave of her hand, and the black glass fell pattering to the water, disappearing into the dark sea below with a soft cry. Even before it hit, the Empress was walking forward. For anyone else, this would have been suicide. The raging glass had consumed the prow, leaving a sheer, hundred-foot drop to the sea below. But Nara was the Immortal Empress, a star of the Shepherdess, and the ship knew its place. Boards flew from the lower decks as she walked. They came from the outer hull, the railings, anywhere that was still stable. They piled on top of each other, forming a solid, if makeshift, ramp beneath her feet. When she reached the place where the end of the prow had been, Nara stopped. The boards creaked below her, stretched to the very edge of their ability to hold. Nara ignored the sound and leaned forward, toward the island.
She paused, listening, watching, seething. The feel of the Shepherdess was stronger than ever. Nara followed it as a dog follows a scent, reaching past her ships, across the bloody bay, and up the steep, rocky wall to the lone figure sitting with his back pressed against the cliff. She could see him in her mind as her will touched him—a young man, thin and gangly with shaggy, dark hair. He was hunched over, his arms wrapped around his knees, but she could feel the burning trace of the Shepherdess’s touch all across his body, and the realization stabbed her like a sword in her gut.
“You,” Nara whispered, her voice shaking with hatred.
What’s wrong, Nara? The Lady’s voice seemed to float on the wind. Are you so surprised? You knew there was another star here, and I only have two among the humans.
“Why is he here?” Nara roared, forgetting herself in her rage.
He’s here because you’re here, the Shepherdess whispered. You said you would do anything to be first in my heart, Nara. Now’s your chance. Fight for my favor. The boy has set himself up as defender of this island. Crush his forces and take it from him, and I will know once and for all who loves me best.
“If you want a fight, I will give you one!” Nara shouted into the wind. “Watch me, Benehime! I will show you the difference between that boy and an Empress.”
Her voice echoed across the water, but the only reply was the Lady’s laughter, chiming like glass bells in the night.
“Captain!” the Empress shouted, looking over her shoulder. Sure enough, the captain was there, kneeling at the end of the makeshift plank. “Tell the wizards to prepare another volley and signal the fleet to ready the assault boats. We conquer this island within the hour.”
“But, Empress.” The man’s voice was shaking. “The wizards on the shore—”
“Will mean nothing in a moment,” the Empress finished for him, turning back to the front. “I am about to teach this land what it means to defy the Immortal Empress.”
She heard the soft thunk of the captain’s head on the deck as he bowed deeper still and assured her that her orders would be followed. Nara barely listened. Instead, she closed her eyes, reaching down into the well of her soul and giving her spirit a hard, sudden twist.
A ripple of power flew out of her, soaring silently over the dark sea, over the new-grown trees blocking the bay, over the bloody water and the forgotten bodies of her soldiers. Her will struck the island like a tidal wave, suffusing the land. All at once, the air was thick with the proof of who she was, what she was.
On the shore, the effect was immediate.
In the minutes before the Empress struck, the storm wall was still in chaos.
Miranda crouched panting against Durn’s solid wall, Mellinor coiled around her in a rope of glowing water. Banage had his own stone spirit out and was holding the war spirit down with three granite shackles. The war spirit strained against his hold, its sharp claws rending enormous gouges in the road, but Banage’s spirit held it firm. Now, it was Miranda’s turn.
“Hit it high and hard!” Banage shouted, his voice straining. “We may not get another shot!”
Miranda closed her eyes, focusing on what she was about to do next. “Durn?” she whispered, accompanying the whisper with a surge of power. “Mellinor?”
“Ready,” Durn said behind her.