And the leviathan gave him everything he asked, which was more than he could say about Janira back in Setubal. On it swam, toward Sibiu, toward- if the powers above proved kind- a return from exile after close to three and a half bitter years.
"This time," he murmured, "this time I won't swim up onto Tirgoviste because I had my mount killed out from under me. This time, this time" -he caressed the words, too- "if the powers above be kind, I'm coming home to a free kingdom. A freed kingdom, anyhow."
He ordered the leviathan up into a tailstand so he could see farther. There straight ahead lay Sigisoara, the easternmost of Sibiu's five main islands. He wished he'd been ordered to Tirgoviste, but his wishes counted for nothing in the eyes of the Lagoan Admiralty. And there, coming along every ley line that bore on the islands of Sibiu from east, southeast, and south, glided perhaps the largest fleet the world had ever seen: Sibian and Kuusaman warships of every size shepherding transports full of soldiers. Cornelu's was but one of a pod of leviathans helping to protect both the transports and the warships.
And there overhead, also warding the grand fleet from Algarvian attack, flew the greatest swarm of dragons Cornelu had ever seen. He didn't know how it measured in the historical scheme of things. He did know he'd never seen so many dragons accompanying a naval expedition. He couldn't imagine how the Lagoans and Kuusamans had got so many of the huge, fractious beasts aboard ship.
All at once, as if drawn by a lodestone, his head swung to the left, toward the south. He stroked the leviathan, commanding it to stay up on its tail longer so he could get a better look. At first, his hand went to the rubber pouch he wore on his belt- he intended to get out his crystal and scream a warning to the fleet. Of all things the ships didn't need, a great, drifting iceberg in their midst was among the worst.
After a moment, though, he realized the iceberg wasn't drifting. Instead, it glided east along the ley line under at least as much control as a cruiser. Its upper surface wasn't sharp and jagged, as it would have been in nature, but low and smooth and flat. Even as Cornelu watched, a dragon landed on the ice and two more, both painted in Lagoan scarlet and gold, took off. A chunk of ice that size could carry a lot of dragons- aye, and their handlers, too.
For a couple of heartbeats, Cornelu simply gaped at that. Then he remembered a name he'd heard on his journey down to the mages' base at the eastern edge of the land of the Ice People. "Habakkuk!" he exclaimed. He didn't know that that name went with the iceberg-turned-dragon-hauler, but it struck him as a good bet. What else but ice would those mages have been working on, down there on the austral continent?
He still had no idea why they'd had him bring egg casings full of sawdust to their base. If I ever see one of them again, I'll have to ask, he thought.
Right now, he had more urgent things to worry about. He let his leviathan slide back down into the sea, which it did with an indignant wriggle that told him it thought he'd made it stand on its tail far too long. "I am sorry," he told it. "You don't understand how strange that iceberg is."
The leviathan wriggled again, as if to say, An iceberg is an iceberg. What else can it be? Up till he'd seen this one, Cornelu would have thought the same thing. Now he saw that the question had a different answer, but it wasn't one he could explain to his mount.
With a snap of its toothy jaws, the leviathan gulped down a squid as long as his arm. Then it swam on. Did it think Cornelu had arranged the treat? He didn't know- it couldn't tell him- but it didn't complain when, a few minutes later, he ordered it to lift its head, and him, high out of the water again.
Sigisoara island was closer now, close enough to let him see flashes of light and puffs of smoke as eggs burst near its south- and east-facing beaches. Boatloads of Kuusaman and Lagoan soldiers were leaving the transports and making for those beaches. Cornelu yelled himself hoarse as the leviathan sank back into the sea.
Tears stung his eyes, tears that felt more astringent than the endless miles of salt water all around. "At last," he murmured. "By the powers above, at last." He wished the Sibians could have freed themselves. That failing, having others- even having Lagoans- restore their freedom struck him as good enough. He shook a fist to the northwest, in the direction of Trapani. Take that, Mezentio, he thought. Aye, take that and more besides.
Here and there, eggs burst among the oncoming boats. Some of the Algarvians still on Sibiu were trying to give rather than take. An Algarvian dragon swooped down on a landing boat, flamed all the Lagoans in it, and left it burning on the water. A couple of Kuusaman dragons drove the enemy beast away, but too late, too late.
Still, Mezentio's men weren't putting up much of a fight. More than a year and a half before, Cornelu had been part of the force that raided Sibiu to distract the Algarvians while another fleet carried a Lagoan army to the land of the Ice People. Then the enemy had hit back hard. Had that raid been an invasion, it would have failed miserably.
Now… Now the Algarvians didn't seem to have so much with which to strike the invaders. Cornelu had seen as much on his last trip to Sibiu on leviathanback. His laugh was hard and cold. "That's what you get for taking on Unkerlant," he said, and laughed again.
Algarve had been recruiting Sibians to help fight its battles when he was there. He supposed they would mostly have gone to Unkerlant, too, the fools. How many of them crouched low in holes in the ground along with their Algarvian overlords, looking at vengeance here out on the ocean? However many traitors there were, Cornelu wished he could kill them all himself. Since he couldn't, he hoped the dragons overhead, the eggs tossed from the warships ashore, and the soldiers landing on the beaches would do the job for him.
He'd had his hopes dashed too many times in this war: his hopes for how the war would go, his hopes for his kingdom, his hopes for his marriage and his happiness. He was afraid to have hopes any more, for fear something would go wrong and ruin them anew.
Did King Burebistu have hopes? Like Gainibu of Valmiera, he'd been an Algarvian captive the past three years and more. Like Gainibu, he probably counted himself lucky that Mezentio hadn't booted him off the throne and replaced him with some Algarvian royal relative he wanted to get out of his hair. What was the King of Sibiu doing now? Something useful? Rallying the people in the palace against the Algarvian occupiers? Maybe. If Sibiu was lucky, just maybe.
But then Cornelu stopped worrying about Burebistu or anything farther away than the Algarvian ley-line frigate sliding down from the north toward the landing boats. Its egg-tossers and heavy sticks tore at the invaders; no Lagoan or Kuusaman warships were close enough to deal with it right away.
"I am," Cornelu said, and then, to his leviathan, "We are." He urged his mount forward. The frigate was faster than the leviathan, but if he could get to the ley line ahead of the ship's path and wait… If he could do that, he might give a good many of Mezentio's men a very thin time of it indeed.
He slid under the leviathan's belly, ready to loosen the egg slung there and fasten it to the frigate's hull. But he reached the ley line just too late; the frigate had already glided past. He couldn't even curse, not underwater, but red rage filled his thoughts.
As much from rage as for any other reason, he ordered the leviathan after the ley-line frigate. As long as the frigate kept going, it would leave the leviathan behind; it was, after all, steel and sorcery, not mere flesh and blood. But the frigate slowed when it got in among the landing boats. With so many targets all around, its captain wanted to make sure he missed none. Eggs started bursting near the frigate from ships that had seen the danger to the soldiers, but none struck home.