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Tyranny retrieved her bloody sword. She gave Scars a nod of thanks and watched him hurry off in search of another slaver to kill.

The battle had been raging for nearly two hours. The sun was setting and darkness would soon fall. All around her, weapons clashed; Minions, crew members, and demonslavers screamed; and massive explosions rocked the heavens. Azure bolts streamed across the waves. Catapults launched fireballs from the demonslaver ships.

Tyranny's orders to her ships had been simple: sail close enough to the slaver vessels so the acolytes could hit them with their bolts, but not so close that they could be boarded. The result was a deadly, seaborne game of cat and mouse, with Tyranny's twelve ships deftly weaving between the more numerous slaver vessels. Even so, some slaver frigates had managed to come close enough to throw grappling hooks and board their warriors. Four of her vessels-the Reprise included-now swarmed with slavers.

Tyranny's Minions had boarded the enemy vessels and fought for their lives. The sea was littered with bodies and the debris of battle. The smoke rising from the strikes of the azure bolts and the demonslavers' fireballs was so thick that Tyranny could barely see.

She had told the acolytes to aim first for the enemy masts to render their vessels dead in the water. Only then were they to try to blow holes in their hulls. Five of the slaver vessels that she knew of had been sent to the bottom; without their masts, many of the others wallowed aimlessly at the mercy of the sea, the slavers aboard them helpless to join the fight.

Three of Tyranny's ships had already gone down. Some of her other vessels desperately tried to save what was left of their surviving crewmen before they drowned, but amid all the smoke and confusion it was a nearly impossible task.

Then she saw another orange fireball launch from a nearby slaver ship. Trailing dark smoke, it was following a high, deadly trajectory straight for the Reprise. Helpless, Tyranny held her breath as she watched it come.

The fireball fell short, but it trailed showers of sparks that landed on the mizzen sail. In mere moments the sail was ablaze. Aghast, Tyranny searched the deck for crewmen not engaged in the fighting. She finally found two and sent them aloft with buckets of water. If the Reprise caught fire, she was done for.

But as Tyranny looked back out to sea, her face lit up with joy. As far as she could tell, every surviving demonslaver ship was finally without its masts. Minions and slavers still fought aboard her ships, their weapons flashing as the moons rose. But without the ability to maneuver, the slavers would no longer be able to aim their fireballs with any kind of accuracy.

The fighting aboard the Reprise waned. Scars supervised as the crew lined up the surviving slavers. Blessedly, Tyranny saw no other fires on board, and her crewmen had nearly extinguished the burning mizzen sail.

The battle won, Tyranny's fleet regrouped around her flagship, leaving the slaver ships to wallow helplessly in the sea.

Exhausted, Tyranny placed the tip of her sword against the deck and leaned upon its hilt. She had won, but only by a whisker. Things could just as easily have gone the other way, she knew.

She heard the flurry of Minion wings and she looked up to see K'jarr coming to a landing beside her.

The warrior's wings drooped to the deck and his sword arm was covered with blood. Coming to attention as best he could, he clicked his heels.

Tyranny smiled at him. "Your report," she said.

"Thirteen slaver vessels have been sunk," he said, as he tried to reclaim his breath. "The remaining are without their masts and cannot maneuver." His face covered with soot and sweat, the warrior smiled. "The acolytes did very well," he added. "But desperate fighting still rages aboard many of the enemy vessels."

Tyranny looked out to sea where the enemy vessels bobbed aimlessly like so many children's toys afloat in a bathtub. She turned back to K'jarr.

"Order the warriors to break off and return to their ships," she ordered. "There is no sense in losing more of them. I have a feeling we'll need them in Tammerland. Go now."

K'jarr gave her a short bow. "I live to serve," he replied. He quickly returned to the air.

"It is a great victory," a female voice said. "You have my congratulations."

Tyranny turned to see Adrian standing there. The young acolyte's fingertips were scorched, and she looked past the point of exhaustion. Her face and dark red robe were speckled with soot.

Smiling, Tyranny embraced her. "And no small thanks to you and your sisters," she answered. "We could never have done it without you." She gave Adrian a conspiratorial wink. "I might just ask the Jin'Sai to assign some of you to my fleet on a permanent basis."

They suddenly heard a scream and turned to look. Scars and several of the Minion warriors were beheading the slavers who had survived the struggle aboard the Reprise. Lined up in rows on their hands and knees, they awaited their fates in terror. As they were killed, Scars and the Minions threw their heads and bodies overboard.

Adrian turned back to Tyranny. "Does it have to be this way? It seems so brutal."

Tyranny whipped her head around. "Brutal?" she repeated venomously. "You think this is brutal? Are you mad? Do you have any idea what would have become of us had we been captured? For all we know the Citadel is still crawling with these monsters. You are still new to the horrors of war, sister. Out here it is kill or be killed. Besides, it is my sworn duty to dispose of them. Wherever and whenever we encounter them, they are to die. It is a standing order from the Jin'Sai."

"Very well," Adrian answered. "If that is how it must be."

Tyranny gave Adrian another harsh look. "Steel your sensibilities further, sister," she warned. "I want to question one of them first, and no matter what you see me do, you are not to interfere. They are a very tough lot, and the harshest of incentives need to be applied. Do you understand?"

Adrian nodded. Tyranny sheathed her sword, and the two women walked over to Scars. He had his sword held high over his head and he was about to bring it down again.

"Hold!" Tyranny shouted.

Scars turned to her, startled. "Captain?" he asked.

"I want to question this one," Tyranny said. She looked over at one of her bloodied crewmen. "Go below and bring me a bottle of wine."

The crewman went below. He soon returned with an amber-colored bottle.

Tyranny took the bottle from him and allowed herself one long, luxurious draft. She casually lit a cigarillo and blew the smoke out her nose.

Then she poured the rest of the wine onto the deck. She walked over to the gunwale and smashed the empty bottle on it. Reaching down, she picked up two sharp pieces of glass. She walked back over to the demonslaver who kneeled before Scars. She looked at her first mate.

"Open his mouth," she ordered.

Scars took the slaver by the throat and lifted him to his feet. The slaver tried to wriggle free but to no avail. At Tyranny's signal, two warriors walked over and used a sharp dagger to force the slaver's jaws apart.

Tyranny turned to the next slaver in line. He gave her a defiant stare.

"On your feet," she said.

With a snarl, the slaver did as he was told.

Tyranny didn't particularly approve of what she was about to do. As much as she hated the demonslavers, this would be difficult, even for her. But she was embroiled in an all-out war-one that consumed her on both a personal and a national level-and she meant to help win it, no matter the cost.

Thinking of Tristan, and of her parents' hideous deaths at the hands of these abominations, she steeled her heart and came closer. She looked the slaver in the eyes. He glared back at her hatefully. No one on deck spoke; no one moved. Her eyes still locked on the slaver's, Tyranny pointed to the one whose jaws were being held apart.

"Watch and learn," she said.

Reaching up, she placed the two razor-sharp shards of glass into the other slaver's waiting mouth. With a nod from their captain, the two warriors forced the monster's mouth closed.