Compare and Contrast

But do be glad baby when you've found

That's the power makes the world go 'round

~ Huey Lewis

Chapter 2

Before you embark on a journey of revenge, dig two graves. ~ Confucius

"What do you mean you won't let both of us on your ship?!" Jilk protested. "We're escorting Lady Marie!"

The captain bore a not inconsiderable resemblance to Leon Fou Bartford, which wasn't that surprising since he was the newly-dubbed knight's elder brother. He seemed quite unimpressed by that claim. "Lady Lafan is welcome aboard the Pelican, but volunteers go to the ships they're assigned and we've space for one dismounted knight on board. I don't care which of you lads comes with us, but the other will ride on the Revenge." He pointed across the quay at a second skyship, this one showing the recently applied colours of the Ades duchy.

Greg gave the Revenge a suspicious look. "I thought all the Ades ships were destroyed?"

Marie looked closer and then gasped. "That's the Lafan's Pride!" Her family's one remaining skyship, the bare minimum that they'd maintained as part of their feudal obligations… and mostly disarmed so it could carry goods and generate a little income for her parents. As she watched, a cannon was being lowered onto the deck by a dockyard crane.

"It was," Nicks Fou Bartford confirmed with a bitter snort. "Your brother sold it for ready cash so he could flee the country. I'm not sure he still owned it, but the Ades weren't asking too many questions."

"Can't you send one of the elves?" Jilk suggested, indicating one of the young-looking and good-looking crewmen being drilled by Nicks' petty officers. "That way we could split up."

The Bartford heir sighed. "I don't have time for this. Look, my brother tells me you're not bad fellows."

The two boys brightened but Marie heard a qualification coming to the statement.

"But he also tells me that what wit and common sense you have diminishes markedly when you're together," the dark-haired young man finished. "I don't care which of you comes aboard, but decide now or I'll leave you both behind with the other children."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Do you know who I'm engaged to?" Nicks asked Greg rhetorically. "If so, why do you think I'd find you intimidating?"

Marie didn't know, actually. But Jilk winced so it must be bad. "Who?"

"Lady Dorothea Fou Roseblade." The green-haired boy shivered. "You should know her little sister from the academy."

The big-chested sadistic girl from the council? The small blonde did indeed know. "Greg, Jilk, we can't argue now. What's important is that we have to do our duty. Even if it's hard."

"Alright," Greg sighed. "Since you say so, Marie. But which of us do you want with you?"

Urk. "I love you both, don't make me choose." She clasped her hands before her. "Can't you decide together?"

The boys mock-glared at each other and then Greg smirked. "Rock-paper-scissors?"

"Fine, meathead." Jilk extended his hand. "Three, two, one - now!"

"Argh!" Greg cried out as his paper was cut by Jilk's scissors. "Best out of three?"

Jilk took Marie's arm. "No time!"

He was right. Even as they said that, bells began to chime and Nicks bounded up the gangway. "All aboard!" he shouted down. "That means we're casting off."

"Come back safe," Marie called to Greg and let Jilk escort her up the gangway.

"Of course I will!" the redhead shouted back. "I've got a lot to do!" Then he turned and ran for the Revenge, catching the gangway just as the crew began to retract it. She saw them cursing at the boy as he ran up it, then he turned around and threw his weight into helping the crewmen pull it back aboard the skyship.

"I hope he'll be alright," Jilk muttered.

"I hope you'll all be alright," she said, clutching the bulwark and watching as the Pelican pulled away from the dock. "You, Greg, Julius and Chris." The other two still had knight-armours so they'd joined the king's division for the battle. She'd given them her blessing to do so, though only because they'd looked like lost puppies - and all four were carrying handkerchiefs she'd given them as her 'favours'.

Where she was going to get another handkerchief, she had no idea. Those were the only ones she had and she was flat broke. Again. She couldn't even afford a dessert at the academy dining hall.

"I'm trying not to think about the battle," the viscount's son admitted. "Brad was…" He broke off and gulped. "I still look around, expecting him to be there. If one of the others… or worse - if I lost you!"

Marie paused and then moved her hand to interlace her fingers with his.

Jilk looked down at their hands, then smiled at her. "Thank you."

"What for?" She tossed her hair, as if it was nothing. "But if you're not thinking about the battle, then why did you say that about Greg?"

"Marie, that's the Ades ship. Where do you think the Ades twins are going to be?"

Her eyes went to the Revenge, itself now pulling away. She could see the deck, where Greg was helping some of the crew to hoist the newest cannon down a hatch to the main gundeck. Two silver-blonde heads could be seen up on the quarterdeck. Duke Ades was dead, his wife and son back at their stronghold far to the north. Which meant that the Ades who'd bought the skyship had to be Violette Rafa Ades or her twin Scarlet - who was Greg's former fiancee. "Oh my."

The docks fell behind, and then the Pelican began to descend and turn towards the continent.

Jilk looked around. "I'm… surprised that you chose to come, Marie. After the way we pressured you last time, I would have thought that it was the last thing that you'd have chosen to do."

"I was useful last time," she told him. Not as useful as she'd expected - she'd thought her light magic would be more than enough to handle everything but she'd been barely able to shield a part of the fleet. Hitting back had been impossible. "And I don't blame you for what you did under Dieke's influence."

That was a shiver. Dark magic hadn't even been part of the game - unless Fanoss' fleet counted for that. Mind-control magic? That was… Marie hunched her shoulders and leaned more heavily on Jilk. It made her think of some of the more rabid speculations on forums discussing the game, reading way too much into a few minor script choices.

Probably reading too much. But what were the saintess' relics anyway? What had they done to Katarina Rafa Claes?

"How much of that was Dieke?" Jilk asked. "And how much was me? I'm not always a good person when it comes to my methods - you heard how I threatened…" He lowered his voice, perhaps remembering suddenly whose ship they were aboard. "What I said to Sir Leon at the end of our first term. I believed my cause was just, but how I handled that... The legends say that dark magic can only work with the darkness inside us."

"That's what the temple says," Marie agreed. "I don't know how much they have right. But I did ask Lady Katarina about how you cleanse someone of dark magic."

That girl was just unfair. Tall, busty, had men all swanning around her without her needing to even do anything! If Marie wasn't sure that it was Campbell that would have been the protagonist then it would be easy to think it was Claes. But who'd make a game with a brunette duke's daughter as the main character?

Shaking that thought off, Marie raised her hand and let light magic wash over herself and her escort for a moment. "We're both unaffected," she reported. "So I'm not here because anyone's pushing me, Jilk. I'm here because I choose to be."

"Island in sight!" a lookout called.

Marie frowned. "There's an entire continent, of course there's…" Then she realised what the call meant.

"It's too soon," Jilk observed tensely. "We're supposed to be under the continent."

Nicks snorted from behind them - Marie hadn't realised he was so close. "That's why a couple of dozen merchantmen were held back at the port island." He snapped open a telescope. "They'll be released to flee now - the confusion should mask the rest of our division getting under the continent's shadow. It'll look like we're more rats scurrying away from the sinking kingdom."

The dark-haired young man raised the telescope and scanned the north-west. "Yes, there it is. Might be an hour or so out."

He passed Marie the telescope and she gazed out, scanning the horizon until she finally spotted the shape she'd seen once before, near the Field island.

It wasn't a large island, roughly star-shaped with five promentaries emerging from a central mass. Three sloped down, one was more or less level… and one reared up, a fortification erected upon it. What could have been a grassy plain, enough for a small baronet's holding, was built over with sheds and skyship docks.

And around it, tied by a hundred or more towlines, the fleet of Count Garrett was visible - sails out, not yet close enough for the distinct shapes of the hulls to be distinguished from those of Holfort's more graceful but less advanced vessels.

"They move that thing?" she asked incredulously.

Nicks shrugged. "I wouldn't have bothered myself, but let's not kid ourselves. They've been winning so far."

"Not for much longer," Jilk declared with barely a tremble of his hand to reveal how thin his confidence was.

"That's the idea." The oldest Bartford son patted them both on their shoulders. "Unless the plan changes, we'll be out of sight soon." He rubbed his forehead. "I really hope my little brother has some oh-so-clever plan in mind, or this is going to be a very bad day."

The sky around the mobile island was chaos and death.

Knight-armours were flying or falling. Occasionally a skyship did the same - even the durable Fanoss-built ships could be crippled if they were hit in the right place.

It was some reassurance that dark magic hadn't been used yet - perhaps the dark mage was concerned that any knights who transformed by the magic would attack their own skyships, Alan wondered.

Not that he had much time to think about that sort of thing. He'd mostly been trying to stay alive. He felt guilty from using any of the mental energy he had left for anything except keeping his comrades from getting killed. Maybe that sort of focus came with experience.

Julius reached the island first, turning as he landed to fire back with his rifle at the knight-armours chasing them.

That took enough pressure off Gerald that he cut his immediate opponent's arm off with a flaming sword, forcing the knight to withdraw.

A second knight-armour opened up on Gerald with a rifle as Alan's brother tried to join their cousin. The first shot missed and then Chris closed with the Fanoss' knight and cut the rifle in half. The Fanoss knight kicked out and sent Chris tumbling.

A shot from Julius punched through the torso of the enemy knight-armour and a spray of metal and blood erupted out of its back.

Keith's knight-armour crashed down next to Julius and the earth-mage brought a wall of rock up to guard them against a salvo of cannon-fire from the ships above them.

Diving after them, Alan grabbed Chris' knight-armour and dragged it after him and away from the pursuit. A cloud of dust exploded up and away from the crude wall - for a moment he thought that it had been blasted apart but then he realised it was Nicol using his wind-magic to create a smokescreen.

Chris had his knight-armour back under control and the two of them landed, six knight-armours huddled behind the cover of obscurity and a two-feet thick wall of hastily shaped stone.

"We made it," Alan gasped. "I thought we were goners for sure."

"A lot of knights didn't," Nicol noted quietly. "We may be the only ones to get this far."

Julius knight-armour nodded its head in accord with the young man's own head. "Chris, I'm… I'm not sure you saw but…"

The swordsman planted the tip of his sword in the dirt. "My father. Yes. I saw."

Alan looked at his brother, though inside their knight-armours he couldn't really see Gerald's face. No one, he thought, should ever have to see their father die. If Charles Fia Arclight, the man they called the Sword-Saint, had fallen, how was anyone else even alive after the melee?

"We don't have much time," Nicol continued. "Some of the ships have cut their lines to fight but others are still dragging the island."

"Do you want to wait for reinforcements?" Gerald asked, seemingly casually. "The six of us could get over-run pretty quickly."

Julius rested one hand on the shoulder of Gerald's knight-armour. "That's going to happen soon anyway. And we might be the only ones to make it this far."

"The hell with that," the older of the Stuart twins declared. "I have too much to go back to."

Keith straightened his knight-armour from where it was kneeling - placing the young man inside closer to the surface. "There are caves inside the island. I can feel them. If we can get inside them…"

"Then we'll be much harder targets," Gerald agreed eagerly. "Great. So the rest of us hit as many cables as we can, while you make us an entrance?"

The island being partially hollow would explain how it's moved, Alan thought. The number of ships didn't really match the comparative speed of it travelling unless Fanoss had far more powerful engines in their ships, or it weighed less than it seemed to.

"Not here," the Claes heir told them. "Further up the island - and we'll have to abandon our knight-armours."

"If it's that or death, it's not a hard decision," Julius pointed out.

"We don't have much time before the smoke dissipates," warned Nicol stoically. Alan wondered if he should tell the older boy that he'd seen Count Ascart's knight-armour descending rapidly, trying to save another falling knight. Probably best not, the musician decided. He hadn't seen what had happened to Nicol's father - the older boy was probably worried enough already.

Julius pointed inland. "There's a signal mast further in. Taking that out might hamper their ability to control the skyships towing the island so it's a viable target. We should operate in pairs. Keith, take someone to destroy it, then make an entrance. Chris and I will go left -"

"Which left?" Gerald asked.

"That left!" their cousin indicated, pointing again. "The other two do the same. Take out as many cables as you can, then regroup with Keith and head into the tunnels. It'll be like going into a dungeon."

"I'll go with Keith," Nicol volunteered.

Alan had taken a cue from Leon and was carrying an axe as a back-up weapon. He swapped it for his sword, figuring the heavy axe would be better for cutting cables. "I guess that means I'm with you, Gerald."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," his twin agreed. "Let's go!"

They darted out of the cloud of smoke in the direction opposite to that Julius had indicated, leaving the ships in that direction to their cousin and his friend. Gerald, focused on the tow-cables, drew ahead slightly as Alan assessed the situation.

Knight-armours still fought among the dis-ordered fleet, but there were fewer than there had been only a few moments before.

The focus of the fighting was around a brilliant white knight-armour that duelled a black counterpart. Alan felt a shiver go down his spine - his own knight-armour was black while his twin's was white. As Gerald reached the first tow-line and slowed to hack at it with his flaming sword, Alan saw a green-trimmed knight-armour open fire on the black duellist with his rifle.

The knight dodged adroitly and broke off from his ivory adversary to pursue this new foe. The white knight-armour tried to also give chase but three Fanoss knights blocked him.

Alan flew past Gerald to the next tow-cable and hacked at it with his axe, devoting only half his attention to it and half to the battle in the sky.

One after another, four knight-armours fell, their knights clearly slain. The white knight of Holfort had cut down all three his foes with clean thrusts of his sword - Alan was stunned to realise that the shield it bore was still recognisably faced the royal crest. It could only be his uncle, the king! But between the first and second kill, his green-trimmed ally fell - the knight-armour severed in two across the line of the cockpit. The upper and lower halves fell away as the black knight turned and waited for his adversary to catch up.

A strand at a time, the cable parted, but he'd also drawn attention from the defenders and a pair of Fanoss knights were diving from where they'd been protecting the skyship on the far end of the towline. Another skyship was turning to bring its cannon to bear.

The thick rope met the end of its ability to withstand the tension and began to unravel. Alan flew onwards, seeing Gerald doing the same. He zig-zagged, avoiding shots from the knights.

"I'll cover you!" his brother called, "You get the ropes."

"Who do you think you are? Jeffrey?" But he did as suggested. Usually it was their oldest brother protecting them - Gerald probably felt he should step up in the duke's absence.

Cannon fire crashed down around them and Alan saw ground troops rushing to try to intercept them - but knight-armours were generally too agile for heavy cannon to hit except by accident and few footmen were armed to take them on. He focused his magic on the next cable, the water soaking the rope strands and making them swell. The added strain made this one easier to cut through and he only needed about two-thirds as many swings of his axe to cut it.

Gerald was trying to take on both knights at once - Alan looked up and flung tendrils of water to seize one of them. It didn't slow him for long but Gerald didn't need very long to cut through both shoulder joints with his flaming blade. It was a cool effect, Alan admitted in the privacy of his own head. Almost enough to make him wish he shared his brother's elemental affinity.

With the odds evened, his brother would be fine. Moving on to the next cable, the silver-haired prince cut through it the same as the last. There were three more anchored to this part of the island but he could see more knight-armours falling back from the battle above.

Hopefully, other knights had made it this far, but he didn't think the two of them would get much further.

"Just these three!" he shouted, rushing to the next one.

"Got it!" Gerald had taken his own rifle out and fired it into the stern of one of the ships still towing. The shot blasted through the aft-cabin windows and up through the quarterdeck. The younger twin couldn't see the results, but he imagined they were horrible - splinters of glass and wood were deadly unless you had enough warning to shield yourself somehow.

His brother rushed ahead to try to cut one of the other cables before the next knights arrived to stop them. The flames from the sword caught upon the straining rope and strands began to burn - but it was too slow and Gerald had to finish it with his sword.

Meanwhile, Alan had severed his own and moved on to the last. A shot from above slammed into his knight-armour's shoulder, throwing him to one side and damaging the joint before he could make the last cut.

"Damn!"

He'd lost his axe and there were five of them, this time. Five on two…

"Finish it and run!" Gerald shouted and sawed his sword against the cable.

Alan gritted his teeth and raised his shield to cover himself, reaching out with his magic.

Tendrils of water reached into the cable and he sawed them back and forth - some of it quenched the flames being started by his brother and some caused the strands to swell and weaken. But the main force of his spell reached into the core of the cable and then he tried something he'd only seen and never tried before: freezing the water.

The young water-mage choked up, for a moment feeling as he had in his sickly childhood when every breath seemed like it was an unbelievable effort. He felt the taste of blood at the back of his throat.

But then shards of white ripped out of the cable, the water expanding as it froze and sharp edges severing strands that his brother hadn't reached yet.

Another shot hit Alan, this time on the shield, punching a hole through the metal but slowed enough that it didn't penetrate his knight-armour. At the same time, he saw his brother stumble.

The rope parted with a sharp crack, and Alan was about to take off when he saw Gerald's knight-armour drop to one knee. "What are you doing?"

"They hit the knee joint!" His brother's voice was terse with self-directed rage. Blaming himself for not being perfect, again!

The enemy knight-armours were almost on them - fortunately their rifles were older muzzle-loaders so they didn't have much in the way of ranged ability. No time for Gerald to get out.

Alan threw his shield aside and threw the one good arm his knight-armour had left around Gerald's. "Put everything you have into your thrusters!"

"I'll be off-balance," the minutes-older twin said - but it was a warning, not an objection. His knight-armour took off, though it was pulling to one side until Alan fired his own thrusters, carefully balancing the load so that they were somewhat under control.

They weren't going to be going fast enough. Not with the other knights having the altitude advantage. Alan braced to break away and fight when they had to. Perhaps they'd be close enough to Nicol and Keith to be helped? Four against five was… might be six against five, he saw Julius and Chris were ahead of them.

He looked back and saw the pursuing knights hesitate. What for? Were reinforcements near?

Alan was looking around for other knights when he heard the cheering, coming from scores of ships and at least a hundred knights.

"Oh no." Gerald's voice was small.

Looking up, Alan saw a white knight-armour tumbling from the sky. He liked to believe that he was imagining the trail of red that followed it. No human body could contain enough blood to be visible at this distance. But the entire front torso had been cut open.

And above it, the black knight, Vandel Him Zinden, brandished his great sword triumphantly.

Their uncle was dead.

Their king was dead.

Julius' father was dead.

Shouting a curse, Alan drove them the last distance and flung Gerald's white knight-armour against the blue-black knight-armour piloted by their cousin. The two crashed to the ground. "Get us underground!" he shouted. "Now! The battle up there is over!"

Julius Rafa Holfort, who could so very easily have just become king were it not for Marie Fou Lafan, struggled upright. "He… he killed my father…"

"Go up there and they'll kill you too!" Alan used his one good arm to grip the other prince's knight-armour and slammed the beak-like helm of his own against it's head. The front caved in, not enough to endanger Julius but pointedly enough to impair it.

Chris' aqua-painted knight-armour grappled hold of Julius'. "He's right."

"My father's dead!" the prince screamed.

The knee of the light blue knight-armour smashed into the back of its darker counterpart. "So is mine!"

Julius froze. Then, very slowly, he snapped one arm up, dragged his rifle out and fired it over Alan's shoulder.

Spinning on the spot, Alan saw that the enemy knight-armours had stopped cheering for their champion and were charging upon them.

The first of the five caught the rifle shot in the face. The ground reared up under the second as it landed, snaring the feet and causing it to tumble forwards. Before it could stand, Julius put another shot into the cockpit, but his rifle was likely empty before it came down.

Alan was essentially disarmed, but Gerald tossed his sword towards him and he caught in his one remaining hand.

The other three enemies came down together but as they landed, wind swept into them and they crashed against each other. Nicol, adding his magic to Keith's earth magic, the musician guessed.

He and Chris went in with their swords, the swordsman cutting the headless knight down ruthlessly. Julius joined the fight - three against three. A fair fight that they had no time for.

Chris's opponent launched two lances through magic, not as many as Brad had managed when he'd duelled Keith. But Nicol's winds swept them aside and opened him up to the swordsman.

The knight-armour facing Julius found a golem of equal size rising behind him and pinning him in place for a vicious, disembowelling cut that would have gutted a man and did about the same to the cockpit. Taking out his anger at King Roland's defeat, perhaps.

But Alan had his own opponent and he - like Gerald - was a fire mage. Flames cascaded along the two-handed flamberge the knight wielded and the young prince had to raise water around his own sword, which steamed away each time their weapons clashed, but at least kept his blade from being warped by the heat.

He parried twice, giving ground and then on the third cut he feinted: backing away only to step close in while the other knight's sword was out of position. The other knight tried to bash him away with his shield but Alan seized it with tendrils of water and wrenched that just far enough down to thrust over it and down. The tip of his sword caught the 'throat' and drove down into the cockpit. The shudder as it hit something soft told him that he'd scored a kill.

"This way!" Keith called. Alan saw the flaxen-haired boy was already out of his knight-armour.

Unceremoniously, he opened his own hatch and abandoned the knight-armour. He had a short-sword in the cockpit, and the team-jacket they'd adopted for the duels against Julius' friends. Grabbing both, the silver-haired young man scrambled out and ran for his friend.

He'd barely got clear when a cannon-shot from above smashed the remaining arm from his knight-armour and sent it spinning to the ground. Alan winced. Jeffrey probably wouldn't object to buying him another, but there would be a lot of demand for new knight-armours or repairs. If they survived. He had to survive first.

The others were bailing out too. Keith had opened a tunnel down into the ground and Nicol was still standing over him with his shield up, but his cockpit was open so he could get out quickly.

Down the tunnel they went - Gerald first, then Julius. Chris was next - Alan followed him, and heard Nicol's light footsteps behind him. A moment later the tunnel closed up and they were in darkness for a moment before his twin raised a flame cupped in one hand, showing that they'd entered a stone passageway.

"Keith?" he asked.

"Here." Katarina's brother joined them, pulling on his own jacket. "Brace yourselves - I saw shadows." In the firelight, his face was pale.

"The dark magic," Julius hissed.

"Keith." Gerald, despite his fractious relationships at times with his further brother-in-law, was first to reach out to the boy. "Keith, you've been through something like this and you survived. For days. You can do it again."

Chris nodded, jerkily. "What's your secret?"

The slightly built young man took a long, shaky breath. "Focus on… focus on someone you love."

"Makes sense. If dark magic draws on dark emotions then love should protect us," declared Julius. "Marie will see Chris and I through."

The swordsman adjusted his glasses. "As always."

Gerald grinned. "Whatever works for you." He was evidently thinking of Katarina.

Nicol gestured down the passageway. "We should move, sooner or later they'll come after us."

Alan nodded. "Let's go."

His brother took the lead, Nicol at his side. "So, Alan and I are engaged, and Keith has a sister complex, but…" He almost stumbled as the shadows grew deeper.

There was a shocking cold, a grimness that hit Alan like a wave.

"...but who will you think of, Nicol?" Gerald continued, voice less confident than usual as he too felt the dark magic for the first time.

"Also Katarina."

Alan focused on the girl in his mind. Keith was right, it did help a little. Someone to go back to, he thought. Someone to live for. Maybe with her, someday, if I can make it work. One thing I know, nothing will come of my feelings unless I act on them.

"Not Sophia?" his brother joked.

"I love my sister. I'm not in love with her," the former-lord president of the student council told them.

Keith stumbled. "...wait, what!?"

"She isn't my sister."

"I'm adopted!"

"But she's my fiancee," protested Gerald.

The black-haired man smiled quietly. "The mind knows, but the heart does not care."

"Dammit, I can't even argue with that. At least I don't have to worry about you turning on me like that, do I Alan?"

He looked at his brother and then shook his head. "I love Katarina like a sister, Gerald."

"Fitting, because once we marry she'll be your sister." The older of the brothers gave Keith a slightly challenging look.

"Although," Alan added, "That's also how I feel about Mary, so I obviously know nothing about love."

It was absolutely worth it to see Gerald almost trip over his feet.

"Would you put your mutual fixation on Lady Claes on hold until we deal with the mildly important matter of surviving?" asked Julius irritably.

Keith gave him a joking push and opened a wall up to let them through and into another chamber that didn't open off the passageway. "I don't think we have to hear that from you, of all people!"

I should probably tell Violette first that I'm thinking of her like this, Alan thought. Preferably without acting like I expect her to return my feelings. She's not exactly had great luck with fiances so far…

The mood aboard the royal skyship was sombre. Everyone in the control cabin (the way it was built into the nose of the ship reminded Katarina of a Flash Gordon rocket-ship or maybe a B-29 bomber like the ones from history classes in her old life, but no one would understand that if she said so) had friends, family or both outside and fighting in the battle.

Trying to think of a good name for the white skyship wasn't keeping her from worrying about Keith. Or Gerald. Or Alan. Or (looking at Sophia, who was clinging to a shotgun) Nicol and his father.

Only Sirius… Rafael… looked more or less calm. More when Sophia wasn't looking at him, less when she did. Probably because she appeared to be quite tempted to use the shotgun on him. Katarina was worried about that too - at least there were three other guards around the boy to stop him using dark magic or anything else. Clarice, Deirdre and Mary would keep Sophia from doing anything she'd regret later.

'Or not regret later,' Maid-Ann suggested in the background and was promptly ignored like most of her (to be nice) insane ranting about Katarina marrying Lia (aka Leon) and becoming queen.

Honestly, if it wasn't for the shotgun, Katarina would suspect Sophia's looks of suggesting that her friend had a crush on Rafael. He was, after all, both nice and good looking - together with his tragic backstory he was practically a romantic novel's male lead already. She didn't think it was actually very likely, and Nicol would probably take it badly if that did happen, but the other three girls would also ensure nothing like that happened.

Nicol… Katarina resisted the urge to join Queen Mylene at the front of the control cabin and watch the battle through a spyglass. Right, she needed another distraction.

Sweeping her gaze around the cabin, she noticed that Selena Rafa Stuart was holding a letter. Aha! That might do! "What's that, Selena?" she asked.

The older girl (or was that woman now that she was married?) blinked and looked up from Ian Rafa Stuart, who was sitting beside her in one of the twin command chairs of the skyship. "What's… oh?" She flushed and raised the letter. "This?"

Katarina nodded. It was kind of odd for the princess - Ian was still a prince, so that made Selena a princess now - to bring mail with her into a battle.

"We found it on the console," Ian explained quietly and indicated the panel before the pair of them.

Selena held up the letter. "Would you like to read it?"

"Sure!" Katarina scrambled to her feet and went over to stand by them, seeing everyone watch her. Perhaps they also wanted a distraction?

The young woman handed over the letter, which was unsealed. Unfolding it, Katarina read out loud: "To whom it may concern: I am gravely disappointed in the poor care and security of this vessel. I can only presume that the Holfort household is too impoverished to maintain a satisfactory cleaning or security force…"

The brunette girl broke off as Clarice began to giggle. The redhead waved for her to go on.

"In order to enjoy the depredations of a quality gentleman thief such as myself, proper standards must be maintained. I shall investigate other treasures to avail myself of, but I shall return and if I do not find your affairs in better order, I will make off with greater treasures than this tawdry vessel and its frankly pathetic seal. The queen's booty comes to mind."

There was a quiet snort from Mary, but the queen didn't move from the front of the command deck. Perhaps she wasn't worried about her booty.

"Yours disrespectfully, Carmine Sandiego." Katarina looked past the signature and saw a small addendum at the bottom of the page. "P.S. I swept the seats clean. No thanks required, all part of the service."

Deirdre shook her head slightly. "Really? You're not making it up?"

"Swear to god and hope to stick a needle in my eye," Katarina promised, and handed off the letter.

"Well! The man has some style!" Deirdre admitted, confirming the contents. "But who in the world is Carmine Sandiego?"

"Where on earth could she be?" Katarina asked. Then she paused. "Or he."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "It does say gentleman thief."

"Yes, but that's a career choice, it's not gender specific!" Sophia corrected. "It could be a woman - perhaps an illegitimate daughter of the Ades? They have colour-themed names! This could be the start of a convoluted scheme!"

"The Principality has a price on his or her head for theft, or so I am told," Larna informed them. "So the thief part would be correct. Perhaps Princess Hertrude would know."

"I still think we're dealing with a man. Only a man would be interested in the queen's booty," argued Deirdre.

Mary produced a fan and covered her mouth. "That's not necessarily the case, Lady Roseblade."

The queen's spyglass met the glass windows at the front of the control room. "No…" she whispered.

"I'm…" Katarina was about to reassure Queen Mylene that she was sure she had very nice booty, but the woman fell to her knees, dropping the spyglass. The lenses cracked, clearly audible. "Your highness?"

"No…" The queen repeated, looking back with a pale face.

Angelica stepped forwards and put her arms around Mylene's shoulders. "Your highness. Are you alright?" She looked up and out of the windows. "Is it Julius?"

The silver-blonde queen rested her face against Angelica's shoulder. "No, no I can't see my son. But the Black Knight has just killed the king."

Katarina gasped. The king? She didn't know him very well - her mother kept her away from court, given how bad she was at formal etiquette - but she still knew who he was. And he'd secretly been the Masked Knight, so he was automatically cool! She had a book about the Masked Knight's exploits over the years!

And the Black Knight had killed him?! Inconceivable!

"I should have been there." Katarina went to hug the queen too.

"No!" Mary exclaimed loudly. She was obviously horrified at the king's death too.

Ian also leapt down from the command seats and for a moment Katarina thought he was going to hug his aunt as well. But he picked up the cracked spyglass and stared through it, out at the battle. "The island is slowing," he reported. "I see… more of their ships aren't towing it anymore. I don't know if they're cutting their cables or if knights got through but his majesty succeeded. It looks as if it'll stop by the port island."

"Can you see if anyone else is hurt?" Olivia asked nervously.

"No one specific," Gerald and Alan's brother said seriously. Which probably meant that someone else was. He just didn't know who.

"The twins are very skilled," Selena reassured her husband. "And so is Katarina's brother and their other friends."

"So was Roland," Mylene reminded them, her voice bitter.

Then Ian turned calmly. "Ladies, I see shadows forming. Fanoss is using their dark magic."

"Alright girls, time to go." Larna Smith moved up to stand beside Ian's empty seat and clapped her hands sharply. "Angelica, Olivia, Katarina - you have the Saintess' Regalia. Follow me out on deck."

Katarina swallowed and obeyed. Olivia took her hand and joined her at the foot of the stairs upwards.

Looking back as she climbed, she saw Angelica hesitate and then the other duke's daughter squeezed Mylene once more and followed. Ian helped Mylene up and ushered her in a gentlemanly fashion towards one of the other seats, where Clarice took her in hand.

Angelica was on the stair now, behind Larna, and then Katarina and Olivia were out on the upper deck of the white skyship. The sky was thick with dark grey clouds, threatening rain.

The Director produced a pair of opera-glasses and stared through them. "Prince Ian is right. The shadows are reaching past their fleet. God help the boys now." She sounded unaccountably worried and Katarina went to the forward rail, looking out for a sign of hope.

As if summoned, a long sleek shape swept up to one side of the royal flagship - as long as half the capital, commodore's pennant flying from its signal mast and the twin turrets already tracking. The hangar opened and a familiar crimson and black knight-armour took to the air.

"Big Charznable!" Katarina shouted.

"Sir Leon," Angelica confirmed. "But he's not alone."

Skyship after skyship was leaving the city's own docks, as well as private estates. A few peeled away, racing ahead of the invasion, but most formed up into squadrons alongside the Dreadnought and the white ship - the Unicorn, Katarina decided. This would be the Unicorn!

(Just as soon as she convinced Selena, Ian and the queen of that.)

"The relics!" Larna called out. "Just like we practised, but this time it's for real."

The darkness was coming at them like a wall now, dark magic like an onrushing tide.

Katarina looked down for a moment at the Saintess' Bracelet on her wrist. Then Angelica was next to her, taking that hand. The blonde's other hand clutched the Saintess' Sceptre. On Katarina's other side, she was already holding Olivia - and the studious girl had the Saintess' Necklace around her neck, incongruous over the adventurer's armour that all three of them wore. "We're fully equipped!" the brunette called.

"On three," Angelica warned. "One."

Olivia's lips moved, as if in prayer.

"Two."

Katarina licked her lips. Thinking of her parents. Her brother, out there. Their friends, around her and around him.

"Three!" Angelica shouted and pale flames licked around her, before rushing up their arms towards Katarina.

It hit her like a tingling storm, pins-and-needles. Ann had shown her what to do, and it flowed through her, filtered and shaped, until it reached Olivia.

The sceptre was glowing, the bracelet lit up.

"I'm not alone!" Olivia screamed and a vast magical circle - so large it dwarfed even the Dreadnought - formed before them. Light streamed forth from it, so bright that Katarina was almost blinded.

She didn't need to see it though, only to feel it.

Light smashed against darkness and hurled it backwards towards the island.

For a moment it seemed as if it would be enough to vanquish the dark mage's ritual entirely, but the darkness rallied and the shadows gathered, surging around and past the light.

"Olivia, we need a wider wall!" Angelica called.

"I don't…"

"I have it!" Katarina declared confidently. She was an earth-mage, not just a light-mage. She'd seen Keith do this before with the ground.

Seizing hold of the light she broadened it, shaping it until it was a castle wall, marked in places with towers and flags.

"Nnnggg," she gasped as the strain caught her.

But Angelica was on one side of her, Olivia on the other. Their magic was also part of this and they caught on quickly, following Katarina's lead and carrying part of the effort. Most of the effort. This was hard!

The darkness clawed forward, the light pushed back.

After endless moments, an equilibrium was reached - the wall of light cutting across the city. The port island was lost in the darkness. Shadows claimed the docks. Mansions along the edge of the continent vanished from sight and Katarina was shamefully glad that she would not see what was happening there.

But most of the capital was behind the wall.

And as Count Garrett's ships plunged in, trying to reform and strike into the city, Big Charznable rose to meet them, followed by dozens of ships and scores of knights.

"For the light!" Leon shouted, his voice booming impossibly loud. "For a brighter day!"

And a thousand cannon fired…