Disclaimer: Temeraire and all characters were Created by Naomi Novik. I'm just a fan, imitating.

This story is set in the beginning of Victory of Eagles; SPOILERS

Chapter 6

In which Mr. Bonaparte Attacks the British at the Strait of Dover.

"It's the worst thing really," Granby said, "the waiting."

Tharkay nodded solemnly.

"I'm a little overwhelmed too," Granby continued, "I don't know if I'm really ready for this kind of responsibility. I hate to admit it, but I'm only just getting used to being a Captain. I never expected to receive a dragon of my own, you see…" Granby trailed off.

"I'm going now," Tharkay said.

"Of course," Granby stood with him and offered a hand, "I'm sorry about the last few days…"

Tharkay just shook his head, laconic as ever, and turned to walk away.

Granby rubbed his face as if he could wipe away his unease like the sweat and grime that accumulated during the last patrol. He reached under his cot for the bottle and stared at it in his hand for a few minutes before setting it back down. He went outside instead.

Iskierka was fast asleep and the ragtag group of captains huddled around the fire. Granby startled when he felt a tug on his coat sleeve. It was Demane glaring at him with a hard look on his face.

"When we go an attack them?" he said bluntly and Granby thought he heard the conversation around the fire die down. He raised his head and looked around the camp before answering the boy.

"It is not up to us," Granby said, "We're waiting on the French."

Granby left the group before anyone else could stop him. The bickering among the dragons had ceased but still the pall of waiting was dragging their spirits down every day. Granby was a wreck, the pressures of maintaining the covert in the midst of crippling anticipation was ruining him. He walked away toward the tree line and vomited against the first tree he found.

"Drunk as a lord again—" Granby jumped and nearly slid into his own sick, but Tharkay grabbed his arm to steady him. In his other hand Tharkay was holding a small rabbit recently deceased.

"What do you mean by sneaking about!" Granby said nearly shouting, Tharkay replied by letting go of Granby's arm and covering his nose and mouth against the smell of sick. "How did you get a rabbit so quickly? You just left!"

"There was a snare," Tharkay said.

"Snares? You can't set snares in these forests, I shouldn't have to explain—"

"I didn't set them," Tharkay said.

"Who is setting snares in the forest?" Granby said, "As if I need more mischief to settle." Tharkay smiled as Granby became more and more agitated.

"I have a contract," Tharkay said, "I can have one rabbit every other day for the kestrel so long as I don't tell anyone."

Granby glared at him incredulously, "Tharkay? Really?"

"He pays up too," Tharkay added and held up the rabbit, "unlike some people I know."

Granby started back toward the fire, but Tharkay grabbed his sleeve and led him to his own tent. They sat by the fire in silence while Tharkay dressed the rabbit and then brought out the bird to feed it. Tharkay made no move to help or acknowledge Granby.

Granby just sat and stared blankly past Tharkay's fire to the large fire near Iskierka.

"I almost wish they would attack us tonight," Granby said, "And end this maddening waiting."

Tharkay shot him an inquiring look and then stood to put the bird in its cage. He returned with a cup for Granby. Granby took it gratefully only to be disappointed to find that it was water. He drank it while Tharkay moved around his little camp, and was startled when Tharkay handed him a bowl of rice.

"Oh yuck," Granby said, "Don't you have anything to go with it?"

Tharkay laughed at him quietly and handed over a pair of lacquered sticks like the Chinese used. "You should eat."

Granby poked at the rice with the sticks noncommittally, "Why don't you just go to the mess?"

"The mess has been closed for the last two days," Tharkay said, "I imagine there is not enough of a demand for their services as of late."

Granby looked at Tharkay and then at the knot of people crowded near Iskierka, "Where do they eat? Surely, I would know if the entire covert is forced to live off the land."

Tharkay motioned toward the buildings on the edge of the covert, "No one is suffering for it."

Granby had no skill with the sticks and after finally managing three grains he handed the sticks back to Tharkay and tipped the bowl into his mouth. He made a face as he chewed and looked over to see Tharkay poking quietly at the fire.

"Aren't you going to eat?" Granby said.

"I only have one bowl."

"Oh," Granby said, "Why do you pitch your tent so far away? It's much warmer near Iskierka."

"She's smashed it once," Tharkay said, "I don't think it'd survive another attack."

Granby nodded thoughtfully and tipped the rest of the rice into his mouth, swelling his cheeks immensely. Tharkay was struggling not to laugh as he accepted the empty bowl from Granby and served himself. Granby stared at him in awe as he worked the chopsticks. He thanked Tharkay and stood to leave, but Tharkay grabbed him and pulled him down.

"Tharkay, really, what is it that you want?"

"I want you to spend a night sober for once," Tharkay said bluntly.

"Oh," Granby said.

Granby felt himself shaken awake the next morning, or it should've been the next morning, but it was still dark outside and orange embers were glowing in Tharkay's little fire pit. Granby sat up angrily when he realized Tharkay was nudging him none too gently with his odd leather boot.

"Tharkay what—!"

"Cannon fire," Tharkay said and took off running for the covert. Granby glared at him; he didn't hear anything and took a moment to gain his bearings. He stood up, stiff with cold. Tharkay had let him fall asleep outside without a blanket. Granby was busily loosening his stiff muscles when he heard the faint rumble and boom in the distance. There were cannon firing in the strait. He started running at once toward Iskierka, relieved to see that as he neared them, his crew was busy harnessing her.

"Granby," she said in rushing excitement, "It's a battle! Granby! Where have you been?"

"I was talking to Tharkay," Granby said as he adjusted the rings and buckles of his own harness, "Has everyone gone to their places?" Granby said turning to his First Lieutenant.

"Aye Captain," the young man said.

Granby nodded and then looked up at Iskierka and she hopped up excitedly and dropped down again, "All lies well," she said. Granby and his crew scrambled aboard.

Granby was excited and he couldn't help but grin boyishly as he bent low over Iskierka's neck and watched for their targets. He did not rise and look around himself, but he was conscious of the other dragons in the air around him. The light rush of their wings around him and their shadows in his periphery all contributed to his feeling of relief and utter focus, the waiting had been driving him mad.

And good too was the quiet movement of his group flying in three lines—not a formation like he'd grown accustomed to in the more than fifteen years he'd been in the harness—not really, but gratifying none the less, because, for the first time since he'd been captain, they were flying together as one. A unit more than thirty strong, beating against the wind and headed for the smoke and blast of a much-anticipated battle.

The sun came out of the clouds and started to burn off some of the fog, but it did nothing to ward off the icy wind hurling against them. Soon the sails of the blockade came into view and Granby nodded to his signalman, and the young man started to beat out a pattern with a practiced grace and the formation started to take real shape.

Molnar flew out to the right and above Iskierka's wing with Dunne on his back and two unharnessed ferals flanking and Arkady out to the left and above, with Demane on his back and two other ferals flanking. Granby didn't look, but he knew Tharkay was above him on Simorgh and two feral dragons from Arkady's band. Directly below Iskierka was Winge carrying her own captain and flapping her wings in synch with Iskierka. The remainder of the dragons came together in a loose shifting band in front of Iskierka, low enough to engage but high enough to be out of Iskierka's line of fire.

Granby barely had time to register his seeing three full formations already engaging the French, before his line arrived and fell upon the French dragons. Two Longwing formations, Excidium's and Mortiferus's and Admiral Sanderson's Parnassian leading Lily's formation were overrun by French lightweights, some of them merely courier weight.

Granby and his ragged band of feral dragons proved more adept at breaking through the French defense, they being small themselves and more used to close quarters skirmishing. Granby raised his speaking trumpet to his lips and called out the signal, his signalman, Harker, whipped through them with the flags almost as he spoke. Granby's head jerked to look when he heard Tharkay whistle sharply up above him and he turned to see Winge shoot forward and away from Iskierka.

Iskierka folded her wings and dropped sickeningly fast. She opened her wings and shot past the French line and toward the heavyweights arriving from Calais. Several of Granby's crew cheered at her maneuver but Granby quieted them with a "Steady fellows!"

Iskierka raced toward the incoming French heavyweights and Granby felt a sudden sinking in his chest as he counted them; four Petit Chevaliers and one Chanson-de-Guerre. Five. Five heavyweight dragons and Iskierka was all alone. She continued to race toward them and Granby's hands gripped his harness straps so tightly his knuckles were white and his nails dug into the flesh of his palms.

She twisted suddenly to the right to flank the group and shot a jet of flame directly into the face of one, causing him to drop suddenly into the waters of the strait below. Granby gasped and only then realized he'd been holding his breath. The dragon struggled in the water for several dragging minutes screaming in agony before he was able to rise out and turn back to Calais. Granby noted in horror that several of the figures on his back hung limp in their harnesses.

Iskierka didn't let his focus stray for too long and dropped quickly again and raised her head to fire into the belly of the next dragon setting off the cargo of munitions in his belly-netting and leaving him screaming and yowling in white terror. Granby blinked; he couldn't believe it. This time the dragon did not rise up after he fell into the water and the narrow straits were suddenly tinged rose from all of the blood. It had been too easy, five heavyweight dragons and not one engaged her. Iskierka bellowed in triumph and made for the next one.

"Captain Granby! Those are our ships!" Harker screamed red faced and hoarse. Granby was suddenly aware of several voices shouting his name in the rush and din of the battle.

"Iskierka! Turn around!" Granby shouted. He repeated it several times and soon the crew joined him in an eerie chant. She was blinded by her bloodlust and spurred by her recent victories. Granby flinched when suddenly a large blue form rose up in front of him forcing Iskierka to backwing some and lift herself almost perpendicular to the ocean below.

"Those are our ships!" Granby heard Jane's voice husky and low from shouting, "Turn back now! Granby don't let her near our ships!"

Granby and his crew were shaken about as she tried to maneuver away from Excidium and he felt himself lose purchase and drop into a dead hang from the harness.

"Oh God!" Granby heard the signalman yell from some arbitrary point to his right.

Granby kicked at her back, "Iskierka! We're falling! Iskierka!"

"Granby!" Iskierka said, "What's wrong with Excidium?"

Granby relaxed in spite of the rolling twist she performed next to pull out of Excidium's path, at least she was listening again. "Iskierka! You mustn't engage them, they are too close to the blockade!"

"But I can stop them," her response was defiant but she was already turning back toward the shore.

"You need to help the others," Granby said, "Excidium and Mortiferus."

Granby relaxed some as she approached the cloud of small French dragons harrying the coastal defense. Mortiferus' formation had long since broken and Granby saw a streak of blood on Captain St. Germain's pale and delicate features as she pulled in to the right and parallel to Iskierka.

"We need to draw back and regroup, this is an utter mess," she shouted at Granby.

Granby turned when she spoke to him and only just caught sight of the blue and red hide of a Garde-de-Lyon descending on Iskierka's left shoulder. She turned her head to fire but the French were already leaping to board her. Molnar dropped onto the French dragon's back and latched on with his claws and Granby saw them fall away on the edge of his vision just before the powder blue covered shoulder of a French aviator slammed into his face. The arms of another circled him around his elbows pinning his arms to his sides.

"Granby!" he heard St. Germain's voice, muffled and distant.

"Granby!" Now Iskierka shouted so loud he could feel it vibrate in his chest. Granby twisted and struggled against the men holding him to no avail. Then Iskierka spun and he felt the odd sensation of floating before the sudden crush of the Frenchman's weight fell on him as Iskierka righted herself. The other man that had been holding him was gone.

Granby gasped wildly for air and felt a blade press awkwardly against his collarbone. Granby turned and found himself face to face with the signalman, Harker, who was standing lifeless in his harness, held up by the inertia of their flight.

Granby felt a rush of hot air as Iskierka let loose a jet of flame and two small blue dragons were suddenly gone. Arkady was in the opening they had left growing rapidly larger until finally Granby was able to see Demane pointing a pistol in his direction.

Granby flinched in anticipation of the shot.