The Bridge Kingdom (The Bridge Kingdom #1)(47)
“You could have stood by and let him be killed, but instead you risked your life to save him. That’s not the act of an enemy.”
If only you knew. Lara’s stomach hollowed, her breakfast no longer sitting quite so well.
Picking up a spyglass, Taryn panned the ocean, allowing Lara the opportunity to examine the shipbreaker. The catapult was large, made of solid wood and steel and mounted to a base that was bolted to the rocky ground beneath it. There were a number of levers and gears, and to either side of it were two identical, yet much smaller devices. A glance over her shoulder revealed a lumpy pile covered with grey-green canvas, which were undoubtedly the projectiles.
Easing up the corner of the tarp, Lara eyed a stone that might’ve weighed fifty pounds. It didn’t seem big enough to have done the damage she’d seen enacted at Midwatch, but combined with enough force . . . She turned back to the shipbreaker to find Taryn watching her.
The other woman grinned. “We launched Aren, once.”
“Pardon?”
“Lia and I. Though it was his idea, lest you think us total idiots.” Taryn patted the machine. “We were maybe twelve or thirteen, and he got the grand notion that it would be fun to see how high we’d fly. Though he was the only one who got to try it out.”
“Did it . . . work?”
“Oh, he flew all right. But what he didn’t account for was how much the landing would hurt.” She cackled merrily. “Thankfully there was a fishing boat nearby to pull him out. Nana had us lugging rock for weeks as punishment, and that was after Jor screamed at us up and down the entire island.”
“He’s lucky not to have gotten himself killed.” And how different would Lara’s life have been if he had? Or would she even have a life at all? She could easily imagine her father receiving the news of the Prince of Ithicana’s untimely death only to turn around and exterminate all those involved in the plot that had depended on the Fifteen Year Treaty.
Taryn grinned. “You could say that about half the things he does.” She patted the weapon again. “Want to give it a try?”
Gasping out a laugh, Lara said, “And now I see to the heart of the ploy of bringing me down here.”
“Not you. A rock.”
“Oh.” Lara eyed the machine in a whole new light. “Yes. Yes, I would.”
It was an incredible piece of machinery, able to be operated by a single individual, but given the weight of the stones, Lara was glad there were two of them. It rotated silently on its base, and various cranks allowed the user to adjust it to change the distance a stone could be thrown. The smaller catapults, she learned, were intended to mark distance, everything finely calibrated.
“We’ll try to hit that piece of driftwood.” Under Taryn’s watchful eye, Lara lobbed small rocks at the floating debris until she struck it.
“Nicely done, Your Majesty. Now we adjust the big one to the same distance like so.” The woman turned the cranks and Lara watched intently until she stepped back. “Now you do the honors.”
Hands sweating with excitement, Lara took hold of the biggest lever of all and pulled. The catapult released with a tremendous crack, and they both stepped around the machine to watch as the rock sailed through the air and crashed into the driftwood.
Taryn punched her fist into the air. “You sank your first ship!”
There was a commotion behind them, and the soldier they’d relieved raced up next to them. “Raiders?” he demanded.
“Tests.” Taryn’s voice was cool. “His Majesty ordered that all the shipbreakers be tested again. This one appears to be fine order.” Taryn nodded at Lara. “Shall we carry on, Your Grace?”
Lara hid a smile. “By all means.”
They spent the day touring the island testing the shipbreakers, and then found themselves back at the village for dinner, which they took standing around an open fire with nearly all the villagers in attendance. It was, Taryn told her, to honor those lives lost on the neighboring island of Serrith. Lara ate grilled meat and vegetables from the sticks on which they were skewered, drank the frothy beer from a mug that never seemed to empty, and warmed her hands against the flames when the night breeze turned cool.
The villagers were wary of her at first, and Lara stood somewhat apart, listening as they told stories about the myths of Ithicana, of serpents and storms that defended the emerald isles. Of the ancient bridge itself, which their legends said was not built, but had grown out of the earth like a living thing. Their words rose and fell until children dozed off in their parents’ arms and were tucked under woolen blankets. Then instruments were brought out, drums and guitars and pipes, the music accompanying the men and women as they sang and danced, Taryn joining in with a surprisingly lovely soprano voice. They cajoled Lara to join in the singing, but she begged off, pleading a terrible singing voice, but it was mostly because she wanted to watch. And listen. And learn.
When the gathering began to quiet, couples slipping off into the darkness hand in hand, the older folk forming circles where they gossiped and complained, passing around a smoking pipe from person to person, Taryn finally rested a hand on Lara’s shoulder. “We should get back before Nana comes looking for us.”
Guided by the faint light of a lantern, they made their way up the narrow path, the sounds of the jungle wild and riotous around them.