The bow of the boat dipped and took a wave over the top, spraying Konowa from head to foot.

“Damn it all to hell!”

“War is no excuse for language like that, my son,” Chayii Red Owl said. “And we are but three bowshots’ distance from the island. You really should get down from there.”

A snigger, a muffled giggle, even an innocent cough would have launched Konowa at the throat of the unlucky person, but not a one gave any indication that he had heard Konowa being scolded by his mother. There were five boats currently being rowed toward the island, and of course it was Konowa’s luck that his vessel had his mother on board.

“Uncork your musket, unwrap the firelock, and prepare to fire,” Konowa said from the bow, deliberately ignoring his mother’s advice. The soldiers reacted instantly, well versed now in the drill after having stormed six islands before. They knew from experience that things would happen fast.

“Sergeant Arkhorn, ready your cannon.” Each boat was equipped with a small six-pounder cannon strapped to the bow with ropes facing forward. It wasn’t subtle, but then again neither were rakkes.

“Aye, sir, ready and waiting,” the dwarf said, giving the barrel of the cannon a solid slap with the palm of his hand. “The beasties will know what hit ’em, but not for long.” Beside him, Private Renwar peered down the length of his musket, his hands rock steady. Konowa had made it known to the sergeant that Renwar need not join them on the island assaults on account of his wooden leg. Surprisingly, Chayii had objected, though she had refused to elaborate. Konowa had also tried to bring the subject up with Visyna, but talking with her was even more frustrating. They agreed on nothing-not the use of the Shadow Monarch’s power, not the role the Empire played in the world, and definitely not how to set things right again.