Severed Empire: Wizard's War (33 page)

“We need to get back to the islands,” Refler said, working his way around the ship, lighting small lanterns. The glass encasements protected the flame from the rain.

“Rowing will take us forever,” Quill said.

Mykal understood the implications. He didn’t have it in him. Anna was sitting toward the back of the boat. She looked equally wiped out. “We need to get started. My mother and I need to rebuild our strength.”

Basin and Refler sat down and shoved oars into the water.

Coil winced, one arm draped across his chest as he, slowly, and cautiously, sat down beside Quill.

“You stay with Mother.” Mykal held his father’s eyes. “Keep her warm.”

Blodwyn and Mykal sat side by side.

“Coil,” Eadric said. “Sit by my wife. You’re in no condition to be rowing.”

After some awkward reluctance, the two traded positions. Anna looked like a tiny child wrapped in Coil’s massive arms and hands. She pressed her hands to his chest.

Mykal saw the amber glow come from her palms. Again, Coil winced. It seemed like it came more out of fear, than from actual pain. When the creases on his brow faded, his eyebrows arched. “Have you—?”

“I’ve fixed the bones broken inside you,” Anna said. Her eyes closed. She lowered her head against Coil’s chest as if he were a feather-stuffed pillow, instead of an ink-covered iron smith, with muscles that made his arms look like most people’s legs.

His large hand patted the top of her head. He did it so gently, it was apparent he thought he might snap her neck otherwise. When he was confident he couldn’t determine how to pet with a perfect balance of tenderness and strength, he simply stopped and left his mammoth glove on her head. “Start rowing. She is safe with me.”

***

Captain Sebastian was at the wheel of the
Derecho
. They’d received word that King Hermon Cordillera’s fleet was leaving the fjord. A number of ships sailed into the open sea. With early warning from the people from Grey Ashland, the governor gave the order days ago to prepare for deployment. Sebastian relished the opportunity to face Cordillera. It was personal. He had a vendetta, and wanted his revenge. Until he could cross swords face to face with the Osiris king, he’d gladly put the Derecho to work destroying as many of Cordillera’s ships as he could first.

Reed, the new quartermaster forced on him by Governor Hobbs, stood beside him, but faced the other way with a gold spyglass extended and pressed up to his right eye.

“Captain?” Reed said.

The man rarely stopped talking. It ate away at Sebastian’s nerves. He never minded a little back and forth. It was the constant barrage of questions that made him nauseated. “Yes, Reed?”

“I can see the other vessels from here,” he said.

“That’s marvelous,” Sebastian said.

“They don’t seem to be following us any longer,” Reed said.

Sebastian inhaled through his nose, and exhaled out of his mouth. Normally, sailing the sea was the best part of his life. Reed didn’t seem like a bad guy. He just didn’t appreciate his crew being handpicked by Hobbs. It was bad precedent. He’d done some asking around. Reed was solid at his job as quartermaster, but as he’d already learned, could talk a dog off a bone wagon if given the freedom of speech. “Reed?”

“Aye, sir?”

“We make up the flanking defense. If the Mountain King thinks he’s going to skirt around the islands and head for Grey Ashland, he’s got another think coming. Armory is going to anchor closest to the archipelago, Berserker will anchor next. When we anchor, there will be something of a front line in place. Cordillera will have no way across, except through us,” Sebastian related.

“Aye, Captain. That makes sense,” Reed said.

“I’m glad you approve.” The Captain felt the burn in his arms. The wind was terribly strong. It had picked up considerably since they’d set sail. The rain wasn’t helping any. It was far colder than expected.

“Captain?” Helix was on deck, below the quarterdeck, looking up.

“Helix,” he said. He realized he needed to yell to be heard. The swells in the sea grew larger as the oncoming storm increased.

“We should raise the sails,” Helix said, pointing. “Winds are too much.”

Sebastian didn’t even have the stars to guide the voyage. With the storm it was nearly impossible to tell how close they were to the vortex. He knew the sea better than any of Hobbs’ captains. Even in the dark he was confident he could navigate the sea. It was also why Hobbs instructed the Derecho closest to the Devil’s Hole. With any other captain, she couldn’t be as assured they’d not drown themselves, the crew, and the ship in the relentless whirlpool. “Raise the sails!”

Helix turned, faced the tars, and yelled. “Raise the sails!”

“Raise the sails!”

“Raise the sails!”

It was similar to a choreographed dance that Sebastian never tired of watching. His men scampered up the rope ladder shrouds secured to the masts, and out onto the wings as ropes were hoisted, the sails raised, and tied off. There was grunting, shouting of commands, and the shouting of acknowledgments as the work was completed.

The waves crashed over the bow as the vessel dipped with the passing of each swell.

Sebastian’s legs, well trained, bent and straightened. His feet never moved. His balance was impeccable.

“Will we see King Hermon’s fleet approach?” Reed closed the spyglass, and hooked it in place on his belt.

Once they set sail from the islands, Sebastian had abandoned his formal attire. He ditched his Class As for his long, black blazer, vest, white pants with the black stripe down the side, and boots. He, and the others, also wore his wide black leather shoulder Baldrick with his cutlass sword in the holster. They were going into war. If he lived or died, it didn’t matter what he wore. Besides, the clothing he had on was much warmer, and protected him better from the elements. “The crow’s nest is empty. You are more than welcome to fill it. From there you should have the best chance to alert us of ships within range.”

Richard was below the main deck. His team of tars readied the cannons on both sides of the ship. They needed but a moment’s notice, and could sink an enemy vessel in mere seconds after the command was given.

Reed looked up the mast until his eyes stopped on the crow’s nest at the top. The bucket looked tiny from where they stood. “Aye, Captain.”

“That was not an order, Reed.” Sebastian shook his head.

“There’s no one in it. That is without a doubt the best vantage point. It should be occupied,” he said. “Don’t you think?”

Why does Mr. Reed insist on keeping up with these questions?
Sebastian wondered. “If there was a moon out, stars, the sun even, I would agree. In this storm, in the darkness, it doesn’t make sense. Only the lightning gives us any preview,” Sebastian said. He wished he’d bit his tongue. He was almost succeeded getting Reed out of his hair. The man would have been out of the way, and his crew freed to do their jobs.

Truth was, the only one Reed persistently interrupted was him. “But I will tell you what… you
are
pretty good with the spyglass.”

“I have eyes like a hawk,” Reed said. “The spyglass just makes my vision that much better.”

The spyglass made even the vision of a blind bat better. Sebastian kept the words inside. If this man was being forced on his ship as a, of all things, quartermaster, he needed something to improve his confidence. “Head up to the bow. When the lightning flashes, you be ready with the spyglass.”

“Aye, Captain.” Reed started away. He strode to the staircase that lead to the lower deck purposefully.

“And Quartermaster?” Sebastian said.

“Aye?”

“Secure yourself in good and tight with a rope.” Sebastian mimicked tying a rope around his own waist. “Very, very tight. I don’t need a man overboard at this point of our staging.”

Reed saluted. “I assure you, this is not my first time on a ship. I will fasten myself properly. I will not be someone you need to worry about.”

He descended the stairs two at a time, his hands on the rails.

“No. No, you won’t. Not anymore, anyway,” Sebastian said, pleased with how he’d diplomatically dismissed the governor’s plant with diplomatic delicacy.

Chapter 31

“We should just get back to the islands,” Refler said, his words stunted between his rowing. He sounded winded. He was a heavy man, more used to sailing on one of the larger vessels, rather than rowing a boat like they were in.

Mykal’s eyes were on the seas to the south of them. He saw the ships leaving the fjord whenever lightning struck, and luckily it was frequently. Each flash reminded Mykal of an image sown into a quilt or onto a tapestry, the clear image forever captured.

He knew he was not pulling his weight rowing, either. His arms ached from the climb completed inside the caves to the castle. His legs too, for that matter. The swells made rowing difficult. They lifted the small boat in the air, and then dropped out under her. The oars spent more time rowing through air, than the blades did cutting through water. It seemed they made very little forward progress since setting out on the sea.

Regardless, it wasn’t the islands that needed reaching. Mykal was anxious about getting the Grey Ashland shore. That had to be where King Hermon was taking the battle. It would take far too long rowing in this storm. They would have to go around the islands. It wasn’t a plausible route at this point. Mykal was just about to agree with Refler, when a crack of lightning split the sky. “We’ve got a ship headed our way!”

The news caught everyone’s attention, including Anna. Her eyes opened.

“How are you, Mother?”

She just smiled. If it was meant for reassurance, it failed.

Mykal was anxious for the next flash of lightning. When he first noticed the bow of a ship headed toward them he was surprised, and now couldn’t recall how close the ship had actually been. His energy was hardly refreshed. The king’s men were coming at them in a ship designed for battle on the sea. They were in an eight-person rowboat. The inequality did not need stating.

“I have an idea,” Mykal said.

The lightning flashed again. Thunder followed. It didn’t seem possible, but it rained harder. The cold drops, mixed with the splashing from the sea waves. Everyone inside the boat was drenched. Wet clothing was heavy, but Mykal stood up.

The swells raged on.

Mykal moved to the mast in the center of the boat, and pressed his back up against it.

“What are you going to do, son?” Eadric gave up on rowing. His oar was inside the boat beside him. His hand was on the hilt of his sword.

Mykal felt dizzy. His eyes rolled around inside their sockets. His wet hair covered most of his face, including his loose eyeballs. He would have answered his father if he thought he could keep himself from vomiting. Instead, he kept one hand on the mast, and threw the other forward. His arm wasn’t aimed at the fast approaching ship; it was toward the sea. Toward the bottom of the sea.

Blodwyn stood up. He snatched a coil of rope and fastened it around Mykal’s waist. “I don’t want you falling out!”

Waves raised the bow of their boat. Everything that wasn’t secured slid toward the stern. Coil used his body to shield Anna.

Basin extinguished flames inside the lanterns. “We don’t need to be signaling our location to them.”

“Nothing’s happening!” Quill shouted, trying to be heard over the roar of the storm.

Mykal reached into his vest pocket. “I’ve one more idea,” he said.

In a tight fist, Mykal thrust his arm forward. Again he aimed toward the sea. Purple light escaped between Mykal’s fingers. Eventually, the light became so bright it shot out of his knuckles, and seeped through the back of his hand.

“I don’t think I will ever get used to seeing this,” Coil said.

Like a cracked eggshell, bolts of lightning were expelled from several different clouds at the same time. King Hermon’s ship managed going against the current, and navigating the swells with ease. “Nothing’s happening,” Quill said. “Mykal, what are we waiting for?”

Mykal lowered his arm. He was thankful for the rope. He looked to his left. Blodwyn sat on the opposite side of Anna—ever her protector. Eadric held onto the side of the boat with one hand. He had drawn sword in the other. There would be no battle between vessels. The large ship could crush theirs; smash the hull like a sharp ax through a splinter of firewood. Surely, Eadric knew as much. Maybe having the sword in hand made him feel more in control, despite the circumstances of the situation.

Lightning flashed. The ship was bearing down on them now.

“What was that?” Quill said.

“What?” Basin said. “I didn’t see anything.”

“Sea serpents. They, they were leaping out of the water!” Quill clapped a hand onto the top of his head, holding his soaked hat in place. “I mean, they were jumping out of the rise of swells, and landing on the deck of the ship!”

“Sea serpents!” Refler looked panicked. His eyes were open so wide Mykal worried they’d pop free of the sockets. “They’ll devour us!”

“They won’t,” Mykal said, managing to utter the two words.

Quill was beside his nephew. “You called them? They’re here to help us, aren’t they?”

It was maybe too little, too late, Mykal thought. Unless a sea serpent could steer the ship away from them, the bow would still smash through the center of their boat. They’d drown for certain.

Sometimes when the carnival visited, the clowns handed out something they called balloons. The stretchy material was filled with something like air, only lighter. It looked like a giant ball when full, and if it wasn’t tethered with a string to a child’s hand, it would float away, and soar across the sky lost forever. That was how Mykal’s head felt, as if his torso wasn’t connected to his neck, then his head would rise into the sky and drift away into the clouds. “They’re here to help us,” he said.

Their small boat suddenly surged forward.

No one was rowing.

The large ship was nearly on top of them, was raised up high on a giant swell.