by A. K. Wilder
On deck, the north wind stings my face. It fills the mainsail and spinnaker, the big sail over the bow. The Mar fog is gone, left behind along with Salila, I guess. That revelation is still looking for a place to land in my mind. I head toward the mast and offer Piper a drink from the wooden bucket and ladle.
“Let me see those hands.” She winces at the sight of them. “You need bandaging before you touch that wheel again.” She pulls out rolls of cloth from her deep pockets and does it on the spot. “How are the others?”
“Marcus and Tyche are up.” I’m not sure what expression I offer, but she turns toward the hatch. “I’ll go check.”
I tip my gaze to the crow’s nest where Samsen has his eyes fixed on the horizon. “How far behind can he see?” I ask Kaylin when I reach the helm.
“In this haze, maybe three leagues.”
I offer him water, but he declines. “The fleet could be right on our tail and we wouldn’t know it?”
“Lass, in all probability, the fleet is on our tail.” He turns the wheel a fraction. The swell crashes against the prow and white water sprays the air as we rise up and slap down.
I grab at the quarterdeck railing and brace my legs. “Will they catch up?”
“Aye.”
My stomach knots. “Can’t we go faster?”
“We could cut loose the lifeboat.”
I don’t like the sound of that. “Should we?”
“No.” Kaylin stares at the rigging. “If I put up the topsails, we might outrun them for a while.”
“Why don’t we do that?”
He grimaces. “Because her hull won’t take the stress for long.”
I’m about to respond when Samsen yells from the crow’s nest. “Ships behind us! Gaining fast.”
“More sail it is.” Kaylin finds his smile. “Ash, I wanted to say…” He shakes his head. “More than we have time for. Can you take the wheel?”
I step up, cringing as blood seeps through my bandages.
“Steady ahead. Sing out if you can’t hold her.”
I have to brace against the pull of the vessel already, but I won’t let go.
Kaylin calls down the hatch to Piper before running up the rigging. “All hands!” He’s above the crow’s nest in seconds, releasing the topsails when she appears. “Catch the lines,” he says as he drops them. “And heave ho!”
The ship lurches ahead and I hear a loud crack. Oh no.
“Ready to bring her to starboard, Ash,” Kaylin calls down to me.
“Toward the coast?” I’m sure we are meant to stay in the southern current, out of sight of the great coast road and clear of any reefs.
“Trust me, lass. I have a plan.” Kaylin drops to the deck and gives the command, “Come about!”
I spin the wheel hard to starboard, and the others duck under the boom.
Kaylin seems relieved as we cut across the current and head straight for the Aturnian shore. “Well done.”
“What’s the plan?” I ask as the little ship strains against the sails.
“We can’t outrun them for long in the open sea,” Kaylin says as he ties off the topsail lines. “But we can lose them in the shallows along the coast. Near Gleemarie, there are hundreds of shoals, river mouths, and islets.”
I frown. “Aren’t we worried about those islets and shoals and such?”
“Not as much as we’re worried about being caught by Aturnian warships.”
I look over my shoulder. “But they’ll follow us.”
He smiles. “To their demise, lass. They draw too deep for what lies in wait.”
70
Marcus
There’s a chasm of darkness at the edge of my mind, briefly held at bay while I focus on Tyche. It roils back up once she falls asleep in her bunk. I pull the blanket up to her chin and turn away. If there is any chance this darkness is contagious, I don’t want to infect her dreams.
As I walk away, the ship lurches and I stumble.
“What’s the sailor doing now?” It feels like we’re heading in a different direction.
I pull on my coat and climb the ladder. As my foot rests on the bottom rung, I hear a snap and the hiss of water spraying. I hurry down to the darkness of the hold to check the patched hull. My stomach drops. It might as well be Aku’s fountain, water spurting everywhere! I go topside as quickly as my aching body will move. “The hull’s breached!”
“Man the bilge!” Kaylin shouts.
I turn to go back down then stop and come back. “Man the what?”
“Landlubbers,” Kaylin curses. “Below, in the aft bulkhead. A pump. Use it.” Kaylin signals Piper. “Help him.”
I hurry down the hatch and knock Belair over at the bottom of the ladder. The Tangeen is up but glassy-eyed and hunched, cut and bruised, a chunk of his earlobe missing. A phantom cure won’t regrow that. But he pushes up his sleeves, ready to work. “There’s a leak in the ship, I hear.” How does he stay so calm?
Piper follows us below, her serpent rearing up over her head and swaying back and forth. “It’s flooded already.”
We slosh through the galley, knee-deep in ice-cold water, and past the high bunks where Tyche sleeps. I make a mental note of the quickest way to get her up on deck if the time comes.
“Here!” Piper says. She releases the pump locks and works the handles up and down. I go to the other side of the two-man pump and Belair braces it with his boot.
“Is it helping?” Piper asks. Water sprays her face from the growing crack.
I keep a close eye on my legs, watching for the water to recede. It doesn’t, but then it isn’t rising anymore, either. “Keep at it.”
After an hour, I’m completely exhausted. My hand wounds have reopened, though Piper stops long enough to kneel beside me in the water. Her serpent is hard-pressed to find a vein that has not been punctured, but it manages to latch on to my right wrist and inject a restorative serum. When it releases me, my hands drip blood.
“Wait!” Piper says and pushes back from the pump. Belair takes a short turn on his own while she bandages my palms. “You have to rest. Let the healing take hold.” The sloop rocks with the swell. “You too, Belair. Rest. I’ve got this.” As she speaks, her phantom sinks its teeth into her own neck and her eyes widen, pupils dilate.
“Kaylin needs one of you on the deck,” Samsen yells down the hatch.
“Dead bones, he does,” Piper mumbles. She tries to hold me back. “Is he sailing us straight to our death?”
“I can do it.” I pull out of her grip. It’s a long climb out of the hold, but the fresh air slaps me awake. That, and the serpent’s elixir. “What do you need?” I ask as I find Kaylin waiting at the prow. The sun is lowering in front of us and the water turns to gold.
“Watch for land.”
Did I hear right? “Land?”
“Reefs, too, but you’ll likely not spot any until we’re right on them.” Kaylin starts to walk away.
I catch him by the arm. “Why are we heading for land?”
“Ship’s taking too much water. You best hope we find land quick. The enemy will surely catch us in a rowboat.”
“And what then, when we reach land?”
“That would be your domain, Heir.” He turns to go, but I stop him again.
“I don’t know who you serve, and right now I don’t care, but the safety of all on this ship does concern me.” I push my voice low and threatening. “And I’ll not see you hurt Ash, in any way.”
Kaylin looks down at his arm where I grip him.
I let go but don’t step back.
His expression changes suddenly, as if he’d heard something. “Keep watch.” He leaves me to my new task and the sloop carries on, sails full and lines tight. I glare after the sailor, then face the horizon, doing as I’m told, scanning for land. What choice do
I have?
Before long I hear the familiar cry of gulls, squint, and see the reef. “Stop the ship!” I wave toward the helm. “There’s a reef. Coming up fast! Turn away!”
Kaylin is at my side. “Perfect. Well done.”
“Perfect? Look at the depth. It’s a child’s bath.” I don’t even try to keep the alarm out of my voice. “It’ll tear her bottom right out.”
Kaylin laughs aloud. “That’s what I like to hear, talking of this vessel as if she has a heart. You’ll make a sailor yet.”
“Bones be damned about making me a sailor, Kaylin. The reef!”
“I think we’ll just skim over it, but I know they won’t.” He sticks his thumb out behind him.
I turn around. Not a quarter of a league away is a tall, double-mast warship bearing down on us.
“They’re running with full sails,” Kaylin says as if that explains it all.
It doesn’t. “So?”
“There’s not a crew in all the realms that can drop enough cloth in time to stop. She’s going to rip over the reef if they can’t turn her about. Either way, we slip through and lose ourselves in the shoals, abandon ship, and row to shore.”
There is no part of this plan that I like, save for the Aturnian ship going down. A moment later, our hull scrapes the reef and Kaylin’s smile fades.
“What’s happening?” Ash shouts from the helm.
“The extra water in the hull’s made us draw a touch deeper than I’d hoped.” He heads for the hatch. “Bilge!” he hollers. “Keep pumping!” Then to me he says, “Marcus, find us land!”
All I can do is watch the horizon as we skate over the shallow reef, gulls crying above. Shading my eyes, I finally see it. “Land ahoy!” Relief washes over me. Safety’s ahead, but really, I should say distant land ahoy. The hazy cliffs and long white beaches are much too far away.
If I believed in the old gods, I’d be on my knees praying.
Pity they are no longer among us.
71
Kaylin
As I race past the helm, it’s all I can do to keep myself from slowing down, taking Ash in my arms, and explaining everything. Promising that even in these dire circumstances, everything will be all right. I keep running instead. I deceived her from the start. There’s no time to beg forgiveness now.
When I reach the stern, out of sight, I pull my knife and squat to the deck. The rowboat’s mooring line is tied fast to the cleat. I haul up the slack until wet rope is in my hand. I make a loop and slip the knife against it, ready to saw back and forth. It would look like the reef frayed it. These things happen…
But my knife doesn’t move, the landers’ lifeline intact while voices battle in my head.
Sink the ship, the Sea King ordered. Kill them all and get me Aku’s first whistle bone. It’s Father’s will, and he expects me to obey.
If you betray Teern, you’ll not see the surface again. Salila’s warning rings true.
But Ash’s soft words are there, too. She speaks from the battlefield of Aku when I urged her to flee the island. They are our people, she tells me. We don’t leave our people behind. And her face when we found the Heir? The love and care in her eyes blinded me. I imagine her turning those sparkling eyes my way, meeting me without reservation.
But if I cut the rope, saving only Ash, and manage to hide her from Teern, what of the others? Can I let those who matter to her most drown?
Do not fail, Teern’s voice echoes. None must survive.
“None must survive what, Kaylin?” Ash’s question sounds directly in my head.
She’s at the helm, her back straight, bandaged hands on the wheel.
My heart tightens in my throat as I boil it down to one of two things—save only Ash or save them all. Either way, I cross the Sea King and forfeit my life… The truth is, there is no choice at all.
I drop the rope, uncut, and sheath my knife, making my way back to the wheelhouse. “Be ready, lass.” I rest my hand briefly on her shoulder. “We’re in for a rough ride.”
72
Ash
“I can’t hold it!” I cry out as the wheel burns through my bandaged hands. Kaylin said to be ready for a rough ride, and this is it.
“All hands on deck!” Kaylin commands.
In moments, Piper comes out of the hatch with Tyche in tow. Belair stumbles topside behind her, his fair skin paled to an unnatural white. They carry a few bags and the water barrel. I want to race below and get my pack, but I’m wrestling the wheel. I shout to Piper over the wind. “My satchels are hanging in the galley. We have to preserve those books, my records.”
“Too much water,” Piper calls. “Can’t get back down.”
The wheel spins and I clamp harder, using my whole body to brace against the drag. Then it suddenly breaks free and I hit the deck.
“Lass!” Kaylin picks me up.
“What happened?”
“Rudder’s broken.” He tests the helm. “To the lifeboat. Abandon ship!”
“Abandon ship?” Marcus cries out.
I dart back to the hatch. “I can’t leave the records behind. It’s the proof…”
Kaylin catches me. “I’ll find them. You help Tyche to the boat.”
I take Tyche’s hand and guide her to the lifeboat as the ship slows, listing hard to starboard. I don’t even know if the girl can swim, but her face is so void of life, I don’t bother to ask. Samsen and Marcus lower the rope ladder. It slaps against the side of the hull but doesn’t reach all the way. The onshore wind stings as my hair, long escaped from the ponytail, whips about my face. I look beyond the stern as two Aturnian vessels carve through the sea straight for us. The nearest makes a sudden shift in its sails, many of them spilling wind. Cries rise up from the crew, and then orders are shouted in Aturnian.
“Hard to port! Come about!” But the warship has too much speed. It doesn’t respond, and they go aground on the reef, wrenching and splitting the hull.
Marcus jumps the distance to the lifeboat as it rocks wildly next to our sinking ship. He turns around and reaches for Tyche.
“Let go. I’ve got you.”
Tyche drops from the ladder and Marcus catches her in his arms. He carries her to the stern and sits her down.
I keep an eye on the warships. The one in the lead hit the outer reef side-on, mid tack, its deep-drawn hull slicing into the barrier much sooner than we had. The deck hands scatter in every direction, their lifeboats lowering. Before they reach the surface, the ship booms, a geyser spraying up from the prow. It sinks like an anvil, right before my eyes, sucking the crew and the lifeboats down with it.
“Ash, you’re next.” Kaylin’s soaking wet but over his shoulder is my satchel and, in his arms, the last water keg.
“Thank you.” I grip him for support and climb over the rail, turn around, and cling to the thick, wet ropes. My blisters scream at the touch of salt water, but I make it down and jump to the lifeboat, finding a bench seat on the other side of Tyche. Samsen follows with Belair and Piper. Her serpent’s heads are up and scenting in every direction, reflecting the panic on her face. Marcus, Belair, and Piper man the oars to port, Samsen and I to starboard. Kaylin unties the mooring line and throws it down. He lowers the barrel in a net and follows. “Row!” he hollers, taking his place at the last oar.
The sloop lays over the surface, the hull cracking wide, sucking in water. It tries to draw us down with it, but we pull hard and eventually break free. Once gliding over the reef, I keep my head down, putting all my mind and strength to the rowing. Whether the second warship came about or not, I don’t know. When I look, none are on the horizon. I check over my shoulder toward the shore, the setting sun burning my eyes. I can’t see anything that way, either.
I row until my mind is numb. My back aches, palms bleed. I tear the cuffs off my sleeves to wrap them thicker, but the make
shift bandages stick to the weeping blisters and chafe worse. Kaylin assures us the shore is coming up soon.
Land. It is my only goal.
How Kaylin guides us after the sun sets, I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe we’re going in circles, or worse, back out to sea.
“Trust him,” my dry inner voice tells me. “He guides us true.”
Kaylin turns to face us many times as the sky darkens, and finally, he calls out, “Land ahoy!” His eyes narrow. “Hold. There’s a bit of a swell.” He stands on the bench, rocking with the boat, surveying the coastline. All heads follow his gaze as we lift the oars out of the water. I barely discern the outline of tall cliffs and the churn of white shore break. The strongest feature is the jutting breakwater, a natural string of islets protruding from the beach. The waves rolling under us are huge, lifting the little boat high and rushing us toward shore.
“Hard port!” Kaylin calls as he turns back to the sea.
As one, we pull the left-hand oars and the boat starts to come around, but not soon enough. I watch as a wall of black water rises behind us, gaining size and momentum by the second.
Kaylin’s last command as the swell picks up the boat, tips it on its side, and flings us overboard is, “Swim!”
“There are at least three who can’t!” I shout back in my mind as I free-fall through the air.
“Maybe focus on holding your breath for the moment,” my inner voice suggests.
I have the vague feeling that the rowboat is falling, too, just above my head. I grip the oar, but it sticks into the dark wave and is ripped out of my hand. So much for flotation. The next thing I know, I slap the trough of the wave and plunge into the ice-cold sea. It tumbles me like a rag in a washtub. My breath escapes as something clubs my head. A stray oar? Marcus’s boot? I have no idea.
“Swim!” Kaylin’s voice booms in my head.
I can’t do anything but be tossed about until the wave finally lets me go. I shrug out of my waterlogged coat and a few seconds later I break the surface and gasp in a breath. I get half a lungful, mixed with seawater, before the next wave lifts me like a cork and dumps me into the deep trough.
