“Are you okay?” I asked him.
“Are you?” Adelgis replied telepathically.
The question didn’t sit well with me. “I feel fine.”
“You’ve never had thoughts like you just had,” he said. “That worries me.”
I wanted to wave away his concerns, but a piece of me knew he was right. An obsession with magical power hadn’t been something I concerned myself with. Then again, I had never been so close to something like this before.
What was I going to do about it now? Think of something else?
“What do you think the others in the Frith Guild are doing right now?” I asked as we took one of the corners.
“They’re probably searching for the world serpent.”
“You don’t think they’ve found it yet?”
“I suspect the creature is far away—the travel times would limit the likelihood that they’ve already succeeded.”
Karna-Theasin glanced over his shoulder with a frown.
I probably looked ridiculous, considering I was the only one talking aloud.
Imagining the Frith Guild on an adventure of a lifetime did distract me, though. I no longer thought about the bone fragments and instead dwelled on my memories of the others. Illia had desperately wanted to find the world serpent—not because she wanted it for herself, but to keep it out of the hands of the Dread Pirate Calisto. I imagined her at the helm of the ship, demanding the fastest routes to the serpent, using the Occult Compass to guide the guild straight there.
We entered the reception room, and I stared at the double doors that led outside. Soon we would be free.
“Wait a minute,” someone said, drawing my attention. “I know you.”
The voice sounded familiar. I stopped and then caught my breath.
The reaper arcanist, Jevel Balestier, walked over, one hand in a pocket, the other hanging at his side. His reaper, Ruin, floated alongside him, the empty cloak fluttering as though caught in a gentle breeze, even though there was none. The hood was up, but there was nothing there, much like Luthair’s vacant helmet whenever he formed out of the shadows. A rusted scythe hung in the air around the reaper, occasionally twirling in a slow rotation.
Jevel wasn’t nearly as intimidating up close. He wore a ragged set of seafarer’s clothes, including the high boots and long coat. His goatee had grown long and scruffy, and he scratched at it when he neared.
“You’re Zelfree’s apprentice,” he said to me, his narrow eyes squinting farther.
My chest tightened. I didn’t know what to say, and I definitely didn’t want to answer any questions.
“He’s with me now,” Karna-Theasin answered, not missing a beat.
“As an apprentice?” Jevel asked.
“If that’s the new word for lackey, then yes. My apprentice.”
If anyone other than Theasin had said that, I was certain it would garner odd glances. No one in the reception room—not the members of the Watch Battalion, not the researchers, not the servants—seemed to think that was an unusual statement, though.
Jevel huffed. “A pity. I was hoping Zelfree would be in town. I never got to have my fight with the man.”
“It’s a good thing for you he’s not here, then,” I muttered, unable to hide my sardonic tone.
Ruin stopped twirling its scythe. “No mimic has ever bested a reaper.” Its voice was hollow and haunting. “And in some places around the Shard Sea, Everett Zelfree has a bounty on his head. It’s only a matter of time before the Huntsman Guild finds him in a place he doesn’t belong.” Ruin swiped the scythe around in front of him, close enough I felt the whoosh of air.
The shadows at my feet stirred in agitation, and I was half-tempted to settle this myself.
“Behave, Ruin,” Jevel said. “The boy isn’t with Zelfree anymore. Though it is cute how much he admires the man.” He laughed to himself as he turned away, obviously uninterested in me now that I wasn’t a part of the Frith Guild. “Now that I have all these new toys, though, Zelfree’s name is as good as on my chains.”
The metal links hanging from the reaper rattled as it glided after its arcanist. The many names burned into the chain were records of arcanists the beast had killed.
Why was Jevel so obsessed with fighting Zelfree? He’d had the same single-minded determination during the Sovereign Dragon Tournament.
“We should avoid that man at all costs,” Adelgis said telepathically, his message somehow laced with contagious concern. “Apparently, the Grand Laboratories of New Norra have crafted an item that can detect individuals with the arcane plague, and they’re giving one to Jevel for his services rendered to the city.”
Detect the plague?
The information sank into my gut.
“Let’s take our leave of this place,” Karna-Theasin said. He placed a hand on my shoulder and guided me toward the door.
The sun began to set on the trek back to the airship. Soon, the cold would descend upon us.
I stepped onto the Sun Chaser, but my anxiety didn’t leave me.
Although Adelgis had taken plenty of paperwork from his father’s lab, he said he needed time to sort through it all. Without a word, he headed to our sleeping quarters, keeping the papers close. Karna didn’t waste time, either. She dropped her disguise, transforming back into a beautiful female dancer. Theasin’s short black hair extended out into a brilliant blonde waterfall that reached her waist. Then she headed below deck, wringing out her hands, as though the slimy feeling of being Theasin wouldn’t leave her until she scrubbed them clean.
Before I could rest, I headed below deck and then down the corridor to the officer’s rooms. My father was the blacksmith, Karna was the quartermaster, but Vethica was the boatswain. I knocked on her door, determined to give her what little I found in the labs.
“Come in,” she said, her voice muffled behind the wood.
I entered, surprised by the mess I found myself in.
Papers and books were scattered everywhere—the floor, in two hammocks, on a bookshelf with a locked door. There was a cot built into the bulkhead and nestled in the corner, and it was the only space without the clutter. Even Vethica’s chair had several tomes propped against the side.
Vethica leaned over a book, her elbows on her desk, her attention focused. She wore just a pair of trousers and simple tunic, her frame thin and her eyes underlined with dark bags. It made me wonder if she had been neglecting herself.
“I told you I was busy,” she muttered. “If you brought food, just leave it on the bed.”
“That’s not why I’m here,” I said as I shut the door.
She stopped reading and shot me a glare, realization hitting her at a visible rate. “What’re you doing here?”
Vethica wouldn’t tolerate my presence long, so I decided to just hit all the major points I wanted to say.
“I know what happened to you,” I said. “I know about your thunderbird and the plague.”
She stood from her chair so fast, it flew back and hit the ground, toppling books in the process. Rage built in her expression, her hands balled in fists.
“What do you want?” Vethica asked, her words slow and cold, a harsh contrast to her demeanor.
I pulled the map from my trousers and handed it over. “I found this in the Grand Laboratories of New Norra. Adelgis thinks it’s a map of the Grotto Labyrinth. I thought it could help you.”
A long, strained moment passed between us. For a second, I thought she might not have heard me. She just stared, her eyes darting between me and the map.
I held it out a bit farther. “I, uh, wanted to ask you something. If you don’t mind.”
Vethica took the map with an unsteady hand. Was she trembling from rage or confusion? I couldn’t tell. “A question?” she whispered, her voice strained, as though she were fighting to keep it under control.
She said nothing else.
“Why are you so obsessed with the khepera?” I asked. “I mean, if I… if I end up losing Luth
air to the plague, I think I would want to seek out another knightmare to bond with. If I were going to become an arcanist again, I mean. Why not find another thunderbird?”
Vethica ran a hand through her short, red hair. If she stood in the lantern light just right, she’d practically be a sibling to Zaxis—they had the same hardened gaze and tense stance.
Before she answered, she opened the map and examined the contents. Over time, her aggression bled away. She fixed her chair, took her seat, and then gently placed the paper on her desk, covering everything else she had been working on.
“I’m damaged,” she said.
I wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but I waited for her to explain rather than demanding answers.
“I had the arcane plague too long.” Her voice grew quieter, and she stared at the map rather than meeting my eye. “At first, I didn’t feel any different. I thought I could hide it. I thought maybe it wouldn’t affect me like it had the others.”
I had yet to notice any real changes, but knowing Vethica had experience with this intrigued me. I moved closer to her, wanting to hear every word she whispered.
“But things changed,” she said. “I couldn’t control myself sometimes. And my thoughts… they became frightening and disjointed. It was as if I were losing a grip on what made me who I am.” Vethica leaned onto the desk, her shoulders bunched at the base of her neck. “And one day… I thought…”
She moved a couple of books on her desk, revealing a glass jar that had been tucked into the far corner. Two blazing gold feathers were held inside the container, occasional sparks of electricity flaring off of them.
Thunderbird feathers.
“There were these whispers,” Vethica continued. She touched the jar. “I was convinced I needed to infect my eldrin.”
I didn’t know how to respond.
Vethica shoved the books back in front of the jar. “I was the one who spread the plague to… to my thunderbird.”
The statement clawed at my thoughts. I imagined myself in her situation, slowly losing myself to some disease and then infecting Luthair because I thought it was a good idea.
I crossed my arms, my heart pounding hard enough I could feel it on my forearm.
Vethica sighed. “I wasn’t entirely a lost cause. Karna convinced me to kill my thunderbird, and I thought all my troubles would be over, but… I can still feel myself slip from time to time. Don’t you get it? I’m damaged. The plague ran its course, and now the scars remain.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
I had been told that an arcanist had six months—within that time, if they got rid of their magic, the plague would leave their body, and they would return to normal. However, if they carried the sickness longer, beyond six months, the damage would become permanent, even if they lost their eldrin and magic.
Which was what had happened to Vethica. She had carried the arcane plague in her blood for far too long. Now she was no longer herself.
“I need the khepera,” Vethica said. “I’ve read all about them. I don’t know if they can cure the plague, but I know khepera can heal a tarnished soul. Dozens of stories confirm it. That means… if I can bond with one… I can get my old self back. I can finally be free of this. Free of these terrible thoughts.”
Everything made a lot more sense. From Vethica’s hate to her new obsession, it seemed a good portion of her life had been focused on clearing away the plague.
The vials of sand in my pocket popped into my mind. I withdrew the pink sand and turned it over in my palm. “Vethica, I don’t know if this would help you, but I have something that’s supposed to heal injuries to the soul.”
She glanced over, and I showed her the strange sand.
Vethica narrowed her eyes. “What is it?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I just know it works. Adelgis had a problem, and I used this sand to heal him. However, I was warned it could kill someone if they didn’t have injury to their soul—so I’m not entirely sure it would even work, but—”
“I don’t want your guesswork.” She exhaled. “I just need to find a khepera.”
With a sigh, I pocketed the vial of sand.
Vethica pushed herself up from her desk, her jaw clenched and her whole body visibly tense. “I guess I should thank you. That said… nobody on this ship really understands what it’s like to be plague-ridden, except for me. I know the kinds of horrible things you’ll do once it sinks into your mind and rakes through your thoughts. You’re an honorable man now, but it won’t last.”
I stepped toward the door. There was no need for the dreadful reminder.
“I should be going,” I said.
“If you had any spine at all, you’d free yourself from this curse. Like you said—you can just search out another knightmare to bond with.”
“And like you said—when you were first infected, there was no difference. I still have time. If I fail, then I guess I’ll have to search for a new eldrin.” I gripped the door handle, defiance welling in my thoughts and conviction. “But I won’t fail.”
I left Vethica’s room before she got in another word.
19
The Lightning Straits
The corridor welcomed me with an icy embrace, but the wootz cotton under my clothes refused to let me feel it. Luthair shifted around my feet, his shadowy presence a comfort.
I gritted my teeth. “I didn’t mean it, Luthair.”
“What didn’t you mean, my arcanist?”
“Searching for a new eldrin. I wouldn’t do that if I had failed you.”
“In your grief, you have confused yourself. I am a creature of protection, and the plague in your blood is hard evidence that I was the one who failed you. If I can’t assist in discovering a cure before it’s too late, then you deserve to find another mystical creature to become your eldrin.”
“That’s not—”
“I failed to protect my first arcanist,” Luthair interjected, his melancholic tone hard on my ears. “But I refuse to fail my second. We no longer need to discuss this—we’re both determined. Together, we’ll make this right.”
“Okay,” I said, my throat tight.
If I doubted, I would surely succumb to despair, so I had to believe we could make it through this. I had to.
The door across from Vethica’s was labeled, Quartermaster. I stared at it for a long minute, steeling myself to the reality of the situation. Karna wanted me to sleep in her quarters, against my objections. I wasn’t opposed to her, or her presence, or even her flirtations, but her ever-escalating advancements made me nervous. The arcane plague seemed more than just an illness—it was malevolent. It twisted the bodies of mythical creatures and messed with the minds of arcanists. It had clearly harmed Vethica and continued to do so in ways beyond sinister. It had manipulated her into infecting others, even the one closest to her, which seemed almost too horrific to fathom.
Why was Karna willing to risk all that to have me close? True, I wasn’t villainous yet, though why chance anything?
But a deal was a deal.
I stepped forward and knocked on the door. It opened the second time my knuckles struck the wood.
Karna waited with a smile and a tunic—and nothing else. The easygoing garment hung to her mid-thighs, made of tannish linen. It was better than what I had expected her to wear to bed, so I didn’t make a comment.
“And here I thought you would avoid me,” she said as she opened the door wide. “I don’t usually have to fight this hard to get someone to agree to spend time in my quarters.”
“Well, you finally got me,” I quipped.
Karna grabbed my elbow and guided me into the room. As she shut the door, I took note of the simple interior. Unlike Vethica’s quarters, which were covered in the work that consumed her life, Karna didn’t have anything. There was a bed built into the bulkhead of the ship, complete with a feather mattress and blankets—things a normal sailing ship wouldn’t necessarily have because of the risk of water. Again
st the opposite wall were three wooden trunks and a single lantern, providing all the light.
That was it.
Not even a desk or cabinet for books and materials.
If the trunks were taken out, no one would ever know the room had been inhabited.
“It’s… clean,” I said, grasping for any sort of compliment.
“Let me guess—you’re messy?”
“I wouldn’t have said so.” I approached the trunks, wondering what was kept inside. “But I’ve never had much personal space. I had a room at the Frith Guild, but we were frequently away. And when I lived on the Isle of Ruma, I basically stayed in a cleaned-out closet.”
“Is that right?”
I pulled the black bones from the waist of my trousers. The six fragments still felt as powerful as ever, and I almost didn’t want to put them down, but sleeping with them seemed silly. I removed some of my wootz cotton and wrapped the bone pieces together. Then I placed them on top of one of the trunks like a tied bundle of kindling.
I turned around and found Karna sitting on the bed. It wasn’t especially large—clearly built for a single person, to save on space—and I wondered what she intended. I didn’t see a hammock or even another blanket.
Karna leaned forward and placed her chin into her palm. “You’ve never slept beside a woman before, have you?”
“Not really.” I rubbed at the back of my neck. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that now seems like the most inopportune time imaginable.”
“When I was younger, I would sleep next to someone every night,” Karna said, her tone a mix of playful and wistful. “One of my siblings, mostly. But sometimes others. I like listening to the sound of someone’s heart—it’s soothing.”
“I see,” I muttered. “I never thought of that.”
“Well, I went a long time where I didn’t want anyone to share my bed.” Karna smoothed the blankets on her mattress. “It no longer… felt right.” When she glanced back to me, she offered me a coy smile. “But you’re different. You’ve always been different. I still can’t decide what I think about that.”
Plague Arcanist (Frith Chronicles Book 4) Page 17
