She patted the bed, beckoning me over.
My face grew hot as I took a seat next to her. When she placed her hand on my back and slid her palm up my shoulder, I tensed.
“Karna, I don’t think—”
“Relax,” she said, cutting me off. Then she smacked my side. “You act like I’m about to attack you. Everything will be fine.”
I rubbed at my ribs, unable to unwind, not with her so close. She was warmer than I imagined, and strands of her hair caught the lantern light in such a way that they shone like gold. Just a few, like precious metals hidden in a field of amber wheat.
“Aren’t you tired?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Then lie down.”
I did as she instructed, enjoying the soft mattress. I wondered if roc feathers had been used in creating it. Or perhaps roc down? That would have been interesting.
“You aren’t going to take off your boots?” Karna asked. “Or are you so afraid of something happening that you’ll sleep fully clothed?”
I hadn’t given any of that thought—mostly because I had been avoiding it—and my face reddened further as I sat back up, slid off my boots, and then undid my belt. Normally, I didn’t wear anything when I slept, but when in close quarters—like in the storeroom of the Sun Chaser—I kept my shirt and trousers on.
I did the same here, even though the wootz cotton would make things uncomfortable.
Once situated, I rested onto the mattress, my gaze on the ceiling. Karna crawled into a position between my arm and my body. She placed her head on my chest, just beside the armpit. She was soft, and her touch gentle, but we had no spare room on the bed for any tossing or turning. It wasn’t too bad—she was lighter than I had anticipated.
“See?” Karna asked. “There’s nothing to worry about.” She pointed to the lantern. “You can snuff that without getting up, right?”
I manipulated the shadows to turn down the wick until the flame went out, blanketing us in darkness. The simple trick amused me. Once upon a time, I wouldn’t have had such fine control. Now I didn’t struggle with it, even next to a light source, and that pleased me.
Karna gently ran her fingers over my chest, breaking me out of my self-congratulatory moment. The airship didn’t creak, not while we were tied at the sky port, which heightened the silence. Occasionally, the hull still groaned from the weight of passengers and cargo, but it wasn’t the same. I concentrated on every breath and movement—hers and my own—and that made it next to impossible to sleep.
To my surprise, Karna shifted deeper into position and pulled her arms in tightly, nestling in close to me, half her face buried in my chest. I wrapped my arm around her waist, trying to get into the most comfortable position. I felt her smile through my shirt.
Karna never said anything, though. In a matter of moments, her breathing grew even and steady.
Although it was cold outside, Karna’s room retained heat as well as the wootz cotton. I closed my eyes, trying to force myself into sleep.
I didn’t know how or when, but I was dreaming.
It was the same kind of surreal feeling I had with all Adelgis’s manipulations, and I was glad he had the ability to continue the dreams even when he wasn’t within arm’s reach.
The familiar sway of a ship under my feet excited me. The bay waters lapped against the distant piers. Was this Zelfree again? It had to be. I half-recognized the shabby town and its dirty cobblestone roads out across the water. Did that mean I was now aboard the Red Falcon?
Watching through Zelfree’s eyes, I faced a woman next to the ship’s railing. She wore an officer’s uniform—long coat, fitted white trousers, high boots with a lustrous shine, a black tricorn hat—and she had long, chestnut hair that hung past her shoulder blades and fluttered in the bay winds. When she smiled, it had a warmth that reminded me of Gravekeeper William.
Her appearance surprised me. Taming the waters of the ocean was a rough job that usually eroded all beauty away from a person. Not her. She maintained a youthful vigor.
“It’s nice to meet you,” she said.
I nodded, but didn’t return the greeting.
“I’m Captain Eventide.”
If I were in control of what was happening, I probably would’ve gasped. I had never seen Guildmaster Eventide so young before. Powerful and striking—obviously charismatic. She seemed like the idealized version of an arcanist I had always imagined as a child.
Her arcanist mark was, of course, the atlas turtle—a giant creature that grew plants on its back—but it was just a normal mark in this dream-memory, not glowing soft white like I knew in my timeframe. I wondered when she would get her true form atlas turtle.
“I’m Everett Zelfree,” I said. “An interesting crew you have here.”
“If life isn’t interesting, it’s not worth living,” Eventide replied.
“Words only uttered by those who had a pleasant childhood.”
The almost sardonic response got Eventide smiling. She had a certain confidence of her own that shone through in that moment. The winds of the bay rushed by, bringing with it a fine dusting of salt and smoke from the city’s chimneys.
“Well, Everett,” the captain said. “Let me ask you—have you ever been to East Jinko?”
“That tiny backwater fishing hole they called a town? Of course not. It was burned down by pirate raiders. No one knew for weeks. That’s how insignificant it was.”
Eventide laughed aloud. “Hey, now. That’s my hometown you’re talking about.”
My eyebrows shot to my hairline. “You lived there?”
“How’s that for a pleasant childhood?” She kept her smile as she turned her gaze to the water. “Mudfish, reeds, and squirrel made for an interesting stew—my mother’s specialty. Everyone knew everyone, and when the pirates came, we all holed up in the same room under the town hall.” When she returned her attention to me, the charisma hadn’t faded—it seemed reinforced. “Hard times—interesting times—they’ve made me who I am today. I wouldn’t change that for the world.”
“I see…” I said. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.”
“No need to apologize. You just owe me a little bit about yourself now.”
I opened my mouth, a protest on my tongue—I could tell from my stiff posture—but Eventide cut me off by lifting a hand.
“You’re one of my officers,” she said. “It’s only right.”
“How much time do you have?” I asked as I leaned against the ship’s railing.
“Give me a quick rundown.”
“Okay,” I said. “Wanted posters would have you believe I’m a thief with a terrible mustache. Former lovers will have nothing but the highest praise. And my schoolmaster would have you believe I’m a class clown.”
“And why would they say all that?”
“Probably because I’m a suave trickster with a penchant for theft.”
Eventide lifted an eyebrow as she chuckled. “Is that right?”
“You would’ve known that had your recruitment process involved more than just math questions.” I crossed my arms. “Consider that my first suggestion as an officer-in-training.”
A part of me figured Zelfree would be thrown from the ship, but no matter how sarcastic and dismissive he became, Eventide never reacted like how I had imagined. Instead of growing upset, she actually laughed aloud, her mirth carried away by the increasing breeze. She held her hat in place until the wind calmed itself.
“Ruma told me all about your recruitment,” Eventide said. “He typically asks more questions, but he said you displayed a fierce desire to prove yourself.”
For the first time in the conversation, I tensed. I pushed away from the railing and lowered my arms. “What do you mean?”
“He said you had this look in your eye—a look of someone who wouldn’t allow anyone, or anything, to hold him back.”
I rubbed my trousers, a fidgety restlessness overcoming me. “And that’s all you want in an officer, h
uh?”
Eventide patted my shoulder. “In my experience, people with your attitude inevitably find themselves at the top of their social structure. If you stayed a thief in your hometown, I’m sure you would’ve become a master burglar. But now you’re an officer on my crew.”
“So you’re assuming I’ll become ship-shape for some pats on the back?”
“No. I’m assuming you won’t be satisfied until everyone here acknowledges your talents—and you’re smart enough to know that tricks and thievery won’t get you there.”
I said nothing, though I wondered what Zelfree thought of all that.
“Besides, Ruma is an excellent judge of character.” Eventide tossed back her long hair. “I trust his recommendations, no matter how much work a person might need.” She stepped around me and headed for the quarterdeck. “I look forward to seeing your career, Everett.”
I had always enjoyed Guildmaster Eventide, even though we had rarely spoken. She was always so easy to talk to, so effortless to like. Few people had that quality to put others at ease. I wished I had it.
The world shifted and moved, melting away like water thrown on a fresh painting. The colors rearranged themselves afterward, forming into another memory, this one likely in the future.
Once again, I stood on the deck of the Red Falcon, my head craned back, my attention focused on the sky. The ship-of-the-line sailed out of the bay at breathtaking speeds, no doubt aided by magic. I leaned onto the railing, taking in as much of the surroundings as humanly possible.
Waves broke against the hull of the ship, spraying white mist into the air and soaking my hair. I slicked it back with a quick swipe of my hand, excitement coursing through my veins. Had Zelfree ever ridden on a ship before? The way he acted, it made me wonder.
The port town grew smaller and smaller as it disappeared into the distance. The seagulls, which had once been numerous, dwindled in number until none were left. Although Zelfree probably had work to do, he remained at the railing, watching the water with rapt fascination.
I didn’t know how much time had passed—perhaps a few minutes, perhaps a few hours—it was a dream, and some things blurred together.
Giant mountains in the distance caught my eye. They were dark in color, like granite, and the tips reached so high, it seemed as though they would tear through the sky.
Lightning flashed between rocks and boulders, crackling and sparking, filling the air with rumbles of thunder. The deckhands rushed to secure everything as I just stared at the wondrous phenomenon.
All over the mountains, from one edge of the horizon to the other, lightning arched at random moments. Sometimes from the ground, sometimes from the thick clouds overhead, but they never stopped. There wasn’t even any rain—just the lightning and the echo of frightening thunder.
Gregory Ruma strode out onto the deck. He spotted me and jogged over, his gaze also turning to the sky.
“We’re getting close to the Lightning Straits,” he said.
I gripped the railing of the ship, my fingers strained. “We aren’t going to sail through immediately, right? You have to wait until the lightning storms have died down before taking the ship through the straits.”
I hadn’t seen many straits. They were narrow waterways, bordered on either side by land, usually mountains, connecting two large bodies of water. Straits were dangerous to sail through normally—one wrong move and the ship could crash into rocks or be crushed by something falling from above—but going through straits that actively had lightning surging from the terrain was another matter entirely.
“We don’t need to wait for the lightning storms to die down,” Ruma said with a smirk. “Not when we have our captain with us.”
I glanced around until I spotted Eventide at the bow of the ship. Her coat fluttered behind her. She planted one boot on the railing and leaned forward, her attention on the flashes of lightning.
“What kind of arcanist is she?” I asked.
Ruma pointed over the starboard railing.
I hustled across the ship, dodging the busy deckhands, and then looked over the edge. A giant turtle swam next to us, her whole body perhaps twice as large as the Red Falcon.
Gentel.
I had met her several times, but she had always been gigantic—large enough for an entire guild house to be positioned on her back. In this state, she was still large, but not big enough to have more than a hammock and a few tables on her back.
And to my fascination, her shell was covered in a bulb, like a flower that had yet to bloom. The thick, green leaves protected her shell from taking on sea water, saving the many plants growing there from getting drowned in salt.
Gentel looked up at me, her round eyes glistening and shiny.
“How will the captain protect us?” I asked as Ruma walked to my side.
“Atlas turtle arcanists can create powerful barriers. They’re unrivaled in protection, lad. Just you wait and see—this light show might stop other ships, but it won’t stop the Frith Guild.”
“But there’s a timing to the storms. They stop and start with a bit of regularity. What if the captain fails to protect us? Why take that risk? We should just wait.”
“Eventide has done this countless times,” Ruma said. “You have nothing to worry about.”
The Red Falcon sailed straight for the narrow waterway between the giant thundering mountains. My whole body remained tense as we traveled toward it. The booming of the storm grew in intensity, and the very air sizzled with unseen power. My hair stood on end, frizzy and puffed, from my head to my toes.
Nervous deckhands filtered down below deck, but I remained.
When the ship drew near the strait, a massive bolt of lightning flashed from the rocks and arched toward our mainmast. If it hit, there was no doubt in my mind the wood would explode into a thousand splinters, just like a tree struck in a storm. The sail would probably also catch fire and spread the flame to the rest of the ship.
Luckily for everyone involved, the lightning struck a semi-invisible force field of magic. The barrier shimmered when hit, but disappeared again once the lightning had died down. No harm came to the Red Falcon, not even a singe. When another bolt of lightning flared, it, too, smashed against Eventide’s barrier to little effect.
The Red Falcon sailed into the strait, and all light left us. The mountains went so high up that the shadows cast between them were also as pitch black as tar. Eventide remained at the bow of the ship, but Ruma headed to the stern to take control of the helm. If anyone lost control, the ship would smash into the mountains.
I refused to move from my position on the deck. Lightning arched between the mountains, creating electric rainbows overhead. The constant flashes illuminated the straits in short bursts. I watched for a prolonged period of time, my mouth open and my eyes wide.
I hadn’t known before, but the Lightning Straits were considerable in length. Even in the dream, it felt like hours went by. The rocking of the Red Falcon became severe as the waters splashed between the two mountains.
A creature beneath the waves—not Eventide’s atlas turtle—seemingly helped calm the currents, keeping the ship steady. Although I hadn’t seen it, I already knew who was responsible.
Decimus. Gregory Ruma’s eldrin.
And Decimus was a leviathan, a king of the waves. The massive creature could manipulate water and was no doubt helping Ruma guide the ship through the safest route. It occurred to me then—Eventide and Ruma had complementary eldrin. Her atlas turtle magic protected the ship from attack, both magical and mundane, and his leviathan magic propelled the vessel at safe and swift speeds. The cleverness stuck with me. For a brief moment, I was awash in the nostalgic feelings of my childhood, back when I had read about every legendary arcanist and their swashbuckling adventures.
The Red Falcon sailed close to the mountain walls, and I hurried to the railing. The narrow passageway became so tight that the crackling stones of the mountain were nothing more than a foot away. I didn’t kn
ow why, but I leaned onto the railing and reached out to grab a small stone, something no larger than my palm.
To my surprise, I managed to pluck one from its perch among boulders. I pushed myself back to the deck of the swaying ship and held the rock close.
Its dark speckled coloration intrigued me. I spun the rock around in my hand, marveling at the static bursting off the surface. More than once, it shocked my fingertips.
Before I could put the stone down, a powerful burst of electricity pulsed outward from it.
The dream-memory went black, and when I could see again, I was on my back.
Had the stone zapped Zelfree? I wanted to laugh, but I had no control over what was happening. Instead, I just coughed and wheezed, my mouth filled with a bizarre taste, like I had sucked on metal.
Ruma was at my side, giving me the once-over. “What happened?”
“The ship’s surgeon said he was bored,” I murmured, “so I thought I’d give him a challenge.”
“You touched one of the surgestones, didn’t you?”
“Fondled it, really. That might be why it got upset.”
He helped me to my feet, chortling the entire time. “This whole mountain range is made out of surgestone. That’s what causes these storms. Why would you ever touch it? You’re not an arcanist—if you get harmed, it’ll take months for you to recover.”
“I…”
The words never came. The tight feeling in my chest spread to my gut, and for a brief moment, it felt like I might vomit. I held it together, and Ruma guided me toward the stairs below deck.
“You need to rest,” he said. “I’d hate for our newest officer-in-training to get himself killed on his first voyage.”
The dream melted away a second time, taking away the Lightning Straits and the Red Falcon and rearranging different images. Somehow, I knew time had passed. The ship made it out of the straits unharmed and then sailed across the Shard Sea.
Something about pirates.
Something else about finding lost merchants.
I saw fleeting moments of adventures, but in each one it was the same. I waited on deck—or rather, Zelfree waited on deck—while Ruma and Eventide handled the problems. In each dream-memory, I had an overwhelming sensation of frustration, almost irritation. I felt the same—I wanted to see the action. I wanted to participate. I understood why Zelfree stood at the edge of the ship, watching as close as he could.
Plague Arcanist (Frith Chronicles Book 4) Page 18
