The Shadow Sorceress: The Fourth Book of the Spellsong Cycle

by Modesitt. Jr. , L. E.

  “Do you always stay up here on the front?” asked Secca, loosening her grip on the varnished but salt-sticky railing.

  “The bow?” Alcaren grimaced. “I do indeed. Here, the air is cool and fresh.”

  Secca glanced southward. “This seems wide enough for a larger vessel.”

  “Here…it is, but before long, the deep part of the channel will narrow, and it would take less than a glass for the captain to have us in water where you could walk to shore. That’s why we pitch so much with so little wind.”

  “Because the water is shallow?” asked Secca. She thought any water over her head was too deep.

  Alcaren nodded. “Where you see the waves break…” He pointed to the west, his arm almost in front of Secca’s nose. “That is where there are shallows and shoals.”

  Secca followed his gesture, seeing white spray less than a dek away. “It doesn’t look shallow.”

  “One of those big Sturinnese war brigs would get hung up there and break her back, just like that.” Alcaren smiled. “But they know that. We won’t see them until the channel widens.”

  “How long will that be?”

  “Late the day after tomorrow at the earliest.”

  Secca glanced upward. As the mast seemed to move, she could see Clearsong, almost at its zenith. It would be high in the sky well into evening. She hoped that was a good sign.

  98

  A few scattered high white clouds scudded across the late morning sky, moving to the south with the wind that carried the Alycet southward. Somewhere to the west—just beyond the horizon, according to Alcaren—were the last traces of the Sand Hills. Secca stood on the raised rear deck of the Alycet, close to the railing around the wheel platform. To her left was Weyla, although the captain’s eyes were never still, and never turned toward the sorceress. Alcaren stood almost at the starboard rail, facing into the wind. Richina leaned on the railing as well, less than two yards from Alcaren, but farther forward.

  Perhaps a half-dek astern and to the north of the Alycet followed the Foamsprite. For a moment, Secca watched the smaller vessel, her bow cutting into the long swells, with spray and foam seemingly almost touching the base of the bowsprit. Then the sorceress looked forward again.

  On the lower mid-deck, Palian was rehearsing the first players, and the sound of strings and horns drifted aft to Secca. The second players stood on the raised forward deck, as if waiting for the first players to finish rehearsing.

  “A good half-day out of the channel…another few glasses, and we can run for Ilygot,” said the tall and wiry captain.

  “How far are we from there?”

  “Half a day, if the wind holds.”

  “Sail to the east!” came a call from the lookout above.

  The captain turned away from Secca, peering to her left and back toward the east. “Can’t see yet, but can’t be other than the dissonant Sea-Pigs.” She glanced eastward, then looked toward the helmsman. “Bring her ten starboard.”

  “Ten starboard, aye. Coming starboard.”

  As the Alycet swung to the west, with the wind coming into the sails more directly, Richina climbed up the ladder from the lower deck. “We’re turning…”

  Secca gestured toward the east. “There are ships there.”

  Behind Richina, Wilten appeared, his face slightly pale. “Sorceress?”

  “The Sea-Priests may have found us.”

  Weyla glanced upward, toward the lookout. “How many?”

  “Four, mayhap five!” came back the call.

  Five vessels had to be Sturinnese, Secca reflected. She stepped forward until she looked down on the mid-deck. “Players, stand by. The lookout has sighted the Sturinnese.”

  “Stand by,” called Palian.

  “Second players to position,” ordered Delvor.

  The second players began to climb down the ladders to the main deck.

  Secca walked back toward the captain, who pointed eastward. “Just out there.”

  Secca could see but specks of white above the dark blue water.

  “They’re running with the wind, and they carry far more sail than do we.”

  “Can we make it to Ilygot?” asked the sorceress.

  “I’d wager against it.” Weyla looked westward, then walked toward the raised platform that held the helm, where she studied the map fastened on an inclined plot.

  Secca eased behind the captain, leaving Richina, Wilten, and Alcaren by the railing, all three now peering out to the east.

  “We are here…most exposed.” Weyla pointed to the map, at a series of dotted lines in the green space that seemed to represent water. “The shallows to the west of us are narrow. Don’t offer much protection. Another five deks south, there is a reef, and we could almost reach Ilygot behind it.”

  “That’s where we’re headed?”

  The captain nodded. “For now. Need to watch, see how fast they’re closing.”

  Secca frowned, catching the concern in the older woman’s voice. “You think they’re faster than we are?”

  “The wind favors them, and there was but a short time between when the lookout sighted them and when we could see sail from the deck.”

  For a time, all watched the dark blue waters to the east, and the specks of white on the horizon that quickly grew into sails above white hulls. Secca began a vocalise, trying to warm up slowly, sensing she would need sorcery, and wondering how singing on the sea would affect the results of the spell.

  “Five vessels—two brigs and three of the shallow-draft schooners—all full-rigged,” Weyla pointed out.

  Secca frowned. “I thought there were only three of those schooners. That’s what the glass showed.”

  “They had to be using their own glasses,” suggested Alcaren from behind Secca. His face was pale.

  “They use scrying glasses often,” Secca said, “and they were following us all the time in Ebra.” She paused. “I worry about the drums on the water.”

  “You think the thunder-drums work better at sea?” questioned Richina.

  “Why else would they have developed them?”

  The captain inclined her head, and Secca slipped away from the railing toward Weyla.

  “Sorceress,” Weyla said slowly, her voice pitched low, “never have I seen a ship that size move with that quickness. On this course we cannot reach the reef before they reach us.” She gestured again. “The three small war schooners can follow us into the shallows.”

  Secca glanced at the oncoming vessels, white sails billowing in the midday sun. The Sturinnese were not within normal spell range, but…could she speed the five Elahwan ships with a wind spell? “I will see what I can do.” She stepped forward, looking down on the main deck, and called to Palian, “Players! The fourth building song!”

  “Form up! The fourth building song!”

  Secca’s command was echoed by both Delvor and Palian, and both sets of players formed up on the mid-deck, the second players forming an arc around the first, both facing eastward. As the scrambling for position died away, and renewed tuning echoed upward, Palian glanced to Secca.

  “When you’re ready,” called Secca.

  “The fourth building song. On my mark…Mark!”

  The gentle pitching of the deck had little effect on the players as the first bars poured forth from the strings and horns—and from the lutars of the second players. Secca faced forward and sang.

  “Turn the wind from them to our sails,

  and let us fly before the gales

  The sails billowed and the Alycet seemed to lurch forward, spray cascading in sheets almost to the forward rails, with a salty mist drifting aft toward Secca. Several players lurched sideways with the ship’s motion.

  Secca took a deep breath, then looked at the wiry captain. Weyla glanced from Secca to the helmsman, and then to the pursuing Sturinnese.

  The sorceress followed the captain’s eyes. While the five Elahwan vessels clearly were increasing speed, the sails of the Sturinnese remained billowe
d and taut, and the distance between the Sturinnese and the Alycet continued to decrease, if more slowly.

  Were the Sturinnese using wind sorcery backed by drums, as Richina had suggested and Secca feared?

  Whatever the Sturinnese were using, it was allowing the pursuing vessels to close on the Elahwan ships, despite the increased speed afforded by Secca’s sorcery-boosted winds.

  “We need to run for shore, sorceress.”

  “Do what you think best, captain.” Secca eased to the rail, putting a hand out to steady herself. From there, she studied the oncoming vessels, trying to think of what spell she could use, and how.

  “Starboard thirty!” Weyla ordered the helm. “Bring her round easy!”

  “Aye. Starboard thirty. Easy as she goes.”

  Richina eased up beside Secca. “They must be using sorcery, too.”

  “I fear so.” Secca looked to the north, where the other Elahwan vessels stretched almost in a line abreast, except for the northernmost, which had begun to fall behind the four others.

  The two sorceresses continued to watch as the white-hulled vessels drew nearer to the Alycet and the other four ships carrying Secca’s force.

  Secca ran through another vocalise, trying to fix the spell in her mind—a spell she wasn’t sure would even work. Yet she knew the Sturinnese had to be closer before any spell would carry to them.

  The five Sturinnese vessels were less than a dek to the east, when Weyla barked an order. “Fire parties on the deck! Fire parties on the deck!” She looked toward Alcaren, Wilten, and the two sorceresses. “Best you move forward of the helm. Put the mast ’tween you and the Sea-Pigs.”

  As Secca slipped to the starboard side of the Alycet, following the captain’s directions, from somewhere below appeared nearly a half-score sailors, six men and four women, each carrying two buckets. Of each pair, one bucket held sand, the second was empty but was attached to a long coiled line.

  The Alycet and the Foamsprite, and the two vessels immediately abreast of them, were pulling away from the other Elahwan vessel.

  Weyla shook her head. “Told Ilspeth that rig wasn’t right.”

  “The rig?” asked Secca.

  “Wavesinger’s rigged for a northern run. Tighter, but you don’t get as much sail in a following wind.”

  “So she can’t use the wind as fully?”

  Weyla nodded. “Afore long, they’ll be using the big crossbows to send fireshafts into us. Could be before we cross the shallows.”

  Secca could see whitecaps ahead, but they seemed distant, more than deks away, and the land beyond was but a thick line on the horizon. Her eyes darted back to the white-hulled pursuers, the closest—one of the smaller schooners—less than five hundred yards aft.

  “Can you offer another spell?” asked the captain. “The flame shafts will be striking soon.”

  Secca tried to gauge the distance. How would she know? Too early and the spell would be wasted. “Perhaps…”

  Hissssssss…thunk!

  Secca’s head jerked up at the sound, her mouth opening as a flaming shaft slammed into the deck. Before she could utter a word, one of the women sailors had stepped forward, struck the shaft with an iron hammer to knock it loose and flat on the wooden deck, then covered the flames with damp sand from the bucket she carried.

  Hissss….

  Secca ducked, but the second flaming shaft had already passed a good yard over her head at an angle and plunged into the dark blue waters of the Southern Ocean. A flicker of orange caught her eye. She swallowed as she saw flames begin to climb up the canvas of the aft mast of the trailing Wavesinger. She looked at her companions. Alcaren and Richina looked greenish. Wilten’s countenance was drawn. Even Weyla looked worried.

  Secca stepped forward and looked down at the players. On the deck below, Palian’s face bore a greenish cast, as did Rowal’s. “The third building song!”

  Secca’s command was echoed by both Delvor and Palian, and both sets of players began to re-form, now facing southeast, not quite toward the pursuing Sturinnese.

  “The third building song…on my mark!” Palian’s words were forced.

  “Now!” ordered Secca. On the third bar, the one that began the spell proper, she launched into the words.

  “Come wind and rain, too fierce to fight,

  strike with power, and all storm’s might,

  lightning bolts to cleave day into night…”

  As she finished the spell, Secca could only hope her visualizations of the stormwinds were accurate enough, and that her voice and the tones of the players were strong enough. Yet, even before the echoes of the spellsong died away, the once-clear sky began to darken, and a lightning bolt flashed from above, striking the second Sturinnese vessel.

  Winds whipped through the canvas above her, cracking the sails like the whip of a teamster. The Alycet pitched forward in swells that had become waves five yards or more from crest to trough.

  A line of dark rain—almost like a black curtain—formed to the south of the ten ships, and began to move northward…but too slowly. The leading Sturinnese brig surged before the storm, less than a hundred yards from the Alycet, plunging directly toward the Alycet’s stern quarter.

  “Richina—get me a lutar! Any lutar!” Secca yelled.

  “A lutar! A lutar!” Richina’s voice rose over the storm, penetrating the whistle of the wind, and the crashing of the bow into heavier and heavier swells. “A lutar for Lady Secca!” The younger sorceress was halfway down the ladder to the mid-deck, swinging one-armed.

  A player staggered and slid toward the blonde sorceress, thrusting a lutar at her. Richina grasped it, and then struggled up the ladder one-handed.

  Secca tried to move forward to meet Richina, but found her feet sliding, carrying her aft. An arm—Alcaren’s arm—reached out and lifted her toward the railing, which she grasped with both hands to steady herself. Then she made her way forward, hand over hand.

  Richina thrust the dark-bodied instrument at Secca.

  Taking the heavy lutar in her left hand, Secca half-walked, half-lurched along the side of the taffrail until she stood just to the starboard of the back of the helm platform. The Sturinnese ship was so close that she could see the letters of the name stenciled beneath the bowsprit. She braced herself with one leg against the taffrail, ran her fingers over the strings quickly, hoping the instrument was close to being in tune, cleared her throat, and began the spell.

  “Turn to fire, turn to flame,

  all those who stand against our name.

  Turn to ashes, turn to dust…”

  More lightnings flared out of the blackened sky, some so close to Secca that she felt the heat across her face. Screams echoed from the doomed Sturinnese vessel. The smell of charred flesh swept across the Alycet in waves…between spray and wind.

  Secca clasped the borrowed lutar with one hand, the railing with the other as the Alycet pitched away from the burning mass that had been, moments before, a proud and dangerous white-hulled warship.

  The black storm curtain swept over the three trailing Sturinnese vessels, and they vanished from Secca’s vision.

  Despite the torrents of rain and wind, the sole remaining white-hulled ship—one of the smaller war schooners—plowed toward the Wavesinger, striking the Elahwan vessel midships, even as the storm curtain swept over both ships.

  Secca watched, trying to breathe as the wind sucked air from her very lungs, but she could not make out either vessel.

  Then…suddenly, the air began to clear, the swells to diminish.

  Still hanging on to the railing, Secca glanced out at the circles of debris that appeared and disappeared in the swells. Not a single white-hulled vessel remained.

  “Hard port!” snapped Weyla. “Make for the Wavesinger!”

  The Alycet’s bow swung to port, seemingly away from the other Elahwan vessels, before settling on a heading almost due north. The ship seemed more sluggish, and a crackling and cracking overhead drew Secca’s eyes. T
he mainsail was almost in two pieces, and four sailors aloft struggled to furl the whipping canvas.

  As the Alycet neared the wreckage that had been the Wavesinger—and the Sturinnese schooner—Secca could see shattered timbers, shredded canvas, several barrels…and more than a few heads bobbing in the water, some attached to immobile bodies. Most of those in the water waved as the Elahwan vessel neared, but there were far fewer heads than had been lancers and crew upon the Wavesinger.

  At the sound of a particularly loud crack, Secca glanced up at the tattered mainsail, and the sailors struggling to finish furling it, and then back at the wreckage of the Wavesinger.

  Weyla issued another set of commands, and the Alycet slowed, turning somehow into the wind so that the sails went limp. “Get that mainsail furled!”

  As Secca watched, Alcaren wrapped a line over his shoulders, then tied the bitter end to the railing. After making sure there was loose line hanging, he dived into the water. He surfaced and swam strongly toward a limp figure, then swam back toward the Alycet, towing the lancer. One of the sailors lowered a line with a loop in it, and Alcaren slipped the figure into it before swimming after yet another struggling lancer.

  One figure dropped below the water as Secca watched, as if dragged down, and did not reappear.

  A smallboat appeared in the water, lowered from the davits on the port side of the Alycet, and the crew rowed toward a group of figures clinging to a wooden hatch cover.

  Richina slipped up beside Secca. “It happened so fast. One moment, they seemed deks away, and then…suddenly, they were just…right there.”

  “All battles are like that, I fear,” offered Wilten. The overcaptain’s eyes remained on the figures in the water. “Some of those are lancers. I think the one swimming there is Drysel.”

  Secca tightened her lips. Drysel…her lancers…those who drowned had died because she had wanted to get to Ranuak, and because she had not really been prepared to handle sorcery upon the sea. Why did she have to learn so many things the hard way—and so late?

  She wished she could swim like Alcaren—or do something—but the dayflashes before her eyes told her she could do no more sorcery, even had she known any sorcery that would suffice. So she watched in silence as the other Elahwan ships and their small-boats joined the search.