by K. Ferrin
Ling turned and watched as the warlock ships slowed, drifting at an invisible line some distance from where the Courser struggled. It reminded her of the reptiles that had followed her and Fern in the swamp, stopping as if they knew where the water might become unsafe because of the biolumesce. They knew something, that’s why they were holding back. The potion globes stopped raining down. Wind whistled through the ripped sails above, and all around she could hear the sound of furiously boiling water.
“Sink us how?” Drake asked.
“See that water? It’s churning like that because of gas. It’s normally cloistered deep under the ground, but they’ve found a way to release it.”
“So?”
“Ships can’t float on gas, Drake.”
Drake’s face was expressionless as she digested the words. Ling didn’t understand what Fern was talking about, but Drake clearly did. Enough to recognize the threat, anyway.
“How far do we need to go to get out of it?” Drake asked.
“A mile, maybe a bit more. It’s hard to tell here—”
“We’ll never make a mile, not without our sails.”
The dark line of the Mare Tenebrarum was visible in the distance. Ling found it difficult to tell distances on the open sea, but she guessed it was maybe five miles away. Maybe less. Could she make it if she jumped overboard now and swam for it? If that leaking gas threatened to sink the Courser, it would sink the warlocks’ ships as well. They would have to linger where they were until the gas had completely vented. That would give her enough time to vanish into the depths and swim her way to the Mare while they waited or sailed around.
“Get her off this ship.” Drake’s words fell on her ears like iron ingots.
“Celene, grab Amalya. We need to get Ling off this ship and into the Mare.” The words were barely out of Dreskin’s mouth before he jumped into motion. A woman Ling hadn’t noticed before leapt to follow his orders, heavy black robes billowing behind her as she sprinted away. Dreskin got to work preparing a lifeboat with the familiarity of a lifetime spent at sea. He motioned for her to get in. “Ling…”
But if the Courser would sink in the thinned water, surely a small boat would too. Dreskin was strong, but no one could row faster than the Courser was already moving. And there were no runes on the small lifeboat. Ling shuddered at the thought of the bloated, pale faces of the sirené looming out the dark. That little boat would be destroyed the instant it crossed that dark boundary. She couldn’t let anyone else take that risk for her.
She leapt off the side of the boat, but she never hit the water. Fern’s sharp talons dug into shoulders, and the two of them sped off toward the darkness of the Mare, Ling clutching the grimoire to her chest.
“No! Fern!” She could hear Dreskin shouting their names behind her. Ling craned her neck, watching as Dreskin loaded the dark-cloaked woman and a young girl into the boat and began rowing furiously. She was impressed at just how fast he could row, the muscles in his arms bunching and heaving as he pulled against the water. She could hear Drake’s voice bellowing over the gurgling bubbling noises of the water around them. She couldn’t understand the words, but boatsmyn leapt into action, following her commands.
They’ll make it, she thought. They have to.
On the way to Marique, she had watched Drake guide the Courser through the worst water she’d ever seen. They’d make it out of this.
But will they make it out as free folk or as prisoners of Fariss and his ilk?
She turned her head forward, watching as the sharp border of darkness flew toward them. They were going to make it, she and Fern. But what would happen then? She could drift for an eternity in that dark water, but Fern needed food and rest. They would never find their way across that endless black without a compass to navigate by. And even if they did make it, what did it matter? For all they knew, Alyssum was dead, leaving them without the knowledge or means to close the breach. And she still had no idea how to find Grag.
They dashed across the shadow boundary. As they plunged into the eternal night, Ling felt the light that she’d always carried inside of her extinguish too. It was over, and she had failed. The curse would never be broken. Fern would die, either ripped to pieces by the sirené or as a result of the last of the magic draining away, and Ling would spend an eternity floating lost in the Darkling Sea.
~ END BOOK TWO ~
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