The boy smiled, keeping his shoulders hunched in as though the attention bothered him. He met Jinji's eyes but quickly looked back down at the wood beneath his feet. Not quite the stature of a champion—Jinji glanced at Rhen's broad shoulders and poised stance—but she wouldn’t underestimate him.
Following the admiral's instruction, they walked to the edge of the ship. Rhen and Sidruck both climbed atop the rail, hands gripping the ropes, waiting for a signal. Casually, the sailors around them stopped what they were doing. Light smiles grew on their faces as they watched on, not so discretely. But as Jinji looked around, sensing the mounting joy despite the gloomy conditions, she wondered if this was what the admiral had in mind all along. A little fun before the inevitable war.
"Start!" the admiral called.
Immediately, Rhen and Sidruck began to climb. Matching foot for foot, they were even at the start of the race. Rhen gained an inch. Then Sidruck jumped ahead. Then Rhen skipped a step, jumping up a foot higher. But Sidruck quickly met him.
The farther they raced, the narrower the space began to grow and the more the wind picked up. Jinji strained her neck, watching the two men rush higher and higher, amazed by their complete lack of fear, their freedom when the ground waited so far below. The fog began to close around them, masking their features, turning them into blobs in the distance. But even with the obstruction, Rhen's hair was difficult to miss. His body began to sway back and forth with the force of the wind, slowing him down.
But Sidruck, Jinji noticed, despite being smaller with less muscular weight, was unaffected by the breeze, as though the wind passed through his body without really touching it.
Knotting her brows, Jinji urged the spirits into her vision.
Muted yellow strands immediately filled the air, swirling this way and that in the breeze, blowing out across the waves and up in the ropes where the two men hung. Red fire strands burned around Rhen's body, bright against the gray, just as Jinji expected. But right beside him, a little higher on the ropes, Sidruck glowed like the sun, surrounded in yellow spirit strands as they swirled around his body, through it, not moving even a hair on his head in the breeze.
Sidruck had an air affinity.
The elemental spirits clung to him.
Jinji bit her lip. She didn't know why, but it felt like an important discovery. For the first time, she had met someone with an attachment to air. It was the last missing element. Rhen was blanketed in fire, as was the little boy she had once rescued in the city of Rayfort. Princess Leena was surrounded by water. Though she would likely never speak to the woman again, the lady who had helped her escape the castle weeks ago, Elga, was in touch with the earth. And now Sidruck. Now air.
Jinji stepped back, lost in her thoughts.
But a cheer drew her back to the ship, to the bet, to her loss. Looking up, Jinji could clearly see Rhen a full body length lower than Sidruck on the ropes, just as the other man touched the top of the crow's nest, securing his win.
"The prince put up a respectable fight," the admiral sighed, "but alas, I'm the winner."
With a smile, Jinji kissed the cheek he leaned toward her, collecting his prize. But the moment her lips touched his slightly wrinkled skin, the air grew tense.
"Ourthuri!"
The shout came from above.
"Ourthuri!" It came again.
She broke away, looking up, looking at Sidruck as he pointed into the fog.
Jinji saw nothing.
Heard nothing.
The entire ship fell silent, waiting, watching, wondering if their champion had maybe been wrong. But Jinji knew in her gut that he was right. The air called to him, spoke to him. Maybe it brought him far away sounds, carried on the breeze. Or propelled his vision further in the fog.
Jinji wasn't sure.
But if Rhen could collect fire, surely Sidruck had special skills all his own.
And then she heard it. The flap of wind on sails, the slapping noise of the cloths pulled tight, released, and then pulled tight once more. Looking up, Jinji saw that this ship had let down its sails long ago, as had every other ship around them, to remain anchored in place. Which meant something was moving toward them.
Quickly.
The sound grew eerily louder, ghostly, coming from nowhere, hidden deep within the fog. And then a golden glint sparked to life in the distance.
Metal.
Racing toward them.
Undeniably foreign.
Undeniably Ourthuri.
16
RHEN
~ THE STRAITS ~
From the crow's nest, Rhen watched the approaching ships in horror.
Unlike the ships of his kingdom, the Ourthuri warships relied on the kingdom's slave labor—the unmarked. From this height, the white sails were undeniable, but the true power and speed came from much lower, from the constant slap of oars against water, hundreds of them, all moving in unison, manned by the unmarked. And worst of all, protruding from the front edge of the ship, the golden lance of death—the Ourthuri battering ram—wooden but coated in gold, low and sharp. One hit, and this ship would be blown to dust, sliced in half.
"Lower the sails! Raise the anchor!" the admiral shouted from below as the men around them moved into action. Sidruck, the boy who had just bested Rhen in the race, already moved to untie the sails, easily maneuvering through the ropes to loosen the knots. For a moment, the boy looked at Rhen, waiting for him to help, wondering if he would.
Rhen peered far down through the fog, finding Jinji alone in the middle of the chaos, immobile as her eyes continued to stare at the ships on the horizon. His gut screamed to go to her, but Rhen knew it would do no good. The Ourthuri would be here in minutes. There wasn't enough time to flee to their small boat, not enough time to escape the damage the battering ram would produce. If this ship were hit, their small boat would also break in the impact.
So Rhen turned from her, following Sidruck across the ropes. The best he could do was help save the ship. Then they would make their escape.
As the sails began to fall around him, horns blasted across the air, echoing through the Straits, rising from the rest of the Whylkin fleet hidden in the fog, almost completely out of sight. But Rhen tried his best not to focus on the other ships, on the men defending his kingdom, the men watching the enemy approach with mounting speed, watching as their death crept ever closer.
The moment the ship's anchor was raised, Rhen felt the water take them. Though the sails were not fully secure, the current was quick and strong, guiding the boat around and turning it parallel to the enemy fleet.
He smiled.
Though the Ourthuri had surprise on their side, nature itself was on Whylkin's side. The Straits flowed out from the White Stone Sea, emptying in the Dueling Sea, meaning that the current favored them—something for once was on Rhen's side.
"Ready the anchored crossbows!" the admiral called.
Rhen took that as his leave to shimmy down the ropes. Casting glances to the side, he could make out different people aboard the Ourthuri ships. Some in golden robes. Others with bare chests and wrists secured by iron chains. Others covered in glinting silver armor with swords held aloft. They were ready to attack, ready to fight.
But so was he.
Just as the Ourthuri ship pulled even with theirs, Rhen's feet touched the rail. He jumped down to the deck as splintering oars filled his ears, cracking and snapping as the two boats slid across each other, port side against port side.
"Jin!" Rhen called, trying to find her now that he had lost his bird's-eye view. Arrows were flying at them, littering the deck, landing close but not close enough to keep him from searching.
And then he saw her, hugging her injured arm with her good one, huddled in the center of the ship as her eyes roved the scene. Rhen sprinted, pulling her into his chest, planting his feet just as the admiral screamed, "Fire!"
The screech of chains filled the air, followed by the solid thunk of the anchored crossbows hitting their mark,
breaking through the side of the Ourthuri ship and latching onto the inside of their hull. Rhen stumbled, balance challenged by the wood rippling below his feet, but held Jinji steady. The deck shuddered as the chains pulled taut, straining against the current.
But the connection held. The chains fired from the Whylkin ship were securely implanted in the side of the Ourthuri ship, and slowly, from below deck, the men began to crank. Inch by inch, the enemy ship was hauled nearer. Rhen watched the distance close, hope rising in his chest. The Ourthuri were known for their deadly ramming ships, but the men of Whylkin were the ones who excelled in hand-to-hand combat. With the shores completely invisible, leaving any land armies completely useless, the battle might still turn in his people's favor.
A hand tugged his shirt, pulling his attention away from the imminent fight. "Rhen," Jinji urged, voice insistent, "we must go."
Rhen met her fearful, pain-filled eyes and knew she was right. Though his hands itched to grip the hilt of his sword, to draw enemy blood, to fight to protect his people, those days were over. Gone was his carefree attitude. Now the weight of responsibility sat heavy on his shoulders—responsibility to his brother, his family, and mostly to the woman staring at him with all the trust in the world.
Rhen sighed.
"You're right," he said, sparing one last look behind to see bridges being lowered across the threshold as his men began to shift their weight, gearing up for the fight. Arrows sailed on both sides. War cries filled the air around them. But Rhen felt as though he and Jinji were alone, somewhere else, separate from everyone around them. And then the clash of swords broke through his trance, sending a shiver down his spine.
Moving quickly but gently, Rhen grabbed Jinji's hand and raced to the opposite side of their ship. Relief flared to life in his chest as he looked over the rail to spot their small boat still intact.
Grabbing a free rope, Rhen tied one end to the rail and knotted the other one in a wide loop. Turning to Jinji, he motioned for her to step through. "I'm going to lower you down, and then I'll follow right after, okay?"
She nodded, biting her lip, anxious at the scene just over his shoulder. Rhen closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the urge to turn around and see what caused the growing alarm in her eyes. When he opened his eyes, Jinji had already climbed over the rail and was just waiting on his signal.
"Go," he ushered. Securing the loop of the rope below her bottom and using her good arm to hold on tight, Jinji stepped off the side, falling for a moment until Rhen's strength caught her. Slowly, even as his muscles burned and screamed at him to move faster, Rhen let the rope slip through his hands. Foot by foot. Methodically. Until her feet came to a gradual stop on the small boat below.
Immediately, Jinji stood, stepping out of the loop. But as her gaze turned upward, a scream tore from her lips. "Rhen!"
He ducked, twisting around and kicking out just as the sword sliced overhead. Acting completely on instinct, Rhen grabbed the knife from his waist and slashed. The Ourthuri cried out as his stomach was sliced open, spilling blood onto the deck. Then he fell beside Rhen, landing with lifeless eyes. In less than a second it was over, but more would come. They always did.
"Prince Whylrhen!"
Recognizing the admiral's voice, Rhen paused below the rail, rope limp in his hands, and turned. An Ourthuri stood behind him, arms raised in attack, ready to cut down with the signature curved blade. But before the enemy could move, an arrow broke through his skull. A moment later, the admiral slid his sword through the man's chest.
"Better to be sure," he said with a shrug, and then put his foot on the man's broken breastplate, kicking his blade free. "I'll cover you. Go and be safe, Son of Whyl."
In the formal salute of the knights of Whylkin, the captain formed a fist with his right hand and held it across his chest, covering his heart.
Goodbye. Rhen copied the gesture, holding the admiral’s eye—amazed by the courage one man could display. But before Rhen could speak, more Ourthuri charged and the moment passed. It was time for him to go, time for him to turn every instinct off and flee.
Gripping the rope firmly, Rhen jumped over the side of the ship, sliding down so quickly that the threads burned his palms, rubbing his skin raw. With a thud, his feet landed hard against the deck.
A warm hand clutched his bicep, drawing his attention.
"Let's go." He sighed, looking down to meet her eyes. But Jinji wasn't looking at Rhen. She was looking the opposite way, drawing his attention to the fog.
Gold.
Another ship approached. And this time, the admiral would not be able to escape. With the Whylkin ship connected to the Ourthuri ship through the chains, neither would be able to maneuver out of the way. Never had a battering ram looked so deadly to Rhen's eyes.
And now he and Jinji were caught in the middle.
Rhen tensed, heart pounding.
"We must move," Jinji whispered, voice utterly calm as she shifted her attention to Rhen. "I'll do what I can, but you must take us away from here."
Dropping her arm, Jinji turned, focusing on the ship charging toward them as she lifted her free hand in the air.
An illusion.
Rhen shut his mouth, closing off the questions bubbling against his tongue—there would be time for that later. Instead, he ran to the rope at the back of the ship sinking deep under the surface of the water—the anchor. Using all of his strength, Rhen pulled, tugging, lifting hand over hand as the heavy metal slid free of the sea floor and made its way through the water.
One glance over his shoulder and his stomach slid to his throat.
The Ourthuri ship sailed forward, minutes away as the oars sunk deep, splashing in the water, rotating, diving deep again.
What was his kingdom against the mighty force of slaves? Against thousands of men who lived for nothing but to heed the orders of their king?
Rhen shook his head.
Duty. Honor. Courage. His men did not fight just to follow orders, at least he hoped not. They fought for something deeper, fought with a fire in their bellies, and he had to believe it would give them the advantage. That sheer will might save them.
Thoughts heavy, Rhen turned back around, focusing on the task at hand, on the person he could save—Jinji. Rushing to work, Rhen raised the sail, eye flickering to the quickly approaching ship as he moved. Jumping across the deck, Rhen secured the ropes, looking up, waiting, hoping. Come on, he urged at the world, at Jinji's spirits, at anything that might listen. But the cloth remained still.
No breeze aided their escape.
No gust of wind pushed their small boat aside.
Overhead, the Ourthuri ship began to tower, to loom. The battering ram crept closer, glinting even more gold as the fog started to dissipate and the sun's rays filtered through the endless clouds.
Rhen stood, watching, breath on hold.
They were going to die.
After all of this, no shadow and no phantom would end them. It would be a human battle, a human war. His eyes scanned the boat for some way to help, some way to fight, to escape.
But there was nothing.
The world began to slow, to pause. Rhen slid his hand across the bare space, slipping his fingers through Jinji's, holding her warm skin one last time.
The rhythm of the enemy oars matched the pulse in his veins—steady, thrumming, odd against the clashing chaos filtering down from the fight overhead. And then the beat changed, rushing, pulsing, as Rhen's heart surged to life and the world zoomed back into focus.
"We need to jump!" he shouted, pulling Jinji to the side. He would not give in without a fight, not like this, not so passively. Both of them deserved more, deserved to die knowing they had done everything they could to stay alive.
But Jinji kept her feet rooted to the deck, surprising him with her strength.
Rhen turned, just as she shook her head, the word no forming on her lips.
A gust of wind blew against Rhen, making him step back from the force as the
sails above their heads snapped tight. The world began to shift. The shadow of the battering ram slid over their boat. Rhen held his hand aloft, sure he could touch the Ourthuri ship if he just reached forward, wondering if somehow maybe he could stop it, stop everything.
And then the wind blew strong once more.
And again.
And again.
Until they were moving out of the ship’s shadow. Out of harm's way. A grin pulled at his lips. A lightness filled his heart.
A second later, the world exploded.
Boom!
Impact.
Rhen’s stomach flipped, sinking to the ocean floor.
Wood splintered, flying into the air, landing on them, littering the deck of the boat, splashing across the waters around them. Rhen raced to Jinji, shielding her body, trying to cover his eyes as debris sailed like arrows into his skin, pelting his arms and back but not doing any serious damage.
When the dust settled, Rhen looked up slowly, surprised that water did not rush over their feet, did not consume them. Jinji shook beneath his arms, breathing rapidly.
They were safe.
Rhen gasped as his eyes shifted further.
The admiral's ship was destroyed. Cut down the middle, two sections floated in the water, slipping lower and lower below the surface. Men screamed. Moans filled the air. Sailors began to jump over the edge as arrows rained down from the Ourthuri ship. The enemy didn't care that some of their own had been thrown into the water, that some of their own were being hit by the blanket of arrows, were drowning. There was no aid. No pause. Not until every last man seemed to disappear under the icy liquid. Rhen prayed that some of his people had escaped, swam toward a friendly ship, but his heart was empty. Vacant of hope.
An eerie silence took over, broken by the gurgle of the water as it continued to swallow the ship, and the random cracks of wood continuing to break apart.
"Rhen," Jinji breathed.
But he had no answer, no words to console her, so he just held her close.
"I tried." She swallowed. "I put up an illusion of fog, tried to cover the ship, but it didn’t work. And then the other ship was so close, all I could think about was taking us away, saving us, and now…"
The Spirit Heir (Book 2) Page 19
