Spirit of the Sea

by Keith Walter

  “This is where it gets tricky,” he yelled, hoping Serin could hear him.

  A moment later, the wave Barclay rode split in half as the first round from the tower cannon flash-fried the water upon impact. He knew the main cannon had been charged by nobles, and more than one. It took a dozen fey in constant meditation just to regulate the blasts. They weren’t going to last if they tried to take more than a few of those hits. Serin struggled to catch the attacks that poured in through the hole made in Barclay’s wave.

  “Ten seconds to impact. Team two get ready,” Charles’s voice echoed over the intercom.

  That was Talmer and Leslie’s cue. Both fey activated their magic just in time, as a wave of soldiers appeared on the deck in front of them. They had been explained the game plan: identify the teleporter and eliminate them to stop more troops from coming over. Leslie grabbed soldiers and launched them overboard before focusing on a smaller fey cowering in the center. A single magic-infused punch launched him off the deck.

  Grace was closing the distance to the portal when a ship turned to block her way. The reinforced bow tore into the side of the opposing vessel. Everyone on the deck fell as Grace pushed harder, splitting the other ship in two. Shields flickered overhead as the conversion was finally complete.

  Charles felt the familiar helplessness that he had grown to dread. Grace had made it past the first few ships on speed alone. Now she was being assaulted on all sides. Even with Barclay in front and Serin watching for stray fire, the shields were taking the brunt of the attacks. Magic projectiles would almost hit her sides or deck before the glass honeycomb activated and dissipated the magic. It was hypnotic to watch, but he knew the amount of strain that type of magic took. She couldn’t hold this up forever.

  He could make out Leslie and Talmer on the deck, the two seemed to be holding their own for the moment. Leslie was using her enormous strength to jettison the intruders whenever they appeared. Talmer had a different approach; he generated wisps of wind that were as sharp as razors and sent them flying into his opponents. Even trained soldiers couldn’t hold off their attacks. Grace had been rather firm about refraining from killing, and Talmer only just followed her suggestions, cutting his enemies until they were forced to retreat or bleed out on the deck.

  The portal, their ticket off Lake Erie, grew closer and closer. It rose from the water across from the great tower like an ugly tree covered in oil. The tear in reality was thin, with splintering branches arching across the sky. With all the chaos and calamity going on, that unnerving sight brought a sense of hope.

  In the back of Charles’s head a tiny voice began to echo. “This is too easy,” he whispered to himself. Despite the incoming volleys and soldiers, the Union response seemed tepid. Already they would be nearly out of teleporters, but hadn’t changed their tactics. The incoming blasts were rhythmic, not searching for a weak spot. And that giant cannon on the tower had fired only once, more a warning than any real attempt to sink them. Closing his eyes, Charles attempted to center his senses.

  Focusing, he caught the wisp of something devious. Frantically, he dashed backward to catch sight of Grace through the skylight. “We need to turn away from the portal,” Charles screamed over the pandemonium outside. Grace stood atop the bridge with her hands outstretched as if trying to stop two walls from crushing her. Light poured out of her eyes while she stretched her magic to its limit. There was no response. Charles yelled once again, “Turn as hard to port as your can! It’s a trap!” Grace remained entirely focused on her shields.

  Charles’s eyes darted around the room, landing on the steering wheel. “Right,” he admonished himself. In an instant, he was behind the wheel spinning it counter-clockwise. The deck lurched sharply as Grace’s hull dug into the water. Charles had to squeeze the wheel tightly to keep from sliding across the floor. He barely had time to register a surge of magical energy appear in front of the portal.

  The sounds of the guns and fighting paled in comparison to the shattering of glass. Those on the deck who stopped to catch themselves during the turn were witness to reality shattering before their eyes, their vision of the portal cracked and faded into icy white crystals. It was an illusion, shattered the moment Grace’s hull touched the edge. Light filled Grace’s eyes once more as the ship scrambled to get out of the way, but it was too late. A mountain of ice avalanched down, sweeping across the water in the blink of an eye.

  Charles felt the weight of the world smash into him as the wave lifted Grace like a toy. The roller coaster feeling in his stomach was almost more that he could take. Then. Nothing. No guns, no soldiers—just the sounds of ice solidifying all around. Rolling to his back, he caught sight of the night sky through the skylight. The wisps of his own breath floated upward and for a moment the chaos fell to the back of his mind.

  “Is everyone alright?” Barclay boomed from the deck below.

  Moans echoed off the ice. Boots scrambled to get a foothold and eventually Serin’s voice replied, “What the hell just happened? We were so close!” Despair edged into her words.

  “It was a trap,” Charles yelled, leaping up through the skylight to address everyone. “They set up an illusion, probably a repeater to look exactly like the portal really does at night. The ice is packed with some serious magic, meant to capture and incapacitate a fey ship.”

  “Grace, can you do anything?” Barclay asked as he made his way up the steep incline the deck now stood at.

  Grace stood firm on the roof of the bridge. Breathing hard and disheveled, she waited for Barclay and the others to get to her before she said anything.

  “My shields were able to keep it from swallowing us, but it’s solidified beneath me. There’s no water to swim through. I can’t move in this.” The words were slower and more deliberate than everyone was used to from her.

  “So we’re stuck. How do we get unstuck?” Leslie replied, trying to fill the air with confidence.

  “We are not only stuck,” Talmer jumped in frantically, “we are at the mercy of the Union and their cannons. We must surrender and begin negotiations.”

  He couldn’t finish the words before the echo of the big tower gun reverberated through the air. Everyone’s stomach dropped as time froze. When they looked forward, there was nothing but the crest of the ice wave between them and the tower, and that wall of ice to the port side of Grace exploded into thousands of jagged crystals, melting and evaporating in an instant. Grace’s shields rose to stop the large chunks from crushing everyone on board.

  “They cannot do this,” Talmer cried as every ounce of hope left him. “Surely we can request an audience with the authorities here and...” He fell silent and crumpled into a heap.

  Barclay stood over the unconscious Talmer, rubbing his fist. Grace knelt to begin healing the fallen man but Barclay stopper her. “He will be fine. From this point on, everyone is rowing in the same direction. We can’t afford any second-guessing.”

  “So you have a plan?” Charles questioned cautiously.

  “No, but I haven’t let that stop me before,” Barclay retorted. He looked to Grace. “What if we got out and pushed?”

  “The ice is attached to my hull. If I diverted my shields completely I could dislodge it, but you would have only seconds to push before it resolidified.” Grace shook her head. “We’ll only get anywhere if we clear a path in the ice.”

  “The cannon,” Charles said, staring at the crest of the ice. “Listen—the rest of the ships have stopped firing. They must have an idea where we are, but they must also know their guns are too weak to break the ice. The big tower gun, though, is old magic. If we can overtake it, we’ll shoot the ice below us and open a path ahead.” He stopped to listen around, hearing just the creaking of ice. “I think they didn’t expect Grace to be as nimble as she is. The trap was meant to swallow her when she hit, give them an easy target for the cannon. But we’ve moved faster than the trap was designed to accommodate, and this ice is likely covering the whole pond, trapping the Unio
n as much as us.”

  “But, the portal,” Serin exclaimed. “It shattered. Even if we break out of this, the only way out is back toward the Entregon.”

  “No,” Leslie replied, “it didn’t. The Union wouldn’t have been able to completely close the portal, even temporarily, so quickly.” Her eyebrows jumped with realization. “The portal is probably right where we thought it was, at the center of this ice.”

  The tower gun echoed through the night once more. Every eye shot to the crest of the frozen wave. Time ticked arduously until a few hundred yards starboard the ice shattered. This time it was far enough away that Grace’s shields didn’t flicker up. “They’re fishing,” Barclay muttered.

  “Yes,” Charles said with more enthusiasm. He waved his arms around, taking a slow spin. “Look where we are, surrounded by layers of impossibly dense ice magic.”

  “They don’t know where we are,” Barclay interjected. “They might have an idea of where we were, but they can’t tell us from the ice. They’re waiting for us to show ourselves, to make a run for the portal.”

  Leslie followed their thoughts. “If we all leave to take the tower, they’ll see us coming. They’ll sink Grace before we even have the chance to get to the front door.”

  “Just one of us, then. Someone who can reach the tower unseen.” Charles began shrugging off his jacket, only for Barclay to shove him roughly.

  “Someone who won’t have to kill themselves in a fight,” the old fey declared. He turned to Serin. “Follow me.” He led the fire elemental down, leaping off Grace to the ice below. He pointed straight down. “This should be the thinnest part of the ice. I need a hole.”

  “No problem,” Serin replied as she cracked her knuckles. Her skin darkened, and red lines appeared on her arms. Slamming her hands on the ground, she poured flames into the ice. She was surprised as the ice seemed to take it, forcing her to pour more magic into her flames just to begin melting the surface. She felt Barclay’s eyes on her and grumbled, “This is harder than it looks, okay?”

  “I figured,” the captain admitted. “And it’s going to start closing the moment you let up.” He kneeled in front of the young woman and dropped a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me when you’re through, but don’t let up.”

  Serin looked up, confusion clear in her red eyes. “But if I don’t let up, you’ll be jumping into a lava pit.”

  Barclay flexed his free hand, showing off his slowly webbing fingers. “I told you already, a captain can’t be afraid to get his hands dirty.”

  Serin dropped her eyes to the tunnel forming below her hands. She tried to ignore the double meaning of that statement. She pushed away thoughts of just what the captain would be doing when he got to the tower. She focused only on her fire, feeling as it pushed finally through the last foot of ice. She waited just a moment, feeling the ice continue to push against her flames. Catching the captain’s eyes at last, she nodded. “Be careful.”

  Barclay smirked. “Don’t wait for me, just make sure Grace has a clear path.” He jumped into the air, twisting his body into a downward dive and shooting straight into Serin’s flames.

  Barclay would have been lying if he said squeezing through ten feet of flames didn’t hurt, but the water below quickly cooled him. It wasn’t the first time he had relied on the accelerated healing of the water, but there wasn’t much time. Kicking hard, his webbed feet propelled him under the ice. Less than a minute later, Barclay surveyed the foundations of the tower. During the war, these towers were the first line of defense against an invading enemy, and every precaution was taken. Ancient magic was interlaced amongst the invisible runes making an impenetrable shell. As he expected, even the ice thinned when it came up to such sturdy defenses.

  Water started to twist and turn, wrapping itself around his body. He began to rotate, building up more and more speed until the wisps of water were spinning like a drill. Pushing up, ice crumbled and cracked under the force of the blow. There was no slowing down as he broke through and launched high into the air. A quick glance as he rose found six ships locked in the ice a few hundred yards away. No immediate response meant that he had the element of surprise.

  Moving his hands in a rhythmic pattern, he activated the most powerful spell he knew. Clasping his hands together, he made a fist with his right and pulled the two apart. As he did, a brilliant blue energy surged before settling into the shape of a blade. The spell fully dissipated, and he was left with an enchanted cutlass made of pure Damascus steel. He’d purchased this relic from the old country after his first tour on the battlefield. Through centuries of sailing, he’d further enchanted and honed it. Before the revolution, he had linked the cutlass to his own energy, making it uniquely his with powers no other could use. The cutlass was an extension of himself now, and he could activate or perform spells at any distance so long as the cutlass was nearby.

  Slamming the blade into the ice as he landed, he placed his bet. Cracks spread and low groans echoed from the ice as the blade called to the water below. The ice wasn’t going to be compliant, but water always found a way. Cracks gave way to burrowing holes as tiny geysers of water broke free from their icy prison. Like a fountain, the water swirled around him, and he could sense alarm rising from the ships ahead. A few yards away, a small contingent of soldiers teleported onto the ice. Barclay pulled the sword above his head and the water followed suit. With a sweep of his arm, the liquid shot out, slicing everything in its way.

  Not wanting to waste any time, he pulled the water back and formed a wave. Webbed feet pushed him to the top while his sword commanded the water forward. Cannons barked from the trapped ships, but he was much too fast. More than once, a teleporter brought soldiers in front of him and he just swiped them aside. With a final great command, he split the wave into six giant claws, sending them crashing through the trapped Union ships. He held the water long enough to feel each soldier aboard fade away before turning back to the tower.

  He ignored the front door; it would certainly be warded beyond his skills. Instead, he used the water to throw him up, aiming for a clear window some three-stories high. Thrusting his sword in front, Barclay used the ice carried from below to impact the glass. For a moment,the tower defenses and ice struggled for dominance. A second later, the window burst open and his momentum carried him inside. Rolling to a crouch, he immediately stretched his senses, trying to pinpoint the closest enemies.

  He caught a whiff of a large group of fey at the bottom of the tower. That was almost certainly the commune. Normal fey had no hope of regulating the power of the cannon. Instead, a group of dedicated soldiers were responsible for siphoning off a charge from the great battery under the ground and transferring it to the top of the tower. Given the intense concentration needed to charge the cannon and the frightening power all around them, they shouldn’t even know he was there.

  The layout of the tower was standard, the same design as those he’d defended in the war. A metal catwalk spiraled along the inside wall of the tower leaving the rest of the fifty foot diameter open all the way down to the commune. When the charge was ready, a huge surge of magic would rush upward to the giant cannon. Barclay felt the rush of air and he jumped out the broken window just in time, a jet of water catching him in the air. Pure magic raced up the tower, almost scorching him as it went by.

  A second later, the big gun fired. He tried to keep count. The last blast had been only few minutes ago. That wasn’t a lot of time, but the center tunnel was the fastest way up. Glancing back to the catwalk, he saw the metal smoking. It wasn’t going to be a pleasant walk up, and he couldn’t afford getting caught in the next blast. He’d have to move quick.

  Once he reentered the tower, the world in front of him twisted into a kaleidoscope of colors. Losing balance, he slammed face first into the searing hot metal of the catwalk. Music began blaring through the building so loud he couldn’t think. Instincts took over and he rolled just before the catwalk became a smoldering pile of twisted wreckage. He knew he m
ust have been falling but couldn’t feel it. It was as if he was weightless, floating through the air.

  He slammed hard into the next catwalk below. Had he not been in this form it would have broken more than a few bones. His senses had cleared when the blast nearly fried him, but he could still taste lingering spells in the air. A fey with the power to alter another’s perception, an Illusionary, was still trying to enter his mind. He hated Illusionaries in a way he couldn’t put into words. There was no time to methodically move around the tower trying to locate his enemy, nor was there time to create an elaborate area-wide spell to protect himself. No, all he could do was switch to his other senses. Closing his eyes, he felt the water below pushing against the ice. Using it to steady himself, he put a hand on the stone wall, feeling the residual magic coursing through it.

  A ripple echoed through his senses and immediately his eyes opened. A bright light filled his vision and he narrowly dodged the energy blast. Jumping across the open center to the opposite side, he realized there must be two enemies. They were good—each used their magic to cover the other. The only positive was that they didn’t understand his abilities. They were playing it safe, testing him before attempting a final assault that he wouldn’t be able to avoid.

  This wasn’t the first time he was outnumbered and outgunned, and he never enjoyed the feeling. The blade in his hand began to vibrate, drowning out the music in his ears and filling the tower with a low hum. This trick worked better in the water, but the tunnel walls bouncing the vibrations back would suffice for the moment. Barclay closed his eyes and a sonar map materialized in his mind. The catwalks spiraled up another fifty feet before stopping at a platform leading to the chamber above. Movement resonated from the entrance and Barclay leapt, narrowly missing the energy as it tore through the air.

  Not giving the team time to realize what was happening, Barclay opened up to full power and leapt from catwalk to catwalk. As he raced up the center of the tower, a hail of energy beams crashed toward him, but it was too late. Utilizing all the power he had, he dodged and deflected until he reached the platform. The sword’s hum grew to an ear-shattering shriek as it let loose a sonic wave. The impact sent an invisible adversary tumbling toward two large, wooden doors that led to the main chamber .