by Keith Walter
Grace left her foot out, reassuring the man with a simple touch. The pair sat in silence for a minute before she added absently, “This is good water we sail, I should be recharged soon.” She smiled at Charles, pulling her leg back to cross over her opposite ankle.
Charles startled when she pulled away, and stared longingly at the retreating foot. Automatically, he kicked his own legs out, but held back from touching Grace himself. What had she said? A ferocious need to be connected? Tentatively, he glanced at the woman across the floor, who smiled in return. “Until then, can we just…sit here?”
“Of course,” she answered, and she unfurled her legs again. She let her left leg rest against his right. The shy smile that appeared on his lips made her smile wider. She let her head roll back and closed her eyes. This felt comfortable.
◆◆◆
For most of an hour, Leslie had watched the map while Serin steered in silence. They had made a rather severe course change to get out of the direct path of the Entregon. When the demon lost their scent, it performed the familiar dance to get back on track. The enemy seemed to understand their speed and again match it, slowing considerably. It was playing with them, like a cat that already had the mouse under its claws. That realization wiped away any relief of not being immediately overtaken.
Charles had left Grace below when she announced that she was feeling strong enough to change again. They hadn’t talked much after chatting about their pasts, but his ears still tingled from the memory. He had been forcing himself not to stare, not to blush, and really not do anything to give himself away. It was actually becoming quite maddening, so when she announced her recovery, he was quick to volunteer to tell the others. As he poked his head up over the stairs, he could see Serin and Leslie staring forward and down with incredible intensity. He smiled to himself and began creeping into the bridge silently. With all their teasing before, he decided to get a little payback. He crept up behind them, each step in time with the rhythm of the engines.
He took a deep breath and bellowed out, “SO HAVE WE—”
Leslie’s reaction was pure instinct. Magic flashed from her left hand and Charles flew across the bridge. He slammed into the far wall and crumpled to the floor. It took a few moments for everyone to get their bearings as Charles gasped for breath. “Why would you do that?” the tall woman almost screamed, fear and confusion evident in her voice.
“I thought…it would…be funny,” Charles choked out between gasps.
Leslie’s horrified expression only grew as Serin bit her lip. The smaller woman tried to hold her breath and keep the laughter in, but ultimately failed. Her chest began to lurch like bad case of hiccups before uncontrollable laughter finally burst out her mouth. Charles finally caught his breath, and found himself chuckling right along. It must have been contagious, because Leslie’s face softened and eventually she joined in as she walked over and lifted the man from the floor.
Pulling him to the map table, she propped him up in case he was still woozy. “Seriously though, I could have killed you,” Leslie admitted, coming down from the laughing high.
“But you didn’t,” Charles replied cheekily. He was lucky he felt the surge of energy a fraction of a second early. He was able to get his hands up to defend against the worst of it. He suspected it cost him some nasty bruises on his chest and back, but he figured it was worth it to see the two women laugh.
“We are being trapped,” Serin announced suddenly, all semblance of levity now gone. “The Union has been increasing their presence from the portals, but it’s likely those are shut down now. Between us and the seaway, there are approximately fifty ships with fey aboard. I’m guessing any ship with a fey is one that is working for the Union.” She pointed at the map, “Right now they seem to be hugging the shore, making sure we can’t get to land, but it’s only a matter of time before they start building a net across the lake.”
Leslie broke the silence that followed. “With the Entregon behind us we can’t go back, and I think the Union knows that. That leaves either the seaway or landfall. They’re covering landing spots, which means they probably have eyes on the seaway already.”
Charles put his hand to his chin contemplating. “The Entregon and the closed portals are going to make this a lot harder, that’s for sure. But for the Union to mobilize so many ships, with so few aboard each—” he poked at a cluster of four yellow dots “—that makes me think that they are smaller boats and not giant ships like us.”
Serin wasn’t following. “Sure, but it doesn’t matter what size ship they are. They don’t have to be able to sink us, they just need to find us and call the entire group to our location.”
“Theoretically I agree,” Charles responded, still rolling things over in his mind, “but from a practical standpoint, Grace’s runes will keep us off their radar, and she can look different from whatever they saw before.” Charles ran his hands through his hair, trying to pull out ideas. “Of course, they’ll probably expect that.” He stared at the map for several moments before adding, “They’ll look like the coast guard, with smaller and faster boats. They’ll be flagging down every ship they see with some lame excuse. They’ll get close enough to touch us, and at that point even Grace’s runes won’t matter.”
Serin pursed her lips before asking, “Could you just—” she snapped her fingers and a tiny burst of flame jumped up before snuffing out “—you know, take them one at a time?”
Charles shook his head. “They’ll almost certainly be sight-sharing. Even if we sink one before they find us out, every other ship on the lake will have witnessed it and know exactly where we are.” He sighed heavily. “If only there was a way to get them off the field entirely.”
“Well, yeah, but how are we supposed to do that?” Serin quipped back.
Charles rubbed his hands together and put them behind his head. “I have no idea. That just seems to be our only option at this point. I don’t suppose either of you are a storm monger in your spare time?”
Leslie interrupted. “It would be wise not to consider such things. Not here.”
The genuine concern made Charles and Serin take notice. Charles sucked in a long breath. “Leslie, how familiar are you with these lakes?”
Leslie lowered her eyes, but replied, “I grew up around the big lakes. I haven’t studied them, but I’ve had a fair amount of water fey acquaintances in my youth.”
Charles thought for a second. “I imagine they had the standard festivals for the moon and solstice and such?” Leslie nodded skeptically, obviously not sure where Charles was going with all this, so he continued. “Did they ever talk about certain areas of the lake where they didn’t go, or things that weren’t permitted by their clans? Did it ever seem like they were concerned about something in the lakes is what I’m getting at?”
Leslie’s eyes grew wide. “I told you already, it would be wise not to consider such things. The Tezcatlipoca aren’t something that can be controlled or even reasoned with—they are destruction incarnate.”
Charles nervously drummed his fingers on his head. “So there is one here,” he stated without emotion. Eyeing the concerned woman at his side, he continued, “I have encountered a few higher-level fey in my time. They all fall into your description pretty well. Most of these things were just animals millennia ago. Nobody’s ever figured out how, but sometimes they have a mutation and start absorbing the magic around them. They become alpha predators or unhuntable prey, settling in an area with dense magical output. Early on, they are just big fancy animals, only mildly dangerous to any trained fey. You find them late, and they’re living in a volcano immolating cities with their tantrums.”
“So you understand that nothing good could possibly come from Alignak,” Leslie stated seriously. She hadn’t meant to say the name, covering her mouth with her hands. But as soon as it came out, a large gust of wind slammed into the bridge, the sound echoing in the steel walls.
Recovering from the startling noise, Serin began to form a
plan in her head. “You said you encountered something like this before,” Serin began. “What happened once you found them?”
The question hung in the air as Leslie continued holding her mouth closed in panic. Charles stared at the map as he spoke. “I only encountered one true Tezcatlipoca. The others, as I said, were strong but nothing to really fear.”
Serin seemed to consider his answer as well as Leslie’s expression. “What happened with the true Tezcatlipoca?”
“I was with a company of soldiers down in Sembrosia, trekking through what the humans call the Patagonian Desert. We were headed from the mountains in the west to a port stronghold in the east.” Charles wasn’t sure how much of this he really wanted to share, deciding to water down his role as much as possible. “It was supposed to be a surprise attack. Everyone knew the legend of Sebetos, who supposedly controlled the desert, but our intel said it was just a legend cooked up by the loyalists. We thought it wouldn’t be an issue. We’d reach the stronghold at night and set up for an attack at the same time our second force marched in from the other side.”
Charles seemed to stare through the map, his left hand unconsciously curling into a fist. “We’d only been in the desert a few hours when we all started to lose our bearings.” He paused briefly, catching Serin’s eye. “Now mind you these were all soldiers of the highest caliber. These were battle-hardened fighters and sensors with years of experience.” He sighed. “We must have covered three-hundred miles that first day going in circles. By the time night fell, everyone was more than a little angry. One of the soldiers got it in their head that it was Sebetos’s fault and went on a tirade of curses and choice words for the old Tezcatlipoca. It took only minutes for the storm to hit us like a hammer. The winds launched the sand so hard it actually cut our skin. For most of the soldiers, this was the first time in a dozen years of war that they had actually been cut by anything. Earthen fey constructed thick walls of rock, while supporters reinforced them to the point they should have been able to take a direct hit from one of those tower guns, but the sand and wind tore through them like paper.
“We waited it out all night, the half of us that actually survived. Then, when the daylight broke through, it ended as quickly as it started. We tried to continue on and get to the stronghold to keep up our end of the plan, but by the time we got there, our forces were gone. What was just a single night to us had been seven days outside the storm. It took everything we had just to escape as the stronghold opened fire on us the moment we showed up.” Charles ended his story there, hoping no follow-up questions would be asked.
Serin, ignoring Charles’s apprehension, crossed her arms as she considered that information. “So this thing doesn’t know friend from foe?”
Charles shook himself from his memories. “There’s no such thing in its head. The only thing a Tezcatlipoca cares about is its territory. Threaten that, and you are in a world of hurt.”
“You see then,” Leslie admonished, “we should move on to other things.”
Charles perked up. “Oh, right! That’s why I came up here.” He smiled sheepishly. “Grace said she’s ready for her makeover. She wanted me to grab one of you to help organize your friends below decks.”
Leslie glanced at Serin before standing up straighter. “I’ll go.”
“Great,” Charles replied before turning his head to the side awkwardly. “Uh, she also said she’d be sending Talmer to relieve whoever came down.”
The bonded shared another glance and Serin sighed heavily. “Go ahead,” she said. “They listen to you better anyway.”
“Are you sure?” Leslie asked seriously.
“Have a little faith,” Serin tried to joke. At Leslie’s stern expression, she added, “I promise I won’t pick or finish a fight.” Leslie frowned dubiously, but gave the shorter woman a quick peck on the cheek before she motioned to the stairs and followed Charles below.
It didn’t take long for Leslie to round up her family, all of them eager to “help Grace” in any way they could. And so, just minutes later, the lower bridge was crammed tight with everyone on board. Everyone milled about anxiously, some excited to see the change while others just hoped it wouldn’t be as violent as crossing the portal. Leslie kept a head count as she hovered around the edges, and she threw a thumb in the air as the last convert was found.
“Is everyone here?” Grace yelled over the crowd of voices. Her senses confirmed that there were no stragglers, but she waited on Leslie for final confirmation. Things were going to be a bit different than the last change, and it would be much easier if everyone stayed in one place.
Leslie scanned the crowd one last time, thankful that she could see over the heads of most of her family. Waving to Grace, she yelled across the room, “Good to go!”
“Okay then,” Grace said as she wove through the crowd to a metal doorway near the bow. Opening the bulkhead, she stepped out into the night air. As the door closed, the conversations within faded into the background. She could still hear them, of course. The ears on this fey-like manifestation were just an extension of her true form. She was as much in that room now as she was before. Still, the separation from her manifestation allowed her better concentration.
With the captain out of commission, she felt asking the other purebloods to maintain her camouflage runes themselves was too great a burden. Really, it wasn’t that she couldn’t hold them while she altered her form in the first place; they were just in such a rush before and she was still recovering from her long imprisonment. Now, they were more than five miles from the nearest Union ship. And with a strong cloud cover over the moon, visibility would be at its lowest. She could take her time now, and do things a little easier.
Kneeling on the deck, Grace let her consciousness flow out, joining completely with the steel around her. Her manifestation didn’t glow like the first time, instead taking on a lifeless gray as her power had no need to condense quickly. She started with the easiest section, absorbing the great crane on her back, the net moorings at her rear, and the myriad of antennae and support structures around the bridge. The deck and bridge pooled around the bases of each, swallowing them up.
Once her form was bare, the deck began to ripple. The bridge was carried along by the tiny waves toward the stern, opening a twenty-foot lounging area at the bow. The deck ceased its vibrations and the bridge itself sagged slightly like a deflating bounce house. Then, like blowing up a balloon, the rear began expanding backward, not stopping until the two-story bridge covered the entire ship. The bridge deflated again, angling in from the deck on all sides, creating a more aerodynamic shape with the second floor slightly narrower than the floor below. At the stern, the rear wall sucked in, leaving an oval on the main deck with access to the sky above.
The side walls cracked open on each deck, squeezing up to form shaded walkways around each level. The steel deck rippled again, and a brown tone overtook each level before solidifying into luxurious wood flooring. With the decks complete, a warm, white syrup seemed to erupt from the roof, flowing slowly down the walls and hull, drying into a baked, matte paint. The oval at the stern dimpled in the center, leaving a five foot path all around. The dimple sloped before jets poured crystal clear water within.
The roof sprang to life, with a large tract of fake grass spreading over one half, with flags, twists, and adorable cartoon animal statues popping up into the shape of three holes of miniature golf. Large umbrellas sprung from the floor opposite the green, covering rows of lounging chairs fitted with waterproof red cushions. By the time fifteen minutes had passed, Grace was no longer the bright red pallet carrier from Port Erie, but instead a miniature cruise liner, complete with Nature’s Grace – St. Lawrence Seaway Cruises branding.
Color returned to the manifestation still kneeling at the bow, and Grace stood wearily. It was a good thing she wasn’t trying to move at top speed anymore. The transformation plus holding the runes, even as she paced herself, had taken a lot out of her. She needed to rest again, at le
ast for a little bit. There was no need to run dark as before; she still had the strength to keep the food and healing energies flowing. But it wouldn’t hurt to sit down somewhere calming and comfortable. Briefly, she wondered if Charles would have returned to the engine room.
Stepping inside what was once the lower bridge, Grace found the entire crew—sans Serin, Talmer, and the captain—inside a vast dining area. Instead of rows of stark metal tables, the dining area looked like a five-star restaurant. Intricate wood paneling covered the walls, and carved scenes from notable events in fey history looked out upon the crowd. A few large wooden tables dominated each of the four quarters of the area, but fine booths lined with red felt and decorated in patterned sandstone sat along the walls just below the wood panels.
Everyone was marveling at the detail and designs throughout the room, too engrossed to even notice her entry. A small smile of pride graced her lips, and she was glad to have brought some modicum of joy in these dark times. Scanning the crowd, Grace found Leslie’s deep brown hair above the rest and weaved through the masses toward her. She had to tap the tall woman’s hand before brown eyes recognized the green ones staring back.
“It’s done now,” Grace stated. “Um, some may have to look for their rooms again, as they are on a few different floors now. I put Serin and yourself upstairs so you could be closer to the bridge.”
Leslie laid her hands on the shorter woman’s shoulders, musing, “You never cease to amaze me.”
“Ah, thank you,” Grace replied shyly. “Um, the kitchen is open again, too, so if anyone is hungry—” she discreetly eyed the woman who had been single-handedly keeping the kitchen in business this whole trip “—they can eat now.”
Leslie gave Grace a knowing wink. “Well, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”
Raising her head up, Leslie addressed the crowd in her typical booming fashion. “All right, brothers and sisters, back to normal. You’ll need to take a look for your room, as things are a bit different now. Anybody hungry can hang around, the kitchen is running once again.” Glancing back to Grace, she inquired softly, “Anything else we need to know?”
