A Meddle of Wizards

by Alexandra Rushe

  “Something toward, cuz?” Mauric asked, strolling over.

  “Aye, we’re becalmed,” Raven said. “Some sort of strange weather phenomenon, I suppose, though I’ve not seen the like.”

  Gertie stomped up. The troll’s black nose was a-twitch. “It’s not the weather. It’s Glonoff. There’s magic on the wind.”

  Raine’s mouth went dry and the tingling on her neck spread to her back and arms.

  “Glonoff?” She hurried over to them. “Are you sure it wasn’t me? I was practicing my magic, just now.”

  “Bah, your wee piddling wouldn’t make such a racket,” Gertie said. “It’s Glonoff, all right. He’s performing a summoning charm and making a great deal of noise going about it.”

  “I thought you said the better the adept, the less noise he makes,” Raine said.

  “Generally, that’s true, unless the wizard is flexing his muscles.” The troll bared her teeth. “The Dark Wizard is trying to intimidate us.”

  The hatch slammed open and Brefreton charged up the stairs. Glory followed behind him at a more leisurely pace.

  “Gertie,” Brefreton said, skidding to a halt. “I heard a noise. I think it’s—”

  “Glonoff, yes, I know.”

  “So, it is him? You’re sure?”

  “Unless you can think of another dark wizard we’ve managed to peeve.” Gertie turned to Raven. “Why don’t you climb up and have a look?”

  Raven nodded curtly and shimmied up one of the masts. Higher and higher he climbed, his powerful body outlined against the gray winter sky.

  Raine was watching Raven, her heart in her throat, when Mimsie materialized on a whoosh of Arpege. The ghost wore a pale green gown with a long flowing skirt. Bronze sandals with long straps adorned her feet. Her light brown hair was braided in a halo that snugged her head.

  “Stopped by to tell you,” Mimsie said. “Something big is headed this way.”

  “Big, eh?” Gertie’s yellow eyes glowed. “What is it?”

  “You’ll find out.”

  Mimsie disappeared.

  Raven slid back down the mast and jumped lightly onto the deck. “Who the trodyn hell was that, and where did she go?”

  “A ghost,” Gertie said. “Raine’s aunt, and a damn nuisance, if you ask me. Pops in long enough to deliver a dire warning and out again. Worse than Glory, and that’s saying something. Were you able to see anything from the mast?”

  “Aye, fish,” Raven said. “The sea is black with them.”

  Raine went to the rail. An inky tide was bearing down on the ship. Suddenly, the water around them boiled with fish, millions of them. The vast swell reached the Storm, and forked. The fish in the middle, hemmed in by their fellows, were battered against the ship’s hull and floated to the surface, lifeless.

  “They’re running aground,” Gurnst shouted from the helm.

  Raine ran to the opposite rail. The swarm converged on the starboard side and continued their frantic flight toward the shore, where they were trapped in the shallows or threw themselves, flopping and gasping, onto the beach. Gulls screeched at the death frenzy and dived to feast upon the stranded fish.

  Glory glided up. “They flee before it in fear.”

  “Flee before what?” Gertie snapped. “Stop being a portentous pain in the ass and spit it out.”

  “The sea monster,” Glory said. “Glonoff has roused the poor creature from slumber. He has sent it to kill Raine.”

  “I suppose it was to be expected,” Gertie said. “Glonoff always was a poor sport. If he can’t have Raine, no one will.”

  “Maybe Glory’s wrong,” Raine said. “Maybe the sea monster won’t come for us.”

  Glory gave her a pitying look. “Artless child, I am not wrong. I have the sight.”

  “Nooooo,” Gertie said, opening her eyes wide. “You’re a seer? First I’ve heard of it.”

  Glory regarded the troll with chilly hauteur. “You have ever mocked my gift.”

  “Maybe that’s because you never stop yammering about it,” Gertie said. “Enough fiddle faddle. How do we stop the damn thing?”

  “You cannot,” Glory said. “The monster will take Raine. I have seen it, and so it will be.” She inclined her head. “If you will excuse me, I will withdraw. Ilgtha is alone with Chaz, and the troll mislikes the sea.”

  “Spuddler,” Gertie fumed, scowling after Glory. “Pay no attention to her, Raine.”

  Raine tried to smile, but her facial muscles wouldn’t move. The monster will take Raine. I have seen it.

  “We’re sitting ducks, mor,” Raven said. “Can you raise a wind?”

  Gertie shook her head. “Not enough time. That sort of things takes hours or days, depending. Delicate business, weather.”

  Raven wheeled about, bellowing, “Man the oars. Make for the shallows.”

  The crew scrambled to obey. Mauric joined them, bending his back to the oars. The shouts and curses of sailors mingled with the thump of Gurnst’s drum. The oars were raised and dipped, and the ship moved sluggishly through the inert water.

  Raven turned to Raine. “Get below with Glory. You’ll be safer there.”

  He strode off without waiting for a response. Raine started for the hatchway that led below and hesitated. If the ship sank, she’d be trapped underwater. The dark bridge flashed before her, and the image of the giant crow. She relived the sickening plunge of the car off the bridge, and the cold wash of the river as it swept through the shattered windshield and windows, swallowing her, pushing her down . . .

  No, thank you. She’d rather take her chances on deck.

  She joined Brefreton and Gertie at the rail. The wizards had their faces to the sea. They lifted their stones, and Raine felt the familiar thrum of magic in the air. Tentatively, she reached out to Gertie, and the noise of the sailors and the drum faded away.

  Haven’t I told you before that’s rude? Gertie’s irritated voice said inside Raine’s head. What do you think you’re doing, anyway?

  I thought I might help.

  Do you know anything about sea monsters?

  No.

  Then go away.

  “I see it, Gertie.” Brefreton sounded awed. “Rebe save us, it’s big.”

  A horror rose from the sea, a sea beast longer than the ship with a tubular body and slick yellow skin splotched with gray. A skein of suckered arms floated from one end of the monster. The other end was all mouth, a huge, disc-shaped opening lined with teeth. A rasping tongue protruded from the maw like a giant, sightless worm.

  The monster blinked at the light.

  “I don’t think it can see well, and the light bothers it,” Gertie said. “See the tongue sticking out of its gob?” The troll pointed to the length of muscular flesh protruding from the monster’s mouth. “Uses it to rake the flesh from its prey. Fond of whales and squid.”

  Brefreton shot the troll an exasperated look. “And you know this how, nature troll?”

  “Got a glimpse of its thoughts. Not too bright. Thinks about food and not much else. Glonoff woke it from a nap, and it’s not happy.”

  The monster bore down on the ship with uncanny accuracy. “It may be stupid and short-sighted, but it knows where we are,” Brefreton said. “Damn thing’s following us like a dog on a leash.”

  “It’s gaining on us,” Raven shouted. “Pull harder.”

  The terrified sailors rowed for shore with all their might, but the monster closed the gap with a single pulse of its enormous tentacles. A suckered arm shot out of the water and wrapped itself around one of the ship’s masts, cracking the heavy timber like a twig.

  “Look out,” Raven cried as the mast groaned and toppled to the deck, trapping a sailor beneath.

  Brefreton murmured and raised his hand. Magic crackled around them and ropes of sea fern rose from the sea and wound around th
e sea monster, binding it tight. The monster flexed and burst the restraints like so much rotten cloth.

  “It’s too strong,” Brefreton said. “I can’t bind it.”

  The troll raised her paw. “Let’s see how it likes fire.”

  She lobbed a ball of fire at the monster and Bree followed suit with two more flaming missiles. The burning globs struck the sea monster and clung to the creature’s damp flesh like Greek fire. The monster thrashed in pain and sank from sight. An eerie quiet settled around them, interrupted by the splash of the oars and the thump of the drum as the desperate sailors pulled for shore.

  “It’s coming back, Cap’n,” a sailor cried.

  The monster resurfaced and rolled a malevolent red eye at Raine as it slid past. The clanking in Raine’s head grew louder, dimming Raven’s shout of warning. It knew where she was. It knew who she was. It was coming for her. Glonoff had sent it, and Glory said there was no escape.

  A writhing mass of arms shot from the water and slammed onto the deck. Raven was knocked off his feet. Mauric yelled, but Raine couldn’t hear what he was saying over the pounding of her heart. A snaky arm reached for her. She scrambled out of the way. She stepped to the left; the arm slithered after her. She stepped to the right; it did likewise. She froze and the tentacle hesitated, then crept closer, grasping for her with blind eagerness. Nearer and nearer the questing appendage came.

  Don’t move, Raine told herself. Stay still and it won’t find you.

  The damp flesh plucked at her dress and Raine lost her nerve. She stumbled back, tripped over a mound of fallen debris, and crashed to the floor. The tip of the tentacle slapped the deck a few inches from her leg. Raine shrieked and scrambled out of the way. Clambering to her feet, she stumbled over ropes and scattered rigging and pushed between the crates. She tore her dress in her haste to escape, an animal seeking its burrow in blind panic. She reached her hideaway among the boxes and crouched there, her heart knocking against her ribs. The heavy crates were brushed aside like so many blocks. Raine screamed and threw her arms over her head. An assortment of wares toppled around her: bales of cloth, bags of spices, jars of scented oils, glittering knives, carpets, amber and chunks of precious ivory. A small tub marked Huney rolled to a stop at her feet. The roving tentacle swept the jar aside and struck at Raine like a hungry snake. Sobbing with fright, she crawled away on her hands and knees. The long gown wrapped around her legs, slowing her escape.

  The groping feeler came after her.

  “Go away,” Raine shrieked, slapping at the thing. “Leave me alone.”

  The tentacle rose and swayed hypnotically. Raine froze, mesmerized. Too late, she heard the rasp of flesh behind her and realized her mistake. A second tentacle slithered over a fallen crate and pinned her arms to her sides. The sea monster lifted her high into the air. She caught a glimpse of the ship below, held fast in the monster’s eel-like arms.

  The unyielding band around Raine’s ribs tightened. Black dots danced before her eyes. Slowly, the titan lowered her toward its murderous beak. Death by sea monster: Raine would have laughed at the irony, had she the breath. For years, she’d feared death, but never like this.

  She turned her head at a defiant shout. Far below her, Raven stood at the stern, his sword raised.

  “Release her,” he roared and slashed at the monster’s arms.

  Blood and ichor spewed forth, covering him in gore. The sea monster writhed in pain and the tentacle holding Raine aloft stiffened in agony.

  “Raven, take this,” Gertie bellowed. She tossed the warrior a piece of broken mast.

  Raven drew back his arm and hurled the wooden lance. It flew, straight and true, and sank into the monster’s eye to the hilt. A horrible spasm shot through the behemoth. The crushing pressure on Raine’s ribs eased, and she sailed through the air, head over heels. The sky and sea melded in a blur and the ocean rose to meet her. She plunged into the water, and the noise of the battle faded away.

  Chapter 39

  High and Dry

  The weight of Raine’s boots and garments dragged her beneath the waves. Dazed and bruised, she drifted limply in the ocean’s embrace for a moment, then flailed upward. Swimming was a painful, awkward business—her chest ached, and her arms and limbs tangled in the folds of her cloak and long dress—but she floundered to the surface and drew the icy air into her lungs. Her reprieve was brief, for her heavy mantle soon pulled her down again. The water was shockingly cold, her battered ribs hurt, and she was tired, so very tired.

  Then why fight? a seductive voice whispered. Why cling to life so desperately? Do you not weary of the struggle? Life is pain and loneliness and fear. You are an outcast. No friends or family. Let go and find peace.

  The faces of Raine’s companions drifted through her mind.

  Foolish child, the voice mocked. To them, you are but a means to an end, a thing to be used and discarded.

  The fight went out of Raine and she went limp, sinking into the depths.

  Yeeesss, the magnetic voice purred. It will be over soon.

  A gruesome face appeared in front of Raine, rousing her from her lethargy. The man’s skull was a smashed ruin, and his blond braids were caked with blood and brain matter. Startled, she kicked away, but the phantom followed her. Lips moving in silent entreaty, the man waved a necklace at her. A heavy medal dangled at the end of the chain. She faltered as recognition dawned. She knew this man. His name was Doran and he was a sailor on the Storm. He must have been killed when the mast had fallen.

  He was trying to tell her something, but what? Raine stared more closely at him. His lips moved again. He was saying something . . . Axel burger? That made no sense.

  He reached for her and she turned and swam away. The cloak tugged at her, slowing her down. She clawed at the ribbons at her throat and the ties parted. The mantle floated away, and she shot to the surface, sucking the sweet air into her protesting lungs. Strong arms closed around her. Raine shrieked. Doran had risen from his watery grave to claim her.

  “Easy. I’ve got you.”

  The deep voice penetrated Raine’s blind panic.

  “Raven?” She turned in his arms and clutched his broad shoulders. “What are you doing here?”

  “Going for a swim, same as you.”

  “You’re hilarious. Take off my dress.”

  He chuckled. “A tempting offer, milady, and one I’d normally be happy to accept, but it won’t be necessary. We have a ride.”

  Raine could have cried with relief. “Thank God. They’re sending a longboat for us?”

  “Anon, but, for now, I’m afraid we are on our own.”

  “On our own?” Raine repeated in dismay. Treading water, she looked around. The shoreline was a dark smudge in the distance. The ship was closer, but the dying sea monster was between them and the Storm. “I-I don’t know if I can swim that far.”

  “You won’t have to,” Raven said. “We’ve another sort of ride.”

  He whistled shrilly and a line of seaweed rippled toward them, moving against the current. The clump of weeds rose out of the water and Raine found herself looking at the business end of a snake, a very large snake with a mane of dirty-green weedy tendrils.

  “It’s a snake.” She backpeddled in alarm. “I don’t like snakes.”

  “He doesn’t like us either.” Raven addressed the reptile in a mixture of strange words and hisses, and the snake hissed back, eyeing them with cold disdain. “He’s annoyed because we interrupted his dinner. Most days, you see, he lazes about pretending to be a harmless patch of seaweed, and waits for something to swim within reach.”

  “Yeah, like us.”

  Raven chuckled. “Yes, but he’s not hungry today. He’s had an ocean of dinners, thanks to the sea monster, and his belly is full. He has reluctantly agreed to take us ashore.”

  “You speak snake?”

  “E
nough to make myself understood. Grab hold.”

  Raven placed Raine’s hands on the snake’s long tresses and murmured a few unintelligible words. The disgruntled reptile turned and swam for shore. It was a cold, short ride. The crystalline water along the beach was choked with dead fish. More fish lay in heaps upon the sand. Birds circled and shrieked, diving at their heads, angered by the humans’ intrusion upon their gluttony.

  Raine planted her feet in the shallows, grateful to be back on land.

  “Thank you,” she said to the snake. She racked her brains for an appropriate compliment. “May your scales always glisten and your belly be full.”

  Raven relayed her message to the snake. The serpent flicked its tongue and swam away.

  “He said you’re welcome.” Raven wrapped his arm around her waist and helped her wade ashore. “That was well done of you. Snakes are polite creatures, you know.”

  “No, I don’t know. I told you, I don’t like snakes.” She held up her hand when he started to speak. “Prejudiced and narrow-minded of me, perhaps, but there you go.”

  The adrenaline had worn off, and Raine was spent. She staggered to a patch of dun-colored sand that wasn’t covered in dead fish and collapsed.

  Wringing the salt water from her hair, she said, “Thank you. If you hadn’t thrown that spear . . .”

  Her words trailed off and she looked up to find Raven watching her.

  “You’re welcome.” Bending, he pulled off her sodden boots and dropped them in the sand, then sat down beside her. Removing his own boots, he upended them to let the water run out. “I’m grateful to you, as well.”

  “Grateful to me? For what?”

  “Your equanimity. Most women of my acquaintance would be having strong hysterics right now.”

  “I’m waiting for the proper time,” Raine confided. “Dramatics are a waste, you see, without a proper audience.”

  “Ho,” a familiar, gravelly voice called .“You on shore.”

  Raven got to his feet and smiled down at her. “’Twould seem you are in luck, then. We have company.”