Harbinger
Page 30
It distressed her a little that she wouldn’t be there to see it, but she had her own wounds to lick. The places where the runes and the Wrayth had been still hurt. She could not stay and watch Deacons build Bonds, fight the remaining geists and feel the Brotherhood that had been so much a part of her life before. That would hurt even more than her physical injuries.
Finally, they reached the docks, and there was the Dominion sitting among the other ships of the fleet. It had been a long time since Sorcha had seen it, and it made her breath catch in her throat.
“You know, I never imagined seeing her in this port,” Raed said, waving to his crew on the decks, “but by the Blood she looks wonderful here.”
The colors she was flying were no longer the rampant Rossin. Zofiya had gifted Raed the Imperial colors, so that everywhere the Dominion sailed, she would be given the honors of an Imperial Ship.
“Indeed she does, my captain!” Aachon walked down the gangplank to meet them. He too was bandaged, but he strode as confidently as he ever had. “The Dominion is all shipshape and ready for you.” He looked down at his feet for a moment.
The first mate was no longer the first mate. Like the Fensena, he had chosen to stay in Vermillion with Merrick to help him rebuild the Order. He had, however, organized the return of the Dominion and helped find crew to replace many who had died through the course of the land adventures.
Raed smiled and pulled his friend into a tight hug, where they both spent some time thumping each other on the back. When they broke away, both of them were smiling, but their eyes shone suspiciously.
“No more piracy for Raed Syndar Faris,” Sorcha said, a little too loudly. She felt a proud swelling in her chest that he had chosen to take her name, to replace the one he had gladly lost. Caught on the wings of that, she spun around and embraced Zofiya and Merrick together. It was a tight, desperate hug that was highly inappropriate to give to the Empress of Arkaym and the Arch Abbot of the Order, but Sorcha was about to run away, so she didn’t give a damn.
“Be good to each other,” Sorcha told them, and then loosening the startled couple, grabbed Raed’s hand and dragged him up the gangway. She knew that they would all be waving; Merrick, Zofiya and Aachon, but she couldn’t bear to look back. If she did, she feared she would never have the strength to leave. One thing she did not want to be was some old relic hovering over what those three would make in Vermillion.
For an hour or more she sat near the prow and kept her back to the city that had been home and danger for her. Raed busied himself with his crew and was smart enough to leave her alone. Then, just as the sun was setting he came to find her, wrapped his arms around her, and held her.
“I know this is going to be hard—” he began, but Sorcha cut him off.
“Not hard,” she replied, squeezing his hands, “different. I was so long in the Order that I don’t quite know how life goes on outside the cloak.” She pulled him down and kissed him hard, then gasping slightly, released him. “But I will learn.”
The captain stroked her face. “We’ll learn it together—I can’t recall a time without the Rossin either. Perhaps you’d like to come to my cabin and we can see if everything is where we last had it.” His wicked grin sparked a twist of her stomach that said some things had definitely not changed.
She needed him . . . but she wanted to see the sun finally set. It was important to mark the moments of change, to celebrate and reflect. Sorcha fished out one of her Imperium cigarillos—a gift from the Empress’ own store. She held it up. “Just a few more moments, my love. I’d like to mark the end of an era.”
Raed kissed her again, looked into her eyes and smiled. “Don’t be too long, this captain is aging as we speak.” Then he turned and left her to her moment.
The sea was silvered blue black, and it smelled clean and fresh—the smell of hope perhaps. Sorcha rolled the cigarillo under her nose, anticipating the moment. Then she realized she had not asked Raed for his flint to light it.
A tingle ran along her arm, the slightest burning sensation. Holding up her arm, Sorcha stared at it for a second. The feeling was familiar. When a tiny blue flame danced on the tip of her right hand, she gasped in surprise and delight.
Hand wavering, she lit her cigarillo with it, and then passed it back and forth in front of her eyes. The sensation retreated, and the tiny flame died with it. It had to be a remnant of the power, like the jerking of a dead man, and yet . . . perhaps it was more.
Sorcha Faris sat on the prow of the ship and smiled to herself. Perhaps there was life and hope left—but for the moment she would keep it just for herself.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in New Zealand, Philippa Ballantine has always had her head in a book. A corporate librarian for thirteen years, she has a bachelor of arts in English and a bachelor of applied science in library and information science. She is New Zealand’s first podcast novelist, and she has produced four podiobooks. Many of these have been short-listed for the Parsec Award, and she has won a Sir Julius Vogel Award. She is also the coauthor of the Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences novels with Tee Morris. Philippa is currently in the United States, where her two Siberian cats, Sebastian and Viola, make sure she stays out of trouble. Visit her website at www.pjballantine.com.
Praise for the Book of the Order novels
WRAYTH
“A fast-paced adventure.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Wrayth has all the hallmarks of Ballantine’s previous Order novels: fast pacing, strong characterization, clever use of tropes.”
—Escape Pod
“Ballantine is a master at building worlds without letting the construction get in the way of the story . . . Consistent writing, imaginative stories and well-fleshed-out characters.”
—View from Valhalla
“Interesting revelations . . . Red-hot action sequences . . . An enjoyable romp.”
—citybookreview.com
“A power addition to the Book of the Order series . . . A fantasy that does not fail to deliver a powerful punch to readers.”
—Snarkymamma
SPECTYR
“Picks up smoothly from [Geist], continuing the fantasy adventure with a mix of romance and power play by the world’s deities . . . Will appeal to the paranormal romance and steampunk crowds.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Spectyr keeps up the series’ promise: well-crafted, tightly packed action . . . Should satisfy even die-hard fantasy fans.”
—Drying Ink
“A unique, character-driven fantasy that delivers on all levels.”
—Smexy Books
“The opening act in Philippa Ballantine’s Book of the Order is a great fantasy, but the second tale is even better . . . A fantastic fantasy.”
—Genre Go Round Reviews
“The combination of great characters and an outstanding plot makes this book a winner.”
—Pop Cults
GEIST
“With its richly detailed world and wonderfully realized characters, Geist is one of the most vividly original books I’ve read this year.”
—Nalini Singh, New York Times bestselling author of
Heart of Obsidian
“Absorbing adventure that revels in both the creepy and the courageous.”
—Gail Carriger, New York Times bestselling author of
Etiquette & Espionage
“An incredibly rich story . . . Rich in high action, rich in mystery, rich in characters, rich in ghosts. Absolutely not to be missed.”
—Barb Hendee, national bestselling author of
The Mist-Torn Witches
“Part of the entertainment of this novel is putting the pieces together to get a picture of the complicated political situation, the period (they have magical airships!) and the nature of the geists . . . Plenty of magic-blasting action keeps things lively for a rousing start to this new series.”
—Locus
“In the tradition of greats like Margaret We
is and Robin Hobb, Philippa Ballantine has woven an excellent tale of fantasy, paranormal, black powder, steampunk goodness.”
—Pop Cults
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