by A A Woods
“GO!” Tuk shouted.
Snatching one last glimpse of the Nuri airman who had changed everything, Carlette wrapped her arm around Byrna’s waist, sent a brief, desperate prayer to whoever was listening.
And threw them both into the inky black sea.
Chapter Thirty-Two: Ocean Eyes
Hitting the water felt like an explosion in Carlette’s brain. The cold struck first, knocking the wind out of her. And then she was assaulted by the concentrated life of the sea, sharp and painful and more potent than anything she’d ever known. It was distilled magic, an acid-bath of raw existence that threatened to swallow her whole. Sensation submerged her mind and body. Her limbs convulsed. Byrna’s arm slipped out of her grip. How did the blue hoods control this? How did they cope with the noise? So strong was the feeling of being in a hailstorm, of being surrounded by a thousand hungry minds, that Carlette almost didn’t notice the spreading numbness and rapid leeching of warmth.
She tumbled, helpless against the powerful waves.
She tasted salt.
Her eyes burned.
Where was the sky?
Focus.
Doing her best to block out the uproar of her magic, Carlette swiped out with a hand, caught a bit of fabric, pulled Byrna back to her.
They had to reach the surface. She could already feel her nerves losing precision, frozen muscles batting uselessly against a chaotic sea.
She kicked toward the wavering daylight.
Almost there.
Their heads burst through the surf only to be thrust back down by a wave. It took everything she had to keep a firm grip on Byrna, to avoid the beetle-speaker’s frantic kicks. Carlette was trained for this, had been taught to stare down death without flinching.
Stay the path.
She waited. The wave passed. Their bodies stopped rolling. Her lungs screamed for air, but she gritted her teeth against the reflex to inhale. Looping an arm around Byrna’s chest, Carlette dragged them both up.
This time, mercifully, they surfaced on the top on a crest. Sweet, icy air filled Carlette’s lungs. Byrna was coughing. Carlette ignored it. Her eyes scanned the horizon.
There!
Over the roaring waves, losing altitude with every moment, Tuk’s airship bumbled along like an intoxicated bird. The basket below his balloon was nothing more than tattered reeds, Tuk’s long shape all but dangling from the ropes. Raptors swooped down on him. One grabbed at the balloon.
The airship fell.
She heard Tuk shout, followed by a massive splash.
Would he survive the fall? Was he tangled up in the balloon, unable to kick free? She squinted, her breathing harsh and panicked, her imagination wild.
Please don’t let him drown…
The raptors swooped in and, with a graceful twist, snatched the deflated balloon out of the sea. They wheeled off, carrying the ruined airship toward the armada of floating sky chariots.
And there, tangled in the rigging, kicking to free himself, was Tuk.
“Stop!” Carlette screamed, throwing an arm out.
“W-what are you going to do, s-swim after them?” Byrna said through chattering teeth.
“They took him!”
“Yeah, w-well I d-don’t think he’ll t-thank you for pissing all o-over his sacrifice.”
Carlette floated there a moment, Byrna bumping against her side. The cold was setting in. They had minutes, maybe seconds before their limbs froze and the autumn sea claimed their lives.
Carlette swallowed. Nodded.
“Let’s go,” she said, making herself turn and kick toward shore.
Byrna tried to be helpful, but her good leg tangled in Carlette’s, dragging them backwards. After a few moments of frustrating progress, Carlette ordered Byrna to stay still. Flipping the beetle-speaker onto her back, she took over their rescue, limbs jerky as she fought the crashing waves and inched them closer to the looming cliff.
“Aren’t. There. Any. Bugs. In. The. Sea?” Carlette said, teeth clicking with each word.
“N-no,” Byrna said, shivering. “Not that I t-t-trained with. But t-there are p-p-predators.”
Carlette clenched her jaw. There was no way she could pick out individual minds in the whirlpool of life below her. It was like trying to extract one ingredient from a soup. She could sense ferocious sharks and sleek seals, echoing up like voices from the back of a cavern. But she was powerless to enhabit them. Carlette had been trained to see her target, to touch the air.
Here, in the middle of the ocean, she was worse than useless.
She’d always taken for granted that the Prederaux were the best of the Order. They were certainly the most valued. But now, Carlette wondered if she’d been wrong. Maybe it was the blue hoods who were the true masters at enhabitation.
Or, if they were anything like Byrna, the black.
A shudder wracked Carlette and she doubled her efforts. Her brain was beginning to fog, to drift away like wood on the tide. Byrna’s breath against her neck was the only warm thing left in the world, and even that was chilling fast. The shore was tantalizingly close.
Carlette kept moving.
She could see the cracks in the cliff face, the algae stains at its base. The dark haze of ocean mist had become thick and oppressive, the surf thunderous as it pounded against the mouth of the cove.
Don’t stop, don’t stop, she thought desperately, chanting the mantra with each stroke.
A swell crashed over them, plunging their frozen bodies into darkness. Her foot caught on a stone. Slipped off.
Shore!
When they bobbed to the surface again, Byrna was chattering curses. But Carlette was filled with a renewed determination. Her fingers groped the water. Her eyes, half-blinded by the salt, blinked feverishly.
Another wave broke over them.
Carlette’s feet hit something solid. Her knees buckled, but she managed to dig her toes into toothy rubble. Bubbles escaped her mouth in a silent scream as the toes of her boots ripped, spilling blood, but she pushed them forward, step by step. The hungry ocean fought to pull them back, but Carlette was single-minded, her whole world narrowed down air and shore and survival.
Finally, the water receded.
She grabbed the stone with her free hand, hauling them up, racing the next wave. She knew that if the water reclaimed them now, she wouldn’t have the energy to fight back. With Byrna limp in her arms, both of them quivering, Carlette emerged from the sea step by brutal step.
Finally, she could take no more. She fell to her knees. Byrna toppled off her shoulders, flopping against the sharp rock.
Get up, she told herself. Keep going.
Her body wouldn’t listen.
The next wave crashed noisily behind them, water surging in, cold and heartless.
It pooled around her legs but came in no further.
They were safe.
Carlette allowed herself to breathe. A stitch drove into her side like a dagger, her palms were both an angry red, and blood dribbled down the leathers of her pants. But her head was above water and, right then, she didn’t care about anything else.
Byrna was hacking beside her, water dribbling out of blue lips.
“No. More. Flying,” Byrna said between coughs.
Carlette laughed weakly, blinking up at the cliffs. A giddiness flushed through her. Somehow, they had survived. Tuk’s plan had worked, delivering them right to the edge of Commercant Bay. The bobbing ships stretched out before her, illuminated by lanterns and the warm glow of a noisy city.
But her laugh died as soon as it came.
The Ceillan sky chariots had the bay surrounded, reminding Carlette of the price they had payed. Even now the Featherhands could be torturing Tuk, prying information out of him like nails from wood. Would they kill him right away? Demand his help in dominating the skies? Were they, like everyone else, also hunting for Caika?
Carlette didn’t know and wouldn’t find out anytime soon, not until she stopped Yokan.
&
nbsp; She hoped he would survive that long.
Teetering on feet so cold they felt more like wood than like limbs, Carlette stumbled to her feet. She coughed and steadied herself against the nearest boulder, trying to consolidate the last of her warmth. They had to act quickly.
“What was Yokan’s plan?” Carlette asked, pulling Byrna away from the water. The Moian girl moaned in pain. “They were going to sneak the pup into the bay. How?”
“On… a dinghy,” Byrna panted. “They were… ordered to leave it docked by one of the larger… freighters so no one would notice.”
Carlette supported Byrna to a small, dry ledge, eyes tracking the horizon. Above them, the Magistrate’s house would be teeming with activity; his soldiers preparing to march down the Rae du Ora with the young prince in tow. Settlers would be lining the street, waving banners and anticipating the regal parade.
Her gut twisted. She grabbed Byrna’s arm and hauled them both upright.
“We need to find a boat,” she said, helping Byrna hobble forward.
“And… do what? Kill… the little beast… ourselves?”
“The only way to stop the she-wolf is to return her baby,” Carlette said, feeling the full certainty of her words even as she said them. She alone had touched that vast mind. She, better than anyone, knew what this creature would do to save her infant.
Or avenge it.
“And how do you plan to do that?” Byrna hissed as they rounded a corner. “I’m not sure… about you, but I can’t carry an Amonoux pup… like this.”
“Let’s just find it first,” Carlette snapped, her tempter stretched to the breaking point.
They were running out of time. She knew the Ebonal hunters were already in place, Yokan’s plan already in motion. They might be too late…
Carlette’s sharp eyes fell on a nearby clump of jagged shapes, almost invisible in the encroaching shadows. Her heart stuttered. Was it a guard? A wolf? An Ebonal hunter?
But no, it was a pile of debris washed in from the bay, shunted into a small culvert where the waves swirled in. Carlette squinted, barely making out the snapped wood, the sloping masts.
Was that… a rowboat?
She sped up, yanking a protesting Byrna along with her. Together they lurched towards the junkpile, rocks shifting beneath them, making it even more difficult to walk.
“What are you—?”
“I think that one’s intact,” Carlette said, interrupting Byrna.
But when they were close enough to make out the details, Carlette’s hope deflated.
“First the airship, now this?” Byrna grumbled.
Carlette didn’t blame her. Calling the dilapidated thing in front of them a boat was generous to the point of stupidity. The rolling waves and salty air had left this ancient fishing vessel less a means of transportation and more a pile of wet kindling.
But in the distance, she could hear the celebrations starting, the trumpets of a parade.
They had to do something.
“Help me flip it over,” Carlette said, releasing Byrna.
Byrna fell over twice as she tried to help Carlette detach the wood from the stone. Seaweed and barnacles had all but cemented its edge to the serrated ground. But with three grunting tugs they were able to break it free. It creaked and groaned, but Carlette didn’t pause to see if it could handle the abuse.
With a mighty heave she shoved it upright and let it topple into the water.
Byrna found the algae-covered mooring rope and together they watched the little boat bob in the relative calm of Commercant Bay. Water leaked through a multitude of holes, filling the base of the vessel in moments. But Carlette fished around the bow—breathing through her mouth to avoid the odor of rot and decaying fish—and found a bucket.
“Get in,” Carlette said, thrusting the bucket at Byrna.
“You know, maybe a few kids dying isn’t the worst thing—”
“Get. In.”
Byrna tried to slide into the ship but ended up catching her broken leg and tumbling into the boat with a crash and a shout. Carlette cursed inwardly and scanned the cliff. No guards yet but there were enemies on all sides.
They needed to be careful.
“Aren’t Moians supposed to be good at hiding?” Carlette hissed, shoving them off the coast with half a broken oar.
“I’d be happy to break your leg and see how you do,” Byrna hissed back.
The tiny boat leaked like the Magistrate’s purse. Byrna’s efforts with the rusted-out bucket were barely enough to keep them afloat, not to mention noisy. Carlette winced with each grunt and splash, but the howling wind of the oncoming storm was enough to cover their approach.
She glared into the shadows.
Unlike the mountainous waves in the open sea, the waters of Commercant Bay were calmer. Not pristine, but Carlette was able to guide them over the tiny swells. Gently swaying masts rose around them in a forest and a few shapes moved on the ships, but Carlette knew those men wouldn’t be paying much attention. These were the sailors who had drawn the short stick and been left to stand guard. With the pirates floating just outside the bay, the captains would have left more than the usual security. So the extra men would play cards, get drunk, gripe about missing the fun, and feel up whatever woman was unlucky enough to be chartered to that crew: hoods, cooks, the occasional female sailor.
Carlette kept her head low, wishing her hair was as dark as Byrna’s.
As they moved through the ships, doing their best to keep quiet, Carlette probed the bay. She could feel the steady undercurrent of human minds, brushing her senses like branches scraping against a closed window. And, of course, the thrum of the ocean that she’d only just begun to appreciate.
But no Amonoux pup.
Her instincts prickled.
“Something’s not right,” Carlette said.
There was a stirring below her, alien and strange. She tried to puzzle through it, head aching as she sifted through the deluge of information. Her power settled, as it usually did, on the most ferocious minds, the most violent thoughts.
Sharks.
Carlette zeroed in, strained to see through the animal’s murky mind.
It tasted blood in the water.
She drew out of the creature with a snap and began to paddle more fiercely. Byrna asked a question, but Carlette didn’t hear it. Fear pulsed through her, alive and hissing and desperate.
Please, she prayed to her ancestors. Please no. Let me be wrong.
Their pathetic little fishing vessel rounded the hull of a three-masted schooner and Carlette’s throat caught. She knew. Tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t slow until they had reached it.
“Well,” Byrna said, lowering the bucket. “Shit.”
Drifting in the gentle currents of the bay was a massive white shape, almost the size of their boat. The pup’s throat had been slit and blood leaked out like an oil spill. Water was beginning to churn around it, ocean creatures rushing up for an easy meal. But the body was still intact. Carlette could even smell the lingering stink of its fear.
They were too late.
The pup was dead.
“What now, larvae girl?” Byrna asked in a low, sad voice.
Carlette opened her mouth without having any idea what she planned to say. They’d failed. Tuk had been captured for nothing. Of course the Bloody Paws had killed the pup, why wouldn’t they? It was too much trouble to keep it alive. Too much to ask for mercy…
“I don’t—”
But Carlette was interrupted by sound, so distant and soft that, if not for their shocked silence, she would have missed it entirely.
A furious, agonized howl.
Chapter Thirty-Three: Sacrifice
Carlette guided their fishing dinghy under the docks, cringing at Byrna’s rasping breath. It would take so little—nothing more than a badly timed gasp—to end their journey right there in the mud. Boots thundered overhead, the excited sound of men and women who would kill them without hesitation. B
yrna’s pale face was a moon in the viscous darkness, eyes tracking the noise.
“These prissy settlers wouldn’t last a heartbeat in the forest,” Byrna mumbled, shaking her head in disgust.
Carlette shot her a wide-eyed look filled with a single command.
Quiet!
The fishing boat bumped against one of the dock posts with a wooden thunk. Carlette waited, breath held, to see if the sound had betrayed them. But in the symphony of raised voices, crashing waves, howling wind, and the distant, cheerful sound of instruments, no one seemed to notice the small dinghy quickly sinking below their feet.
“Now what?” Byrna whispered, half-swimming to the stern.
Carlette had turned things over in her head again and again.
There was no other way.
“Now I go and warn the prince,” she said in a low voice, not meeting Byrna’s eyes as she dragged the beetle-speaker to shore.
Carlette had known since they’d found the dead pup. It was as if a lantern had been ignited, lighting her path. The Magistrate wouldn’t listen—he’d probably have Carlette shot on sight.
But Dirlen…
Despite the young prince’s acerbic sarcasm, Carlette had sensed an openness in him. Maybe he would listen, if only to protect his people.
It was the best idea she could think of.
“You’re mad,” Byrna hissed. “No one will hear what a hood has to say.”
“The prince will,” Carlette said with confidence she did not feel.
Byrna snorted. “And I thought you were just getting started with Tuk.”
“We don’t have a choice,” Carlette snapped, crouching in the shallows. A guard dog whuffled, its claws scraping the deck above them. Carlette gently pushed the hound to ignore their pungent, telltale scent.
“Bullshit. Listen to me, larva-girl, we need to get out of here. This whole city is going to be bloodier than childbirth in a few minutes.”
“If we leave them, what does that make us?”
“Alive.”
“If your idea of a better world involves standing back as hundreds of innocents die, then I want no part of it.”
