"So where does that leave us now?" asked Connor.
Icarus, his eyes still closed and the sand still swirling above the deck, reached out with the small bag that had contained the sand. Holding it open beneath the swirl, the sand dropped down into the bag, leaving the deck clear. Icarus opened his eyes and looked at Connor. "I believe that even though the last Magusari was able to repel Eris and slow down the chaos that she sowed, that the other Aspects, Nuriel and, possibly, Aeolus, survived, biding their time until they could gather strength and attack. To what end I still do not know."
Laila stared at the deck in front of her. Aeolus, the Air Aspect, must be commanding the Aurai. It made sense. The Air Apsect and the Air elementals. Aeolus must be the dark figure she kept seeing. The one pulling all the strings.
Laila turned to Wyndam. "Is that true? Do you serve Aeolus?"
The elemental's pale eyes turned to Laila and stared. They held each other's gaze for a long moment. Laila tried to read the Aurai's expression, but she could not. Finally the pale face turned away, but he did not answer. Before Laila could press her questions, Wyndam stepped away from the railing and headed back to his cabin. Laila thought about following him for a moment, but then let it pass; he was unlikely to give her an answer anyway.
"Do you think Aeolus is the one behind all this?" Laila asked, turning back to Icarus.
"I do not know. But it seems likely. Which may work in our favor," the Magus answered.
"How?" asked Connor.
"Aeolus and Nuriel, as powerful as they are, are elemental Aspects, and they are the embodiments of the elemental races. Eris was the embodiment of Chaos, a Prime Aspect and a fundamental part of our world."
"So, you're saying that Nuriel is not the most powerful thing we could be facing?" Connor continued.
"I'm saying that I do not know, boy. We still have our path. Let us keep to that, and worry about the problems at hand. Namely, the fact that Nuriel knows where we are. We must leave soon," Icarus said gruffly.
Captain Drachus walked by, directing Cadi and the others back to work. "We'll be ready, Magus," the captain said, once again glancing out at the Manders on the beach. "We sail on the morning tide."
Eighteen
The Straits
The wooden sword swung through the air, catching Dio across the back of his hand. He shouted out and dropped his weapon. In a smooth motion, Connor stepped inside Dio's guard and put his practice sword at the young Artisan's chest.
"I win, again." Connor smiled.
Dio grimaced at the pain in his hand without responding to Connor. Lunete stepped over and pushed Connor's sword down.
"While I appreciate the confidence, Connor, let's tone it down a notch, shall we? You and I have discussed letting your emotions get a hold on you," the former Guardian said.
Laila could hear the reprimand in her mother's tone. Connor must have picked it up too, as the smile on his face quickly disappeared. He lowered his sword and stepped back, giving Dio space to pick up his own weapon.
It had been nearly a week since they had left the northern island of Kios. They had been sailing across open ocean, making their way west and slightly south. Laila found herself growing more restless with each passing day, watching at the bow of the ship for some sign of land, some sign that they were drawing closer to the Splintered Isles. Wyndam had secluded himself in his cabin since Icarus's tale, refusing any attempts at interaction. Laila had even noticed a growing apprehension in Captain Drachus. With each day they continued toward the Splintered Isles, the captain's usually genial nature had become more brooding, as though he were anticipating something dangerous.
Laila stood on the rear deck and watched her friends train with her mother. She had seen Connor take quickly to Lunete's teachings. He had a natural aptitude for the sword, despite what he might claim about his past in Custos. Dio, on the other hand, struggled. He had no previous experience with a blade, except for the games many children played in Terus. But Lunete was patient with him, teaching him the basics and guiding him. He too had shown improvement, despite what Connor might think.
A shout from the main mast drew all of their attention. Laila turned with the others, looking up past the patched sails to the man hanging, apparently, from the top of the mast, looking out. Laila turned toward Captain Drachus as he approached the rear deck, responding to the shout.
"What is it, Captain?" asked Laila.
"Land. Looks like we've reached the Isles." The captain did not seem pleased by the prospect.
"Is that not our goal?" Laila continued.
"It is. But, well... Now we've got the Straits."
"The what?"
"The Dead Straits. Your friend the Aurai's heading takes us directly through them."
"Did you not know that already?"
"I did not." The captain answered her growing frustration with his own. "I had hoped that we would reach our destination once we reached the Isles, but it would appear that that is not the case. I hesitate to even attempt the Straits."
"Why?"
"No one's ever made it through," the captain said flatly.
Laila's eyes widened. "What?"
"There's a reason they're called the Dead Straits. Ships have come to the Splintered Isles before. Like I told you, the Edonin live there. They’re a tribal people. Control the northern island. They have a few cities across, the most prominent being Tregaron, to the north. They're a little touchy, but they produce some unique goods. But, the Straits are another story. Even the Edonin don't go near them."
"That would have been good to know, Captain!" Laila snapped.
"Don't go yelling at me. You should have had your friend explain it to you."
"Oh, I will!" Laila stormed off the deck, swinging around at the bottom of the stairs and stomping her way into the cabins. Her heavy footsteps echoed off the wooden hallway as she marched toward Wyndam's room. She raised her hand to knock, but her anger got the best of her and she turned the knob and pushed against the door. It did not move.
"No! This is not going to happen," Laila's frustration continued to grow. She called on her power through her staff. Strength infused her arms and she slammed her shoulder against the door. Splinters launched themselves off the door handle and lock and the door swung violently inward. Wyndam turned, a slight widening of his eyes his only recognition of Laila's anger.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she nearly shouted.
"Tell you what?" It was the first thing he had said to her in almost a week.
"The Dead Straits. I was under the impression that we were going to the Splintered Isles. Now the captain says your heading takes us through the Dead Straits, something that we can't get through!"
"Ah," Wyndam turned from Laila and looked back out his small window. "Then we have arrived."
"Yes, we've arrived. What are we going to do now?" Laila's anger began to subside slightly as confusion set in.
"Do not worry, Magusari. I can get us through the Straits." The willowy voice was devoid of any emotion.
Laila tried to hang onto her anger, wishing to direct it at the Aurai. But she felt it slip away slowly, leaving her with an empty feeling. Spinning on her heel, she stomped out of the small cabin and made her way back to main deck. Storm clouds hung on the western horizon, threatening to swallow the ship as it plunged toward them. The storm had only been a small speck a while ago, and now they rose up from the western ocean, ready to devour them like some hungry sea creature. She climbed the stairs to the rear deck and found her companions watching the approaching storm with growing apprehension.
"I'm going to venture a guess that the storm is not going to help our chances in the Straits," Laila said to the captain who was holding his position at the wheel.
He glanced at her before returning his attention to the storm. "The storm? That's not a storm, Magus, that's the Straits. It's always like that..."
"Always..." Laila watched the growing storm. "Why?"
The captain shrugged. "Nobody
knows."
The group stood together, watching silently. The storm grew. Smaller bunches of clouds began to drift over the deck, some dropping spurts of rain down on the crew as they prepared. Laila suddenly found herself regretting her decision. She had no other choice, but she desperately wished she did not have to put so many others at risk. But perhaps Wyndam was right. Maybe he could get them through the Straits. Perhaps her concern was for nothing.
She watched her friends. Connor stood next to Dio, and both had looks of surprise and fear on their faces as they watched the approaching storm. Dio's face had changed to a subtle shade of green, and Laila could see him struggling to keep his stomach under control. Her mother stood behind them, rocking back and forth with the increasing movement of the ship, her face a stoic image, prepared. Icarus stood next to her, his own face not as assured; he likely felt the uncertainty of the ocean and water more poignantly as Laila did, bereft of their connection to Earth.
"Tighten those sheets!" Captain Drachus shouted.
The captain's shout broke Laila out of her reverie. She saw Wyndam climb the stairs onto the rear deck. His lithe figure moved awkwardly on the rolling ship, but he made his way toward the captain regardless.
"Hold your heading, Captain." The Aurai's willowy voice seemed to cut through the growing wind without needing to shout.
Captain Drachus glanced at the elemental but did not change the ship's direction. "I am, man. But it's taking us right into the Straits. I don't know how much longer I can hold it."
"Hold through the Straits. I will assist." Wyndam's voice still held no emotion, despite the increasing rage of the water and wind around the ship.
The captain did not look confident, but he continued to hold the ship's course.
The Aurai placed his hands together, palms touching, in front of his chest, and closed his eyes. Laila felt a surge of power emanate from the elemental. It was more powerful than anything she had felt from him before. Even when she had freed the winds, she had only seen the power being used through his connection to it; she had never seen him utilize strength like this before. Magic and air seemed to swirl around his tall figure. Laila braced herself against the deck, gripping her staff tightly.
Wind encircled the Aurai, whipping his clothes around. His face was calm in the growing vortex, but the magic that raged around him was not. Laila knew the others could see the air gathering around the Aurai even if they could not see the power incorporated within it.
"Brace yourselves!" the captain's powerful voice roared. A wave broke underneath the Via, bringing the bow of the ship up and then dropping them suddenly. Sea water sprayed across the bow of the boat and the skies took that as their cue to open. Rain washed over the deck, immediately dousing everyone. Laila could glimpse slivers of land now, north and south of them, but her attention was quickly drawn back to the crashing waters in front of them. The ship lurched and rolled. The crew scattered across the deck, holding onto heavy ropes that had been set out to assist them in moving from one part of the ship to the other. At least the captain had prepared as much as he could, Laila thought.
"If you're going to help, Aurai, now would be a good time!" the captain shouted.
Laila could still feel the magic gathering around Wyndam. Air spun like a cyclone tightly around the tall elemental. His eyes were still closed and his hands were still held together in front of his chest. With a slow, deliberate motion, Wyndam pushed his hands out toward the sails and the Straits. The Air surrounding him moved outward, catching the patched sails, replacing the erratic winds of the storm. The ship still rolled, but the Air from Wyndam helped straighten their course. The captain did not seem to be fighting for control to the same degree. The rain still poured down on them, and beneath the sails the winds of the storm still raged, but the ship's course was not affected.
"Hold on!" Captain Drachus shouted again.
Another wave rose up in front of the ship. Laila and her companions rushed to the railing, bracing themselves. The ship tore through the wave, water washing across the deck, but they continued to hold their course. Whatever Wyndam was doing was working.
They continued through the Straits like this for hours. Time almost felt like it ceased to exist. The companions held on as the ship lurched its way through the chaos of the Straits, rain beat down on them, and wind tore at their clothes, but the ship did not change its course, moving through the torrent as Wyndam stood unmoving on the rear deck. Magic continued to course through him. As time wore on, Laila could see the elemental weakening. The flows of Air began to diminish, and the ship started to lose its focused course. Laila clambered her way over to the Aurai.
"Show me how!" she shouted over the storm. "I can help!"
Wyndam shook his head. "I can maintain."
"You're losing your hold."
He shook his head. His magic faltered again, and the ship shifted to one side violently. The sound of splintering wood tore through the sound of the storm. The captain's attention shifted to the right side of the ship.
"Rocks! We need to get clear or they'll tear us up!"
Laila felt the Air from Wyndam shift again, pushing the sails in a southern direction, away from the rocks. As he did, the elemental dropped to a knee, the effort taking its toll.
"Wyndam!" Laila shouted. "Show me how!"
The Aurai was no longer aware of the world around him. His eyes stared forward, and Air continued to flow from him. The ship seemed to jump to one side in the waves, knocking Laila off her feet. She slid across the deck, trying to gain a hold on the slick wood. She slammed into the opposite railing. Breath exploded from her lungs, and her vision blurred. Instinctively she pulled at her own magic, strengthening her. Gasping for breath, she pulled herself to her knees and felt a strong arm wrap around her waist. Connor lifted her from the deck, holding her waist with one arm and the railing with the other.
"We're going to capsize at this rate," he said, leaning in toward her ear to make sure she heard him.
"No!" she said defiantly. "I can help!"
With her own power flowing through her, she could see the magic from Wyndam more clearly. The flows that pushed against the sails continued to falter, coming in bursts and gusts. She reached out with her mind, tapping into the power that Wyndam was using, trying to reinforce it. With a violent surge, the wind caught the sails, pushing the ship deeper into the Straits. There was a loud cracking sound from the rigging and Laila watched in horror as a span of the main mast snapped, falling toward the deck and pulling several of the main sails down with it.
"Bloody hell!" she could hear Captain Drachus shout.
The crew scattered as the rigging crashed onto the deck. The ship pitched again, tossing everyone across the deck. Laila lost her hold on the magic, and the ship tossed them about violently.
There had to be something Laila could do. She called on her power through the staff. They were trying to reach the Sacred Waters, and she could command Water on some level. She had done it once before in Balon. She tried to reach out with her mind to the ocean. She could feel her own power and Wyndam's lurching attempts to control the winds, but there was nothing that she recognized as water. She did not know what she was looking for, really. The ship jerked again, causing her to lose her focus.
Connor held onto her, keeping her from sliding across the deck. She reached out and grabbed the railing to steady herself, reaching out once again, forcing her mind to reach through the rage of the storm. At the very limits of her awareness, she thought she could feel something. A sensation at the core of both the storm and the raging oceans. But it was far too distant, and she could not be certain that it was not just her imagination.
Suddenly, Wyndam collapsed, and the flows of Air holding the ship on a steady course died. At the mercy of the storm winds, the ship began to buck harder than it had before. The crew was desperately holding onto the railings and ropes. She saw Dio and Cadi clinging to one of the main lines on the center mast. The captain held on to the wheel, hi
s knuckles white with the effort, the veins in his neck bulging under the pressure. Laila had to do something.
She reached out with her power. Searching desperately, no longer for the connection to Water, but for anything. She found it in Connor. She had felt it before. That strange sense of power emanating from him and apparent to her through his arm around her waist. This time she dove into it with her mind, pulling at it with her own power. There was a surge of confidence, similar to when she called on Earth, and Connor's arms lit with the same blue light as the Sword. Laila felt the sheer ferocity of will encompassed by the Sword. Icarus had said that Connor's power was an expression of will, a more fundamental power than Laila's elemental magic, but this was incredible. She felt like she could do anything.
Connor's eyes were wide as the blue light burned along his arms. It twisted and moved toward Laila. She felt it gather, first around her waist and then move to her staff, the focus of her own power. Buffered by this new strength, she stood from her kneeling position, careful to pull Connor with her. She feared that if she lost her physical connection she would lose her hold on his power.
Forcing her will through the blue light, she reached out to the raging waters. She focused on the ocean itself as opposed to forcing their way through it. Laila tried to assuage the crashing waves and violent currents surrounding the ship. She could feel the power course through her from Connor. The ship's movements began to calm. The wind still roared around them, but the waters began to calm, moving the ship away from immediate danger.
Laila continued to push her power into the ocean’s waves, calming them. She exulted in the power. It was pure will. The blue light flowed from Connor, to her, and then toward the ocean. She reached deeper, searching for the source of the violence of the Straits.
There was something there, deep below the Straits. Laila tried to reach it with her newfound power.
A backlash of power surged toward her. The blow was so strong it hit Laila like a physical attack, knocking her off her feet. Her connection with Connor broke and the blue light died out instantly. A loud crack sounded beneath her from the ship. Laila reeled from the backlash. Something had attacked her, deliberately. Pain tore through her head. She felt hands at her temples and a distant sound slowly came to her awareness. Other hands touched the hands on her temples, and she realized that she was holding her own head and that the sound was her own voice, screaming.
Heart of the Ocean Page 21
