The Penelope II sliced through black-green waters, heading north toward Jandanvar. I sat at the bow of the ship, perched on top of a wooden barrel, and stared at the place where the sea met the sky. The air was as cold and bright as diamonds, but I was bundled up tight and Frida had already set several heat-spheres to glowing around the ship.
“Are you waiting for Foxfollow?”
I jumped at the voice. Even after the last few weeks at sea, I still wasn’t used to how dull and human it sounded. Isolfr walked up beside me and leaned against the railing, looking awkward in his bland human skin. I still didn’t know exactly what he was, but I’d seen him as he was supposed to look, shining like silver moonlight.
“No,” I said, and I knew I was lying.
“Did you feel something?” Isolfr frowned and leaned close to me. Right now he was disguised as Pjetur, a human boy. Frida and my captain, Kolur, had no idea he was anything but Pjetur.
I shook my head. “I just like watching the waters. It’s dull out here, without any fishing to do.” I drew myself down deeper into my coat. Isolfr turned and looked out at the water.
“This is the longest I’ve been on a boat,” he said. “Fifteen days.”
Fifteen days. I’d given up counting off the days a while ago. It just made me anxious, thinking on where we were going. All the way up north to Isolfr’s home, Jandanvar, to stop a creature of the Mists from marrying a queen of our world.
“Me too,” I said.
He laughed. “But you’re a fisherman’s apprentice!”
“I mean fifteen days at once.” I shook my head. “I’ve certainly been on a boat for more than fifteen days total.”
Isolfr and I stood side by side in silence. I was aware of Kolur and Frida tending to the actual sailing behind us—Kolur at the wheel, Frida calling down winds to drive us to the north. It was a Jolali ship anyway, not something I was familiar with, although when you get down to it a ship’s just a ship, really.
“If you sense anything,” Isolfr said, “you should tell me.”
“I know that.” I sighed and glanced over at him. “Don’t you have some chores to do or something?”
Isolfr shook his head. “Sailing’s a fairly ineffective method of travel.”
“Compared to what?”
Isolfr’s eyes glittered, and for a second I saw a flash of him as he truly was, beautiful and ethereal and far from human. But then he went back to being boring old Pjetur and didn’t answer me.
“Flying?” I said.
“Don’t say that too loud,” he hissed.
I laughed. “They’re not paying any attention. You know that better than anyone.”
Isolfr glared at me. I just laughed again.
“Oh, come off it,” I said. “I know that spell’s still working.”
“I don’t like risking it.”
“Hey!” I shouted, my voice fluttering out on the wind. “Pjetur’s really some magical wind creature and he—”
Isolfr launched at me and put his hand over my mouth and we tumbled over the barrel, landing in a tangle on the deck.
“What the hell are you two doing?” Kolur shouted. “Is there a problem?”
“No problem!” I called out, laughing. Isolfr perched on the balls of his feet. He wasn’t glaring anymore, and in fact I could see he was trying not to smile. Kolur hadn’t heard a word I’d said. Neither had Frida. Isolfr had made sure of that, through a spell so subtle I couldn’t even feel it. He didn’t want them knowing who he was. Not for any dishonest reason; mostly, it was because he was scared of them.
“See?” I said. “Didn’t hear me.”
“Maybe you two could find something more worthwhile to do with your time,” Kolur said.
“There’s nothing!” I counted off on my fingers the meager chores Isolfr and I shared. “We’ve got fish to last the next few days, and we’ve cleaned the decks and down below, and the sails are all in good repair. What more do you want?”
“It’s not dinner time, either,” Isolfr said, “or else we could start cooking.”
“The storeroom could use some cleaning,” Frida said. “I’ve noticed some water on the floors down there. Don’t want anything to mildew.”
I sighed in frustration. Cleaning out the storeroom. Wonderful. Back on board the Penelope I’d never had to do anything so unpleasant. Of course, we’d never been out at sea for longer than a couple of days, either. But that’s because the Penelope had been for fishing and nothing else.
“I think that’s a fine idea,” Kolur said. “Both of you. Get down there.”
Isolfr said, “Aye, captain,” and hopped up straight and proper. I rolled my eyes.
“You could learn something from him,” Kolur said.
“Not as much as I should,” I muttered. Kolur didn’t hear me, although Isolfr shot me an irritated look. Which was fair—he’d gotten a lot better about keeping me informed since we’d left Tulja.
Isolfr and I climbed down below. The corridors twisted around onto themselves, turning into weird labyrinthine knots that I found unnerving. It was the Jolali way, but I was a Kjoran girl and we didn’t go in for that sort of trickery in our boats. Supposedly, it was meant to befuddle pirates.
I followed Isolfr though the dank, narrow corridors. Our footsteps echoed and rebounded off the walls.
“So,” Isolfr called out, “do you remember what to watch for?”
“I wasn’t looking for him. I told you, I was just looking at the water.”
“I know. I’m asking just to be sure.”
The corridor ended abruptly. The doorway leading into the storeroom was small, and you had to crouch down and crawl through to get inside. But at least the storeroom was spacious compared to the corridors. I crawled in after Isolfr and leaned up against the wall. Barrels half-full of drinking water and hard biscuits were lashed to the floor so they wouldn’t slide around, and a cask of salt dangled from the ceiling, swinging in time with the boat. A single magic-cast lantern shone a dull green light over everything.
“It doesn’t seem that damp down here,” I said.
“They were trying to get rid of us.” Isolfr hopped up on one of the barrels and swung his feet, heels knocking against the barrel’s side. The boat lifted up a little, wood creaking, and seawater sloshed out of the corner, slapping at my boots.
“Oh,” Isolfr said. “I see what Frida means.”
“It’s not that much.” The boat righted itself and the water slid back to its hiding place in the corner. I climbed onto my own barrel and watched the salt cask swinging back and forth. “A wind spell ought to clean it up.”
“You can do the honors,” Isolfr said.
I looked over at him. In magic-cast light he always looked more like himself. The light filled his skin with a faint luminescence that you don’t see in humans.
“You sure you don’t want to?”
He didn’t answer. I knew he wouldn’t. I’d never actually seen him do magic, although I’d felt it—or rather, felt him, when he was riding around on the north wind. But that was only ever in dire emergencies. Which the threat of mildew was not.
“I’ll get magic out of you yet,” I said.
He glanced at me and smiled a little. I called down the wind.
It was tricky to do, being down below like that, but Isolfr being there made it easier. It was as if the wind wanted to be close to him. A southern breeze came whistling down through the ceiling in a faint, humid trickle—southern because I have an affinity with the south wind. It was just enough for me to draw the magic out of it. That magic was warm, balmy, the way magic from the southern winds always is. I drew it up into a knot and then spread it out over the storeroom. The air sparkled. The water sloshing in the corners turned to steam that drifted up among those sparkles and disappeared.
“Nice job,” Isolfr said when everything finished.
“No thanks to you,” I said, although his compliment did make my cheeks warm.
Now that the storeroom was dry
, I used the last bit of magic to cast an anti-dampness spell, a simple one that would wear off after a few days. Once all that was done, I hopped back on my barrel and crossed my legs. The boat rocked and creaked.
“And we’re back to where we started,” I said. “I hope we get to Jandanvar soon.” I didn’t mean that. Lord Foxfollow waited for us in Jandanvar. He was the creature of the Mists Isolfr had been tasked to stop from entering permanently into our world. As one of the spirits of the winds, it was his role to protect this world from dangers; a sacred oath taken by all the spirits in his family. And because Foxfollow threatened the north, Isolfr had been chosen. He was the north wind. He was the north’s totem.
I had agreed to help not two weeks ago, leaving behind the home I’d created for myself in Tulja, and the friends I’d made there, Finnur and Asbera. Sometimes I regretted it. But mostly I knew it was something I needed to do. I had to be like my namesake, like Ananna of the Tanarau.
Isolfr looked down at his hands. “You never answered my question,” he said.
“What? What question?” I laughed, a nervous titter. “And it’s not like you ever answer my questions, so I figure that makes us about even.”
Isolfr shook his head. “About what to look out for. You remember, don’t you?”
I sighed. “You’re worse than Kolur, I swear.” He’d been nagging me about the warning signs too, ever since we made sail. “Mist on the water,” I said. “Monsters like the ones we sent away—”
Isolfr opened his mouth to speak but I held up one hand. “And I know they won’t necessarily look like those monsters! Sea and sky. But I know how the magic changes when they’re close by and that’s all that matters.”
Isolfr snapped his mouth shut and kept watching me.
“People with gray eyes,” I said. “Warships like the one—”
“Not just warships,” he said. “It could be any kind of ship. But you won’t see the crew up in the sails.”
“Right, I know.” I slumped back against the wall and wrapped my arms around myself. “Really, that’s the worst thing about not having anything to do. The fact that I have to sit around thinking all the time.”
I could feel Isolfr staring at me because it made my skin prickle all over. That was another way I knew he wasn’t human. Because even his gaze felt like magic.
“I know what you mean,” he said.
It was reassuring, hearing him say that.
“What do you think we’re going to find there?” I asked. “When we get to Jandanvar?”
He didn’t answer right away, and it didn’t matter because we’d had this conversation before. We both knew we were going to find Lord Foxfollow. He was a murderer and a tyrant, and if he married the Queen of Jandanvar, then he would have a foothold of power in our world. And that was no good; Ananna and her lover, Naji, had already sent him back to the Mists twice before. Now it was my turn to face him, to live up to her name. Which meant fighting. It meant being brave when I didn’t remotely feel it.
That was what we were going to find in Jandanvar.
Isolfr looked over at me, his eyes the blue of glaciers.
“I don’t know,” he said.
He was lying. But it was an easier answer, and I didn’t mind.
• • •
Two nights later, I woke to the sound of whispering.
I sat straight up, throwing my gaze around the darkness, seeing nothing but shadows. “Light!” I cried, and the magic-cast lantern flickered on. My cabin was empty, although the light slid across the walls, rippling over the Jolali carvings of unfamiliar gods and making them seem alive.
The whispering started again, as soft as the sea. It seemed to be saying my name, Hanna Hanna Hanna, over and over.
“Isolfr?” I said, tossing the blankets and furs aside. I crawled off my cot. “Sea and sky, why didn’t you just come down?”
The whispering swelled—gusted really, just like the wind. “Isolfr!” I said again. Louder.
DANGER, the voice said.
I went cold all over. Silence came back into the cabin. The shadows kept moving over the walls. Something was wrong. Isolfr never came to me on the wind anymore.
I pulled on my coat and boots and then, after a second’s thought, grabbed the narrow knife I used for cleaning fish. It still glittered with scales but it was better than facing the Mists empty-handed.
I edged my cabin door opened and stepped out into the corridor. The boat was silent save for the usual creaks and moans of life on the sea. I didn’t hear any disturbance up on deck—no screams or footfalls. My heart pounded and I wanted to slink back into my cabin and bar the door and cower in the corner.
But that wasn’t an option anymore.
I crept through the corridor, one hand on the wall to steady myself, calling for light as I moved past the lanterns. Up ahead, a square of moonlight illuminated the stairs leading up to the hatchway. It was open.
We never left it open.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, whispered to myself that I had to be brave if I wanted to get home. Then I lunged forward and clambered up the ladder, my knife clutched tight in one hand, my palm slippery with sweat.
Cold wind blasted me as soon I stuck my head through the hatch. Northern wind. My chest tightened. The deck looked empty, although I could feel Frida’s magic winding its way through the sails. I recognized the texture of her sailing charm—and her protection charm.
I heaved myself up. The wind sang its low, mournful song, and for a moment I thought I heard Isolfr’s voice, rising and falling like a melody. Then I realized I did hear his voice, only not in the wind, but on it—his voice came drifting in from the bow of the ship. He was talking with Kolur.
I tightened my grip on my knife and moved forward. I spotted them on the other side of the masts, huddling close together with Frida. All three stared at some dim moonlit spot on the horizon.
“What’s going on?” I said.
They turned toward me as one. Their faces were pale and frightened, but that might have just been the eerie nighttime darkness.
“What are you doing up here?” Kolur asked.
I glanced at Isolfr. He looked the most frightened of all of them.
“I heard something,” I said. “Voices. I thought—I thought the worst.”
Kolur sighed. “And you came up here? There’s a thin line between bravery and stupidity, girl.”
I glared at him. “You don’t seem to be in any trouble.”
“I saw something,” Frida said. Her voice cut like the wind. “Or I thought I did.”
I shivered and looked out at the black water. Waves crested in our wake, their white caps the same color as the moon. I remembered Lord Foxfollow’s monsters, how they shimmered on the air, blending in with their surroundings. But I didn’t see anything.
“We’re going to have to strengthen our protection charms,” Kolur said. “I’m not taking any chances.”
The rest of us stayed quiet, a silent acceptance of what he’d said. I nodded and pulled my coat tighter.
Then Frida spoke.
“You know I’ve exhausted most of my power,” she said in a low voice. Isolfr and I both looked at her. She tilted her head toward Kolur, and she didn’t look back at us. “You know we’ll need something stronger—”
“The Svastin,” Kolur said abruptly.
Frida stared at him, unspeaking. I’d never heard of the Svastin. It was Jandanvari magic, most like, something they had learned in their time there studying at the Undim Citadels.
But then I noticed Isolfr. He had gone pale, almost white, and his eyes were wide and fearful. He gaped in horror at Kolur, although Kolur didn’t notice.
“What?” I asked Isolfr in a low voice. “What is it?”
He shook his head. “This is bad.”
Frida and Kolur paid no mind to our conversation. Probably because of Isolfr’s spell. I didn’t know what that implied about this new protection spell, this Svastin.
I shivered.
Up here on deck my little cleaning knife seemed small and ineffectual in the face of that vast dark ocean, and I felt stupid for even bringing it with me. If there had been Mists monsters, my knife wouldn’t have stopped them. I knew that. I’d seen what the monsters could do.
“Go back to sleep,” Kolur told me. “The both of you.” He jerked his head at Isolfr. “Frida and I’ll keep watch.”
“Are you going to cast the Svastin?” I asked. “What is it, exactly?”
Kolur’s face darkened. “We’re using it for protection. But no, we won’t be casting it tonight. We’ll need a day to prepare.” A pause. “It’s not the sort of thing you should watch anyway.”
“What? Why not?” I glanced at Isolfr. He still looked pale and frightened. “I thought I was supposed to be practicing my magic.”
“Go to bed, girl!”
I glared at him. So here we were. Back to keeping secrets, just as he’d done when we sailed north from Skalir instead of south back home to Kjora, the way he’d pretended.
I stalked back over to the hatch. Isolfr tagged along beside me. Once we’d climbed down the ladder and were safely out of earshot—not that it mattered—I asked, “So I take it you’re not a fan of the Svastin.”
He stopped walking. The boat rocked around us. “No,” he said, his voice rough and serious. “And you shouldn’t be either. It’s dangerous magic.”
“You think everything’s dangerous,” I said, even though he was serious enough that his concern frightened me. “At least it’ll protect us from the Mists.”
“At the very least,” he muttered, before continuing on his way down the corridor, leaving me alone in the dark. With questions.
• • •
The next morning, Kolur set me and Isolfr up on deck. Isolfr got the wheel and I was in charge of controlling the winds.
“You’re going to sail us,” he said, “while Frida and I get the preparations done.”
Something about the way he said “preparations” made my heart skip a beat. And Isolfr looked as if he might throw up.
“If you don’t mind me saying, sir—” he started, but Kolur interrupted.
“I do,” he said. “I’m aware of the dangers, but we don’t got much of a choice.”
Magic of Wind and Mist Page 26
