by Giles Carwyn
Then it turned and looked at Shara.
“Issefyn?” she gasped.
Arefaine stood high in the crow’s nest, watching the carnage all around her. Below, on deck, Carriers of the Opal Fire stood mute, awaiting the destruction that slowly came their way.
So far, all her Ohohhim troops had been held back in reserve. Her allies were facing the full brunt of the attack. She watched the colorfully dressed Summermen fight in the distance, saw the Silver Islanders use some kind of fire arrows on them. Great, colorful explosions of raw ani sparkled across every deck.
It made no sense for the Islanders to use weapons imbued with ani. It went against every barbaric thing they stood for. She cautiously reached out with her magic. Of course she couldn’t find any of the Islanders, but she noticed something odd about the first Summerman her mind touched. It was disturbing. His life light was very low, like he was somehow less than a person. A songbird had more fire in its center than the strange westerner, and yet he fought with the same utter fearlessness as the Silver Islanders. She tried to find out what was wrong with them, but he suddenly disappeared and she cried out, flinching away from a light that burned her mind’s eye.
“Father,” she whispered, wishing he could explain what was happening, but she hadn’t seen him since the fighting started. She still longed to be in the middle of the battle, dealing out death to the merciless barbarians who had killed her family, but her father had beseeched her to stay here. He’d assured her that his spirit could not die, and his powers would be enough to defeat the enemy.
She let out an impatient breath. The longer she stayed here, the fewer reasons she found for sitting this out. The Silver Islanders fought like maniacs with their strange and deadly weapons. They had done much more damage than Arefaine would have thought possible, and still they came. The savages had given everything to this mad rush, caring nothing for their own lives. Their rage was almost spent, and they would never be able to regroup. The tide was about to turn.
Her hands gripped the edge of the crow’s nest, searching through the swirling smoke and colorful explosions. She noticed a single Islander ship skirting around the battle to the east. It had nearly flanked the entire fleet and was turning toward her. A pair of Ohohhim ships were maneuvering to intercept, but the wind was against them and it didn’t look like they would make it in time.
Arefaine watched the enemy ship, and a smile spread across her face. No more waiting.
She sent her magic out to grab hold of the man at the helm, but found nothing. Just like that damned Silver Islander in Ohndarien, he was invisible to her magical sight. Less than a wisp of air, less than a ghost.
Stories from the past flooded her. This was how they’d destroyed her home. Screaming savages, killing the innocent. Flames all around. Destruction. Houses pulled down with mothers and children inside. Blood on the cobblestones.
Her Carriers shouted something to her, but Arefaine couldn’t hear them. Her ears rang, obscuring the shouting, the crashing, the crackling flames. If she could not attack the men, she could still sink that ship. Her emmeria could tear apart the wooden planking just as she had destroyed the bridge back in Ohohhim.
Arefaine pointed and let loose all of her hate. A thin flood of black emmeria shot across the distance, but it dissipated along the way. It rippled, warped, losing most of its potency before touching the prow of the warship. Arefaine needed more power. Slipping a hand inside the satchel around her neck, she touched one of the containment stones. A gush of rage and howling voices flowed through her. She allowed it to spiral through her body, collecting in her chest before she thrust it at the tip of the warship.
In her magical sight, the black emmeria spun through the air like a blind serpent.
Her father suddenly appeared next to her, shouting.
“Arefaine! No! Draw it back!”
“What?”
She reached out frantically, trying to pull the magic back to her, but the emmeria had a mind of its own. It hungered for those living souls on that ship. As soon as it touched the silver ram, it soaked in. Steel bubbled and wood splintered as the ship crumpled in upon itself. The ooze raced along the sides. Silver Islanders ran like madmen, diving overboard.
“No, my child, no,” her father whispered.
Her magic reached the center of the boat, and suddenly exploded. A blinding flash of multicolored light outshone the sun.
Arefaine ducked, hiding her face in her hands. Her knees had barely hit the base of the crow’s nest when the shock wave struck the ship. She heard a sudden crack followed by a deafening boom. The mast snapped and started falling. She was thrown against the rail and tumbled over the edge. She barely had time to suck in a breath and scream in denial before she hit the deck.
Chapter 23
The explosion engulfed the entire horizon, and the Silver Islander ship disappeared in the conflagration. Blinding light of all colors burned into Brophy’s eyes, and he shielded them with his arm.
“Arefaine!” he screamed.
A massive wave spread outward from the blast, engulfing all the ships and bearing them forward like foam in the surf. Brophy dove. He churned hard with his arms, diving deeper, deeper. Something hard and sharp raked across his back, spun him around.
And then the wave caught him, spinning him around and around in its powerful embrace. He rode it, turning, holding the scant breath of air he’d taken before diving. Then the wave was passed, and its wake pushed him forcefully the other way.
Brophy lashed out, his shoulders burning as he forced his cupped hands to move through the angry water. He broke the surface and gasped. Seawater showered down from above as if the entire heavens had opened up with a ferocious storm. He could barely see ten feet in any direction.
But the cascade of seawater from the explosion soon became a light rainfall, then a misty drizzle. Through the haze, Brophy gaped at the devastation. Half the ships in the battle had been destroyed. Some had broken into pieces; others were tossed on their sides and slowly sinking.
Casting about, he finally spotted Arefaine’s ship. It was foundering from the explosion, tipped on its side and caught up in a massive jumble of ships thrust together like driftwood washed up on a shore.
A few Islander ships had been swept back by the blast, but they were regaining their bearings and heading toward Arefaine.
Looking behind him, Brophy searched quickly for Shara, but he couldn’t find her in the chaos. Torn, he looked back at Arefaine’s wounded ship, set upon by all the forces the Silver Islanders could muster. They would get to her, and then they would make the biggest mistake in the history of the world.
Shara’s alive, he thought to himself. She’s a Zelani and she can take care of herself.
He told himself that. Tried to force himself to believe it. He gave a quick glance to Arefaine’s crippled ship, then snapped back and dove into the water, swimming toward the last place he’d seen Shara.
Ossamyr knelt on the deck, coughing up seawater and fighting the ringing in her ears. She’d known what would happen when she saw Arefaine throw the surge of tainted ani toward the ship packed with shards of light emmeria. She’d seen what a few crystals could do and that ship had been holding thousands.
She’d braced herself, grabbing the rail, but she couldn’t believe what actually happened. The explosion had rocked the entire ocean, throwing up a twenty-foot wall of water. All three fleets were scattered or destroyed.
Reef and his crew had been prepared; they turned into the wave, hitting it at full speed. The wave swept over the deck, engulfing the entire ship. She would have been swept away if Reef hadn’t grabbed her arm at the last moment. Her wrist still ached where he had clung to her as her body flapped helpless in the surge like a leaf in the wind.
Their ship cut through the wave intact, but several men were swept overboard. A tangle of ropes and rigging wrapped around the foremast, making her list to one side.
“Are you injured?” Reef shouted at her. His voice
sounded warped and distant as her ears still rang from the sound of the explosion. “Are you hurt?” he shouted again.
“No more…” she gasped. “Than I was…ten minutes ago.”
She looked up in his face; his golden eyes shown like a madman’s.
“Is she dead?” Ossamyr asked.
“Her ship is intact; we have to finish the job.”
“Then go! Go! I’m fine.”
Reef nodded and rushed to his remaining men. “Cut it!” he shouted, running across the deck that was canted steeply to the side. He snatched an axe from the side of the cabin even as two other sailors ran toward the tangle. One of them lost his footing and slid along the slanted deck until he hit the rail with a cry of pain.
Reef and his crew went to work on the tangled ropes with axe, knife, and sword, chopping frantically as water sloshed over them. The ship groaned, and Ossamyr heard cracking noises as the lines snapped free, catching one of the sailors and dragging him overboard, screaming. Reef and the other sailors threw themselves backward as the ship righted itself, rocking back and forth so violently that Ossamyr almost lost her grip on the rail.
Staggering to his feet, Reef lumbered back to Ossamyr, shouting as he went.
“She’s there!” he roared, pointing. “That ship there!” Ossamyr had never seen the man so intense. He was as tight as a bowstring, a permanent snarl on his lips as he gazed unblinkingly at Arefaine’s ship.
Seawater burned the back of Shara’s throat as she climbed up the wet rope. She reached the top and peered over the splash wall. The deck was empty, so she hooked a heel over the edge and hauled herself over, flopping in a heap as she tried to gather her wits.
The ani explosion had been one of the most terrifying things she had ever seen. Her body was still shaking from the flood of raw power. She didn’t know what the Silver Islanders had done, but it had nearly killed them all.
She was concentrating on taking long breaths, trying to slow her heart, when a spine-chilling roar made her limbs freeze.
Spinning around, she peered over the rail. The monstrously corrupted Issefyn she’d seen just before the explosion was crawling out of the water onto the Islander ship next to hers.
“By the Seasons, what have you done?” Shara whispered.
The Islanders charged Issefyn before she could climb aboard. She screamed at them, and Shara flinched, covering her ears. Black ichor flew from Issefyn’s gaping mouth, flecking the Silver Islanders. Some screamed as they exploded. Those who didn’t explode twitched and shouted as if they’d caught fire.
And then they transformed.
Limbs contorted. Skin blackened. Howling, they turned on their uncorrupted comrades. A few of the Silver Islanders jumped into the ocean. The rest fought bravely, pitting their ani weapons against vicious claws and teeth. Small explosions rocked the ship as the corrupted were struck with rainbow crystals.
Issefyn shrieked in horrific triumph, turning her face to the sky.
Shara summoned her magic.
Issefyn spun around. Her glowing red eyes locked on Shara’s. You! A thunderous voice roared through her head, forcing its way into her mind.
Shara focused her ani into a tremendous Lowani shriek and directed it at her friend’s mind. If she could find the woman trapped within the monster—
Issefyn howled and swatted her efforts aside. Not this time, pig butcher’s daughter.
Shara stumbled back under the onslaught, fighting for her life.
Issefyn howled again, swiping her claw and knocking sailors and corrupted into the ocean like toys. She leapt onto Shara’s ship. Her black claws sank into the deck. Shara stumbled up the steps toward the prow, fighting the ferocious pressure on her mind.
I’ve always been more powerful than you, Issefyn’s voice rushed through Shara like a thousand tortured souls.
Shara backpedaled, fear creeping over her heart like frost. How could she defeat this creature? A torrent of black emmeria bubbled through Issefyn’s body, fulfilling her every desire.
Shara vaulted onto the forecastle and grabbed the mast. Wood cracked under her feet and the ship shook.
Shara flicked a glance backward toward the bow. Issefyn rushed forward, swinging at her. Leaping back, Shara sprinted for the bowsprit—
Issefyn’s long hand snaked out, tripping Shara, and she skidded face-first into the railing.
Shara flipped about, scrabbling backward, but Issefyn grabbed her calf, lifted her like a slab of beef, and threw her across the ship.
Shara screamed as she slammed into the maindeck. Her head smacked against the wood and her vision swam.
Issefyn leapt from the forecastle, landing on all fours above her. Shara tried to twist away, but Issefyn pinned her to the deck, knocking the wind from Shara’s lungs. She tried to rally, tried to form her thoughts into a spell that would protect her. She tried one last desperate ploy. She used Jesheks’s magic, Necani, sending as much unbearable, searing pain into Issefyn as she could, driving one terrible spike into the corrupted woman’s mind.
Issefyn’s sepulchral voice laughed in her head as she absorbed the flood of tortured ani, reveling in it. Her distorted features seemed to smile as she loomed over Shara, blurry in her swimming vision.
It’s time you learned what true power is, Issefyn hissed in Shara’s mind. She raised her darkened hand over Shara’s head. Her taloned fingers curled into a fist.
A sudden blinding red light flared behind the monster. Issefyn’s hulking form cut a stark silhouette against the angry crimson. A long blade sliced through the center of her chest.
Black blood sprayed across Shara, gouting onto the deck. Issefyn screamed, sharp and wailing, ending in a wet gurgle. The top half of her body toppled away, crushing the rail to Shara’s right and falling overboard.
A lean man swathed in dingy white cloth stood where Issefyn had been, a powerful ani blade in his hand. The monster’s legs frantically kicked the deck like those of a child having a tantrum. The man kicked them through the hole in the rail into the ocean.
Shara squinted at the figure. Intense red eyes stared at her from beneath his hood. “Jesheks!”
He knelt next to her, put a hand on her forehead.
“Sleep,” he said. His powerful ani flowed into her, crushing her hasty defenses.
Shara slept.
War raged around Jesheks, but he stood in the eye of the storm. The boat upon which he’d found Shara was empty now, and hemmed in by distant sounds of clashing swords, shouting men and women.
He knelt next to Shara where she lay sleeping on the deck.
The fear suffused him again. It had dogged him from the burning of the Floating Palace all the way across the Physendrian deserts to Ohndarien. It followed him across the Great Ocean to this naval battle at the end of the world. The fear had brought him to her.
His heart hammered, reverberating throughout his entire body, but he kept himself still.
The scent of her filled him, her sweat, her fear, the feminine scent that haunted his dreams. He had never cared about such things before. The details of the flesh had always seemed like vile by-products of mortality. But now every nuance and sensation was a treasure.
Her brief, clinging tunic was worn, tattered. He could see her soft flesh beneath, the curve of her breast rising and falling as she slept.
He gently stroked her forehead.
Oh Shara, he thought. How we will dance together, minds, bodies, and ani spiraling into the unknown.
Her eyes fluttered as she tried to surface, tried to escape the magic in which he’d enclosed her. He channeled more strength into his spell, and she slumped.
She was magnificent. Even asleep, she battled. But he was fresh, and she was not. She could not hope to win.
Gathering her into his strong arms, he stood. His body reacted when they touched, and he wanted more than anything to push her down again and spread her legs right here. Right now.
With a gasping breath, he threw his head back and cycled the feel
ing through his body. Such crazy, wild power. He must learn to master it, and then he would unleash it upon her, as she would unleash herself upon him.
He looked down at Shara draped across his muscled arms, her black hair cascading past his ragged wrappings. For the first time he felt right touching her. He had made himself worthy of her beauty as his grace and strength had grown to match her own.
The journey from Ohndarien to Efften had been long and trying, but his transformation was now complete. Jesheks had conquered the secrets of aging long ago. It had been six decades since he’d slain his first master, and Jesheks had never looked his seventy-four years. Time had not touched him, but he had never reveled in his youth. He’d always hated the body he’d been born into and treated it like an enemy, abusing and neglecting it.
But that night with Shara had changed what he saw when he looked in the mirror. He’d found a new vision of himself, a vision worth pursuing, and his mind bent to a new task. Using his magic over the last few weeks, he had sculpted his body into a new form, shrinking his great girth, converting his fat into muscle. He sought the physical exertions he had always avoided before. He must have climbed to the crow’s nest a hundred times a day, paced the perimeter of his ship endlessly during his travels, channeling his ani to accelerate the transformation.
And now he had become the vision Shara had seen in their shared dream. He was the man she desired, in every detail. His long white hair fell across his broad shoulders to his slender waist. His pale skin was stretched tight across his muscled chest and flat stomach. He could be everything she wanted now, a man equal to her in mind, body, and blood.
Shara lay warm and soft against his belly, so light to him now. Her legs dangled limp over one arm, her head over the other. Her long black hair almost touched the ground. He leaned forward and brushed his cheek against hers. That simple touch sent a storm of longing through his chest, and his penis, re-created with his strongest magic and an iron will, pressed against the front of his pants, growing rigid in response to her nearness. He drew a quiet breath, cycling the new sensation through his new body.
