Chapter 12
12
N YX STAYED CLOSE to Shiya in case the woman needed her voice. For the moment, the assault upon the ship had ebbed—though the threat remained. She felt those dark energies probing and gliding over Shiya’s glowing shield, focusing there.
Nyx stared out into the windstorm.
Perhaps the wielders have grown wary by what confounds them.
With the attack concentrating on Shiya, more of the ship’s crew woke from the bridling slumber. Shouts and orders echoed all around her, both across the wheelhouse and through the highhorn to the rest of the ship.
Nyx kept one hand on Shiya’s arm, using her bronze form as an anchor in the storm. The Sparrowhawk continued to tremble and rock, forging a hard path through the howling winds. Nyx stared past the windows, searching for the source of the bridle-song. Though the onslaught had waned, she sensed the dark strength out there, like thunderclouds stacked across the horizon.
And we’re heading right toward it.
After shaking off the slumber, Darant had fought the Sparrowhawk high enough to clear the mountain range beyond the wide valley. By now, they had crossed most of the breadth of the Dragoncryst. Only a few jagged teeth of the range still cut across their path.
Graylin stuck to the brigand’s shoulder. “Perhaps we should heed Nyx and turn aside from whatever’s out there. Try another approach. Circle south or north.”
For once, Nyx agreed with the knight.
Darant was not so easily swayed. “Our starboard hull’s gutted. We’re taking in cold winds faster than our coals can warm. I need to find a place to land and get that hole patched quick or we’ll freeze to death. For now, we’ve got a bit of tailwind, and I need every scrap of help the gods can give me.”
Fenn reported from his navigation station, bent over his farscope. “Dense ice fog ahead, just past the mountains, filling the skies. Probably churned up by the mix of warm and cold winds.”
Nyx squinted at the view. Stars glinted high over the last of the peaks, but near the horizon, a wall of mist washed away their twinkling shine. It looked like the cold fog rose higher than the Sparrowhawk could climb. Trepidation pebbled the flesh of her arms.
We mustn’t go in there.
She opened her mouth to voice this aloud when the wheelhouse door slammed open behind them. Cold blew into the room, accompanied by the muffled roaring of winds from the back of the ship. Hyck and Brayl hurried inside, bundled in fur coats. The grizzled engineer’s lips were nearly blue. Darant’s daughter shouldered the door shut, then turned with a scowl that looked frozen in place.
“Definitely not repairing that gaping rent from the air,” Hyck reported. “The damage ripped out a whole cabin, along with a big corner of the kitchen, taking with it one of our stoves.”
Brayl stalked forward, shaking ice from her dark braided locks. Her face was as grim as her report. “We can’t account for two of the crew. Griss and Pyle. Quartermaster Vikas reported the two were headed for the kitchen to warm their bollocks after a spell out on deck.”
She let them all picture what must have happened. If the two men had succumbed near that stove, they would have been unable to save themselves when the hull was breached.
Darant glared over at Graylin, as if daring him to ask again about turning aside.
Graylin simply crossed his arms, not taking up that challenge.
Nyx let go of Shiya and stepped closer to the two men. “Whatever attacked us, it’s sheltering in that ice fog.”
“Are you certain?” Graylin asked.
Nyx cast out her senses, tuned to the energies of bridle-song. “It… it feels like a black corruption snaking through those dark mists.”
All eyes turned to the spread of windows. During the brief exchange, the Sparrowhawk had crested over the westernmost row of peaks. The last of the rocky crags vanished under their keel. The storm winds quickly abated, winnowing down to a few gusts. The swyftship settled into a smooth sail.
Ahead, the mists erased the world. The fogbank rose to the stars and spread unbroken to the north and south.
“We musn’t go in there,” Nyx insisted.
“No choice, lass,” Darant said. “I need a place to land. And soon. We can only hope the fog keeps us hidden long enough to find a spot.” He leaned his mouth to the highhorn. “All crew. In a quarter-bell, we glide silent. Even a whisper after that, and I’ll have your tongue.”
Nyx gave the pirate a worried look, which he noted but ignored.
Graylin shifted closer. He glanced at Shiya, then back to her. “Do you have any inkling what’s out there—or when they’ll renew their attack?”
She shook her head. Shiya kept the blaze of bridle-song around the wheelhouse. It frazzled along the walls, as if the ship were already burning in a golden fire. It wasn’t until this moment that she realized the assault upon the ship had stopped. All had gone quiet, as if the enemy had decided to match Darant’s strategy.
“They’ve ceased their attack,” Nyx whispered. “At least for now.”
“Maybe they retreated,” Darant offered hopefully. “Decided we’re too much for them.”
“No,” she assured him. “They’re biding their time.”
“Until what?” Graylin asked.
“Until this.”
The Sparrowhawk slipped into the mist’s edge. The world vanished around them. As it did, the last of the winds died, too. Even the gusts ripping through the hull breach grew muffled. A dismaying silence settled over the ship.
Darant didn’t have to remind the crew.
Everyone knew the truth.
Nyx reminded them in a whisper, “They’re out there.”