Ship of Spells

Chapter 24 Two Days #2

According to Moonforth, it was barely twenty years ago when the Oversea king called for the abolition of the Priestlords because of their unrivaled power and the growing threat they posed to the ruling house.

Emperial forces were sent, and, overnight, the monastery was sacked, its members slaughtered, the island abandoned to the jungle and the Tree.

The last hundred pages were a list of names, a thousand years of members, priests and acolytes alike.

My eyes were too weary, my heart too heavy, and I closed the book, mulling over the inescapable struggle between mages and kings.

As I did, a slip of paper fluttered out.

It was a tiny parchment, like the kind from Worley’s birds, and bore the Admiralty wax, cracked.

Surrender chaser to Admiralty at Pt Corvallan else be branded an enemy and be sunk outright –Sbrx

SB. Stephanus Bonavanczek Reks. The King and Emperor of Oversea. He had ordered us to Port Corvallan.

A bluemage, Navy trained, could turn the tide of the war.

We were going to Port Corvallan.

I leaned back against the wood.

They all wanted me for my chimeric. I knew, deep down, that even Thanavar wanted me for that very reason, but would he turn me in to save his kel’yion? I could understand if he did. It was a good bargain, but if this was indeed a “great game,” I didn’t think Thanavar played by anyone’s rules.

I didn’t want him to trade me, but I knew that I would go.

As I tucked the parchment back into the last page of the book, I glanced at the list of names. Those mages present on the island at the time of the crackdown, who had been slaughtered on account of our king. My heart stopped as I saw the very last name.

The very last name.

Kier Gavriel Thanavar.

They missed one.

Was this simply vengeance, or was this more?

The man I drank with was deep and aching, lost yet fully alive.

He wasn’t some polished spear eager for blood.

He was a man of hope and iron, of plans and will.

But most of all, I’d seen his heart, moored far beneath a stormy sea, inaccessible and locked away, and yet reflecting the moons and the suns and the stars.

No, I was beginning to understand that, while he was desperate to save those he loved, that hidden, secret heart of his was yearning to be found.

I wrapped my arms around my knees. Time to change the alchemy. Time to set my bones. Time to learn what it meant to serve the Ship of Spells, even if it killed me.

Because at some point, someday, something would.

Port Corvallan was the largest city I’d ever seen.

Sandstone walls towered over the bay, and palms grew out of them like moss.

Statues of minotaurs, homani, fauns, and harpiar lined the roads into the city, and on every lookout and at every corner, spear-carrying soldiers stood watch, reminding all that the riches of this city were well and closely guarded.

Echo and I were in the second of two jolly boats with Fahr on a litter between us, while two seamages worked the oars.

The first jolly tied up, and the seamages stepped onto the dock.

Next came the longboat with the captain.

It was hard to think of him as just the captain.

He was the last Priestlord of Lindurithain, listed in a record of the dead, if I’d had any lingering doubt.

No wonder the Court of Sand had tried to recruit him. I wondered why he’d refused.

We were greeted by a huge man with a shaved head, long beard, and one eye in the center of his forehead. A cyclope.

“I am Magister Thraith Kun, Barrister of the Court of Sand,” said the man. His voice was deep and rasping, like the grinding of mountains. “You’ve brought your Letter of Marque?”

Thanavar waved his fingers, and a scroll appeared, floating between them. It unfurled without a touch, and the one-eyed mage read, nodded, and it curled back up on its own. A second wave, and it was gone.

That was serious alchemy. He made it look simple.

“And the prince?” Kun asked.

As the seamages lifted the litter onto the dock, I scanned the horizon for the sight of Navy sail.

There was nothing but private ships in the bay—merchants, traders, and trollers all—no Templemore in sight.

Still, we’d made the port in two days, and I swore Thanavar had told Worley three.

I couldn’t see the Touchstone, either. She was as valuable as a stolen prince or chimeric chaser, and she was veiled like the first day I hadn’t seen her, a lifetime ago.

We left the boats and followed Thraith Kun through the crowds and shanties of the pier.

Soon, we reached a sandstone ramp, and I’m sure we made a somber procession as we plodded along the ramparts of the city walls.

Palms cast much-needed shade, and the breeze was warm and heavy.

As we went higher, the ocean spread out to the south, dotted with ships as far as I could see.

Through the high gates of the city now, we wove through courtyards filled with outdoor stalls, along narrow roads with merchant shops, down alleyways that smelled of goat.

Finally, he led us to a plain, flat, black-stained building in the city square.

With no carvings or statues, it looked as ominous as it did out of place.

We followed him through halls of dark stone and shafts of brilliant sun. He stopped in a courtyard of salt pines and turned.

“Wait,” said Kun. “The Court will assess your application.”

“There is no application,” growled Thanavar. “The Court of Sand owes me, and I am here to collect.”

“Please,” said Echo. “We don’t have time.”

“Time is all we do have,” said Kun. He disappeared into the halls.

“Fall in,” said Thanavar, and he turned to us.

“This is the Court of Sand, and these mages Iron all. They deal in power, illusion, and death. It is not only Mr. Fahr’s life in the balance but all of yours as well.

If you break rank, I will spare them the trouble and kill you myself. Is that understood?”

I glanced at the six seamages who were with us, two carrying the litter and four as escort, and we all stepped in close on the captain’s order.

I couldn’t help but remember Fahr’s words the first time we sparred on deck.

Ironmages can make you imagine a bridge, he had said.

Even if you’re stepping off a cliff, you’ll walk without falling.

You believe the runes are holding you up, and so, they do.

I couldn’t imagine that power.

I’m not sure how long we waited. The yard was hot, the air humid, but the pines were lush and sweet.

I was surprised at the lack of birds, buzzers, or lizards in the grounds.

The seamages laid the litter on the stone floor, and I knelt beside Fahr.

His face was gray, and I reached over to test for a pulse.

I glanced up at Echo when there was a growl from the arches.

“Do not move,” said Thanavar.

Two growls, and I saw a flash of gold from the shadows.

Illusion, said Echo in our heads.

“Tusk cats,” hissed one of the seamages.

“Hold fast, Mr. Hobbs,” said Thanavar. “And rise, Ensign Renn. Slowly and do not flinch.”

Heart in my throat, I rose to my feet as three tusk cats slunk into the courtyard. They were each nearly the size of a bear, with fangs as long as my forearm and claws like those of a great eagle. I couldn’t breathe as they padded toward us, sharks circling a foundering ship.

Next to me, Hobbs’s whimpers turned to wails.

Trust the captain, Mr. Hobbs, said Echo.

“We’re fish in a barrel, Doc,” Hobbs moaned.

“I will not warn you again, Mr. Hobbs,” growled the captain.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t—”

And he bolted.

But he didn’t. Thanavar made a fist, and the man was bound by spell. The cats moved in, heads low, mouths open, shoulders rippling like waves on a sandbar. Hobbs’s face grew redder with each heartbeat, and beads of sweat broke out on his forehead.

Thanavar was killing him.

I felt Echo’s thoughts as clear as Forge, pressing me to silence without even a word.

One of the tusk cats crouched low as if to leap. Hobbs’s face was blue now, and his eyes were red from burst blood vessels. Thanavar twisted his fist, and I heard a crack. With a wave of his hand, he flung the seamage into the cats’ path.

I closed my eyes, belly lurching, as they dragged him off into the shadows.

“They are not real, but they will kill,” said Thanavar, staring straight ahead. “And yet, I am far more lethal than any illusion ever cast. Is that understood?”

Not one word. Echo patted my shoulder.

A wind picked up, causing sand to eddy and swirl across the stone.

I had never seen sandshears before, but the Dawn Watch’s redmage, Firmir, had talked about them once after a drunken spell.

These did not dissipate like she’d recounted; rather, they split into nine, and slowly, surely, they spun toward us.

Honestly, I was no braver than Hobbs, and it was all I could do to steady my heart and still my feet.

Around my legs, it swirled, and I felt a chill sweep up my spine.

There were snakes crawling up my legs. Snakes and scorpions and lugworms and eels, under my clothes now and rippling their way up my thighs.

How could this be illusion? I clenched my eyes tight and tried to think of pleasant things.

Birds, sky, sea, whales, but they became jawfish and hurricanes and shipwrecks and sharks.

Teeth tore my flesh, maggots filled my lungs, and spyders burst from my chest. Blood boiled and bone cracked, and I almost dropped to my knees with the agony of it all.

Able Seamage Fletch screamed beside me, and I didn’t know if the creatures were killing him or if it was the captain.

I called on the chimeric to course through my veins, to burn the creatures away with an Ignateus spell.

Pattern and rune, highlight and shadow, and suddenly, they were gone like smoke, taking my spine and leaving me lesser somehow.

I didn’t want to open my eyes. But I did.

Motion from the cloisters now, as seven figures in red robes glided toward us. Two carried torches, two carried spears, two tongs of burning iron, and one a flail. They spread out before us much like the Bilgetown Twelve, and I breathed deeply to steady my nerve.

“Gavriel Thanavar,” said the one with the flail. “Young Priestlord and Guardian of the Cloudgate. Welcome once again to the Court of Sand.”

“Not many have second audiences with the Court,” said one with a spear.

“The same can be said of a Priestlord,” said Thanavar. “And I am not so young anymore.”

“Do you know what to think, Priestlord?” asked one with a torch.

“Your illusions prey on the innocent,” he said. “And I am no innocent. Your tricks are wasted on me.”

“Step forward, then, apart from your crew.”

He did as they ordered, hands loose at his sides. I saw the crackle of rune sparking at the tips of his fingers. I felt the throbbing of chimeric at mine.

“You killed your own man,” said another, the one with the flail. She began to spin it, and it made a horrible thrumming sound. “You are a murderer.”

“I am,” he said.

“But you couldn’t kill the boy you stole.”

I could see the muscles of his jaw working.

“He’s worth more to me captive and alive,” he said.

“Define worth,” said a torch.

“Ask a philosopher,” he said.

“What has worth?” One with a spear. “The boy or the ship?”

The boy, I knew his answer would be. This, the one thing I knew about him.

“The ship,” he said. “She is worth more than a thousand princes.”

I was stunned. Maybe I didn’t have the bones for this game after all.

“Prove your worth,” said a spear, and before I could shout, she flung it at him. He didn’t flinch, and it flew right through him and through the seamage standing behind him. Without a mark, without a trace, like it wasn’t there. The seamage looked about to faint.

“You are a fool, Priestlord,” said a spear. “Thinking we believe any word that comes from your lips.”

“You love the boy you stole,” said a tong. “And in doing so, you have killed him.”

“Which is why you are here,” said the flail. “You must trade his life with your own. Defend!”

And she spun it savagely in the air, swinging it in a downward arc, slicing him from shoulder to hip.

Except it didn’t. Nothing. Not a trace.

Your illusions fool only the innocent.

One of the torchbearers stepped forward, tip of the stave wrapped and dancing with flame.

“I am here to collect what I am due,” said Thanavar. “You tried me once, and you failed. Be grateful you have a second audience with a Priestlord.”

The torch came close to his face, closer. I swore I could see his skin pucker.

He caught the mage’s wrist, and suddenly, the torch became a dagger, gleaming and sharp. The mage withdrew, and my gut twisted. It was an illusion but lethal still, unlike the spear or the flail. But the cats? The creatures? Were only some and not the others? How would one know?

The captain stepped back now.

“The Court of Sand has a choice,” he said. “The boy, the ship, or me. So, tell me—what do you value, you vile band who barter in loss and stolen dreams? What do you want?”

They flowed together to form a line.

The one with the second iron tong raised it, inclined it in my direction. My blood froze.

“This one,” she said. “We want this one.”

Her voice. There was something about her voice.

Thanavar frowned, glanced over his shoulder at me.

“Because of the chimeric?”

“The chimeric is a blessed bonus,” she said. “But no.”

The intonation, the music, the threat.

Tong woman stepped forward.

“Because of her blood.”

And she pushed back the hood.

This time, I really felt my knees would buckle.

“Mother,” I said.