Ship of Spells

Chapter 26 Deep Waters

I remembered the sight of Hodgetown, shattered by cannon fire and burning like a matchbox.

I remembered the screams from the docks and the chaos of fleeing seamen.

I remember the smell of oil from the wharf and gunpowder.

And I remember feeling grateful that I wasn’t in Hodgetown when the attack had come, for a city under siege is a horrible thing.

Cannon fire from three Rhi’Ahr ships struck the city wall, smashing sandstone and raining blocks onto the docks below.

Booths and shanties were shredded as balls tore through them, and wood shards blasted into the air like arrows.

Palm trees cracked and statues toppled, and the entire city was alight with chimeric as it crackled between the buildings.

Her ramparts fired back, dozens of long guns loosing lethal rounds over the water.

I hoped a few hit their marks. There was no way the Touchstone could meet all three.

The setting suns painted the harbor in gold as we ran, fear for our ship giving me strength I didn’t know I still had.

We cast hold shields and protection spells while dodging chunks of stone that smashed all around us.

Down the ramparts now, and I slowed to take stock of the port itself.

With over a hundred guns, the Rhi’Ahr ships pounded the city.

I immediately recognized the Marelethan when, behind her, the Touchstone rippled into view.

She brought her guns to bear on the Marelethan alone, executing a perfect rake and turning the mizzenmast, transom, and rudder to kindling as she swept behind.

And then she was gone, veiled again in the hiding spell of sunsset and chaos.

Other small ships had left their berths, creaking out into the bay to pepper the cruisers, but none were warships.

Even with the Touchstone, they were sorely outgunned.

Thanavar stopped suddenly and whirled on Fahr and me.

“Aro’el, can you direct the chimeric?” he asked. “Not a hold or imbue spell, but can you channel it like a spear?”

“From here?” I barked over the roar of the cannons.

“No!” And he stretched out his arm, pointing to the shore. “Shoot it from there, in the water. Send it to one ship and one ship only. Burn the Forge out of her keel! Can you do that?”

“I can!”

“Go!”

Fahr grabbed my arm, and we raced down the ramparts and onto the rocky shore.

I stuffed my gloves into my sash and ran forward, sloshing to my knees in the water and plunging my arms up to the elbows. And again, just like that first day, the water boomed, and patterns swept out across the waves.

Focus, I told myself. Take out the keel. Burn it like a roasted kipper. Smoke it like a toasted eel.

There was no spell for that. And yet, in Bilgetown, I’d cast a bind/hold/protection spell to keep that floating mess together. The chimeric leaned into wylde magik, and I was as wylde as they came. Besides, I had brought Devanhan Fahr back from the dead. Surely, I could fry a keel.

I closed my eyes and imagined the water.

I imagined I was a shark, swimming through the currents, setting my sights on the darkness of the hull and the blade that was her rudder.

I could see the barnacles that covered her like the pox, their ragged shells and razor plates.

And there, the smooth fin that ran beneath that was her keel.

My hands were throbbing, but no spear was sent, and I realized what I lacked.

“Spin it!” I barked. “Spin the water! Give the chimeric a path!”

He sloshed into the water next to me and began casting tight circles, his fingers sparking with rune. The chimeric shot from my hands, rippling through the deep as though channeled.

It struck the keel, and patterns burned their way across her timber, all glowing embers and oil and spark.

Terrebith Fae was her name. I knew it the moment the chimeric touched her, searing the keel from both sides until they met, turning the timber to ash.

Then, it was gone, chimeric dissipating into the sea and turning the keel to ash along with it.

But even still, her sails billowed, her cannons boomed, and she swept through the waters, defiant and proud.

I dropped to my knees in the salt waves, sighing at what had been a bull of a plan.

But suddenly, her masts jerked hard, her cannons fell silent, and an ominous crack echoed across the bay. My heart leaped as the Terrebith Fae began to roll.

The Touchstone appeared then, smashing holes in her hull with the heavy cannons, the chimeric devouring her from the shot I had laced.

As she tilted, the angry fleet of private ships fell upon her, loosing their batteries and swarming her bulwarks.

I knew that, soon, the entire crew of the Terrebith Fae would feed the fishes of Corvallan Bay.

The Touchstone swept back toward the Marelethan, passing her with a volley from starboard cannons.

The Marelethan was larger and heavier armed, and she had no issue responding with a barrage from two decks at once.

The Touchstone’s gunwale and second deck shattered, and I prayed for the boys to be safely down.

Chase guns next, but the Ship of Spells disappeared from view, and the Rhi’Ahr shots splashed into the waves.

The Marelethan changed tack and banked hard, cutting her losses and sweeping out to sea.

I cast my eyes to the last ship. I could hear the screams of the crew from across the bay as she skewed toward the rocky coast as if unawares. Fahr nudged my arm, and I looked to the pier, where Thanavar and the Court of Sand stood side by side, casting.

I shuddered to think of the illusions they’d sent—clearly strong enough and mad enough to send the Rhi’Ahr ship crashing into the rocks.

And crash she did, shattering bowsprit and prow, forecastle then main as she scuppered herself on the cliffs.

The bay ships made short work of the wrecked cruiser, and they swarmed over her like ants on a carcass.

And just like that, it was over. All that remained was to douse the fires, rebuild the docks, and mourn the dead. I was glad I wouldn’t be here for that.

I looked up at Fahr. He was alive, and I ached at the thought of almost losing him, swelled with pride at bringing him back. He reached down to take my hand and pulled me up from the water. I fell into him, holding him like a lifeline in the Sheets.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” I said. “I’m so, so glad.”

But he pushed me away.

“You shouldn’t have brought me back, Blue,” he said. “It’s all wrong, and nothing will be right ever again. Ever.”

He released me, turned, and sloshed onto the sand, leaving me in the sea, as hollow as a gutted hull.

It was dawn when we weighed anchor in Port Corvallan, and, as Forge rose sleepy in the hazy sky, Thanavar issued the order to veil.

I didn’t know why until Kit spotted the sails of six Navy cruisers approaching the bay.

I literally held my breath as the Templemore and her fleet swept past us, unawares, and I realized then that Thanavar had known exactly what he was doing when he told Worley the wrong days.

He’d lied to the king and not turned me in, and in doing so, he marked us an enemy.

I wasn’t sure even the presence of a prince would keep us safe with six cruisers on our tail.

The wardroom was emptied of officers and made fit for three ironmages from the Court of Sand.

I hated this new arrangement, hated this new bargain, and I hated the Court of Sand.

The thought that Thanavar would trade Lindurithain—something so important to him—was a notion I couldn’t come to grips with.

And Fahr hadn’t spared a word for me since we left port.

We were traveling east, skirting the Sheets once more, following the Marelethan by her chimeric trail in the hopes that she’d lead us to the Cloudgate Channel.

It was possible, however, that she’d also meet up with the Endorathil, so that night, we assembled in the great cabin, poring over maps and discussing strategies about what we’d do if, and when, we met her.

She had beaten us soundly twice. There could not be a third.

The second day, the seas were rough, but I’d resumed my post as chaser.

It was a long day at the waterline, braced against the Touchstone’s rocking hull, one hand in the water, one hand on the line, but I delighted to hear her voice stronger, her phrases longer, and I knew it was because of the Nil’hellyn.

Iron is wicked, iron is sly, Beloved will fall when iron will lie.

I was somehow not surprised that we shared the same view of the ironmages, and it gave me a roguish rush of satisfaction.

At the end of my watch, Echo summoned me to the pit to look at my runescars.

“Hmm,” he said. And again, “Hmm.”

“They’re everywhere,” I said as I pulled the tunic back over my head.

“They are,” he said. “They meet at your shoulder blades and have made a good way past your knees. There are even a few emerging on the small of your back.”

“I need it more often, now,” I said. “It’s like the chimeric fades and my body just needs more.”

“Well, you are being considerably worked.”

“What happens when there’s no new skin to burn?”

“I’m afraid I have no idea,” he said. “I hope they don’t begin to work their way into your organs. I don’t know how that would affect them.”

I swallowed the fear creeping through my chest.

“That’s a horrible way to die,” I muttered.

“Don’t think like that,” he said. “This ship breathes magik, and now, with the ironmages on board, there will be many more options.”

“I won’t ask the ironmages for help.”

“Even if it means your life?” he asked.

“Even so.”

He laid his hand across mine.

“Then I will help you.”

I sighed, looked down at my hands. They were almost independent of me now, powerful and strange. I would give them their freedom if it would grant me my own, but it was too late for that.

Maybe too late for me.

“She decent yet?” barked Smoke from outside the canvas. “A naked chaser ain’t no sight for these poor eyes right now.”

“Remember.” Echo patted my knee. “I’m here.”

“A body’s got to sleep sometime,” the quartermaster muttered as he pushed into the pit. “Foggin’ Court of Shanks taking the wardroom.”

“Smoke has been assigned to bunk with me,” said Echo with the flick of an ear. “Ember forbid a ship’s surgeon get some rest, the way he snores.”

I slid off the table, pulled on my boots.

“So, that’s your mum, then,” said Smoke. He began to string his bunk. “The greenmage healer?”

“Ironmage, now,” I said. “It’s what she always wanted. What she was born for, really.”

“She’s a sweetmeat,” said Smoke. “Clearly, you look like your daddy.”

“She must be a powerful mage if she’s part of the Court of Sand,” said Echo.

“She always was.” I tucked my hair behind my ears. “People feared her for it.”

“Well, perhaps she’s found out where she finally belongs.”

Smoke stretched out in the hammock, kicked off his boots to the floor.

“Why’d you run, then?” he asked. “Did she beat you?”

“No.”

“Lock you in your room? Try to sell you in the market?”

“What? No…”

“Call you names? Wish you dead? Force you to work in a palace because the king thought you were funny? Oh, wait. That was me.”

“Smoke.” Echo tsked.

“She was manipulative and harsh,” I said, but I was surprised at the lack of vehemence in my voice. “And we were chased from town to town because there was nothing she wouldn’t do for magik.”

“Did she heal people?”

“Yes,” I said, again surprised at myself. “She was very good at it.”

“But that frightens people,” said Echo. “Did it frighten you?”

I looked up, but I wasn’t seeing him. I was seeing her, seeing us, setting up the greencellar in each little hutch we lived in.

Following her through the forests to choose the mushrooms and the pickled moss, the hildeberries and the sour grass.

Snapping the necks of hares and slitting the throats of foxes caught in our snares.

Bones pinned to the ceiling, pots on the fire, jars of ooze on the ledge.

She was a woman hungry for magik, eager to learn all there was to learn, regardless of cost. She was a true Archaic, her magik unstructured and wylde.

No wonder I’d sought out the rules and discipline of the Navy.

“You are not her,” said Echo.

“But I’m like her,” I said. “And maybe it’s time to stop running.”

“You see,” said Echo. “The beginning of wisdom.”

And he smiled and held out two green threads.

“Two?”

“One for the surgical assist and one for, well, whatever it was you did to bring our Dev back to life.”

I cursed him under my breath but took them nonetheless.

“They’ll look good woven into your sash next to the gold.”

They would, and I looked up at him, the smile hurting my cheeks.

“Dream sweet,” I said.

“When the moons meet,” said Echo.

Smoke was snoring already.

I tucked the woolen threads into my boot and left the pit, made my way up the stepladder, pausing at the companionway to throw a glance at the captain’s door. Fahr would be there tonight, bunking with a Priestlord, while I did my damnedest to avoid an ironmage.

Yes, perhaps it was time to stop running.

Still, I was happy to find Kit that night, restless and twitchy, asleep in the bunk beneath mine.