Chapter 33
I can’t explain the sensations as your bones lengthen and crack, as your hands shrivel and twist, as the hairs on your arms become feathers.
The pain of the change was worse than any chimeric, and this was only one arm.
I didn’t know what to expect once I began to shrink, as my bones began to hollow, or as my organs began to split, join, and change.
Thanavar said that was weeks away, but still, I can’t say how long I lay on my bunk, staring at what used to be my arm and the dark, iridescent plumage that had replaced it.
I had chosen to be a swift, like Worley’s birds. I don’t know why. There was something about the small, dark, fast creatures that appealed to me. They could fly forever, even sleep in the skies, and only made land to clutch. I could lose myself to that mirror. Happily.
Maybe I’d fly with a hawk.
During those days, I took care of Worley’s birds, sketched almost every member of this remarkable crew, and cherished the bits of my remaining skin untouched by rune and scar.
Thanavar taught me every night, and I found myself hungry for his company. We were runechasers both, desperate to share the magik that gave us life.
I hadn’t made the offer yet, even though thoughts of him were wylde in my dreams, and I knew I was heading into dangerous waters.
I wanted so much more from him now, not just chimeric and teaching, but his hands and his mouth and his body.
But my mother was wrong. Bedding your captain was a foolish plan, and I risked losing it all if I made the offer.
He was such a man of plans and pattern, of mystery and secrets, and I couldn’t even be certain he’d accept.
And if he did, would he hate himself afterward?
Would he hate me? We were still on the Touchstone, the ship he loved and who loved him back.
They were notorious. They were legend. How could I ever hope to compete?
I am not an easy man to catch.
Forge, what was I thinking?
I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I barely heard the pips.
As the wing shrank back to skin and bone and runescars, I listened hard for bell or drum.
We had been running all day now, still in the Silence but clipping because of the Dreadcurrent.
At this point, on both sides of the equatorus, the oceans raced toward the Dreadwall, creating wind and knots aplenty.
The pips sounded again, so I tucked the journal away next to the little wooden doll and swung out of my bunk.
“Rations at Dog Four,” said Nanarobbin as I passed.
“Wouldn’t miss it for all the jewels in Braithe, Nan,” I said.
He bent back to chopping, but I’m certain he smiled.
The sky was a sickly green as night began to fall, rushing like hurricane clouds and streaking above us in a heavy haze. Off the forecastle, there was a white line on the horizon, and I swallowed the tightening of my throat. This was it.
The Dreadwall.
The wind was strong, the waves high, and the captain waited until we were all assembled on the pitching deck. Even the ironmages were summoned, and none dared speak.
I don’t think any of us could even look at one another, faced as we were with this unimaginable next threat.
Ships didn’t survive the Dreadwall. They were shattered, shredded, shorn to pieces, carried across the Silence, and scattered in the Sheets.
So, we stood, waiting for him to take his place on the pup and tell us just how long we had to live.
But he didn’t take his place on the pup.
Instead, he crossed the quarterdeck and stood beside Smoke at the helm.
His sea-dark hair whipped in the wind, and behind him, the mizzen sails drummed like a mirror.
Damn if that didn’t make my heart race, both terrified and exhilarated at the same time.
He was as much a part of this ship as the canvas or the masts, as powerful as the ocean and just as deep.
Forge, I wanted him.
There were three wheels at the helm now. The Touchstone’s two, and stacked next to her, perfectly aligned, the Andomiehr’s. Sunswheels were becoming the rule in the Navy, but I’d never seen three wheels fashioned together like this.
Thanavar placed a hand on the wheels and swept his eyes across us all.
“You are the finest crew a captain could hope for,” he began. “Strong, skilled, noble, and sure. There is no more I could have wanted. There is no more I could ever need. You have served your captain with loyalty, your king with integrity, and your helm with pride. But more than that…”
The rush of the waves, the rumble of the sail.
“More than that, you have served this ship with honor. And the Touchstone is a remarkable ship.”
We all stood a little taller under his words.
“The Ship of Spells is no ordinary commission,” he said.
“We are not out to guard some fishing fleet, protect an Emperial port, or even beat the enemy back to the Dreadwall. No, our commission was to prevent a war, and while there have been raids and battles, we have for the most part succeeded. Over the years, we have sacrificed everything in that regard.”
Beside me, Buck nodded. He had lost a leg, and still he nodded.
“We are heading toward the Dreadwall, the single most devastating force in our world. She spins sunshine and casts storms; she breathes the wind and rains chimeric. And she destroys ships the way you or I would swat a fly. The last time we faced her, we were in a gap, but we saw what happened to the Meradah Thenn. This time, we have no protection of a gap, channel, or breach. The Dreadwall herself is our destination, our final obstacle before the Cloudgate, and we must overcome her, else we perish. Is that understood?”
Nods all around, none of them eager.
“And so, these next few hours will be very strange, for I will ask of you things that are impossible to achieve. But you must achieve them, when and as I ask. For what we are about to do is, at best, impossible, and at worst, suicide.”
I tried not to look at the horizon.
“For we are about to harness the Dreadcurrent.”
There was silence.
“We will need the highest measure of seamanship and the deepest plumb of magik. All your skills will be essential, and a slip or misstep from any one of you could mean the difference between life and death, between shattering our bird against a wall of iron and soaring, because, it is my aim, my aim, to make the Touchstone fly.”
I felt my breath catch in my throat. Fly? Could he? Would we?
“Once we hit, we will be cutting at right angles to the sea, transecting the Dreadwall and sailing beneath her breadth. We will make our very own channel to the Cloudgate, so I will need all hands ready as follows. Mr. Broom, all guns are to be securely positioned on the port side for ballast. Mr. Oakum, we will be at sharp sails and close-hauled at first, but once we hit the Dreadwall, full sail and broad reach, yet trimmed so that the updraft will cause no drag. Mr. Kobe, thank you for the addition of the moonswheel. No ship in Oversea has a helm this fine.”
Kobe beamed with pride.
“However, we will also need keels and rudders reinforced, for they shall take sound beatings, and we need them to perform in ways they were never meant. Mr. Buck, all hands at the capstans and hawseholes, for we shall loose anchor while making the leap to keep us as close to the waterline as possible.”
I understood all of what he said, and yet none of it. It was madness.
“The ironmages will surround this ship in magik as they did in the storm, for even if we survive, we will be flung higher into the skies with every breath. On board, our crew will walk perpendicular to the sea, and therefore, we will slide. They will prevent that, making it so that we walk on even footing without question, creating not only the illusion of level but the magik to make it so. Doctor, you will forgo any patients, injuries, or remediations that might demand your attention and remain at my side to spin my thoughts, as the roar of the Dreadwall is exceeding loud.”
His eyes fell upon me. I gave myself to them willingly.
“And finally, Ensign Renn, you will give all of your chimeric to the Touchstone by way of the mainmast. We have three chests in the hold and one in my cabin. She will need every ounce of the raw chimeric, and your own, to survive this course. If needed, you will let her bleed you dry.”
Bleed me dry.
Bleed me dry.
There was no competition. I didn’t have a hope.
She was the Touchstone, born from the RuneTree.
Goddess Lindurithain, worshipped by his people, lover of his soul.
Mythic, mystic, dreaded, and free. She knew his secrets.
She held his heart. I was just a wretched woman, caught up in his currents, eager to dive, willing to drown.
But he was hers. He had always been hers. I was only the channel between them.
My chest felt as hollow as a bird’s. It was my own damned fault.
And by Forge, it was fine. So very fine.
I was fine.
I took a deep shuddering breath, however, knowing I was not.
He turned his face to the horizon.
“We have perhaps five bells before we reach the threshold. Assemble your crews and make whatever preparations you need make. Say whatever prayers you need said. But when the bell sounds again, we will play our hand and trust in our gods, our fates, and our ship. For then, we shall surely fly.”
The twitch of a lip. I knew him by now. It was as much a smile as anything.
“And once we reach the Cloudgate, we will drink all the rum.”
The crew cheered at that, but I held my tongue. My heart was heavy, my hope run dry. There was no salvation for me on the Cloudgate, no treatment, no cure. I was the map and the power, nothing more, and damn it all if it didn’t hurt worse than any cut I’d ever known.
He nodded then, once and swiftly, and the crew rushed to their assigned tasks. Dev and Echo stayed at his side, so I hung back, waiting to see what I should do next. To my surprise, Thanavar’s knees buckled. They caught him, as if expecting to, and took him by the arms toward the hatch.
I glanced over at Smoke. He tried to smile, but his brows gave it away.
Damnations.
Let her go, Dev had said, and by all that is holy, let yourself go as well.
And my hollow bird chest cracked wide open.
It wasn’t just the ship that was dying…and we had five hours to change that.
I took a deep breath and followed them down.
The door slid, and Echo peered out.
“Ensign, this is not a good time.”
“Let her in,” came Dev’s voice, and the faun stepped aside.
“Only briefly,” said Echo. “He has strict instructions for me to wake him within the hour.”
I nodded, stepping into the cabin.
“I’ll be back soon.” And Echo sent a look my way before sliding the door shut behind him.
The cabin was dark, save for one candle, flickering and dripping wax on the desk. Under the transom windows, the winter hawk slept, beak tucked beneath his wing, his breaths coming shallow and fast. Dev sat next to him, one hand stroking the great bird’s neck.
I sat, folded my gloved hands in my lap. I couldn’t speak. The words stuck to the roof of my mouth. I forced them out.
“I have questions.”
“You have the worst timing—”
I crossed my arms. “I’m not the same person I was when I came aboard,” I said. “And it’s not just the chimeric. I see things I’ve never seen. I remember things I’ve never lived…”
Be wary. Be wise.
I caught myself, took a deep breath.
“I feel things I’ve never felt, and I need to know if these feelings are mine or if they belong to her and her alone.”
Beloved.
“You’re in dangerous waters,” he said. He wasn’t talking about the ship.
“Bells, Dev, if I’m to let her ‘bleed me dry,’ I should at least know who I’m bleeding for.”
The first mate glanced at the hawk and let out a long breath.
“Fair. He owes you that,” he grunted. “But don’t wake him just to ask. He’s exhausted. Maybe just start with talking, like you did with me when I was shot.”
“You heard?”
“Every word,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “For bringing you back that way with Shroud magik. I didn’t know my mother was going to do that, but I think I would have done it anyway, Shroud or no Shroud.”
“We’re all broken a little bit,” he said. “And we put ourselves together best we can.”
He shrugged.
“So now, some of my stitches are shadow. Maybe they’ll make me scary one day, but at least they’re mine.”
“You are your own,” I said as soft as a breeze.
“And so is he.” He rose to his feet. “If he can’t give you what you want…”
“I’ll be fine, Dev. I just need to know.”
He nodded and jerked a thumb in the direction of Thanavar’s berth.
“I’ll be in here, swinging in the best bed on the ship that never gets used because…”
“Bird.”
He grinned wearily.
“Because bird.”
He slid the door closed, and I looked down at the hawk, Dreadmage, last Priestlord of the Cloudgate, and kel’yion to a future king.
The hawk stirred.