Chapter 8 #2
Finally, the narrow passage broadens, the cliffs lining the channel curl apart as they drop off toward sea level.
The sea calms and the ship settles back into a steady flow, gliding through the gentle rise and fall of tamer waters.
A cheer goes up among the crew, and the tension in my body washes away as a surge of energy flows through me.
The triumph in the air is so tangible I can’t help but break into a smile.
“Are you okay?” I ask Nyssa, giving her wrist a gentle squeeze.
“I feel like Notos chewed me up and spat me out.”
“So, the usual, then?”
Her eyes narrow on my smirk, and she plants her hands on her hips like she’s about to give me a lecture.
The wet hair plastered across her forehead and the gray tinge to her russet skin diminish the effect.
“I’m going to go lie down before I add last night’s dinner to the seawater drenching your clothes.
” She turns with her nose in the air, wobbling down the steps and back belowdecks.
Nikolas chuckles as we watch her go, much more relaxed than he was moments ago. “Not one for the sea, is she?”
“Apparently, the waterways of the Sorrows differ vastly from the ocean.”
The rush fades from my body, and a chill trembles up my spine as normal sensation returns. I rub my hands up and down my arms, trying to achieve some semblance of warmth. It doesn’t help much, considering I look like I’ve taken a bath fully clothed.
Before my eyes, the water drains from the fabric, pooling at my feet before snaking along the deck and over the side of the ship.
I watch, slack-jawed, before turning to the captain, now bone-dry and baffled.
“How…”
He inclines his head toward the deck beneath my feet, and the grin he flashes at me is downright devious.
My eyes lower, and it’s only then I spot the small goiteía marks etched into the wooden planks of the vessel.
A few familiar markings stand out. The one for water, three rows of jagged wave lines, and the mark to drain, a chevron with a single line bisecting the middle, are the most common.
Another is also repeated: two parallel lines crossing a wavy line. The mark for strength.
“Why didn’t you carve any to control the ship?
” I ask while my mind tallies the various markings around the deck.
There’s easily a hundred of them notched into the boards beneath my feet, the railings, the masts, and even the stern itself.
The realization of how much magic the ship holds makes me wince.
It must have taken years off the life of the carver, assuming they were all done by the same person.
If they’re even still breathing at all.
“Now, what would be the fun of that?”
I’m struck speechless, torn between frustration and amusement.
Nikolas booms a laugh, and I hear the chuckles echoing around the deck, drawing my gaze to the rest of the crew, who throw us surreptitious glances. I narrow my eyes back at them.
“Tell me, Starling, did you feel the fear of the unknown? The rush of excitement flooding your body? The thrill of triumph?”
I push my annoyance aside and think over his words for a moment—not that I need to. If I’m honest with myself, I felt all those things and more. There’s no denying it, so I nod in response.
“Exactly. Magic is a wonderful thing—a gift from the gods. But feeling is also magical. If we used goiteía for everything, nothing would be worth living for.”
“A captain and a wise man,” I chuckle, shaking my head. “Who would have thought?”
Nikolas flashes his dazzling grin again, and this time I return it.
“Obviously you won’t see it from here, but Vilea is on the other side of those mountains.” He nods behind me, and I turn.
Under the golden rays of sunlight seeping through the white veil, the mountains have an ethereal quality, light shimmering off thick white veins running through their rocky sides.
My mind wanders from the jagged mounts to the unyielding edges of my future. The trials in Vilea loom just as high, their weight heavy and unrelenting. Will I have what it takes to overcome them?
And then there is the weapon—the mere idea of it feels as elusive as catching shadows in my hands.
How are the others expected to steal something when they don’t even know what they’re looking for?
Only the most skilled and formidable Nightwings and Songbirds from the Aviary qualify for Alpha Flight.
But skill and strength aren’t always enough.
Their former Flight Commander’s death is proof of that, and his absence hangs over them like a cloud that no amount of wind could chase away.
“That’s the Rithean Range?” I ask.
“It is.” Nikolas gives me an appraising look. “Have you traveled to Eretria before?”
“Only through books.”
“Ah, so you’re a scholar, then?”
“No,” I reply with a scoff, suppressing a laugh. Did he think I was an Owl? “Just a dreamer, I suppose.”
“Now, that makes more sense.”
Since the waters have calmed, I loosen my death grip on the railing and angle my face toward him. “What makes you say that?”
“You can always tell when a person has adventure in their blood and dreams in their soul,” the captain says, the glimmer of respect in his eyes bringing a small blush to my cheeks.
“They’re the ones who stand at the helm when the oceans are rough.
Even if there’s no promise of making it through the storm. ”
A crooked smile curves my lips as I turn forward, preparing myself for what lies ahead.
Steeling myself for the storm to come.