Chapter Twenty Six
EINAR
Sea water sloshed against the Rosenvatten, churning in agitated bubbles and white caps resembling frenzies. The ship moved quickly, as if Pedr barked orders and glowered at the wheel, but Pedr lay inert in his cabin, painfully pale and still.
Einar stood near the wheel, appreciating the view, the sky, the restless clouds. He thought of Agnes, hair flapping in the wind, her freckled smile charming him.
Shite.
He ached for her.
A groaning noise drew his gaze higher, and Einar glanced into the sails. The boom moaned, angled too far leeward. It strained as he reached for a rope, wrapping his hand around the closest one. A faint illumination zipped from his fingers and into the masts.
Einar froze.
Had that been . . . the arcane?
Himmel’s inquiring voice was equally shocking.
Einar?
He held his breath, stunned. That rare streak of light must have been a chance. A fluke. Einar had no connection to nor command over the arcane. He couldn’t wrench his eyes off the rope. Himmel, too, seemed poised on the edge of a thought.
“Himmel?” he whispered. “Did I just use the arcane?”
I saw the arcane respond to you, yes, she said slowly.
“You saw it?”
I saw it. I’ve never seen a human conjure those lights, she said with unusual stability, as if she strove to keep an even edge. The words settled into his chest like heavy rocks.
“Never?”
Do you feel anything else?
“No.”
Nothing strange?
“No.”
Did Pedr gift the Rosenvatten to you?
His thoughts elongated while he reimagined those harried moments in the cave. Pedr shoved him into the dirty passages and shouted commands after him, but none gifted him the ship.
“In a way? He told me the Rosenvatten was mine if he didn’t return.”
He hasn’t returned. At least, not in the same way. This unexpected use of the arcane follows. Or perhaps Draven has set it up to be so.
“Perhaps.”
Einar cataloged all these things to consider. More elements of the bigger picture to piece together, but nothing to concern himself with yet. If the Rosenvatten responded to his command, it would be enough. The details might answer themselves later.
Her clipped tone hinted at irritation.
I’ll be in touch. In the past few hours, my winds have narrowed down a general location for my Hall, but nothing exact. Draven has been updated. There is more exploration at the mainland for me to focus on while you travel.
Einar closed his lips, recognizing when it was time to be done, but her presence was gone before he could say another word.
At the same moment, Mila and Draven approached.
Mila folded her arms over her chest, staring over the proximate sea.
Daylight waned, throwing watery colors into the lapping troughs.
The ocean rippled and shimmered, devoured by the Rosenvatten’s hungry bow.
In any other vessel, such haste would have terrified Einar, but the Rosenvatten made her way with ease.
“I can command the currents to move as quickly as Pedr,” Draven said as he strode up next to Einar, Mila watching from the corner of her eyes, “but my specific skills in the sea are limited. There’s not much more I can offer besides haste in the water.”
Einar inquired, “Wyvern Kings aren’t restricted based on the geography?”
“Only by experience and familiarity. We have more power than Arcanists, so we can recognize and use the arcane found throughout Elestra. Arcanists must remain in their domain.”
“I see.”
“It’s an odd system, I think.” Draven chuckled to himself, and his voice gained wistfulness. “But oh, how lovely to be on the sea again.”
“After a thousand years below ground? I can’t imagine.”
“Yes, yes. All worth it. The point I sought to make is that, over time, I could get to know the sea arcane, but I am not currently well acquainted with it yet. For the sake of brevity, I can command the Rosenvatten, but I cannot command more than a current beneath us. Does that make sense?”
“I understand, and thank you for the assistance.”
Draven tilted an eyebrow. “Thank you, Einar,” he drawled with a knowing smile. “You are very gracious with your gratitude. In my experience, human men as competent as you don’t display humility all that often.”
Einar didn’t know what to say. Draven spared him the discomfort of figuring it out by turning to Mila. “Before Pedr’s descent into unconsciousness, he confirmed my suspicion about Amalia’s curse: his soul will obliterate at the end of seven days, so we must move quickly.”
“What do you suggest we do?” she asked.
He cut a glance to Einar, raised a brow in silent question.
“I’m willing,” Einar said quickly. Realizing he hadn’t left space for a question, he backtracked. “I mean . . . for anything. Whatever you need. I’m willing to fight against Onskar.”
“I can smell the eagerness on you.”
Mila faced Draven, arms falling to her sides. “Whatever saving Pedr requires, I’ll do it. I’ll command arcane against Onskar, if I must.” With a flare of heat in her cheeks, she added, “If I can. My history with the arcane hasn’t been promising.”
Warmth permeated Draven’s voice. “Onskar has had many centuries to hold the arcane and perfect his relationship with it, Mila. I’m hopeful that you have just begun to access yours since we met. Don’t harbor concern. I am here to help.”
Einar elevated a brow. “How old are you, Mila?”
“I’m not sure. We don’t keep track.”
Draven confirmed with a nod.
“I still eat, drink and sleep a few hours every week,” Mila added, her fingers drumming along her upper arms, “which means I haven’t reached full maturity. Eventually I won’t require sleep or sustenance at all.” To Draven, she said, “Currently, I only sleep two hours twice a week.”
“You are close.”
Einar hid a disbelieving laugh. They spoke as if age didn’t matter.
As if centuries of life, and still being inexperienced, wouldn’t negate the life of every human on Elestra.
How fleeting, this existence. The space in which humans rose, learned, fell, and faded.
Knowing this near-immortal side of Mila, Einar could barely maintain her stare.
Trust Pedr to fall for the one arcane being supposedly able to overthrow Onskar.
Draven gestured ahead, beyond the bow shattering the sea like glass. “I have directed the Rosenvatten north, toward Himmel’s Hall. We don’t know exactly where it lay, but I trust her to discover it soon.”
Which made little sense, but Einar waited for a greater explanation. Deeper grooves formed in Draven’s brow, and the uncomfortable realization that they relied solely on Draven for direction overcame Einar. Having all his information sources come from one being had never been a desirable position.
“Onskar protects his Halls in many different ways,” Draven continued, “but none more than his favorite: the Hall of the Sea. Though he is the Arcanist of Souls, he has an uncanny attachment to the ocean. That Hall is almost impossible to find. All of the Halls have doorways leading into passages that connect the Halls to his dwelling. Arcane-loaded, all of them.”
“How do you know . . . ” Einar asked, grumbling an additional, “if you aren’t allowed inside?”
Draven gave a small smile. “I’ve lived many more centuries than the ten I spent underground, Einar.”
He left it there by motioning to Mila with a nod.
“Mila, if you are able to enter one Hall, you can enter any of them.
Because of your similar arcane status with Onskar, I believe it will not be a problem.
The Hall of the Sky is a better place for you to test it, which brings me to my next point: the plan.
“You will enter the Hall of the Sky, attempt to locate Himmel’s Seat—this will help us to later find Pedr’s—and search for the doorway. On the other side of that doorway, you should find hallways. Once you find it, you will enter those hallways and seek the Hall of the Sea.”
Mila blinked once, twice.
“It’s rather risky, isn’t it?”
Draven paused here, head tilting. “Yes, it will be rather dangerous to enter Onskar’s arcane hallways, but much faster than searching for the Hall of the Sea in the ocean. He guards it too jealously. So jealously, in fact, that none of the current Arcanists even knew.”
His voice had a breathy quality, as if he still hadn’t reconciled this new fact.
The idea of preparation and information-gathering made Einar salivate, but the rest of this mission lay nebulous and out of reach. Enter Onskar’s hidden hallways with no idea what lay on the other side? A fool’s errand.
He’d do it.
He asked, “Will Onskar know we’re in the Hall of the Sky?”
Draven sucked his cheeks in, pondering. “If you tread carefully, and I mean that quite literally and metaphorically, I don’t think so.
It’s very likely that Onskar has additional domiciles or Halls of his own.
Too many Halls, hallways, and souls for even Onskar to coordinate at a distance.
By his report, he connects to all the souls within the jars near him. To do so from a distance . . .”
He trailed off, concluding again, “I don’t think so,” over the flapping sails.
“I’ll do it,” Mila said.
Einar agreed with a punctuated nod.
New wind whirled around them while Einar absorbed Draven’s idea, but Einar didn’t sense Himmel in the breeze. Then he startled himself with the realization that he could sense her in the breeze when she was present.
He shook his head, but it didn’t clear his thoughts.
He set them on the right track instead: Onskar.
The Arcanist of Soul’s arcane abilities lay outside Einar’s comprehension in a frustrating way.
He couldn’t fully appreciate and anticipate an enemy he didn’t understand, which ratcheted this mission from dangerously stupid to near diabolically stupid.
“With that out of the way . . .”
With a tap of Draven’s foot, light shot from his toes, across the deck, up the mast, curled into the ropes, and spread upward like a spraying firework. The sails loosened, billowing with newfound life granted by the heady winds.
On, the Rosenvatten sailed.