4. Bryn
Bryn
The boat carved through the monstrous waves of the North Atlantic as if magic were fueling its passage and turning it into a spear.
I let the rocking motion lull me into some much-needed sleep and rest. For two days, I kept to my hiding spot without issue—creating orbs of water for myself to drink and wash with and using the abandoned buckets for my own refuse.
It wasn’t until the morning of the third day that my boredom and slumber was disturbed. Pain spasmed down the left side of my neck and into my shoulder as the thundering of feet sounded from the deck above.
“Haul him in!”
“Cut off his tongue!”
What in the ancestors’ names was going on? And why was it happening so early in the morning? Was it even morning? I really needed to move around a bit more, but my hiding spot was the safest place for me.
I stretched out, sharp twinges rippling down my neck and spine as I righted myself in my hiding space and peered through the cracks between the wood. Sailors bustled around on deck, more climbing aboard and heaving something—no, someone—over the side and onto the ship.
A lump of a man landed with a thud on the planks, blood smeared across his battered face.
I couldn’t see if his ears were pointed.
Was he fae or human, and if the former, which of the four factions did he belong to?
Forest seemed unlikely. They kept to the forests and fields where they tended to and protected flora and fauna.
He might be a Fjell Fae, especially with such pale skin.
The fae of the fjell didn’t see much sunlight considering they resided inside the mountains.
Or perhaps the poor fellow was Fire Fae?
I shook my head at the thought. The Fire Fae kept to themselves and their volcanoes in the isles of the north. If I had to guess, he was probably human or Fjell Fae.
Firm footfalls sounded and the crowd quieted.
“What have we here?” a familiar voice rumbled. My toes curled of their own accord at the venom lacing every word.
“We caught him trying to flee,” the fae closest to the bloody man said. “Stole from the ship, Captain.”
“Stealing, was he?” Henrik stepped closer to the now trapped man, each footstep an omen of violence.
Ah shite.
“Does anyone know the price for stealing from my ship?”
Men and women snickered, and my stomach flip-flopped. What did they do to thieves? I’d heard rumors. Was it the same as stowaways? In particular, stowaways who had thieved from a captain whose trousers had been left on the floor at an inn a year ago?
Henrik swirled his sword and slowly dropped the mirage over his ears, revealing the pointed tips. The man’s eyes went wide and wider still when he noticed the tendrils of water wrapping around Henrik’s forearm and dancing down his blade. Ah, my fellow thief was definitely human.
“Wh-what are y-you?”
“I’m the nightmare that roams this ocean.”
A shiver ran down my back. In that moment he really did look like death cloaked by the waves, and not the man I’d slept with a year ago.
“The better question”—Henrik squatted down before the man, tilted his head to one side, and brought the tip of his blade to the man’s throat—“is who are you?”
The man swallowed hard. “No one.”
“So, no one is stealing from my ship?”
The crew laughed before growing silent again.
“Sverre!” Henrik yelled, not moving from his spot.
A broad-shouldered man with a heavy gait, a thick silver brooch fastening his cape, and a cutlass strapped to his hip stepped up beside the menacing captain. “Yes, sir?”
“What was this creature stealing from me and my crew?”
“Gold from the barrels in the hold.”
They have gold in the hold? I like gold. And they were all distracted right now. I could slip out— No, I needed to focus, or I’d end up at the end of Henrik’s sword. The one that currently looked very sharp and like it might sever my precious, precious hands if caught.
Henrik rose to his feet and stepped back. “Tie him up.”
The crew moved like an orchestrated wave, their actions practiced and precise.
One second the man was on the deck, the next he was being tied to the mast with thick, wet ropes.
Sverre shoved his hand into the thief’s pocket and pulled out a handful of pretty gold coins.
My heart beat faster at the sum of money in his palm. Did they have more?
Sverre checked again.
Oh, yes, the second pocket had been full too.
Sverre handed off the gold to another sailor who scurried away.
No doubt to put it back in the cargo hold that I now desperately wanted to visit.
That amount of gold could buy me meals for a year, all the bread I wanted, and ale for the friends I didn’t keep.
The latter was best kept that way. People rarely brought me joy.
And if they did, it was usually because I had my hand in their pocket.
“Tighter,” Sverre commanded, drawing my attention back to the mast.
“Yes, First Mate!”
“Aye, sir!”
Water droplets sprayed off the ropes as they tightened around the man who was coming to the realization that his life would end on this ship.
Henrik watched on like a king of the ocean, like the third person in line to the Fjord Fae throne—which he was.
He may not have liked his father, King Balder.
In fact, he’d told me last year to never bring up his father’s name.
But there was no doubt that this fae, with his thick black hair and eyes as dark and deep as the ocean around us, was as powerful as all the other royal fae that roamed this earth.
Capable of things us regular fae could barely consider.
Then there were the rumors that preceded him…
One corner of Henrik’s lips kicked up, and the hairs on my arms rose as he bellowed, “Take us below!”
Oh no.
The crew moved as one again and the ship trembled.
So, the rumors were true. Henrik was powerful. Monstrously powerful. Strong enough to place an air pocket around his entire crew and…
The whole vessel began to dive beneath the surface.
Water seeped up around my feet and I quickly pulled on the magic swirling within me and created an air pocket around my body.
It would help me breathe through whatever watery grave he was taking this ship down to.
Everything touching the ship stayed in place, a thin layer of magic wrapping around it to protect it from the ocean.
The only thing not spared was the man on the mast. Poor bastard.
He wasn’t going to last long. Especially as a human. I’d give it a minute at most, but with the amount of bruising on his face and the angle of his nose, it might not even be thirty seconds. If only I had one of my pretty pocket watches to mark the time.
Water rose and rose and rose, sliding over my chin and above my nose as the ship listed forward.
The water sloshed over my head, dulling the sounds of the creaking ship.
Thank the ancestors I was a Fjord Fae and could withstand the pressures that came with being in deep waters, especially considering the depths of the North Atlantic.
Fjords were deep, but the ocean had pitch-black trenches that looked like maws of beasts, ready to swallow anything and everything that dared come too close.
That would be exactly where someone like Henrik would take the people who had wronged him.
A whimpering noise drew my attention back to the deck. The man on the mast’s cheeks were filled with air, his eyes as wide as silver plates as water gripped him around the throat.
Henrik watched over the man like the falcon on the bow of his ship, that sly grin ready to rip the thief to shreds.
He raised his hand and a bubble of air appeared between his fingers.
With a flick of his wrist, the delicate orb floated through the water and landed against the man’s lips.
He sucked in a breath and shuddered before the bubble burst.
Henrik was going to drown the man. Slowly.
It was vicious.
Gloriously vicious.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
Just as the man teetered on the edge of giving in and opening his mouth to the ocean, Henrik created another bubble and floated it slightly out of reach. The man’s eyes begged and pleaded for mercy—for another gasp, another breath. Henrik’s lips quirked to one side.
“May your gods deem you as unworthy as our ancestors would for your foolish actions,” Henrik said then snapped his fingers.
The bubble burst, and the man screamed, letting the cold water into his lungs.
What a vicious bastard. No wonder I’d been drawn to Henrik when our paths first crossed last year. I’d always had a thing for the more brutal ones. I just didn’t stick around or form attachments.
Something pulsed against my chest, and a ripple of energy coursed away from the ship.
What on earth? I yanked the chain around my neck and pulled out the necklace I’d stolen from the frost giant.
The pendant glowed a pale blue color and gently pulsed before stopping, my hiding spot darkening once more.
I swallowed hard. That couldn’t be good.
Footsteps sounded from the deck. “Did anyone feel that?”
“Feel what, Captain?”
“There was a… never mind.”
Tapping the middle of the pendant, where a bunch of runes had been engraved, I poked to see if it would do whatever that was again.
Nothing happened. But that still wasn’t good.
None of the rumors had mentioned it glowing like this.
How? Why? And why now? Annoyingly, I didn’t have the answer to any of the questions that swirled through my mind.
Oh, well. All the more reason to get south and off this ship as quickly as possible.
Ancestors knew if Henrik found me and this amulet, he’d rip it from my neck and then slice my hands off for taking what had belonged to him.