Merkind’s Wrath
On the dock, snow fluttered about like the white petals of a moth-wing tree. The rising sun was a dull white orb glowing behind a slate-gray sky, and the seas were just as dull. If this late summer morning was as white and cold as winter, Selena wondered, what must deep winter on Isle Nanokar be like?
Then, the sun offers no warmth at all, but merely serves to separate night from day.
Much of the populace came to see them off despite the cold and the early hour. Boris engulfed Selena in his bear-like arms and demanded that they pass through the Ice Isles on their return voyage. Selena smiled with a jaw stiffened with cold and said they’d try.
Captain Tunney declared he was sorry to see them go and Selena was sorry to leave the good man who had shared his island with them. She took her goodbye, embracing him but neglecting to pass any message to him for Byric about the Vai’Ensai translations. She had nothing for Tunney to pass on; she hadn’t asked Ilior about it and decided she never would.
From within the salt-and-wind scented embrace of Tunney, she watched Hilka give Julian a knowing look and a wink, both of which the captain ignored. Selena felt something in her chest tighten, and she quickly looked away from Julian.
Tunney released Selena and clasped Julian’s arm. “Calm seas and fast winds, my friend. And I’ll keep an eye out fer yer scallywags, though don’t know what we’d do iffen we found them, as you’ll be long gone.”
Julian’s gaze flickered to Selena and back. “A good enough reason not to trouble yourself.”
Goodbyes said, they boarded the Black Storm.
Selena, with Niven in tow, followed Julian to the quarterdeck. The captain surveyed his crew hurrying about, preparing for sail.
“Why do you rush?” Selena asked. “What about Cook and Helm?
“What about them?”
Selena stared at him, incredulous. “I’d appeal to your sense of decency but since it appears you’ve misplaced it, I’ll try for pragmatism. How can you sail this ship so short-handed?”
“According to her scribblings, Cat is a sailor,” Julian said, nodding to the flame-haired woman who scaled the main mast with graceful agility. “Seems she wasn’t lying. She claims experience at the helm too, and given that Helm has chosen not to join us, she’ll suit. For now. You insisted she join us, so there you have it. She’ll earn her passage like everyone else.”
“And Cook?”
“Niven can run the galley.”
The adherent gave a start. “I can?”
“Aye,” Julian said. “I was going to appoint Spit but I don’t think he’s the right man for the job.”
Spit, tying down lines at the foremast, spat a wad of brownish spittle onto the planking.
“For obvious reasons.” Julian put two fingers to his mouth and let loose a shrill whistle. Spit turned. The captain made sign with his bruised and swollen fingers. The crewman looked sheepish and went to fetch a mop.
“I’ve tended over a kitchen or two during my service on the Forgotten Isles,” Niven said, “but never at sea.”
“It’s not all that different,” Julian said. “Go to the galley and familiarize yourself with the oven. Specifically the water barrels. My one rule for the cook is that the oven is cold at the first sign of bad weather or trouble. The first sign. Also, I don’t tolerate rats or pests aboard. You’ll find smoke pellets in one of the sideboards. I want them used every time we leave port. Now, for instance.”
“Yes, well…” Niven gave Selena a pleading glance and then obeyed with a soft, “Aye, Captain,” and left Selena alone on deck with Julian.
She shivered in her coat but did her best to quell it. “They were your men,” she said quietly.
“And now they’re not.” He glanced down at her, his gray-green eyes flat and cold. “You want me to stay at port, looking for corpses or defectors, or would you prefer we get the bloody Deeps out of the Ice Isles?” His lips curled slightly. “I think I can guess.”
Selena turned on her heel, disgusted and went to the aft rail. She offered a prayer to the Two-Faced God that Helm and Cook were safe…and her own silent apology because Julian was right. As soon as the ship drew away from the dock she turned her back on Isle Nanokar and looked through the towering teeth of the Ice Isles, to the southern horizon that glowed like a hearth’s warm fire.
They sailed from Nanokar on a sluggish sea, and a limp wind. The sails sagged more than they billowed and the ship fought a head sea that flowed toward the township. Julian took the helm, muttering curses between bellowed orders, and guided the Black Storm through the narrow ice passage with agonizing slowness. Despite the disquiet between them, Selena had to admire Julian’s skill; the Storm never came close to the sheer ice walls on either side. Even with the loss of two able crewmen.
As they breached the channel, another whaler passed them on the way in. Selena watched the schooner sail by from the main deck. The captain gave them a hearty greeting but Julian kept his hands on the wheel and his eyes straight ahead.
He’s gotten all he wants out of Nanokar, she thought, with strange bitterness. She raised her hand to the whaler captain. The two boys on the quarterdeck waved back with great enthusiasm.
When Nanokar was a gray smudge on a grayer horizon, Selena summoned Svoz. The sirrak appeared on deck in his hulking red form. He picked his teeth with deer antlers that trailed a strip of hide and gristle, and surveyed the ship with black eyes.
The crew stared back, Cat the longest.
“New meat,” Svoz said, pointing the antlers at her. He smiled, showing a mouth full of black teeth. “Welcome aboard, flesh tart.”
“To work, Svoz,” Selena said.
The sirrak heaved a sigh and tossed the antlers overboard. “Yes, Master.”
The Storm crawled over the Crystal Sea. A weak breeze puffed the sails now and then, but the water was calm and flat. For three days, Selena prayed to the Two-Faced God to take them out of these northern waters, her hands clasped over a mug of hot tea in Niven’s galley instead of on the crossbar of her sword. She waited to feel the Black Storm glide across the sea beneath her feet. Instead, she felt only the gentlest of swaying and heard the slow creak of timbers, as if the ship ached from the cold too.
On the fourth day, Selena was in the galley with Ilior, warming her hands at the oven when Whistle came in. He wore a ratty coat and cap, and despite the cold his feet were still bare. He grinned at her, his hands behind his back.
Selena forced a smile through stiffened lips. “What is it, sweeting?”
The young man hesitated a moment longer and then held out his hands. In them was an engraved whale tooth with Selena’s own likeness scratched into the bone with dark ink. Her features were somewhat lopsided but he’d rendered a kind, somewhat melancholy smile very well, revealing his burgeoning skill. Selena took the scrimshaw and cradled it in her hands.
“Did you buy this tooth on Nanokar?” She had seen the whale teeth on sale at the market while they restocked the ship. They weren’t cheap.
A gift for you. Try not to laugh when you get it.
Julian’s words, and she was disgusted by them all over again.
Selena took Whistle in her arms and held him close. His wool coat was damp with cold mist and he smelled of salt and oakum.
“Thank you,” she said. “I will cherish it always.”
The boy embraced her and then scampered out of the galley as if it were on fire.
“You’ve made a friend,” Ilior said. His skin was pale and he hunched his huge frame under a blanket that hardly covered one shoulder.
“Aye, and it worries me. Saliz is dangerous,” Selena said. “More dangerous than we’ve considered. The waters themselves around the island are fraught with it, to say nothing of the merkind. I’ve been thinking of my quest and not of the others I endanger.”
“Can’t be avoided,” Ilior said, “unless you petition the Alliance for aid.”
“I won’t. They didn’t offer when I departed; there’s no reason they’d do so now. If we need help against the Bazira, there’s only one place I can think to ask for it.”
Ilior raised a brow ridge. “The Isle of Lords?”
“Their armada rivals that of the Alliance.”
“An armada they’ve never launched,” Ilior said bitterly. “The Zak’reth war could have ended before you—”
“Don’t,” Selena said. “A course can’t be altered after its sailed. And now we’re on course for Isle Saliz. Perhaps better to keep to the mission.” She ran her fingertips over the rough engraving that had been painstakingly carved into the whalebone. “Despite the danger.”
“Aye,” Ilior said dryly, “if we can make it there at all.”
Selena bit her lip and hunched closer to Niven’s fire.
The following morning Selena climbed to the main deck to watch the sun haul itself over the horizon, offering light but no heat that she could sense. The wind had died. The ship sat on flat water, as still as a painting.
Selena made her way with agonizing slowness up to the quarterdeck where Julian stood close with Grunt, their heads bent.
“Where are we?” she asked through clenched teeth.
Grunt took a quick step back and tipped his cap to her.
“I believe we’re eighty leagues from the Isle of Lords,” Julian replied. “A two-day venture with a full wind, and then we’ll leave this cold behind.”
Selena shuddered. “Full wind? It’s as if we’ve dropped anchor.”
“The doldrums won’t last but a day or two.”
Selena took in the seas all around them. It stretched out for leagues, like a pane of glass.
Julian muttered an oath. “What do you want me to do about it? We’re bloody becalmed, but it won’t last. It never does in these waters.”
“I didn’t say—” Selena stopped as her stomach roiled. Julian’s face paled and Grunt went green beneath his beard.
“Bloody bones and spit,” Julian whispered, his hands finding his scimitars.
Selena wrapped her stiffened fingers around the hilt of her own sword and unsheathed it just as Whistle loosed a piercing blast. They all turned to where the boy, perched on the masthead, pointed to port.
Selena watched as two arms, bone-thin and the color of old bruises, scrabbled for a hold of the gunwale on the port side of the ship. Everyone onboard stared, unmoving, as a mermaid struggled over the rail of the main deck. She gripped the wood with trembling fingers, and an awful whistling groan pushed out of her as her abdomen crashed onto the rail. Her hair was blackish green, stringy, and falling out in clumps. Selena watched with a pitying horror as some of it caught on the gunwale as she came over. It tore from her scalp with a ripping sound that could be heard from up on the quarterdeck.
The mermaid flopped onto to the deck, her dolphin-like tail slapping the wood. Spit and Cur approached her with drawn cutlasses. Niven and Ilior emerged from below decks.
“Take the wheel,” Julian told Grunt, and started down to the main deck. “Get back! Watch for others!”
“Svoz, to me,” Selena said as she joined the rest of the crew on the main deck.
“Not again,” Svoz bellowed when he saw the creature. “I’ll not be chewed on by the likes of one of these foul fish-things a second time.”
“Just kill it,” Julian said, “before it pollutes my ship.”
“She’s dying,” Niven murmured. “She can hardly move, poor thing.”
Svoz brightened. “Well, in that case…” Today, the weapon he wore between his wings was a spiked staff. He glanced at Selena. “Master?”
“Wait.”
Selena moved forward on stiff limbs, and knelt as close to the mermaid as she dared. Her stomach churned, either from nearness to the mermaid or from the overpowering stench of rot and illness that emanated from the creature like a vapor. Selena peered under the mermaid’s veil of matted hair. It was tangled with bits of flotsam. From between the filthy strands, the mermaid stared with eyes that were at once empty and also filled with a frantic need. They were yellowed and oozed pus, as did her mouth. Blood mingled with the ichor; the mermaid was missing several teeth.
“What happened to you?” Selena whispered.
The mermaid hissed and lunged with a bony hand that scraped on the deck. Selena jumped out of reach and the mermaid’s head thumped back down. It did not rise again. Her tail flapped once and then she was still but for a gurgling sigh. The stench permeated the entire deck, riding on a current of watery effluence that leaked from the mermaid’s mouth and from under her tail.
“A glorious perfume, admittedly,” Svoz commented.
Selena covered her mouth with the back of her hand. “Let’s turn her over.”
“Let’s bloody not,” Julian said. “I want it off my ship. Now.”
“This is our best chance at trying to determine what happened to the merkind,” Selena told him. “We have to know what we face.”
He hesitated; Selena could see the thoughts clouding his gray-green eyes. “Just be quick about it,” he said, and peered up at the masthead. “Whistle! You keep your eyes on the water, boy, and nowhere else.”
Svoz rolled the dead mermaid onto her back with his staff, and Niven made another pitying sound. She was emaciated; Selena could count her ribs. Her small breasts seemed deflated and every inch of her skin was the same blue-green color. Not the lively viridian of the seas, but a sickly, rotted green, and blue-tinged with cold.
“This water is too cold for her,” Selena said. “She wouldn’t be here unless compelled. Whatever has made her ill has stolen her will too.”
Niven wrung his hands. “Who or what could do such a thing?”
“Perhaps the Bazira have worked some sort of dark magic on the merkind,” Selena said, “and this is the result.”
Niven frowned. “Their magic is ice. Pain. They can’t sicken anyone.” He looked up at her. “Can they?”
“I don’t know,” Selena said. “Perhaps another god’s magic? Or even the merkind’s own? I don’t know enough of their magic—certainly not its source—but this could be the result of something gone horribly awry among their own kind.” She rose to her feet from her kneeling crouch. “I don’t know what else it could be. There are no bites on her. No wounds. If it’s poison, it was ingested.”
“I believe I stated earlier my certainty that powerful elements have been at work on the fish people,” Svoz remarked. “It is the product of industry. Foul, black, insidious magic. And I, for one, look forward to meeting the creators of such perfidy, congratulating them on their achievements, and then killing them.”
“Get it off my ship,” Julian said, his tone flat and unamused.
Selena nodded. “Svoz.”
The sirrak poked the mermaid with his foot to ensure her demise. He then whipped his spear point down, and impaled her through her abdomen.
“Svoz!” Selena cried, but the sirrak paid her no mind.
He hefted the mermaid up in an arc, raining fouled blood and ichor over the deck, and tossed the corpse overboard. It hit the water with a dull smack and began to sink.
Svoz turned around, and his triumphant grin faded as he took in the stricken expressions around him. “You’re welcome,” he sniffed.
Julian glanced at the mess and then rubbed his face with both hands. Vigorously. He ordered the crew to swab the deck until he could see his “godsdamn reflection in it” and then turned to Selena.
“If it’s the Bazira—your Bazira—who are capable of capturing and corrupting hundreds of merkind, you realize this changes the game.”
“Are you worried about your fee, Captain?” Selena asked. “I can increase your pay contingent on the danger, if that would please you.”
Her harsh demeanor seemed to surprise him; it surprised her too. This cold…it’s wearing on me. Another thought followed on its heels: the memory of him slinking from the common room with the married innkeeper.
“I apologize,” she said quickly. “I was just discussing with Ilior that we might need help from the Isle of Lords to contend with these Bazira.”
Julian rubbed his chin that had grown a thin scrap of a beard over the course of their voyage. “You’d have a better chance at squeezing a diamond out of a barnacle.”
“I don’t want to endanger your crew. If Accora is somehow corrupting the merkind, then the waters around Saliz might be infested with them.”
Julian made to speak when Whistle whistled again, this time one loud, sharp blast that was full of alarm. Selena didn’t have to look up to see where he’d spotted the danger; the waters all around the slow-moving ship churned.
Julian bit off a curse and unsheathed his scimitars. “Men! To arms!” He ran to the port side. “Half here, half starboard! Get at them before they can climb aboard!”
But it was too late. The Black Storm was surrounded. Mermaid and mermen, all with flowing hair in coppery hues, or inky blue, or rust red, or burnished bronze crowded the waters around the ship in numbers too thick to count. Thirty or more leapt or climbed up the side of the ship with graceful agility to perch themselves on the gunwales on all sides, bracing themselves with iron hooks, or harpoons; weapons that appeared culled from whalers or pieces of sunken ships. Those on the gunwales had dolphin-like tails more often than not, though Selena saw two or three with orange or green fish tails. The females of this ilk bore a ridged fin along their abdomens instead of breasts. Their gills opened and closed, and as Selena watched, two of them dove back into the water, and two others took their place. The dolphin-tailed merkind did not move, but breathed the cold air. Their weapons glinted dully in the morning sun.
None of the merkind were sickly or corrupted, but hale and hearty, if chilled by the northern waters. The sight of them armed and surrounding the ship was at once frightening and exhilarating at the same time. Selena stared at their beauty and knew that she was in the presence of powerful beings that carried all of the sea’s majesty with them. They gazed down on the crew with black or green or gold eyes that were sharp with intelligence…and wrath.
Beside Selena, Svoz stirred but she bid him not to do anything. To harm them seemed like blasphemy, not to any god, but to nature and the oceans themselves.
“You are far from the Heart Waters,” Julian said, his voice faltering only slightly. “What do you want?”
A dolphin-tailed merman at the prow inclined his head. His human chest and arms were striated in shades of blue and white, and bulged with muscles. In one hand, he brandished an immense harpoon. The other he used to brace himself on the bowsprit.
“Who leads?” he asked in a voice that carried a keening sound behind every word.
“I’m captain of this ship,” Julian said.
The merman dismissed him with a glance. His eyes found the Selena and Svoz standing beside her.
“Who works the magic?” the merman demanded. He leveled the harpoon at Selena. “You.”
“I am an Aluren Paladin,” Selena said. “I wield the magic of the Two-Faced God.”
The merman sneered, his blue-eyed gaze taking in Svoz. “Foul magic,” he intoned. “Step forward.”
Julian held out his arms, one scimitar barring Selena’s way. “No. Tell us what you want or leave us in peace.”
“You did this.” The merman turned to his brethren in the water and jerked his head.
There were at least fifty merkind in the waters surrounding the Black Storm, vigilant and unmoving, as if they were standing on something unseen just below the surface. But one patch of water was empty. Three merkind at the perimeter of this space hefted long iron poles, and the dead mermaid Svoz had thrown overboard came to the surface. When Selena had gotten a good look at her, the merkind lowered the poles and let the mermaid slip beneath the waves again.
“You did this,” the merman on the bow said again. “You did this to many of our kind.”
“No,” Selena said, sheathing her sword to emphasize her point. “I did not. We—”
“A sirrak shares your vessel. Foul magic. You kill our people and throw them away.” The merman lowered his harpoon at Selena again. “We see you do this.”
“It wasn’t us,” Niven said, holding his hands up. “We promise you, we would never—”
But the merman turned again to his people in the water and emitted a guttural noise that sounded like a dolphin’s squeal and a man’s barking cough at the same time. The merkind at the rails flapped their tails and drove the butts of their makeshift weapons into the deck in a kind of salute, as a regiment coming to attention might when the admiral approached.
The merman turned to Selena. “You will speak to the Ere’k’aakii, and know your fate.”
Julian shook his head. “This is bad. This is very bad.”
“I will hear what they have to tell us,” Selena said. “It’s not as if we have much choice.”
“Oh, but you do,” Svoz hefted his weapon. “Say the word…”
“Against fifty? And fifty more in the water? You will do nothing until I command you.”
Ilior shook his head at Selena. She squeezed his arm and then stepped to the rail. The two dolphin-tailed merkind dove backwards into the water to make space for her. She peered down.
The mermaid, the Ere’k’aaii, was the most beautiful thing Selena had ever seen. Her face was exquisite and wholly human, with large gold eyes, and smooth skin that glinted in the morning light. Around her neck and down the front of her torso were striped frills in brown and gold, like that of a lionfish. They shivered in the cold and Selena saw the mermaid’s gills opening and closing, as a fish does when out of water.
The mermaid regarded Selena with those enormous eyes for a moment, and then dove under the surface for a breath. The length of her body and her tail were covered in the same striped frills, as though she wore a delicate ruffled dress. She resurfaced and when she spoke it was in a voice so thickly accented, Selena could hardly make out the words.
“You sicken my people and steal their alk’iir.” The lionfish mermaid passed a delicate hand in front of her eyes. “Gone. Where do you keep their alk’iir? The…” She searched for the words. “The light behind their eyes?”
“We’ve stolen nothing,” Selena said. “I promise you, I have not the magic to corrupt your people, nor the intent. We are not enemies.”
The lionfish mermaid dove below the surface and then reemerged. She pointed one slender arm laced with striped frills. “Sirrak’ah, from the sky where there is no stars. It shares your vessel. It is you.”
“I wield the magic of the Shining face,” Selena protested. She spoke faster, panic rising, as the mermaid looked implacable. “It’s the Shadow face, the Bazira. They have harmed you, not us. Please…”
The mermaid regarded her with pity in her luminous eyes. “You will sail no more. You will hurt us no more.”
“What do you mean?” Selena gripped the rail. “Please, listen to me. We’ve been attacked before—”
“Say goodbye to the sun. Now, you will live below.”
“What did she say?” Julian demanded from behind her, his voice edged with fear.
“She said we’re guilty,” Selena whispered. She beseeched the mermaid. “You must listen. We were attacked by your people. By others, who have had the…the alk’iir…the light from behind their eyes, stolen. There was another ship—”
“We see no other ship,” the merman on the prow said. “We see your sirrak throw our sister over the side of your ship as if she were…” He paused for the word in Tradespeak. “Trash.” He held up a hand when Selena tried to protest. “The Ere’k’aakii has spoken.”
He made a barking call to his brethren and the merkind on the gunwales dove into the water. Two mermen carried the lionfish mermaid backwards, away from the Black Storm. The entire merkind school did the same, swimming some distance away but none went below the surface. They seemed to be waiting.
“They’re leaving,” Niven said. “That’s good. Right?”
“No,” Selena said. “It’s not good.”
“Why not? What are they going to do?” Niven cried. “A maelstrom? Like in the stories? Those aren’t true,” he said with rising panic. “They can’t possibly be true! We didn’t do anything wrong!”
“Shut your bloody mouth,” Julian snarled, and then his face drained of blood. “Gods no,” he breathed, watching the merkind take formation, ringing around his ship. He gripped the rail of the Black Storm as if he could lift her out of the water.
“All hands! Loose the lines! Furl the sails! Main and fore, first! Bloody smartly now!”
He slipped out of his long coat and climbed up the mainmast. Spit followed him up and the two of them began taking in the mainsail. On the foremast, Grunt, Cur and Whistle were doing the same. Below, Cat dashed between the main and foremast, untying knots, one after the other.
The crew worked with a speed born of fear, but even Selena, who was no sailor, knew the futility. And the danger. Every single sail on the Black Storm was unfurled so that the slightest gust of wind could be captured. In a tempest, full sails could capsize a ship, or at the very least, snap their masts. There wasn’t enough time or enough crew to bring in every sail. Not by half.
“You should have let me…” Svoz ran his fingers along the length of his staff and gave Selena a meaningful look.
“Help them!” she cried, and gripped the portside shrouds and watched as the lionfish mermaid raised her frilled arms. The Ere’k’aakii made a swooping, circular motion, and then raised both hands in the air. She held them there for half a heartbeat and then let them drop. The merkind around her threw their heads back, opened their mouths, and began to sing.
The sea that had been still as glass for three days began to churn.
A slow current turned with the merkind’s slow chant. Swells rose as their voices did, moving in a curved path between them and the Black Storm. The ship began to turn, its bowsprit following the arc of the water. The merkind’s song became a roar, and the wind that had been absent roared down with it.
“What’s happening?” Niven begged Selena.
Her heart ached for his fear, but her own was threatening to undo her. “Hold on, Niven. Take ahold of something and don’t let go.”
From above, Julian screamed at his crew. “Get down! Get down!”
They all clambered down from the yards but the topsails on the main and foremasts were still unfurled and billowing, straining now against the wind, as were the three staysails at the prow. The big main and foresails were furled but rigging hung from every spar, dangling and then blowing horizontal in the strengthening gale like hangmen’s rope.
Selena was thrown to her knees and lifted her head in time to see the sheet torn from Cur’s hands as he was endeavoring to tie it off. It scraped the skin off his palms, and sent the spanker boom swinging across the quarterdeck. Selena followed its path, a cry in her throat. Cat had taken the helm. She ducked under the boom, and stayed at her post with grim determination, leaning into the wheel in a futile effort to turn it against the current.
Selena scrambled to her feet and hurried up the ladder to the quarterdeck to help her but Julian was faster. He caught the boom as it started to swing back the other way and was pushed to the rail. Selena grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him back or he would have gone over. He swung back with the boom and she helped him hold it until Cur, down on the main deck, could tie it down.
The merkind’s song filled the air, growing louder until it was a deafening, a keening chorus of wails that were laden with magic. The merkind voices turned the placid sea into a swirling maelstrom of legend.
The Black Storm canted sharply to starboard and stayed there, riding the lip of the maelstrom.
It’s no sailor’s yarn, this is real, Selena thought, her body rigid with fear.
She watched the main deck as if it were a nightmare unfurling before her eyes. Ilior clung to a gunwale on the port side, scrabbling his legs to keep from sliding across the planks. Cur, clinging to a loose line, grabbed Whistle as the boy almost went overboard. A trio of barrels holding fresh water snapped free of their lines and went careening across the deck. One struck Grunt, knocking him down and rolling over him. Somehow, under the cacophony, Selena heard the snap of the old sea dog’s leg. His face contorted in silent scream. She looked behind her in time to see the wheel spin free of Cat’s grasp and send the woman sprawling to the boards. Svoz was nowhere to be seen.
Selena started to call for him but it was too late and there were too many merkind. We never had a chance.
Another voice spoke in her mind; a husky woman’s voice, tinged with wry amusement. Skye’s voice.
I’m sure you can think of something.
Selena banished the thought before it could take root in her mind.
The merkind had ceased their song and now swam among the spinning waters of the maelstrom. Selena saw tails and fins and streams of coppery hair flowing gracefully with the current, ready to escort the broken ship to the Deeps and its crew to their watery graves. The ship went round and round…
You can stop this. You know how…
“No!” Selena cried out, as a terrible fear wrapped itself around her heart, numbing her more than the cold water that soaked her through.
Julian appeared in her line of vision and gripped her about the collar. Water poured over his face that was contorted with real fear—the first strong emotion Selena had ever seen him wear. He’d found his long black coat again and it whipped behind him.
“Do it!” he screamed above the tumult. “Do it now! Before it’s too late!”
His words batted at the stupor of fear that enveloped her, but did not break it. He yanked her so that their noses were nearly touching.
“You can’t close your wound from under the bloody godsdamn sea!”
Water plastered her hair to her cheeks. She shook her head, trembling. “Not again. Last time…the god…”
There came a crack, like lightning. The foremast’s topsail yard, its torn sail flapping behind it, crashed down, tearing down rigging as it went before splintering into pieces over the main deck.
Julian clutched her tighter. “Save my ship.” He was no longer shouting but she heard him anyway. “Save us.”
Then he released her suddenly and loped down to the main deck, toward Grunt. A deluge of icy water crashed over him, rolling him across the deck and the splintered yard.
Another wave crashed and cold water bit Selena to her bones, reminding her of the first weeks and months of the wound, reminding her of the cost of casting such a spell.
Water plastered her hair to her face, blinded and stung her eyes, but she could still see Whistle. He sobbed soundlessly as he clung to Cur, who held the boy in his bloodied hands. She saw Grunt, crouched against the starboard gunwale, holding his leg, his face ashen. Julian was beside him, blood seeping through a gash in his side and leaking over the deck that was awash in seawater and debris. Niven and Cat were out of Selena’s sight, possibly lost.
A different kind of terror swelled in her heart. The Black Storm was below the lip of the maelstrom, and the curl of water was filled with merkind; shadows who swam along its spinning current. One more revolution, and the ship would capsize and break apart.
And we’ll die.
Ilior had found his way to her. “Selena…”
“Ilior,” she cried, tears streamed down her cheeks already wet with the sea. “I can’t…”
“You can,” he croaked. “It’s not like last time…”
The ship canted more steeply. One final curve…
“No!” Selena screamed. At the storm, at the merkind, at the fear that clutched her in its merciless grip. “I can’t do it! Never again! Gods, please, never again…”
“Once more,” Ilior said. “You can…”
“They all died, Ilior!” She sobbed. “I killed them all!”
“No one dies!” Ilior cried. “This time, no one dies!”
Selena clung to the rail with both hands, unwilling to let go. The terror shook her worse than any cold; her wound pulsed with it, her heart raced so that she could scarcely breathe. No one dies, but they would all die. This time, if she did nothing she’d kill the crew. You’ll die too with a final thought rattling in your head that you could have saved them instead…but for your own selfish fear.
With a half-sob, half scream, Selena tore herself from the rail. She felt Ilior’s hand on her sword belt, steadying her, propping her up. May the god have mercy…she thought and then with a long, drawn out susurration of the syllables, she spoke the sacred words.
She called the sea.
“Undai portat aestan estus.”
The last word left her lips just as the Black Storm rounded its last curve. Selena felt a surge of magic well up from the bottom of the ocean, through the ship, through her booted feet, through her body, and up, up, to her raised arms.
Too much! It’s too much!
Her terror swelled until she thought she’d go mad. A cry tore out of her throat as the power surged out of control, upward and out of her body, leaving her hollow inside.
Like Isle Calinda. I am a fool…
She was torn out of Ilior’s grasp and thrown forward. The deck rose to meet her and she struck it hard, her head knocking against the planks. She could not raise her cheek from the cold, damp wood. From under the howling wind and churning water, she heard the merkind, not in the unison of song but keening in panicked terror and anger.
The ship was rising. Some giant had reached its hand down and had lifted the Black Storm out of the swirling mouth of the merkind’s maelstrom. Selena struggled to her feet and hooked her fingers onto the rail. By sheer force of will, she hauled herself to standing and peered over the side.
There was no giant. There was nothing. The ship was suspended in the air, high above the maelstrom that was collapsing in on itself. From this high vantage, Selena saw the perfect swirls degenerate into a boiling froth of white foam, like a soup left on the kettle too long.
We’re flying, Selena thought as the ship hung on the edge of nothing. Exhaustion infused her to the core but her bleary mind grasped what was happening when the ship canted downward.
We’re atop a wave. My wave…
The Black Storm teetered for a one horrifying second, and then the bow dipped down. Selena held on with failing strength and watched the rest of crew do the same, clinging to lines or rails or each other as the ship cut downward. It sped down the face of the wave and then jounced across the calm sea that had not been disrupted with the magic, but was stubbornly flat with doldrums. Barrels and broken spars and crewmen clinging to anything they could, surged up and slammed back down again. Then the Black Storm settled and raced along the water that was smooth as ice. Selena cherished the smallest flicker of hope that they’d live.
Then her wave came down behind the ship.
Icy white sprays of water crashed over the Black Storm’s quarterdeck, drenching her again. She barely hung onto the shrouds. The ship was propelled forward, galloping like a startled horse. The stern lifted up and the bow was forced down as the wave carried it from behind. Half of the bowsprit broke off as it nosed under the surface, snapping lines, and taking two of its three of its unfurled staysails into the water. Lines from the foremast’s topsail were tied to the bowsprit. When those snapped, the topsail came crashing down, raining timber and rope all over the main deck. The prow was swamped and Selena thought she had wrecked the Black Storm even as she tried to save it, that it was going to dive under and break apart. An agonizing handful of moments later, the ship righted itself and the Black Storm coasted along the flat sea, riding the wave of Selena’s creation.
Relief and unimaginable exhaustion washed over her. Her hands slipped. She started to fall. Ilior was there but she stumbled out of his reach on trembling legs. A shadow fell over her and she turned in time to see the spanker boom swoop toward her. A heartbeat later, pain exploded across her face. She staggered as starbursts filled her vision. And then she was falling, falling…
She hit the water hard. It felt like a slab of ice that grew hands and arms and tentacles that dragged her under. A cold almost as deep as the wound infused her every fiber and she wailed in grief for the Two-Faced God must hate her so for having the hubris to call the tide again.
Seawater rushed into her open mouth. The icy water surged down her gullet, into her lungs, wrapping itself around her and squeezing until she knew only pain and cold and then, mercifully, nothing.