And he was gone.
I laid the bucket on the floor so it still caught the drips of red blood and yellow ooze. I glanced around, making sure we were alone, then stood beside the table. I reached to touch his forehead. He was hot now, and I took a deep breath, fought my damned quivering chin.
“Liar,” I said quietly, and I shuddered, stroked his brow with trembling fingers. “Such a fogging liar. So damned cocky and full of yourself. You should have been shot so many times…”
My voice caught in my throat, and my eyes stung as I held back the tears.
“Don’t you dare leave. Not now. I just can’t, not without you. The helm needs you, but now I need you, too, and it’s just not fair.”
I sobbed, choked back the waves. This was not just about Devanhan Fahr anymore.
“I was fine as a crab, as a stone, but you and your fogging ship…”
I released a deep breath.
“Fog you.”
And then another and another.
“So, I have a bargain for you,” I said. “Thanavar thinks I’m too proud, but this ship demands so much, and I don’t have the deep to give it. I’ve never asked for anything in my life, but I am asking for this. Just this one thing. So, please…”
My hands cupped his ashen face.
“Don’t die on me, Devanhan Fahr. Don’t die. If there’s some bargain to be made with the Court of Sand, I’ll make it. I’ll lie, orI’ll die, or I’ll do whatever they want. I’ll give my life to the Court of Sand or the Sister Moons or the Brother Suns. Hels, even the Admiralty itself. Just don’t die. Please, just don’t die.”
I was grateful he was asleep and heard none of it. I wasn’t sobbing but shuddering, unable to catch my breath. Such a fine man.
“I’m right here,” I said. “Fogging bastard.”
Whenever I wanted,whatever I wanted, was taken by the winds. It had always been that way, but that didn’t mean it would always be. If there was one thing I’d learned on the Ship of Spells, it was that all mages had a spin at the wheels.
Such a fine, good man. Our future king.
“FoggingBryn’nyd.”
Finally, my breaths steadied, and I stepped away and sank to the floor against the wall. I looked over at the book I’d brought in with me.Legend Has It: Chronicles of Nethersea. Over the last day, I had read about the Worldrune and the Brother Suns. I’d read about the formation of the Island InBetween when the Sister Moons had aligned and Forge had called it up from the sea. How they had wept in joy and their tears collected as chimeric in a volcanic cauldron at the island’s very heart. How the RuneTree had grown at the side of this volcano, rich in magik and reaching for the stars. It was similar to the captain and Worley’s recounting but written from aRhi’Ahrperspective, and I marveled at how history was recorded with bias in every line.
Kirianae. The Tree was called Kirianae. I’d heard the name before, from the captain on deck, from my lips in response, in my head when I stopped the cannonballs in the battle of the Dreadship. Kirianae. The name thrummed like a memory, deep in my bones.
Now, as I neared page four hundred and thirty-four, the writerEllianthys Moonforth had introduced the order of the Priestlords. According to this book, three Dreadmages hadfounded the order of the Priestlords and developed the monastery that served the Tree.Ilyn’shar, it was called, or the House WoodRaven. Everyone in Oversea knew about Priestlords because we’d been taught they were responsible for casting the Dreadwall. We sang nursery rhymes about them. We formed our own “equatorus” and danced in circles, jumping up to the skies as if we were the Dreadwall. We told tales around fires, over brews in the dark.
According to the book, the Priestlords guarded the chimeric from a monastery built into the very cauldron itself. They recorded all the ancient spells and trained others to wield them. Children from both helms were brought to the island, usually between the ages of eight and ten, and they spent years as acolytes, learning magik, tending the Tree, and channeling rune to the end of their days. I knew Thanavar had been one of them. What a life to have lived. What an honor to serve and learn with the best mages in the helms. It was a dream, I thought to myself, but magik was easy compared to dreams.
And yet, I was here, on the Ship of Spells. Perhaps Thanavar was right. Maybe the moonsdidhave a hand in the course of my life. I was homani yet learning to wield chimeric like aRhi’Ahr.As such, I was an entirely new creation at sail on the seas.
I turned my eyes back to the page and dug my nose deeper into the book.
According to Moonforth, it was barely twenty years ago when the Oversea king called for the abolition of the Priestlords because of their unrivaled power and the growing threat they posed to the ruling house. Emperial forces were sent, and, overnight, the monastery was sacked, its members slaughtered, the island abandoned to the jungle and the Tree. The last hundred pages were a list of names, a thousand years of members, priests and acolytes alike. My eyes were too weary, my heart too heavy, and I closed the book, mulling over theinescapable struggle between mages and kings. As I did, a slip of paper fluttered out. It was a tiny parchment, like the kind from Worley’s birds, and bore the Admiralty wax, cracked.
Surrender chaser to Admiralty at Pt Corvallan else be branded an enemy and be sunk outright –SBRx
SB.Stephanus Bonavanczek Reks. The King and Emperor of Oversea. He had ordered us to Port Corvallan.
A bluemage, Navy trained, could turn the tide of the war.
Wewere going to Port Corvallan.
I leaned back against the wood.
