“Gavriel Thanavar,” said the golden man.“Mae ingaine mylnead ynir, rhi hir.”
There was only the sound of the wind and the soft creak of the hull, until there was another.
It was a sound I had never heard before in my time on theTouchstone, had never thought to hear it in all of my days combined, and it turned my blood as cold as the bergs that floated nearby. It echoed over the water, over the lapping of the waves and hissing of the salt breeze.
The laughter of Gavriel Thanavar.
Soon, even that sound died, and he looked up, the smile becoming a knife on his lips.
“Kinrath Ilvalour,” he spat.
The name was like honey, like poison, like a snarl, like a song.
“Cy fwthilu,”I whispered under my breath, and the veil of words lifted like the dawn.
“You are a disgrace toLindurithainand to Nethersea,” Thanavar said. “To the Worldrune, and to Kirianae, Guardian of Chimeric and Goddess of the Tree. I should have slit your throat the moment you set a boot on our shore.”
“But you didn’t, and I am here,” said the man called Ilvalour. “And you’ll rue the day you once chose mercy.”
“I never choose mercy,” said Thanavar. “I amRhi’Ahr.”
And he slapped his palms down on the deck of the ship. TheTouchstoneshuddered, and above our heads, lines whippedand snapped as if serpents. One, two, then threeRhi’Ahrwere caught by the neck and hauled, twisting and screaming, into the shrouds.
“You are the last of a dead religion, priest,” said Ilvalour. “Your wooden goddess cannot save you anymore.”
And Ilvalour drove the spear straight down, piercing the captain’s right hand and pinning it to the deck. Thanavar cried out, and Fahr lunged forward, but theRhi’Ahrcaught him and cracked a fist into the side of his skull. He dropped like a stone.
Planks burst from the deck, impalingRhi’Ahrwith staves and spars as theTouchstonefought back. Deck boards rippled beneath Ilvalour’s boots, but rune swept down his body, stifling the ship’s magik at his feet. He slid the sword from his hip and, in one swift, savage stroke, brought the sword down on Thanavar’s wrist.
My breath caught in my throat, and the ship fell silent. I felt theTouchstonerecoil as her beloved’s blood seeped into her skin. Long fingers curled as Thanavar shrank back without them.
Ilvalour leaned down.
“Shall I take your other hand, or just kill you now?”
Thanavar looked up, eyes glittering, and he grinned like a cat.
“Try.”
The sword swung a second time, but patterns sparked and a runeshield sizzled to life before it could hit.
From his knees, Dev clapped his hands together and flung a second shield my way. I caught it as they beat him to the floor, laced it with chimeric, and threw it over the captain in a starry shroud. But before I could cast a hold spell, aRhi’Ahrfist slammed into my belly, and I pitched forward. A knee to the chin and a backhand to the temple sent me to the deck, and the shield became ashes in the salt wind.
“Aro’el,”Ilvalour said, turning toward me. “The chimeric chaser. Yes, I saw you that day. Impressive.”
He lifted his head and looked around the main.
“I see you all. You are a noble crew, a worthy crew,” said Ilvalour. “But your efforts will not save your captain. He is an enemy of all people and will die here, at the place of his first great crime.”
I could feel theTouchstone’s shock turn to fury, could feel her very bones begin to move.
ARhi’Ahrwarrior pulled a dagger, grabbed a handful of black hair, and yanked Thanavar’s head back. But the warrior froze, and his dagger clattered to the deck. A scream burst from his lips, followed by blood, followed by wood. Larger and wider, the man’s mouth split wide, then his throat, then his chest as the shattered bowsprit carried him up above us all, heaved by a furious mother from the gundeck below. He thrashed for a long, agonizing moment before the bowsprit burst him apart. Blood, bone, and flesh rained to the deck.
Thanavar smiled wickedly.
“Try again?”
Ilvalour straightened.
