“Trust the ship,” he said. “Lean into her. Draw magik from her boards and let her hold your weight.”
Draw magik from her boards?
“She will not let you fall.”
I couldn’t trust him. I didn’t dare. And yet, as we stood face to face, the deck rolling beneath us, rocking us in the same slow rhythm, my pulse hammered in my throat. Could I? His gaze never left mine, steady and sure, and I did the unthinkable. I let the current take me.Hiscurrent.
What was I thinking?
“Trust the ship,” I repeated warily. I was exhausted. Surely that was to blame for trusting the enemy. Besides, if he wanted me dead, certainly there were other, far easier ways to do it.
“She is the Ship of Spells,” he said. “She will not let you down.”
I glanced to the waters, sparkling and deep.
“And I will belay you.”
Oh, Forge fog a faun.
“All day?” I blurted.
“And all night, if necessary.”
He was close enough to breathe him in. Salt, linseed oil, parchment. The sea. His skin glistened gold in the sunslight, as if threads of filagree were woven beneath the surface. It shimmered like my runescars, and I knew his magik ran deep.
Swiftly, I turned away, gathered my line, and stepped over the side. The planks slid out, and I let her take me down.
This time, I leaned into her. This time, I let my bare feet draw magik from her boards.
And this time, I was not so tired when he pulled me up for the day. I was almost eager when he dropped me back down again later, and I wondered if I was somehow drawing magik fromhimas well.
There were times over the side when I swore I heard a voice. A whispering, murmuring, lyrical voice. But the ocean is a living thing, and I was sunbaked and raw, clinging to the side of a moving ship while a strange new magik wrote lines across my skin.
Surprisingly, my hands didn’t hurt unless the chimeric was near, and it was hard to remember that, less than a week ago, they had been little more than tendon and bone. Even wrapped in leather, the patterns glowed with rune.
They weren’t like normal scars. More like tattoos that gleamed and sizzled as they crept up my forearms, bright in theirunfathomable march.
I’d taken to calling them runescars. It seemed appropriate. Not scars, not rune, but a blending of both that marked them as different from anything ever known. They had not burned my hands off, as Echo had feared, but neither had they stopped, and he was worried. Truth be told, so was I, but I’d be damned before I’d let him know. Although, as he was a clearseer, I suspected he already did.
By the dawn of the fifth day, I was strong enough to belay myself. It was a dark morning, the skies heavy with storm clouds and the sails snapping in the winds. Even with such rough seas, my legs now braced naturally against the curve of the ship. One hand twisted around the ropes while the other embraced the life and the currents of the sea. The moment my fingers touched the surface, the “chase” rune in my palm burned like a beacon and the chimeric lit up the waves. It was strong on this fifth morning, and I sensed we were close. I wasn’t surprised, then, when Buck hauled me back up at noon.
“Water,” said Echo, handing me a cup. I drank it gratefully, asking no questions.
“Rum,” said Buck, handing me another. I drank it greedily, asking even less.
“We’ve spotted something,” said the doc, taking the empty water cup back and leaning against the rail.
I pulled on my gloves and looked to the dark horizon. In the distance, the rain clouds had burst, and it was hard to tell where the sea ended and the sky began. All was gray and blue and black, and a chill wind swept up my spine.
There was a light on the water.
No. Two lights.
No. Many.
I peered over the rail, cupping the rum in both hands, Buck and Echo on either side.
Thelights wereRhi’Ahr, and I understood the need to stop the chimeric trail. If they saw the chimeric, they’d know we were coming, and they’d be prepared. While we were skilled and stealthy, we were sorely outgunned.
