In dragon form, Erik was far stronger than he was as a man. He’d lifted cows into the air with no more effort than a man might use to heft a brace of rabbits after a day’s hunt. TheHawkwas still a vast weight. He made no attempt to lift it out of the water, only to keep it upright in the waves, yet for a few moments the mass of it was almost overpowering, certainly more than he could hold for any time.
Then the weight balanced onto the other side. The ship righted itself. At the edge of his vision, just ahead of the prow, Erik saw the great dark shape of Toinette’s head, long horns curving back like stylized lightning bolts themselves. Her eyes met his, fully golden in the darkness. They couldn’t speak in this form, but Toinette gave a faint nod, Erik nodded back, and both knew the words that would go with the gesture:I can do this for a while.
With Toinette to aid him, he could. His muscles had carried his whole weight up into the air more times than he could count. Now the water would support him, turbulent as it was, and theHawkthrough him. They had only to balance themselves, balance the ship, and wait.
The storm kept up its assault for a long time. Waves slapped Erik in the face, even though he held his head up high. Lightning pierced the water around them and sent sharp tingling sensations crawling across his skin. The itching was the worst of that, making it devilishly hard to keep still.
Occasionally he turned his head toward theHawkand saw the sailors at the rails. Most were still running back and forth with bailing buckets. Good thing: the less water the ship took on board, the less difficulty he and Toinette would have carrying it.
Most of them stopped a moment when they poured the buckets overboard, staring down at Erik with eyes so wide that he could practically see the whites at his distance. In a brief break in the storm’s noises, he heard Marcus call one of the men to stop gawping and be about his duties, or by God he would get a reason to move faster.
All around them, the green fire lit the ship’s deck. The air smelled of salt, lightning, and a trace of blood.
Erik began to think that the storm would never end. Common sense said that it had to, that all storms did. Anywhere else, that would have been more of a comfort. As best Erik knew, the only men to sail to that part of the world had been the Templars, years ago, and no man knew what had become of them. Such an alien sea could very well host an eternal tempest.
With his quest, he might well have doomed them all.
* * *
Dragon shape was lonely.
Toinette hadn’t mentioned that to Erik when she’d spoken of her preference for a ship, but that was another truth: she could speak to nobody in that form, not even other dragons. The oldest had been able to talk mind-to-mind, or so Artair’s stories had said, but she was descended too far for that. All the words that tied her to others were gone while she was in dragon form.
In the sky, after a long time in much company, that was sometimes restful for a little while, but too much time with her own thoughts and Toinette grew ill-humored under even the most cheerful circumstances. In the storm-tossed ocean, with her crew staring at her in horror, an hour might have driven her to screaming if not for Erik’s presence on the other side of theHawk.
He couldn’t speak either. Still, he met her eyes from time to time, his shining almost the same blue-green as the lightning-struck water. More than that, he was present and there, another member of her bloodline. It helped more than she’d ever thought such a thing would, and certainly more than she’d ever admit to him.
They went onward, floating and paddling to stay in place, as the storm shrieked itself out around them. It drowned the voices of the crew, but Toinette didn’t mind that. She very much doubted that she wanted to hear anything they were saying just then. She could imagine quite enough.
No matter: if they and she both lived, then they could sort out the rest one way or another. Toinette only prayed that the storm would end soon, that lightning wouldn’t hit her or Erik directly—that might kill even one of them—and most of all, that the clouds wouldn’t spawn a waterspout. She’d seen one of those once, from a blessedly great distance. For a crippled ship, it would probably be doom.
When the thunder began to grow softer and the lightning less frequent, Toinette feared it was an illusion. Wishful thinking was a flaw she knew well. She watched, not daring to hope too highly, as the waves gradually settled. Lightning became flickers in the clouds once again, fading, then gone. The clouds themselves broke up slowly.
Toinette craned her head back to look at theHawk. The shattered remnants of the mast stabbed into the clearing sky. The rail was broken in several places. God knew what damage the waves and wind had done to the wood. The storm was ending, but it had left them in a bad state indeed.
* * *
In time Toinette and Erik both shifted to the side, letting the water take theHawk’s weight once more. Neither moved to change back. Toinette could guess at Erik’s reasons. Most resembled her own: it was best to be on hand in case damage became worse with time and the ship started taking on water; transformation took strength that neither of them had; and the crew, who would have to get them back aboard, were all occupied. She couldn’t have said whether he had her reluctance to face the men, nor whether it would be easier or harder for him, not having known them as well beforehand.
For a while they floated. The men pulled up the anchor, slow and clanking. The ship drifted forward, but without wind, the tide moved it very slowly. It took only the occasional flex of muscle for Toinette to keep up. The water was cool around her, supporting and sustaining as it had been treacherous not an hour before. She ducked her head as a school of swordfish swam near, bit the pointed bill off one, and swallowed the rest of it whole. Blood and flesh began to take the edge off her weariness almost at once.
She knew that she should go back aboard. The men would want an explanation. They’d need a captain. Erik couldn’t supply the second, nor was the first his duty. She, Toinette, had taken these men into her employ, and she would meet their accusations with as much courage as she could manage. She had to.
Sighing, she turned her head upward to look at the deck again. Marcus had just come to the rail. That was well: of all the men, he was probably the most likely to bother pulling her up when she turned back to a woman.
“Captain!” he called, cupping his hands to make his voice louder. Just before changing, Toinette halted in place. “Captain, we think there’s land ahead!”
In her exhaustion, she hadn’t even thought to look.
Toinette whipped her head around—the motion of her neck sent water splashing upward in a small fountain—and peered out past the horizon. Her third eyelid slid down, focusing her vision and screening out the worst of the sun’s glare.
Yes, there was a dark smudge on the horizon, too low and stable to be a cloud bank. Even she could make out nothing more definite at their distance, but she nodded her head rapidly—enough of a sign for Marcus, judging from the short cheer above her.
Erik seemed to have understood as well, for he caught her eye from across the ship’s prow and nodded, jerking his head toward the shape. Toinette waved a wing slowly across the water, eliciting another nod: they’d float for a while, regaining their strength and letting the current move them.
When the tide did shift, she and Erik came closer to the ship. They didn’t take the full weight of it again, but they pushed it toward the land, making up as much as they could for the lack of sail. Such interludes were thankfully short. The sea itself seemed to be with them, for which Toinette sent up a prayer or seven of thanksgiving.
The dark shape in the distance became an island perhaps ten miles long. Cliffs took shape, and the twisted forms of wind-stunted evergreen trees atop them. As theHawkdrew closer yet, Toinette could see the long, tan line of the beach.
