Grinning, the Captain raises his hood, hiding away his ears andI curl my hands around Ryc’s arm.
“’Fraid of the ocean, miss?” the Captain asks as he lifts a pointed finger aimed at the sky.
A strange gesture for a rather docile question.
“No,” I answer firmly.
Not afraid of the ocean.
Afraid ofdrowning.
With a quick twirl of his wrist, the boat moves. The rear end pulls away from the dock. It swings around, turning me so that my back faces the open water, setting Galyne before me. He gestures again, swinging the pointed finger forward and the boat sets off.
It’s certainly innate use.
Butwhich?
It can’t be wind. There are no sails.
Telekinesis? No… someone with such a rare innate wouldn’t become captain of a cargo ship.
Daring to peer over the side, the waters lie calm. A stark contrast to the rushing waves a few yards away.
I scoff a silent laugh.
He’s awaterinnate.
The boat sits amid the center of a calm circle of water. He’s created a private current—one the boat glides upon. Fascinating to see a water innate used in such a way.
“Any of you folks are proficient in old magic?” Connak asks, pulling his hood tight under his chin. The furs blow dangerously close to the lit end of his cigarillo. “If so, I implore you to make use of that knowledge now. The wind will grow worse the farther we sail from shore.”
I’m not the most proficient in old magic, but a ward I can handle. As I lift my hand to do so, a blue-silver ward shimmers into existence and the wind dies. Confused, I glance over my shoulder in time to catch Cyran lowering his hand.
Impressive.
Though it’s not difficult to be better than me in summoning wards. It’s not a common magic used in the hells.
“Thank the gods for you, sir,” Connak mutters with an approving nod. “Last patron was useless. By the time we reached the ship, we were nothing more than blocks of ice.” He chuckles, the sound quick to fade when he’s greeted by silence from us. With a tight shake of his head, he turns his attention elsewhere.
The docks and shoreline shrink as we skim east. With another gesture from Connak, the boat picks up speed and my grip on Ryc’s arm tightens. We sail for no more than five minutes before he lifts a fist and the boat slows. A towering brown wall emerges beside us and we glide alongside it, our pace slowing further.
“With the wind, use of the davit is ill-advised,” Connak says, flashing a grin. “We’ll have to climb aboard the good ol’ fashioned way.”
I don’t know what a davit is, but I’ll trust this Captain knows his way around a ship, including how to board them.
Connak whistles twice. It’s a sharp, high-pitched sound that cuts through the noise of the wind and water. Three rapid whistles answer and seconds later a rope and plank ladder falls over the side of the ship. The ward vanishes, runes raining around me, and the wind takes its vengeance.
With a practiced hand, Connak catches the ladder, steadying it.
“Weather will worsen until we breach the isle waters,” he shouts. “I suggest you move quickly.”
“You first, little love,”Ryc’s warm voice rings in my head. He remains seated as he takes my hand, ushering me to stand.
As much as I want to argue, my desire to escape this weather is greater. Hoisting my foot onto the first rung, I begin the treacherous ascent. Racing wind threatens to fling me from the ladder, the damn thing twisting and swaying over the open water between the crafts below.
I glance down.
Awful mistake.
