Instantly, the Mages and Vessels fell silent, leaving only the creaking of the ship to fill the ominousemptiness.
Clearing my throat, I brought the communication stone to my lips, activating it quickly. Its uses were finite, and we agreed to only communicate in dire circumstances, but the apprehension settling like lead in my gut couldn’t be ignored.
“Commander d’Aelius to Samee,” I spoke. The communication stone crackled with no response. I tried again, repeating the same call with a bit more urgency.
Were those the waves sloshing against our hull, or were there others in the water?
A chill skated up my spine, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. Itfeltlike we were no longer alone.
“Samee reporting. What is it, Commander d’Aelius?”
I breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Any report of ships?”
“Negative,” was the immediate reply. His response should have eased my worry, but I only felt rising tension and bile.
“Thanks,” I said gruffly. “If you see any movement, report immediately.”
“Confirmed.”
I went to pocket the communication stone, but quickly put it back to my mouth before the rune could fade, ending our conversation.
“Samee, is there . . . fog by you?”
The communication stone crackled for a moment, the silence causing my teeth to grind together. “Uh, negative, commander. Bright skies and plentiful sun. Pleasant wind and temperature, too.”
Fuck.
I pocketed the stone without another word, my hands shaking the whole while.
“Air Mages!” I called, my voice hopefully carrying to the other nearby Vessels across the cold water. I felt the air shift as the Mage on my deck called forth their power. “Move this fog so we can see.”
Seconds later, I grasped the rigging with both hands as a gust of strong wind blew across the deck, pushing the tendrils of fog that lazily wound around my boots and legs back to sea.
“Conserve your power,” I commanded, relieved when her magic receded slightly as the other Air Mages aboard neighboring ships followed suit, slowly pushing the fog back.
Inch by agonizing inch, our ships were exposed, and I breathed an audible sigh of relief, my punishing grip on the rigging relaxed, as I saw everything exactly as it was when we first moored here early this morning.
Just fog, I thought, convincing my racing heart that we weren’t under attack, the warming spring air simply met cold winter ground.
But as the manufactured wind kept blowing, fear gripped my gut as a thirteenth then fourteenth vessel were exposed. They were slight things; thinner and shorter than the Iluulian ships, their sails narrow and tall rather than billowingand wide. The further the fog retreated, the more ships were pulled into stark focus.
“Sir, what is that? Who are they?” one of the Mages called from behind me.
I couldn’t find the words to answer him, my tongue sticking to the roof of my dry mouth as my heart raced in earnest.
“Ships! Ships to the north!” one of the captains called from across the way, his cry echoed by the remaining captains until it made its way back to our vessel.
“Sir? Your orders?” our captain shouted from the deck.
I shook my head, suddenly wishing I’d thought to shorten my hair or at least pull it into a bun. The last thing I needed was hair in my face as I tried to coordinate our attack.
“Wait,” I called, holding my hand in the air—our signal for my command. “Let’s see if they’re friend or foe.”
Though that seemed like a stupid thing to wait for—it was clear these ships were positioned in an offensive maneuver and, if I squinted, I could see magic held in palms from here.
Suddenly, the fog retreated completely, pulled off the water by a sudden gust of wind so powerful it nearly sent me toppling over the edge of the ship and into the chilly water below.
My eyes darted between the ships, searching for the Mage with that strong an affinity to Air. Exclamations sounded across the decks of our ships, and my gaze was drawn to what had my soldiers in such a chokehold.
