by James Somers
Marissa stood next to Nathaniel. He took a chance and put his hand between her shoulder blades. She noticed, but she did not make him remove it. Marissa had come to believe that there was more to this man, Nathaniel Blackborne, than just a mere pirate. And she wondered secretly if she was coming to appreciate those qualities for more than fellowship.
“Nathaniel,” she said in a very low voice. He bent nearer to her in order to hear what she said. The others watched Duggan as he ascended into the pink sky of morning. “My father will gather his army, but I fear it will not be enough.”
Nathaniel considered her concern.
She turned her head to look into his face. “I do not believe there is anything which can save the Living Land from Mortis’s invasion except for the Wielder himself. The prophecies are quite clear on that fact.”
She turned and looked at one member of their group in particular. Nathaniel followed her gaze toward the boy who stood with a wil on one side and a cherub on the other.