by Gwynn White
Head covered, Klaus slumped onto the bench behind hers. Eliezar plunked down next to him. He clasped Klaus’s wrists. “Klaus, I’ve got you. No matter what happens, I won’t let you go.” He glanced away from Klaus to her. “You okay with that?” Only when she nodded did he wrap his cloak around his head.
Heart racing, she pulled off her tunic and draped it over her face. The grimy fabric was threadbare enough for her to discern movement and shape through it as she shivered in the frigid air. Would the slinker queen also see right past its feeble protection to look in her eyes? Her eyelids fluttered closed. Blind to everything but the blood pounding through her heart, she listened as everyone moved into place.
Could she use her water magic to destroy the slinkers the way she had the white heat? She’d gotten away with that stunt because her fire had played along on the surface. She gnawed her lip, unable to decide if the risk was worth exposing her hand, not just to Averin but also to Darien.
Undecided, she caught Feral Fox’s familiar reek of wet sheep as he slid into the bench in front of her and Averin. Trystaen already occupied the spot opposite Averin. It made sense that the big fae would want to be close to his prince. It was equally as comforting that Feral Fox chose to be near her. He would defend her with his life, just as she would give her all to protect him. Through her shadowy gauze, she saw Ivan and Goul, also blindfolded, stumble to the row in front of Feral Fox. That left Vlad and Suren.
“Fae, I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine,” Vlad snapped at Suren.
“My name is Suren, Master Vlad. Feel free to use it.” She caught a smile in Suren’s voice. “And we’ll call that a deal. Pick your side of the boat. I promise, you won’t be slinker chow. Not today.”
A short shuffle and then terse silence.
With everyone in place, there was nothing more to do but wait in the biting cold to be attacked. Dressed in nothing but her amber pendant, breast-binding, paper-thin leggings, and scuffed red boots, she shivered so hard, she had to clench her teeth to stop them chattering.
“If the slinkers don’t kill us, exposure will,” Klaus muttered grimly.
“At least tell us what they are,” Goul whispered. “Anything. Just warn us.”
“They’re a type of eel,” Averin said. “The pod queen will have smelt us a mile away. Her fingerlings will already be in hunting mode. They’ll stalk us until they’ve fed.”
Her water magic twitched impatiently, but still undecided, she ignored it.
Ivan gulped so loudly, she heard it above the water slapping against the hull. “Can’t we fight them? Beat them off with the oars? Use swords?”
“Blindfolded?” Trystaen snorted. “No offence, Master Ivan, but you’re more likely to knock each other out cold before you hit a slinker.”
“Worse, you could push someone into the water,” Eliezar added. “Best thing we can do is sit tight in this boat until the pod queen decides to look for easier prey.”
The boat lurched sideways, a heavy thunk vibrating up through her boots. She grabbed the seat and held on as The Sword rolled nauseatingly.
“This is it. Brace yourselves.” Averin grabbed her arms. “Eyes on me, Stasha, like my tunic is the very best thing you’ve ever seen.”
She locked her throat against a whimper. Waiting, blindly, for an unseen, unknown enemy to attack was excruciating. Something deep and primordial in her longed to pull her blindfold away and look over the side of The Sword to see the threat before it struck. The more rational part of her forced her eyes to lock on Averin’s grimy tunic.
A second watery thud followed.
It was heavy enough to tip the longboat sharply to the left. She—and everyone else—careened across the smooth wooden bench to slam into the side railing or each other.
The struts next to Klaus cracked. His oomph and the snap of wood was followed by a splash as something fell into the river.
She breathed in so hard, her blindfold sucked into her nose and mouth. She spat the fabric away and yelled, “Klaus! Where are you?” Her voice was lost under an almighty rushing sound. The storm that had threatened all day broke. Darien’s curse had struck. But instead of snow or rain, monstrous hailstones crashed onto her and The Sword. The icy stones stung her exposed skin like bees.
She yelped, as she was sure everyone else did, but the sound was blasted away under ricocheting ice. Seen through her blindfold, it was as if a giant had tossed an enormous barrel of the stuff onto The Sword. With this onslaught, broken bones or concussion were inevitable. Not to mention the longboat actually sinking under the weight. Should she risk using her magic to stop it, even though it was likely to exhaust her?
Not until she knew Klaus was safe.
“Klaus! Answer me,” she yelled above the roar. “Klaus?”
A jagged hailstone hit her forehead and ripped her blindfold apart before bouncing off her nose. The fabric flopped onto her shoulders, leaving her face exposed. Despite her best intentions, her eyes opened, squinting against the harsh onslaught of ice
Another almighty crash hit the hull below the waterline.
Pitched at a crazy angle, The Sword shot out of the water, teetered in the air, then crashed with spine-breaking force back onto the river. It creaked and groaned as if about to crack down the middle.
She yelped and gripped the railing to stop from flying into the river. At the front of The Sword, a food crate bounced into the air and shot overboard. It was followed by the ale barrel.
At least she could see again. She’d check on Klaus and then use her magic to end this madness. Wedged between Averin and the railing, she fought to stand to see Klaus behind her. Hailstones tumbled off her lap to join the stones making the deck treacherous.
Averin yanked her back onto the bench. “No, you don’t,” he yelled in her ear above the roar of hail. He must have realized her blindfold had gone because both his hands slapped across her eyes. “Klaus is Eliezar’s responsibility. Trust El to do his job.” His hands tightened around her head. “Like I’m doing mine to protect you.”
“Are you insane? That’s Klaus! I don’t even know if he’s safe.” Wriggling wildly in the cramped space, she clawed at Averin’s hands, but he didn’t loosen his hold. How could she use water magic with Averin pressed up against her?
Body hard against hers, Averin yelled, “Stasha! Trust me. Just this once believe that Eliezar will never let anything hurt Klaus. Just like I promise that I will never hurt….” His voice cracked, then faded to nothing. The missing “you” left a hole in the surrounding cacophony at least a mile wide.
His silence could mean only one thing—
Klaus wasn’t the weakest person on this longboat. Neither was she.
Averin was! Whatever he was hiding about Zephyr stripped him of his strength. The pod queen knew that. The eel had exposed that weakness as surely as night would follow day. And in Averin’s weakness, he couldn’t even trust himself to make a promise not to hurt her.
Notch one bitter victory to the pod queen. And at least three to Darien. No matter what happened on this longboat, she had to keep her water magic a secret. It was the only advantage she had in this war.
Fighting back tears, she shot her elbow back to hook Averin’s solar plexus. He blocked, clearly anticipating her attack. His one hand slipped around her waist, holding her tight to him. She writhed and fought to escape, but his strength far outweighed hers. He seemed to foresee her moves before she made them, so she couldn’t shrug his hand off her eyes to check on Klaus. Since when had she and Averin become so synchronized? And how was that possible with such ragged trust between them?
“Let me go!” she yelled at the very top of her lungs.
Fat lot of good that did. The bastard’s grip on her waist and eyes didn’t falter. “Stop fighting me,” Averin gritted out. “This is what Darien wants. To get a reaction from you. One that will see you captured, and all of us killed—Klaus included.”
With an effective lock slapped on her water magic, she summoned
fire. With no idea of what to burn, apart from Averin—why did she cower from the thought of causing him pain?—she let it fizzle back under her skin. She leaned into him and moaned. “I hate you with everything I’ve got.”
“I know, pit princess.” Averin’s voice sounded anguished, and she guessed his eyes were black. “Right now, I hate you too.” He pressed his face against her shoulder, so she only just heard him mutter, “But I also love you too much to let you go.”
Before she could even think to unravel that garbled confession, Goul screamed like a wounded animal. “I can’t do this,” he wailed. “Ivan, we shouldn’t even be on this boat in a hailstorm.” The acrid reek of his fear reached her through the hail.
“Goul, sit.” Ivan’s voice was sharp. “Right now.” She longed to see what Goul was doing, but Averin’s hands were like a schorl band across her eyes.
“No, I won’t sit!” Goul yelled above the beating storm. “Why are we even fighting a fae war? They don’t care about us. Queen Calarel is proof. Ivan, let’s get off this boat.”
“Goul, no! The pod queen is messing with your mind.” Averin’s shout tore from somewhere deep inside him. “Ivan, do something! Stop him!” Even now, Averin didn’t relinquish his hold on her. He may not have been able to use words to speak his truth about not hurting her but his arms around her were unequivocal—regardless of the cost, he would not risk her life by letting go.
Goul would probably see his lack of help as typical of another uncaring fae. She’d understand if that was how Goul felt. But how could she or Averin help everyone? She gasped in a breath. They couldn’t. She couldn’t. There would always be casualties—
“Goul, buddy.” Ivan’s voice was panicked. “You have got to sit, or we’ll both fall into the river.” From the sounds, they were scuffling with each other. “Here’s your tunic. Let me cover your face.”
“Her eyes!” Goul sounded entranced. “Look, Ivan. They’re so beautiful.”
“Stop looking! Help me help you!”
“They’re the color of pinecones. The color of home.”
A chilling splash.
Her heart skipped a beat. Goul must have stepped off The Sword into the river. The splash was followed by the frenetic snapping only razor-sharp teeth could make.
Sobs racked her.
“Goul! No!” Ivan keened. “Why? Why? Why?”
Behind her, Klaus sobbed. She oozed out a breath that he was safe on the longboat.
The horrific sound of tearing flesh and gnashing teeth finally stopped.
“The hunt is over,” Eliezar croaked out.
Averin’s hands fell away from her face, and his forehead hit her shoulder. “And I’ve lost one of them.” His breath burned against her neck. “My precious battalion— I’ve lost one of them. Goul is… gone.”
Goul… the boy who’d been part of her life since the day she’d met Tarik. The friend who’d led her to Tarik’s broken body. Like Klaus, Goul had been her last link to that past.
But Goul was much more than that.
The dark-haired boy with the intense face who always worried too much yet never stopped caring for his friends had become a vital part of her now. She had wanted him in her future.
Darien had stolen Goul from her as surely as if he’d plunged a blade into Goul’s heart. But Darien would have her accuse herself. The swine had said she would carry the blame for every single one of her friends’ deaths.
Screw him.
She hadn’t set the slinkers on them. Or the hail. All she’d done was protect her magic to use it at a moment it could do the most good for the most people. As cruel and heartless as it seemed, this hadn’t been that moment.
Still, she owed it Goul to look at his remains. To brand them in her brain so she never forgot, so she’d keep fighting to avenge him and everyone else until Darien gasped his last breath.
She lifted her eyes to the water.
A single boot floated in a plume of reddish muck, pitted with craters left by falling hailstones.
That was all that was left of her friend?
Her jaw sagged and with it her heart. Searing tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the magdoole cat.
A heavy hand landed on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” Klaus leaned over a pile of ice that divided them. His blindfold had gone, and his tawny eyes were flooded with tears. “If I hadn’t almost fallen out of the boat, maybe Goul—”
“Hush!” She scrambled up, slipping on ice. Klaus hugged her close. It pulled her away from Averin. She needed his skin against hers as much as she wanted to be close to Klaus. She wrapped her other arm around Averin’s neck. Averin’s arms locked around her. Huddled together, the three of them sobbed, while fresh hailstones pummeled them and The Sword.
Finally, Averin pulled away. “We need to get out of Ocea. Now. Fae, pick up your oars and row. My human friends, shift the ice off this boat before we sink.”
Numbed by grief and sorrow, and with no protection from the hail, she didn’t have the energy to do anything but obey.
Stasha picked up her oar and was about to start rowing when Eliezar pulled a rumpled tunic out of his satchel and dropped it onto her lap. “I wish I had more to offer you,” he shouted above the rattling ice. “But I guess even this old thing will be welcome.”
Shivering in nothing but her soaking breast bindings and leggings, she worked up a tiny smile for him and tugged the deliciously dry leather tunic over her head. Miles too big for her, it was warm and offered some protection from the pummeling hail. Pity it couldn’t comfort her heart. Nothing could ever fill the gaping hole Goul’s pointless death had left in her chest.
Eliezar turned away and was poised to sit at an oar when he abruptly stopped and stared at the riverbank. “Averin. The forest. No hail. The storm appears to be limited to the river.”
Swimming in Eliezar’s tunic, she angled her ice-pummeled body around to look at the pale, papery trees on the shore. Her eyebrows rose at the moon peeking above the tree line. She hadn’t even noticed the setting sun.
As for the hail?
A soft breeze rattled the skeletal branches together like bones in a barrel, but no ice tore through the ragged yellow leaves. It was like a different world, albeit as dangerous in its own unique way.
“Thank the two-faced god for small mercies.” Averin punched his fist into the air. “Let’s make for the beach. We can shelter there until the hail passes. Just be on guard—none of the dangers in the forest have gone away.” He dived onto the bench next to her and grabbed an oar. The rest of the battalion, solemn-faced Ivan included, hefted oars and started rowing. Ivan and Goul had been inseparable for years; he’d take Goul’s loss hard.
“Scholar Klaus, steer us in as best you can,” Averin commanded.
An breeze whipped the sail. Too little and too late to help her throbbing hands and seeping blisters, it seemed to mock their efforts. It also carried the smell of land offshore. Moss, dead leaves, dank soil, mushrooms, and—
She sucked in a breath. Roasted meat mixed with horse sweat. She lifted her oar to stop rowing and punched Averin’s side. “Slow up. The bank’s a bad idea. I think there’s someone in the forest.” Another scent mingled with pipeweed smacked her senses. She grimaced. “More than one.”
Averin held up his hand. “Stop rowing. Klaus. Battalion. Get down and keep quiet. Don’t move until I give the command.” He turned to her. “Recognize them?”
She shook her head. “No one we know.”
Averin’s head canted, and his eyes narrowed. “I hear movement. Curse this hail or I would’ve caught it sooner.” The hairs on the back of her neck rose. She searched the trees but saw no fae or humans. “I’m onto them now,” Averin added. “They won’t get a jump on us.”
Another gulp of air exposed a strident clash of smells. “There are so many out there,” she hissed. “I can’t separate them all.”
“Probably Pyreack,” Averin said, grimly.
“Maybe no
t.” A bead of sweat ran down Stasha’s spine. “They could be Boa’s rebels.” Oh, to see Boa step out of the trees with an army at her heels.
“Either way, check your magic.” Averin looked from Eliezar to Trystaen and then at Suren.
Trystaen grimaced and shook his head. “Nothing yet.”
Eliezar’s pale-blue eyes were almost silver in the moonlight. “Me neither.”
“A trickle.” Suren moved in next to her and gripped the railing with tight fists. “Not enough to send a message, let alone take on as many fae as Stasha thinks are out there.”
Averin placed a hand on Suren’s shoulder. “You were stationed near here. I take it you know something about their troop movements?”
Suren nodded. “They patrol a twenty-mile-wide line on both sides of the border, all the way to Ely Fort on the coast.” He pointed south. “There’s no way to navigate around them. Not without magic.”
“Prince Averin,” Vlad’s whisper carried along the water. “What do we do?”
Averin’s face darkened. “I said no speaking, Master Vlad. You must learn to—” His head whipped around. “On our right!”
Wind whistled, followed by a solid thunk as an arrow hit the hull.
Averin grabbed her hand and pulled her down. Eliezar, Trystaen, and Suren also ducked below the railing.
A second arrow smacked into the mast. Shouts echoed from the riverbank.
Averin, Trystaen, and Eliezar pulled throwing-knives from their baldrics and tossed them over the railing towards their enemy. There was no way to tell if any of them hit their mark.
Keeping her head down, Stasha slipped onto the closest bench and grabbed the ore. “We need to get out of here.”
“It’s too late to run,” Suren hissed. “They know where we are. They’ll be calling on reinforcements.”
As if to prove his point, two more arrows slammed into the boat. One shot straight through the hull and thudded into the deck at her feet. More shouts sounded.
And then a shriek, followed by a gurgle. Steel clashed. Through the hail and gathering darkness, she saw someone wearing a red Pyreack uniform splash heavily into the water.