“Didn’t seem sporting!” Lopen called over the increasingly loud sounds of the storm. “You keep us going straight, Captain. I’ll watch the crew!”
She nodded, and turned to her task. Running with the winds, but—best they could—on their own terms. He had to trust she was keeping the ship on its spiral heading, moving steadily inward. Because he couldn’t make any sense of this. The sea seemed to be Damnation itself, incarnate as furious waves.
Lopen kept an eye on the sailors, but he had Rua watching something else. Eventually—after splashing through wave after wave—the little honorspren came zipping up to Lopen in the shape of a skyeel with an extremely long tail.
“What is it, naco?” Lopen asked.
Rua pointed at the water nearby, and Lopen saw a shape in the depths—or at least a dark shadow. Size was difficult to judge because he didn’t know how deep the thing was, but Rua was insistent. It was one of them. The things that had feasted on Stormlight, draining the Windrunners who had tried to investigate the storm before.
“It’s swimming?” Lopen asked, wiping rainwater from his eyes. “How can you be certain that’s one of them, naco?”
Rua simply was. And Lopen trusted him. He figured, sure, Rua would know about this sort of thing, same as Lopen knew about one-armed Herdazian jokes.
Leyten and the others hadn’t been able to report much about the things. They thought they were alive, not spren, but couldn’t be certain. The things had needed to get close to them though, so it probably couldn’t affect Lopen up here on the deck. Leyten said they’d hovered out in the clouds, indistinct, until he turned—then they’d come in from behind and drained him.
But were they the same type of creature as what Rysn kept as a pet? This one in the water seemed far larger. And more blobby somehow? Lopen would need to be careful when rescuing other members of the crew—if that thing drained him while he was in the drink, it would be catastrophic. He’d have to learn some dead Herdazian jokes to tell in the afterlife.
The sailing continued a long, terrible time. Lopen kept a vigilant watch through it all, and so was ready when Wvlan lost his footing. Lopen was on him before he was swept overboard, and pulled them both up against the rail and stuck them there, water cascading over them. He gave Wvlan a pat and a laugh, but when Lopen got to his knees to let the water stream off him, he noticed the dark shadow in the water right over the side of the ship. Keeping pace with them.
He wished he could get Cord out here to see if any strange spren were nearby. But he didn’t dare bring her into this storm. It would be—
The ship crashed through one final wave, and the wind abruptly stopped. Amazed, Lopen stumbled to his feet, then wiped his eyes again. Nearby sailors relaxed, loosening their grips on the ropes they’d been using to do . . . well, some sailor things with the stormsail.
“We made it!” Klisn said. “Storms, it’s like the centerbeat!” An awespren burst around him, and Lopen agreed with the sentiment. The rough waves and wind blew in a circular pattern right behind them. Dark clouds still blocked the sky, but the ship cut through choppy smaller waves, settling into a peaceful rest here—where even the waters seemed less dark, more sapphire than they had on the way in.
“Hey, Klisn?” Lopen said. “Would you go fetch Cord for me? I told her I’d get her as soon as it was safe, but I should go unstick your captain from the deck. I suspect she is liking it about as much as Punio did during the weeks I had a spren and he did not.”
“Sure thing, Lopen,” Klisn said, running off. He was a great fellow. Skilled partner at cards, plus he had an excellent sense of humor. And not only because he thought Lopen’s jokes were funny. He also thought Huio’s were terrible.
Lopen hastened up the stairs to the quarterdeck, then slowed as he stepped up beside the captain and helmsman. They were staring out across the ocean, toward something emerging from distant fog. An island.
It was surrounded by big stone spikes rising out of the ocean like a wall somehow built in the sea itself. But there was a huge gap where a dozen or more had either been removed or never placed. As the ship drifted farther, the waters stilled in an eerie way. The gap revealed a shallow island, small enough that Lopen could probably walk around the perimeter in an hour or so. Near the center, he spotted what he thought must be city walls, and maybe some structures near them.
“Well, hie me off to Damnation,” the captain muttered. “It’s actually real.”
12
“We’re here, Chiri-Chiri,” Rysn whispered as several of the sailors set her into her chair on the quarterdeck. “Look. I’ve brought you home.”
Chiri-Chiri nestled into her arms and barely moved. Rysn held her close as the captain and her brother conversed quietly nearby. Storms . . . the island looked so . . . surreal, with that too-still ocean, the distant fog, that strange rock palisade in the waters around it. The island itself was low and flat, except for that part near the center. Were those walls or a natural plateau?
The crew had gathered on deck, mingled with anticipationspren, like red streamers waving in an unfelt wind. Rysn wasn’t close enough to hear what they whispered to one another, and she almost tried to pull herself along the rail to get closer. Only a few days with her hovering chair, and already she relied on it.
Well, if this place turned out to be an enemy stronghold, they might have to leave quickly. She didn’t want to risk the floating chair, so she’d ordered it stowed and had the gemstones in her pocket. Her quarterdeck seat would have to do.
So she sat quietly, trying not to feel overwhelmed. They were here, finally. Rysn had brought them here. How would Vstim have proceeded? She didn’t know. She had learned his wisdom, but now she simply had to trust her own instincts.
That was more frightening to her than it had ever been before. “Captain,” she said, calling toward Drlwan. “What do you think? What news from the eel’s nest?”
The woman strode over. “I have three men with spyglasses searching for anything suspicious,” the captain said. “No signs of life, though there are definitely structures farther in. Not much wind here, oddly, but we can use oars to maneuver. These waters look treacherous, so we’ll want to go slowly. The depths around Aimia often have hidden hazards beneath the surface.
“Assuming all goes well, we could maneuver through that gap and get in close to the island.” She hesitated. “Rebsk, the lookouts report what appear to be gemhearts on the beach. Just lying there, discarded among the shells of fallen beasts.”
Curious. Rysn took a deep breath. “I authorize a slow approach. Warn me if anything new is spotted, and kindly have someone ask the Radiants and their party to come speak with me.” She could see Lopen, Huio, and Rushu chatting softly with Cord down on the main deck.
The captain ordered some of the sailors to man the oars, and soon they were gliding carefully toward the ring of tall rocks that surrounded the island. They reminded her of the obelisks the Deshi nomads set up at their various waystops.
Eerily, the only sounds were those of the oars on the water—a stark counterpoint to the raging winds and waters they’d left behind. As they moved—checking depth on both sides of the ship every minute or two—the Radiants and their friends stepped up onto the quarterdeck.
“What do you see, Cord?” Rysn asked in Veden.
“Luckspren,” she said, pointing overhead. “But they’re not approaching the island. There are dozens upon dozens flying around out here. Lopen showed me a shadow of something under the water that he thinks might be what drained Stormlight from the other Radiants, but I saw no spren. The shadow vanished quickly, but I think he must be toa, not liki. Um, I think you say physical, and not . . . mind? Of the mind world?”
“Curious,” Rysn replied, though she wasn’t entirely certain she understood.
“Hey,” Lopen said. “You speak . . . um . . . is that . . .”
“Veden,” Rysn said in Alethi. “I do.”
“I might be able to get the ship through that gap,” the cap
tain said, walking over. “How would you like to proceed, Rebsk?”
“Take us as close as you dare, Captain,” Rysn said.
Drlwan skillfully guided them up to the gap and, after another check of depths, sailed the ship right through the opening. The captain brought them in close enough to the island that Rysn could make out bleached carapace on the shore—the remnants of ancient greatshells. Again she held up Chiri-Chiri, hoping to get some reaction. Talik had said they should come here. But what now?
Chiri-Chiri didn’t seem interested in the place, though she did look up toward the sky and then stirred, chirping softly. Rysn placed Chiri-Chiri carefully in her lap, and the creature didn’t move much, but did keep her attention on the sky. Could she sense those invisible spren, perhaps?
Kstled stepped up and handed Rysn a spyglass. Through it, she easily made out the carapace husks as well as large diamond gemhearts lying scattered around. Dun, showing no light, they lay as if they’d fallen right where the beasts had died. Something about that struck her as odd.
“Orders, Rebsk?” the captain asked her.
Orders. It was time to be in charge. She ignored her fluttering heart, her worry for Chiri-Chiri. “Radiant the Lopen and Ardent Rushu. I assume you two will want to be on with your secret mission?”
The two shared a glance, and were embarrassed enough to draw a few shamespren, like floating flower petals.
“Er, yes, Brightness,” Rushu said. “We’ll want to strike inward, toward those buildings.”
“I suggest letting my men do a quick reconnaissance before you do so,” Rysn said. “Kstled, take a large contingent of sailors and—leaving non-combatants on the ship for now—secure the beach. Report anything unusual.”
He bowed to her, then went to gather the sailors. As the rowboats were lowered, Lopen and Huio climbed aboard. So did Rushu.
“Ardent Rushu?” Rysn called after her. “I suggest you wait until we’re certain the beach is safe.”
“A fine suggestion!” Rushu called back. “But don’t worry about me, Brightness.” And she settled herself on the bench of one of the boats.
Well, she wasn’t technically under Rysn’s authority. So she could do as she wished. Cord wisely didn’t insist on going—instead she knelt beside Rysn’s chair, then turned her gaze from Chiri-Chiri up toward the sky.
Was there a connection between the luckspren and Chiri-Chiri? Skyeels were the only other creature her size that could fly, and they were often accompanied by luckspren.
Chiri-Chiri chirped again, an encouraging sign. Rysn gave her a sphere to eat, then glanced over her shoulder toward the storm. The fog obscured much of that, but in clearer patches she could see a sweeping barrier of wind and tempest. Like the stormwall of a highstorm, only blowing circularly.
“We should finish this as quickly as possible,” Rysn said to Drlwan, who still stood nearby. “Once we’re certain the shore is safe, have some of the sailors begin scouting around the perimeter of the island. We can collect any interesting artifacts and give the Radiants time to—”
Chiri-Chiri thrashed in her lap. Rysn looked down as the creature perked up for the first time in weeks, then stood, her wings fluttering. She was still staring at the sky.
“Cord?” Rysn said in Veden. “Is she seeing luckspren?”
“I think so,” Cord said. “They’ve begun to fly lower.”
Rysn squinted, and believed she could see them. Faint arrowhead figures shimmering in the air. Chiri-Chiri chirped louder. Rysn found her heart beating faster, her breaths quickening. She’d begun to worry that this had somehow all been in vain, that there would be nothing here to help Chiri-Chiri.
The larkin zipped into the air. Storms, it had been forever since she’d flown so energetically!
The luckspren began moving more quickly. Rysn lost sight of them, and Cord gasped. Chiri-Chiri immediately tucked and dove straight down into the water.
Rysn cried out, her excitement bleeding into panic. She twisted and leaned over the side, joined by Cord. Chiri-Chiri swiftly vanished into the shadows, moving beneath some rocks and out of sight.
“She followed the spren . . .” Cord whispered. “Something is happening. Something is odd. . . .” She narrowed her eyes.
The captain stepped to the rail. “Did . . . you know it could swim?”
Rysn shook her head, feeling an alarming spike of loss. What if . . . what if Chiri-Chiri never came back? What if by bringing her here, Rysn had unwittingly offered her freedom—and she’d taken it? Well . . . Rysn tried to be positive. That was better than Chiri-Chiri being sick. And if the creature wanted freedom, Rysn wouldn’t confine her.
At the same time, so much emotion was wrapped up in her experiences with the larkin. Rysn’s slow recovery from her accident, her year of melancholy, her near death at the hands of Voidbringers. Chiri-Chiri had been with her for all that, and—in that brief first moment wondering if she was alone—Rysn found a startling fragility to her feelings. A desire to cling to something she loved and never, never let go.
Was that selfish? A trade or exchange couldn’t be a good one unless both parties gained something from it. Yet not everything was about exchanges and trades. It was sometimes difficult for her to remember that.
“Rebsk?” the captain asked.
“I . . . will wait here to see if she returns, Captain,” Rysn said, trying to remain steady. “Please, bring me word from the shore party as soon as they’ve inspected the beach.”
13
Lopen stood dramatically at the prow of the small boat, one foot up, spear over his shoulder, Rua standing in exactly the same pose on his other shoulder. The sailors had unshipped their oars behind him, as the rowboat now moved along under its own power. Why make the sailors work when you had Lashings?
Besides, Lopen could see a shadow under the water, moving along with him. These waters were shallow now, but whatever it was stayed close to the bottom—and with the clouds in the sky, it was dark enough down there to prevent Lopen from making out what it was.
He was still convinced, however, that this shadow was the thing that could feed off Stormlight. But not a little one like Chiri-Chiri. This was bigger, and a different shape. Flatter? It was hard to tell. He’d hoped it would surface and try to steal the Stormlight he put into the rowboat.
It didn’t. It seemed . . . timid. Frightened of him, unwilling to confront him directly. So Lopen tried to keep an eye on it, and had Rua do the same. It was hard, considering how exciting this next part was going to be.
Ahead, the water gave way to a rocky beach—which was overgrown with storming gemhearts like they were rockbuds. The chitinous remains of greatshells watched over them with hollow, cavernous eyes. Discarded armor of beasts long dead.
Huio’s boat drifted up beside Lopen’s, then slowed to match his lazy speed as they crossed the bay. Lopen’s cousin crouched, holding his spear in a tense posture.
“Can you believe it, older-cousin?” Lopen said. “Stepping foot on a land no person has ever visited.”
“There was a city here, Lopen,” Huio said. “It was literally one of the capitals of the Epoch Kingdoms.”
“Well, yeah,” Lopen said. “But, sure, there’s got to be a portion of it nobody ever stepped on, right?”
“I wouldn’t bet on that,” he said. “Considering how long the Epoch Kingdoms stood and the expected population numbers.”
“Fine,” Lopen said, pointing forward heroically, with Rua copying him. “Onward we go, to step foot on a land no person has visited in centuries!”
“Except the crew of that other ship,” Huio said. “Who probably landed on the island, since they weren’t found on their ship. And others who presumably killed those people. We’ll be the first, except for all those.”
Lopen sighed and glanced at Rua, who rolled his head from one shoulder to another in annoyance, then made it fall off. “Cousin,” Lopen said, “do you know why it is that people stick you to the wall so often?”
“
To judge the relative strength of Radiants by oath level, measuring the duration of Lashings against the Stormlight expended.”
“It’s because you’re no fun.”
“Nah, I decided to let it be fun. You get an entirely new perspective on life when hanging from the wall.” Huio grinned, then both of them turned sharply. The shadow under the ocean had changed direction, slipping away back toward deeper waters. Apparently it didn’t want to rise up high enough to let them get a good look at it.
Lopen’s Lashing ran out right as the boat ground against the stones and beached itself. As it jerked to a halt, he used the momentum to tip forward and step straight onto the shore. Now that was style. He glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. Too bad Cord was on the ship, waiting until the sailors had scouted the region.
Sailors jumped out of the other large rowboats, then had to wade through the water to pull them ashore. Rua watched that with sadness.
“You could go run through the water if you want, naco,” Lopen said.
Rua glanced at him, still sitting on Lopen’s shoulder in his small form, then cocked his head.
“Well, yes,” Lopen said. He always knew what Rua meant. It was the way things were. “Just because I have style landing with elegant dignity and control doesn’t mean those fellows lack style when running through the waves. They have sailor style, while I’ve got the Lopen style.” He tapped Rua on the nose. “Don’t let people tell you that style is limited, pretending it will run out like Stormlight. Style is the best resource in the world, because we can make as much of it as we want—and there’s plenty, sure, for everybody.”
He put his hands on his hips and studied the beach, then ran over to help Rushu get out of her boat, because ardent style—with all those pieces of paper—did not involve getting wet.
“Thank you, Radiant Lopen,” she said as she tucked her notebook under her arm. A sailor who climbed out after her carried her spanreed and other equipment. “So, what do we make of this?”
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