by Elise Kova
The rowboat was maneuvered back into its place and not a second later Vi was all but pushed off with a gruff, “Out.”
Vi complied, stepping onto the main deck of the icy ship, nearly slipping in the process. She barely managed to recover. Vi tried to force her spark around her feet to give them better purchase, but it was still dark in her. No matter how hard she tried to summon the magic, it refused to heed her call.
Vi didn’t panic. Even if she’d had her spark, she was so outnumbered it was comical.
The crew was situated in a semi-circle around her. They didn’t brandish their weapons, but had them very clearly at hand even though she was constrained physically and magically. Most of the crew were wrapped in heavy wool and thick furs—but some wore loose-fitting clothing more regularly associated with seafaring.
Those would be the Firebearers or Waterrunners, Vi assumed. Firebearers because they could keep their spark right under their skin for warmth. Or Waterrunners, because the ice would not affect them nearly as much. Or perhaps they had some other magic entirely—either way, it gave her a rough estimate of the number of sorcerers aboard.
Magic did not surprise her.
But seeing men and women outside of her visions who were not-quite-human still did.
While all were human-like, two had upturned noses and a pale blue flesh with shimmers of magic that ran over what appeared to be scales. There was a man like the one she’d seen in her vision with her father on Meru—he looked as if he possessed some reptilian heritage, as he bore opalescent organic plates on his skin, an elongated snout-like nose, and slitted eyes. Several were nearly-human, but with faintly glowing dots on their brows in place of eyebrows.
“Welcome to the Stormfrost, Vi Yarl Ci’Dan Solaris, crown princess to the Solaris Empire.” A woman emerged from the center of the group, commanding Vi’s full attention.
Her eyes held the ocean itself within, her hair held the winds of winter, and she walked with a cane held by an icy hand.
Adela. Vi recognized her from the vision at the Crossroads. But being in the woman’s presence was staggering. An impossible amount of magic radiated from her. A large bird was perched on her shoulder—bright-eyed and ruddy-feathered. It was the same one Kora had sent the day before.
“You are not the easiest woman to catch. But if anyone was to do it, it would be me.”
Vi glared at her, balling her hands into fists.
Adela ignored her silent anger, turning to the crew that had been with Vi on the rowboat. “Where’s Kora and the lady of the hour—our dear Jayme?” Just the way Adela asked betrayed she already knew the answer.
“She killed them.”
“My my, killing my crew.” Adela walked over to Vi slowly. She stopped when she was a mere breath away. “What am I going to do with you?” she whispered, looking Vi up and down. For once, Vi couldn’t read someone’s assessment of her. Whatever thoughts Adela had, she was keeping them well away from her face. “Take her below.”
Adela punctuated the statement by bringing her cane before her, tapping it lightly between their feet. Light shot out from its tip, spreading across the icy coating of the vessel and running up the masts. The sails unfurled at the silent command, and the ship began to move.
“We make headway for Salvidia immediately. The elfin’ra want her fresh.”
Two men grabbed her at her elbows, hoisting her off the deck. Vi didn’t even bother struggling. It wouldn’t get her anywhere.
“Oh—” Adela stopped the men carrying her with a sound. “Do not take the gag from her mouth under any circumstances. I’m told she’s a Lightspinner.”
“To feed her?”
“Feed her?” Adela gently petted the bird on her shoulder. “It’ll only take us six days to get to Salvidia. If she’s anything like her father, I think she can sustain for that long without dying.”
The men picked her up once more, dragging her below the main deck of the Stormfrost. The rest of the crew parted to make room, then continued about their duties, as if already bored with her. Vi was helpless to do anything other than be manhandled.
She needed to save her strength more than ever.
She had six days to plan an escape from the most infamous pirate in the world… or be handed over to those who would sacrifice her to their dark god and bring about the end of days.
Chapter Thirty-One
Vi sat curled in the back of a prison cell made of ice.
It didn’t entirely look like a prison cell—at least not the ones Vi had seen before in books and certainly not like the hanging cages of Shaldan. There were two flame bulbs frozen to the wall, fire managing to flicker within without ruining the integrity of the ice. There was scarce little else—a bed, and a place for Vi to relieve herself connected to the outer hull—though she had yet to make the attempt as that, too, was frozen over, and her shackles made it awkward.
The bed was the only thing not completely covered in ice. Vi was nestled in the furs that had been piled atop it, her back against the wall, facing the only point of exit and the one thing that made her feel as though she were in a cell. The opposite wall was made entirely of ice, like Adela’s hand, bars spanning from floor to ceiling. Only a Waterrunner—and a powerful one at that—would be able to break through or alter the ice.
Or a skilled enough Firebearer.
Or a Lightspinner.
That is, a Firebearer or Lightspinner whose magic wasn’t smothered to oblivion.
Fighting another shiver, Vi continued to stare listlessly forward. Drool collected around the gag in her mouth, dripping from her chin from time to time. Wiping it away was her only movement.
She had to focus on thinking of a way to escape. But all she could think of was her family. Was her father rotting away in a cell similar to this one on the Isle of Frost the crew had mentioned?
Escape, and kill them all, Vi thought darkly. The hole in her chest left by Jayme’s betrayal was slowly consuming her bodily. If Vi could thank her now, she would; Jayme taught her an important lesson—just how far she would go for her family and her mission.
“Well, well… look at you now, princess,” a familiar voice sneered. Fallor strolled into her field of vision, as if he was taking a walk through a park. “How far you’ve fallen.”
Vi narrowed her eyes slowly, watching him.
“Oh, don’t get up, princess, not on this lowly soldier’s account.”
She hadn’t intended to. He wasn’t worth the energy.
It was then Vi noticed the thick black brows he’d had painted on the last time she’d seen him were gone. In their place were four small dots above each eye that seemed to almost shimmer with a dark, crimson color.
“Wondering what these are?” He noticed her stare.
Vi gave a small nod. Let’s see how much precious information she could get him to slip.
Fallor leaned into the bars, gripping them with his bare hands. Vi couldn’t imagine how he would pry them off without losing a layer of flesh to the ice. He pushed his face forward, ruddy hair hanging around it in gnarly ropes. “They’re the mark of the Morphi.”
Vi tilted her head.
“You wouldn’t know, as a dweller of the Dark Isle. You have no idea of half the splendid things in this world.” He pushed away, still grinning like a madman. “And you never will. You’ll rot here until we deliver you to the elfin’ra. And from what I hear, they’ll make you wish you were back in Adela’s generous accommodations.”
Vi kept her face passive. The last thing she wanted to do was give this man any kind of emotion. Fear or rage—he’d delight in all of it, because it would give him the knowledge that he had power over her—that he could control, in part, what she felt. And Vi would be damned if she gave him the satisfaction.
“Seeing you, like this… so strong, so stubborn… you remind me of your father. He was like this too, you know, at first. You’re making him proud.”
The gag in her mouth ached. She wanted to spit every vile curse she kn
ew at this man. But other than gnawing on the iron ball between her teeth, Vi worked to remain passive. At least until Fallor added, “But you’ll break eventually, just as he did. And he was a delight to crush.”
Vi launched off the bed and crossed the small cell in two wide steps. She glared at Fallor through the bars. Fists balled. Face lined with anger.
“Oh, you want to get to me?”
She nodded. She’d tear him apart with magic. She’d show him exactly who was going to be crushed.
“You want to speak?”
She nodded again, even though she knew he was just toying with her.
“Perhaps the elfin’ra will let you in five days. Enjoy your time here, princess.”
Fallor left. Vi watched him stroll down the long hall she’d been dragged down, up until the point he vanished from her field of vision. Vi spun in place, leaning against the bars. The ice sent tingling daggers up her spine, clearing her head.
She couldn’t allow herself to get so fired up; she would just play into their hands. But her emotions seemed fragile and scattered. Just when she thought—
Fire.
A thought crossed her mind, a wild idea… she turned, staring at the flame bulb. If she was lucky—and nothing about this situation led her to believe she was—one last insane idea may just be her ticket out of Adela’s clutches.
Two days.
Two days passed.
At least, she thought it was about two days. Once a day, seemingly around the same time, Fallor came to “check” on her. He volleyed insults and jibes through the bars, meaningless verbal attacks that Vi let slide off her skin like vinegar off oil.
Each day she stared at him dully, balling her emotions deep within her. Focusing only on what must be done.
Each night, she ran through maps and rough estimates in her head. She had no idea exactly how fast the Stormfrost was moving through the tides, but she’d seen a similar ship in Erion’s books. Using the reported speeds of that vessel and the fact that they had begun their journey on Blue Lagoon, Vi estimated they were somewhere near the easternmost tip of Meru.
It was just an estimate, however.
Until Fallor confirmed it on the third day.
“It’s a shame you can’t see it,” he gloated in that terrible, skin-crawling tone of his. “To be close enough to Meru to lay eyes on the coast but unable to see it… You could’ve made history and completed your father’s mission if you’d made it to the continent. But he failed, and so will you.”
On and on Fallor went about her family’s shortcomings. Vi fought a yawn. She had her information.
As soon as he left, Vi stood. Her plan was roughly constructed and risky at best—suicidal, more likely. But while Vi had no intention of dying, it would be better to die at sea than to hand herself over to the elfin’ra.
Vi stood, taking a deep breath. She turned to the flame bulb, starting over toward it. If Vi had been any shorter, she wouldn’t have been able to reach it. But perhaps she had been blessed with height for just this moment.
Raising her arms over her head and twisting her wrists back, Vi said a silent prayer that no one would hear what she was about to do, then smashed her shackles into the ice covering the bulb.
Much like the rowboat as it slammed against the hull of the ship, the ice cracked and splintered, falling in pieces. Vi let momentum ricochet her arms back before redoubling her efforts and smashing forward yet again. More white fractures formed and broke into cracks. She repeated the process one more time—two—and on the third, it broke to the glass underneath.
Glass fractured, embedding into her palms. Before the flame could extinguish Vi jumped, turning. Her hair singed—the stink of it filled her nose.
She could burn off all her hair if that’s what it took. She needed to burn through the heavy leather straps holding the ball gag in her mouth. If she could get off the gag, she could muster her Lightspinning. If she could do that, she could get rid of the shackles.
She hoped. This all hinged on the theory that the pirates had put both gag and shackles on her to stymie two different kinds of magic: the gag for her Lightspinning, and the shackles for her fire magic. If she couldn’t speak, she couldn’t say Yargen’s words to summon her powers that way. If she couldn’t access the raw power of her spark and channel it as fire, she was useless as a Firebearer as well.
Smoke filled the air and was quickly replaced by the wintry cool of the ship. Vi reached up, tugging at the gag on her cheeks. She struggled, inching her fingers back, working to try to reach the clasp. But she couldn’t; she was still too immobile and the leather was holding strong.
Turning, she raced to the other flame bulb, repeating the process.
A loud bang broke her concentration briefly as she heard the door at the end of the hall slam open. Vi turned back to the fire behind a bulb of glass and thin sheet of ice. She smashed against it again. And again.
“What do you think you’re doing?” The man behind the bars barked at her.
Vi ignored him, heaving one last mighty smash. The glass shattered once more. Her hands plunged straight through the wall behind, fingers crunching against the ice. Her wrists were in the last remnants of the flame before it extinguished.
But this time, the fire didn’t die.
An explosion of light originated from Vi’s wrist as the wooden bead from the Mother Tree heated and exploded in an array of fire and light. Vi felt it wash over her like the tides of the sea on which she was trapped adrift.
The man was thrown back in the blast.
He hit the wall opposite with a thud; the remaining icy bars shattered atop his hunched form. Vi felt magic—her magic. No, different. This was hers but not. Everything was sharper, more precise, as though this was the magic she was yet working toward.
Yargen’s power originates from the Mother Tree. The rogue thought wandered through her mind, said in Ellene’s voice.
Vi ripped the gag from her mouth. The shackles had been destroyed in the blast. Massaging her jaw and jumping over the limp body of the man, she made a dash for the stairs.
Her plan wasn’t going quite according to expectations. But the result was the same—she was out. She had her magic. Now… she had to figure out how to get off the boat and to Meru.
The fire followed her, sprinting ahead like a ribbon unrolling upward through stairwells and ladders to the main deck. People attempted to approach her, twice, but they backed away from the flames in fear, shouting curses. Vi spat magic at them left and right, not caring who she levied juth against.
Vi emerged onto the main deck, surprised to find it dark. Fallor had been coming at night, not morning as she’d originally suspected. Not that it mattered now. She was too far along in her attempt to turn back now.
“Fire below!” a man bellowed, rushing out of the portal she’d just come through. Vi felt the crackle of magic at her back—a Waterrunner no doubt trying to subdue the flame.
“Fire above!” a woman shouted back, jumping from the quarterdeck to land heavily at Vi’s side. As she stood, ice shards appeared in the air in a wide arc around her. With a flick of her wrist, they were sent hurling toward Vi.
“Mysst xieh,” Vi said as she raised a hand. The glyph of light was ablaze and the ice hissed as it melted on contact. It was as though all of her magic right now had been steeped in flame.
A rumble from deep within the bowels of the ship stilled them all. Vi turned toward its source and like the frosty breath of an icy dragon waking, mist poured from the opening beneath the quarterdeck—where Vi had just come from. There was no sensation of flames beneath any longer, just the stillness of ice. The tap tap tap of a cane announced Adela’s arrival. She emerged into the moonlight, the draped silks over her shoulders heavy with ice.
“Give this up and return to your cell,” Adela cautioned. “You try my patience.”
“Let me off this vessel, and I’ll allow you and everyone on it to live.” Vi didn’t really think the threat would work, but damned
if she wasn’t going to try.
Adela laughed.
Tearing her eyes from the pirate queen, Vi turned toward the northwestern horizon. She could barely make out the silhouette of what she hoped was land and not clouds.
“I need you alive, girl; I don’t need you well,” Adela cautioned.
“Juth starys!” Vi didn’t wait for the woman to make her first move. She sent a ball of fire in Adela’s direction and began to run once more.
It would be safer to commandeer a rowboat, but it would almost ensure her recapture. Adela would find her among the dark waters and hoist her back into the boat. She would freeze the sea itself around Vi’s escape and ensnare her. There was only one hope for a way out—to be lost in the waves.
“Remember you chose this,” Adela said, almost bored. Lifting her cane with her icy hand, she dropped it onto the deck. A ripple of magic shot out, expanding until it reached in front of Vi before it propelled upward through the air, a solid wall of ice. Vi turned, only to find the ice spreading around and above her, forming a near-perfect cube.
It was so cold that even within her flames, Vi shivered. She looked through the nearly transparent wall at the sea beyond. A little more—it would not end like this.
Closing her eyes, Vi dug deep. She was exhausted, famished, worn to the bone; whatever magic had been unleashed from Ellene’s bracelet was waning.
“Yargen please, just a little more.”
Fire pushed against the ice, magic pitted against magic. Vi opened her eyes to see her progress, but there was nothing but light surrounding her. Yet she could feel it, the walls of ice that tried to contain her unstoppable fire, and pushed all the harder.
“Juth calt,” Vi said, and put an end to her icy prison with a crack that seemed to echo through her very essence. It was followed by another, and another, and then—a rupture that shook the ship itself. Freed, her fire ran over the deck, leaving people screaming in agony, fleeing from its incinerating tendrils.