Balefire

by Jordan L. Hawk

  My lips tightened. Every time I looked at her, the only thing I could remember was her blade at Whyborne’s throat, while she tried to convince Rupert that killing him was the only way to keep the Endicotts safe.

  “Where’s Iskander?” she asked when we approached.

  “Dining with his wife,” I said, not bothering to hide my dislike. “What are you doing here?”

  “Coming with you, ain’t I?” she asked, clearly unperturbed.

  Whyborne folded his arms over his chest. “To keep an eye on me?”

  “To fight the Fideles.” Rupert interposed himself between them. “Not one another. Now, would you care to hear our plan of attack?”

  Whyborne’s lips pressed together, but he nodded. Rupert went to stand at the rail, staring out at the night-shrouded water.

  “The sea around Carn Moreth is too treacherous for larger vessels,” he said. “We will draw as close as is safe, then take the lifeboat the rest of the way. Basil will remain aboard the Melusine and return to Old Grimsby for safety.”

  “I could fight with you,” Basil objected.

  “The Seeker has ordered everyone below the age of twenty to stay in safety.” Rupert turned to Basil. “No one is questioning your courage. But if things go badly, there must be some of us left to carry on the Endicott legacy.”

  “Ah, yes, the legacy of making enemies wherever you go,” Whyborne said. “A proud tradition indeed.”

  I tried to turn my chuckle into a cough. From the look on Rupert’s face, I didn’t succeed.

  Basil’s shoulders slumped, but he nodded. “I understand, Rupert.”

  “Good lad.” Rupert returned his attention to us. “The western and southern sides of Carn Moreth are nothing but wave-scoured rock, far too treacherous to land on. The northern and eastern flanks, however, are accessible by boat. The causeway connecting the island to Penmoreth lies in the northeast, dividing the shore into two wide beaches. This is where we’ll put in, once the Seeker has unlocked the barrier.”

  I frowned. “Surely the Fideles will have set watch there. They’d be fools not to expect some sort of attack, or to assume sorcerers such as yourselves could find no way through the barrier.”

  “You’re correct, Mr. Flaherty,” Rupert said. “We’ll use what magics we can to conceal the ships, but I won’t pretend we aren’t going into extreme danger. Our ultimate goal is to escort the Seeker into Balefire, where she will hopefully be able to turn the estate’s magics against the intruders. But the fight to get there will be a hard one, of that I have no doubt. My hope is Dr. Whyborne will be able to draw upon the arcane lines that flow around Morgen’s Needle, as he did in the Draakenwood.”

  Whyborne frowned slightly. “If it becomes necessary.”

  I hoped it didn’t, for his sake. I thought him magnificent when under the influence of the power surging through the lines, but he’d confessed to me that he was uncomfortable with the effect it had upon him. Not to mention channeling too much arcane energy became physically painful even to him. He was never one to yield to pain, but I hated that he had to endure it at all. Perhaps we would be lucky for once, and the small force of Endicott sorcerers would bring a quicker end to things than Rupert feared.

  A pair of clawed hands wrapped around the rail. Rupert leapt back, and the rest of us started as Heliabel heaved herself onto the deck. She’d shed her ceremonial regalia, and seawater streamed from her sleek form.

  “Mother!” Whyborne exclaimed. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  “Joining you, of course.” Her tentacle hair lay nearly quiescent over her shoulders, save for the ends, which twitched like the tail of a cat trying to decide whether or not it was annoyed with something. “The rest of the ketoi will merely watch from afar, but I’m not sitting by while you go into danger.”

  Rupert looked pained. But after a moment, he forced himself to nod. “Of course. We’d be grateful for your assistance.”

  Chapter 19

  Griffin

  Thanks to the short nights, dawn was breaking when Carn Moreth came into sight.

  The Endicott ships reacted to some signal I couldn’t perceive, heaving to and weighing anchor almost as one. The boats had been readied, and we scrambled into our places. None of us trusted Whyborne with the oars, so Iskander, Hattie, Rupert, and I took them up, while he and Christine perched in the bow and stern, respectively. We’d already stowed our supplies: a small waterproof box for Rupert containing his alchemical supplies, canteens for each of us, a packet of food for Christine, and our weapons.

  “I’m bringing my bow,” Christine said. “Oh, and Whyborne, I thought to pack rags and oil.”

  He stared at her blankly. “What on earth for?”

  “Flaming arrows, of course!” Her eyes all but shone with excitement. “I’ll soak the rags, tie them around the arrows, and then you light them on fire once they’re in flight.”

  “Er,” Whyborne said, clearly less convinced of the merits of her plan than she was. Then he brightened. “Actually, that is an excellent idea. You stay near the back of the fighting—or perhaps find a good vantage point—and we’ll press on, while you shoot over our heads. I’m afraid your bow won’t be of much use inside, so you should probably remain in whatever place you take up to begin with.”

  “Really, Whyborne, do you think I didn’t bring a cudgel with me as well? Use some sense, man.”

  I glanced at Iskander, who looked pained but knew better than to argue. Whyborne, however, had apparently forgotten his instincts of self-preservation. “But surely you shouldn’t be lifting anything heavy, let alone swinging it about.”

  “Heavy? It weighs three pounds, if that.” Her dark brows dove into a scowl. “Wait a moment. Are you attempting to trick me into staying behind?”

  Thankfully, the sailors swung us over the side at that moment, preventing an argument. As soon as we hit the water, we began to pull for the island. Heliabel dove in beside us, her sleek form keeping pace alongside, just beneath the surface.

  Carn Moreth reared up above the sea, a windswept mount which had stood against centuries of assault from the waves. Gulls took off from the crags, screaming to one another as they departed for the morning hunt.

  Above the steep cliffs overlooking the sea sprouted an incongruous sight. The ordinary walls and windows of a manor house seemed to grow from the rock itself, but rather than form a flat sprawl, they crawled up the steep hill to the very pinnacle of the island.

  “Daft, ain’t it?” Hattie asked with a nod. “Forms a spiral, or as close to one as they could build. You can’t see it from here, but Morgen’s Needle is at the center. Right at the very tip-top of the island.”

  Early sunlight shimmered off the waves, obscuring the details. I squinted—wait. That wasn’t sunlight. “I can see the defenses from here. A great wall, or veil, of magic.”

  The closer we drew, the more obvious it became to me. Beautiful, in a strange way: a curtain of arcane light, woven into a complicated tapestry meant to repel the Endicotts’ many enemies. Whyborne had mentioned Minerva said the barrier had been added to over the years. Probably that explained what appeared to be seams, as it were, where the new layers were attached to the original. I wondered what Basil would have made of it all, had he been able to view it as I did.

  The Seeker sat in the lead boat, her black dress ruffling in the wind. The flotilla split in two, some boats circling around to the northern beach, while others, including ours and the Seeker’s, made straight for the eastern one. The barrier met the sea perhaps a hundred feet out from the sand.

  “Take the glass and see what the Fideles are doing,” Hattie ordered Whyborne. He complied, lifting it to his eye and peering at the sprawling, spiraling manor.

  “I don’t see anything moving,” he said after a long moment. “Just gulls. Perhaps they haven’t spotted us yet?”

  Unease ran a cold finger across the back of my neck. “One would think they’d have a watch set. Surely they can’t be that secure in th
eir ability to hold us off.”

  “Maybe there ain’t many left?” Hattie said hopefully. “The Endicotts trapped on the island wouldn’t give up without a fight. With any luck, they decimated the bastards.”

  Without warning, a titanic voice boomed out over the water, emanating from the island. “Turn back! Turn back, or you will die. The barrier cannot be breached.”

  Hattie’s brows rose. “Huh. That’s new. I guess they had someone watching for us after all.”

  “Perhaps it means they’re frightened,” Iskander suggested. “With any luck, you’re correct, and only a handful survived the confrontation with your relatives. They hope to scare us away, because they have no hope of repelling a force of our size.”

  Whyborne perked up at his words. “This may be easier than we thought. With any luck, we’ll be on our way back to Widdershins by tomorrow.”

  The boat bearing the Seeker drew near the great barrier. How she knew its precise location without being able to see it, I was unsure. Minerva rose to her feet despite the rocking of her boat and held up one hand. The rising sun glinted off something gripped in her fingers.

  “That’ll be the pendant Ned brought back,” Hattie said.

  I kept a close eye on the barrier. The Seeker’s voice echoed across the water in some sort of chant, and the pendant flashed. In response, the barrier drew aside in front of her boat, as though it were a curtain she’d parted.

  “It worked!” I exclaimed. “Thank goodness. We should aim for…”

  The words died in my throat. Threads of arcane power began to fray out from either side of the curtain, reaching toward one another. “No. It’s closing again.”

  Rupert’s eyes widened. “We have to warn them.”

  “The barrier is reforming!” Christine bellowed. As she was used to shouting orders at a dig site, her voice carried easily over the water, even with the growing crash of waves against the shore. “Use the pendant again!”

  Some of the Endicotts in the boats separating ours and the Seeker’s took up the cry, relaying the warning to the head of the flotilla. The Seeker held up the pendant a second time, even as the barrier reknit into a whole. As her words echoed again, it shuddered—but remained firm.

  “It isn’t working!” I called.

  “Fall back,” Rupert shouted. “Fall back before we encounter the barrier!”

  Heliabel surfaced beside us and grabbed the gunwale. “You need to slow the boat. You’re moving too fast.”

  I shipped the oars, as did Hattie, but it seemed to make no difference. We were still rushing toward the barrier at an alarming rate. Sunlight dazzled my eyes, reflecting from the waves, but was there something moving beneath the water?

  “Arcane energy,” I warned. “We’re under attack.”

  “Rupert,” Hattie yelled. “Look!”

  Even though the Seeker’s crew had set themselves to rowing away from the barrier, tentacle-like shapes of arcane energy had caught them fast, dragging the small craft toward the wall of magic. I expected some sort of impact, but the boat passed harmlessly through, and for a moment my heart lifted.

  Then I realized the boat was passing through, but the people on board weren’t.

  The Seeker was knocked overboard, while those behind her were dragged from their benches. One unfortunate man fell to the bottom of the boat and became caught between the barrier and the stern. As the boat continued to be pulled forward, he was crushed in a froth of blood and bone. Rupert’s cry of anguish rang out over the waves.

  Screams and shouts of panic rang throughout the flotilla. Those farthest away managed to break free by dint of hard rowing, but the magic was too strong for the rest.

  Including us.

  I unsheathed my sword cane. “Whyborne, ready your curse breaking spell,” I said.

  “Ready.”

  I plunged my arm into the waves, stabbing the sword cane through one of the streamers of magic clinging to us. “Now!”

  Magic coursed through the blade, but nothing happened. Apparently I’d not found the proper weak spot to break the spell. “Damn it! Heliabel, move back. Hattie, try to chop at the water with your daggers. Give me one and I’ll take care of this side.”

  I’d expected an argument, but she passed me a witch hunter’s dagger instantly. Unfortunately, my shadowsight vanished under its influence. I stabbed at the places where I thought the arcane tentacles had been.

  It worked. Iskander and Rupert pulled hard on the oars, and we began to move south and west, away from the beach. For a moment, I thought we’d managed to break free.

  Then we slowed…and reversed. Now our little boat was heading toward both the barrier and the rocks jutting from the waves on the impassable part of the island.

  I put down the dagger, and my shadowsight returned. “They’ve reformed,” I said, trying to keep the despair from my voice. Christine let out a string of Arabic curses, and Whyborne’s expression took on a grim determination.

  “Hold on,” he said.

  He thrust one hand into the water. The waves swirled in confusion, spinning us around. I seized the gunwale so as not to be dumped out of the boat, as did Hattie. Rupert let out a surprised yelp.

  The sea roared, and we seemed to drop and slow. As the boat steadied, I realized what Whyborne had done—was still doing. His water spell had always been one of his strongest. Now he used it to force the sea—or at least the area around us—away from the barrier, against its natural flow.

  The result was a tumult of currents. Sweat stood out on Whyborne’s brow, and his mouth was a line of grim determination…but we were still moving slowly, inexorably toward the barrier, drawn by the magic even without the help of the incoming tide.

  “Now what?” Christine asked.

  Whyborne shook his head, a sharp motion. “I don’t know, but I can’t hold back the sea forever.”

  I peered at the section of barrier before us. The curse breaking spell might work against it, but we’d never have time to actually cast it before being dumped in the sea or crushed. I focused my attention on the warp and weft of the barrier, trying to ignore my pounding heart and the little voice certain we were all about to end up dashed to pieces or drowned.

  “There’s a seam—a weak spot—in the barrier just there.” I pointed to what no doubt seemed empty air to everyone else. “Hattie, if you can use your knives to cut it fast enough, perhaps we can slip through.”

  Hattie paled. “I can’t swim, can I? And it’s too far to reach.”

  Curse it. “Christine, aim us to port. Heliabel, if you can give us a push to help turn the boat, please do.”

  “And hurry,” Whyborne grated.

  Christine leaned on the tiller. Heliabel flung herself at the boat, kicking her feet, her toes spread to fan their webbing to the fullest. Our angle shifted gradually, fighting against the magic dragging us shoreward. We drew nearer and nearer to the barrier—and the seam.

  “We’re almost there,” I said. “Get ready, Hattie.”

  She moved into a crouch, then leaned as far as she dared over the prow of the boat, knife outstretched.

  “Back to starboard, Christine,” I called. “That’s it—now straight—”

  “Hurry,” Whyborne said through clenched teeth. “I’m losing—”

  “Now!”

  Hattie didn’t hesitate, bringing the witch hunter’s dagger down in a savage slash.

  The torn edges of the spell peeled apart, as though under tension from either side. At the same moment, Whyborne slumped—and the water came rushing back.

  Chapter 20

  Whyborne

  The world dissolved into a mad confusion of water and darkness. Salt stung my eyes, and I no longer knew which way was up, my body spun head over heels by the sea. I thrashed wildly, but the spell had stolen much of my strength, and my flailing did nothing. My lungs burned, crying out for oxygen.

  Leave it to the accursed Endicotts to get me drowned.

  A hand seized the back of my collar, hea
ving me toward the surface. Rock scraped against my knee, and then against both shoes. Somehow I got my footing and staggered upright, only to be knocked down by another violent wave. I clawed at the rock, but it was too slick to grip.

  Another heave, and I was dragged fully out of the water. Mother’s golden net skirt glittered in my vision for an instant, before she dove back into the water. I peeled a strand of seaweed from the side of my face and tried to get my bearings.

  I sprawled atop a huge rock that in some long-ago era had fallen from the cliffs above, and now canted out of the sea. Rupert, Christine, and Iskander had all made it onto the rock as well, though our boat had failed to survive the encounter.

  Of Griffin and Hattie, there was no sign.

  “Griffin?” I spun frantically to the ocean. “Griffin!”

  Christine grabbed my arm. “Heliabel went back in.”

  The seconds seemed to take hours. I stared at the churning waves, heart in my throat. Had he been dashed against the rock? Drowned?

  The possibility filled my lungs with ice.

  Mother’s head broke the water. With her ketoi strength, she hauled two figures onto the rock.

  Griffin blinked as I reached him. Both he and Hattie began to cough. I caught my husband beneath the arms and half-carried him farther up the incline, away from the hungry waves. We both collapsed to our knees, and I patted him on his back while he brought up the seawater he’d swallowed.

  “Thank goodness!” Iskander exclaimed. Griffin sat back, and Iskander clapped him on the shoulder. “There you go, old chap. Feeling better?”

  “Right as rain,” Griffin managed.

  I went to put my arms around him, but the sight of his torn shirt and abraded skin stopped me. The sea must have dragged him against the rough rocks. “You’re hurt.”

  “I’ll be fine.” He stood up, moving slowly, and took stock. “My revolver is soaked through, and I dropped my sword cane.”

  “I’ll get it,” Mother said. “And the Endicott’s knives.”