A wide beach met the causeway, and Christine and Iskander ran down it before our feet even touched the shore. Grateful as I was to see them unharmed, I hurried to Ival, who had managed to stand unassisted. “Are you all right?”
“Better.” He licked cracked lips; at least the soaking in the ocean had rinsed off most of the dust and blood. “Now that we’re out of the dead area, and back in the arcane ambient.”
I flung my arms around him. He hugged me back, and we clung to each other silently for a long moment.
Iskander put a hand to my shoulder. “Look,” he said.
I didn’t release Ival, but I did pull away far enough to see what he pointed at. Across the waves, the final section of Balefire slowly slid into the huge crater that now gaped in the center of the island. A haze of dust and smoke poured out, making it look almost volcanic in nature. The sea let out a terrific roar, and one of the sorcerers staggered under the onslaught, but the spell held firm.
We watched as the water around the island slowly spent its energy, until it was safe enough to release the spell. Morgen’s Needle was gone. The ancient estate of the Endicotts was gone as well, along with all the magical items they’d hoarded. All the knowledge they’d gathered. The secrets they’d kept.
“Do you think that took care of Nyarlathotep?” I asked.
Exhaustion lined Ival’s face. “I certainly hope so. Even if such a creature could survive being crushed beneath tons of rock, without access to any arcane energy it should have a difficult time escaping. Either way I don’t think we need to worry about it for a while.”
More ketoi had arrived, joining us on the strand, including Ship-bane. “Well,” she said as she padded across the shoreline, “this alliance went far better than I’d ever hoped.” She met my gaze and held out her hand. “The Sword, Shield, and Spear please.”
We passed them to her, and she handed them to her attendants. “I’m sorry the Source was lost,” Whyborne said. “But without it, Nyarlathotep would still be free.”
Ship-bane didn’t precisely look pleased over the loss, but she nodded. “I suppose that is a fair trade.”
Rupert reached into his vest and pulled out the fragment of the Wisborg Codex he’d taken from the armory. “For you, Dr. Whyborne, as agreed.” When Whyborne took it, he turned to Ship-bane. “Which leaves us with only one other piece of business to complete.” He straightened his shoulders. “The agreement specified the Seeker of Truth would submit to your judgment. As Minerva died in the initial assault on Carn Moreth, that means I am the one to be judged.”
Hattie opened her mouth to disagree, but a stern look from Rupert silenced her. I was under no such obligation, however. “We would surely have died without Rupert. Nyarlathotep would have won, and the chances of winning our fight against the masters would be far worse.”
Heliabel nodded. “I can vouch for the truth of what Griffin says.”
Ship-bane was silent a long moment. What thoughts passed through her mind, I couldn’t imagine. She turned from Rupert and scanned the beach. A few bedraggled Endicotts had made it to shore after the barrier knocked them into the water. They huddled around Katherine and the children she’d so bravely cared for. Even as I watched, Padma caught Sadik into her arms and lifted him off his feet, her expression one of pure, uncomplicated joy.
The ketoi chieftess turned away from them and gazed out at the crater that had been Balefire. “There is nothing here for you now,” she said at last. “My judgment is this: for you to take your people and go. Where, I care not.”
Rupert closed his eyes briefly in relief, then bowed to her. “Thank you.”
“We will keep watch and make sure Nyarlathotep does not escape, if it still lives.” She took a step toward the waves, then paused. “Once you leave, I do not ever wish to see an Endicott set foot on, or touch the water between, the Isles of Scilly or Penmoreth. You will regret it if you do.”
“I understand,” Rupert said. “You have my word as the Seeker of Truth.”
All of the ketoi, except for Heliabel, waded into the sea. Within seconds, they’d vanished, save for the occasional fin breaking the surface before they reached deeper water.
The sigh of the wind and the crash of the waves were the only sounds for a long moment. Hattie stared at the empty space where Balefire had stood with an expression close to heartbreak. “I can’t believe it’s gone,” she said at last. “Where are we going to go? What are we going to do?”
Rupert put a hand to her shoulder. “We rebuild elsewhere, Hattie. The Endicotts existed before Balefire, and we’ll continue to exist long after. The estate was just a place, and the objects inside just things. The important thing is, we still have one another.”
“Yes, yes. That’s all well and good,” Christine said impatiently, “but does anyone have anything to eat? I’m famished.”
Chapter 52
Whyborne
Two days later, I stood on the deck of the Melusine as it prepared to put out from the harbor at Old Grimsby. Basil was once again our windweaver, and Rupert occupied the space at the rail beside me, watching as the lines were cast off. The rest of the flotilla was in the process of getting underway, and would be following us across the Atlantic.
To Widdershins.
For the thousandth time, I asked myself if the offer I’d made was wise, or merely desperate. But the fate of the Endicotts had been bound to that of Widdershins since Sir Richard dreamed of spirals upon Carn Moreth. It was time for our war to end, and for them to come home.
“Is everyone coming?” I asked. I hadn’t been present, but Hattie had told me there had been some rather heated discussion about relocating the remains of the clan to Widdershins. The vote afterward to confirm Rupert permanently in the position of Seeker had favored him by only the slenderest of margins.
“Some of the oldsters aren’t happy about it—some of those my age aren’t, for that matter.” Rupert sighed. “But I am the Seeker of Truth. And there are no secrets left to keep. They will follow me, or they will leave.”
“If anyone tries to cause…well, more than the usual amount of trouble that happens in Widdershins…”
“Please, Dr. Whyborne there is no need for threats, no matter how mildly phrased.” Rupert lifted his hand. “The younger generation, people like Basil, are disinterested in a centuries-long war with the ketoi. And we’ve all seen where the sort of thinking like Justinian embraced leads. Perhaps, once the war with the masters is over, we’ll leave Widdershins and find somewhere else to live. Somewhere one can get a decent cup of tea, for example.” He sighed. “I can’t believe we’re about to become colonials.”
Once of the deckhands called out to Rupert, and I left him to deal with whatever matter required his attention. Mother stood at the prow, so I joined her there.
“Persephone isn’t going to be at all happy with you, you know,” she said. She’d gone below the waves to be tended by the ketoi healers, and her injured tentacles were plastered with kelp and mud. It looked terribly unsanitary to me, but I assumed they knew what worked on ketoi physiology better than I did. “She sent me to act as an envoy for the Endicotts, not bring them back with me to live in Widdershins.”
“I know. But Rupert isn’t interested in war.” I sighed. “I’m thinking about settling them on the old Somerby Estate.”
“Near the island in the lake?” Mother’s eyes widened. “Dear heavens, Percival, you do enjoy courting trouble, don’t you?”
“At least those standing stones aren’t sentient.”
“True.” Her fond expression slid toward sadness. “I wish I could have spoken to Morgen.”
“So do I.” I gripped the rail as the yacht slipped out of the harbor. “She set all of this in motion, and we don’t even know her real name. I wonder why she was chosen by Nyarlathotep. Was it a punishment for a rebellious slave? Or was she just a random victim, nameless and faceless to creatures such as the masters? Or was there something unusual about her, that made her more able to have
her consciousness altered and fused with the Needle?” I paused. “Was she, perhaps, our own distant ancestress?”
“We’ll never know,” Mother said with a shake of her head. “I only hope she found peace. I hope the same for your brother.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, what words could possibly give comfort. She’d lost so much. And stood to lose even more.
Nyarlathotep claimed Persephone and I would have to die to fulfill the maelstrom’s purpose. I had no reason to believe he’d been any more honest with me than with Justinian.
And yet I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Mother patted me on the arm after a long moment and said, “I’m going to bed. I’ll speak with you in the morning.”
I turned to watch her go. Griffin, Iskander, and Christine picked their way along the narrow deck toward us. Mother paused briefly to speak with Christine, then continued below.
Griffin’s arm brushed mine as he stepped up to the rail beside me. We’d both spent a good deal of the last two days sleeping, too exhausted even to make love. I put my hand over his, grateful beyond words to have him still with me. If Ophelia hadn’t been fooled by Hattie’s apparent contrition, things would have gone very differently indeed.
“Have you started to decipher the fragment of the Codex yet?” Christine asked, taking up position on my other side.
“I’ve hardly had the time,” I said, a bit crossly. “I wasn’t feeling terribly well there at the end on Carn Moreth, you know. And after, I was a bit busy discussing the new arrangement with Rupert.”
“I can’t believe you invited them to live in Widdershins,” Christine said. “They’re probably already conspiring as to how they’ll take over the entire town. Mark my words.”
“I don’t think so, dearest,” Iskander said. “They aren’t without honor, and with Rupert as the sole head of the house, I believe things will change for the better.”
“Hmph. Maybe.” She crossed her arms above her belly. “I do wish we hadn’t had to give the ketoi weapons back, though. Do you think there’s anything else like the Spear somewhere about? I could use it for staff meetings.”
“And to convince donors to fund your next expedition, when all this is over,” I added.
“Exactly.” She started to say something else, then stopped. “Whyborne, give me your hand.”
“Why?” I asked suspiciously.
“Just do it.”
I let her take my hand. She brought it to her belly, pressing my palm against the fabric. For a moment, I hadn’t the slightest idea what she was about, until I felt…not much, really. Just a tiny flutter, so light I might have imagined it.
I gaped at her. “Was that the baby?”
“Yes.” She let go of my hand. “I wasn’t certain you’d be able to feel it. Iskander could, but there were fewer layers—”
“Er, yes,” I said hastily, the tips of my ears going hot with embarrassment.
Griffin coughed, a sound I expected was meant to cover a laugh. I glared at him, and he shot me an impish wink.
We stood quietly for a while after that, simply enjoying a peaceful moment together. There would be problems enough tomorrow: settling the Endicotts, deciphering the Codex, stopping the masters from retaking our world. And yet, right now there was the sea breeze, and the stars above, and the warmth of our companionship.
I wanted it to never end.
The ship rounded the isles and made for open water. Basil’s wind filled the sails, and the bow cut through the waves, each moment taking us ever closer to home.
The adventures of Whyborne, Griffin, and their friends will conclude in Deosil, Whyborne & Griffin Book 11.
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Author’s Note
Special thanks to Courtney for her help with the Latin translation of the Endicott family motto. Thanks also to Lotta, whose suggestion inspired Penmoreth and Carn Moreth.
William Pryce’s Archaeologia Cornu-Britannica; Or, an Essay to Preserve the Ancient Cornish Language is a real book, published in 1790. As the full title suggests, it was compiled in an attempt to preserve Cornish, which had already died out as a first language. You can find a PDF copy of it via archive.org should you be so inclined.
Interest in reviving the Cornish language began in the early 1900s, and the effort has undergone several iterations since. Some modern accepted spellings differ from those in Pryce’s book. As Balefire takes place in 1902, I chose to go with the older source.
Carn Moreth was inspired by St. Michael’s Mount, a tidal island off the coast of Cornwall. Both legend and archaeology indicate it was once a high promontory surrounded by marshy forest, located several miles from the coast. According to various tales, the forest was suddenly and violently flooded, drowning the land around it and turning the peak into an island. St. Michael’s Mount, Seven Stones Reef, and the Isles of Scilly are all associated with this inundation. In time, the much-earlier folk memory became incorporated into the Arthurian stories as the drowned land of Lyonesse (called Lethowsow in Cornish).
Other books from Jordan L. Hawk:
Hexworld
“The 13th Hex” (prequel short story)
Hexbreaker
Hexmaker
“A Christmas Hex” (short story)
Hexslayer
Spirits:
Restless Spirits
Dangerous Spirits
Guardian Spirits
About the Author
Jordan L. Hawk is a non-binary queer author from North Carolina. Childhood tales of mountain ghosts and mysterious creatures gave them a life-long love of things that go bump in the night. When they aren’t writing, they brew their own beer and try to keep the cats from destroying the house. Their best-selling Whyborne & Griffin series (beginning with Widdershins) can be found in print, ebook, and audiobook.
If you’re interested in receiving Jordan’s newsletter and being the first to know when new books are released, please sign up at their website: http://www.jordanlhawk.com. Or join their Facebook reader group, Widdershins Knows Its Own.
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Balefire Page 22