“We’d have had each other.”
Fioni leaned forward, her eyes shining in the lantern light. “You’d have hated yourself within a month. Within a year, you’d have hated your lover. Resentment would have poisoned your happiness. No, the painful, horrible truth is this: our hand may be on the tiller, but sometimes the current takes us where it will. This is fate.”
Danika sat back, considered the other woman coldly. “If you know so much of love and happiness, tell me, why are you so angry with Owen all of a sudden? You liked him well enough to sneak into his bed the same night you met—or was that just to shock me?”
Fioni stiffened, and she looked away quickly. “You? Of course not. It’s just… well… Owen is not who I thought he was.”
“Because of Rolf and your father’s herdsmen? I’m sorry they died, but that’s on Serina, not Owen. This is a war. It may have started fifty years ago, but Serina has never stopped waging it. If we don’t succeed tomorrow, if we don’t find and destroy Serina’s heart, thousands more will die.”
Fioni shook her head, her eyes tight and cold. “I admit, I’m angry about Rolf and the others, but that’s not it—at least not all of it. I’ve known men like Owen, and they always end up letting you down.”
“I thought him nothing more than a brute at first,” Danika said. “But I was wrong, wrong about everything. Someone I trust had faith in Owen.”
Fioni snorted, shaking her head. “I’m no fool. I recognized Owen’s potential the same day we fished the two of you from the water. I know he’s no dummy. He may have the body of an overgrown bull, but his intellect is sharp and true. But that’s never been Owen’s real fault. His true weakness is that he lacks commitment, lacks confidence to take charge when it’s most important. He knows the right course to tack but refuses to put his own hand on the tiller.”
“Give him a chance.”
“I have, and men died carrying out his plans.”
“Not true. Owen’s risked his life many times. He scaled the Rose Palace to save me. If not for Owen, Modwyn would have burned my eyes out and given me to Serina.”
“Granted, but ask yourself this: why did Owen risk his life to save yours? What was in it for him?”
Danika’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
“Kora reads lips. She was watching when we fished you from the sea, when you made your little deal. I see what you don’t. Owen serves you out of selfishness, because you promised to release him from his oath if he helped you get home and warn your king of Serina’s return. I understand why you’re here. Duty compels you. Your family has a blood feud with the Greywynnes. Each of you represents the last of your bloodlines. But something other than duty compels Owen.”
Her heart racing, Danika thought back to that day. Certain their lives were at risk, Owen had been plotting escape from Fioni and her crew, but Danika had wanted to make a deal with Fioni, to barter for their freedom. She needed to warn the king of Serina’s return. If Owen had done something foolish, he might have put that warning at risk. She had been desperate to get him to obey her, so she had promised to release him from his oath once they reached King’s Hold. But she hadn’t been completely honest with him, either. As the last living member of the Dain family, by law, Owen’s oath passed to her, but females could not wield power in a household in the Kingdom of Conarck. Once she arrived in King’s Hold and delivered her warning, the king would find her a suitable husband. Owen’s oath, as well as her family’s lands and wealth, would pass to that man. While she had every intent to honor her promise, she also knew that any future husband—whomever that might be—would be under no such legal obligation. But she had needed Owen’s help. She still did.
I had no choice.
Fioni was watching her with guarded eyes. Something else was going on here, something hidden. Danika bit her lip, considering her words carefully. “I don’t know, exactly, why Owen risked his life for me, nor why he continues to do so, but I refuse to believe it’s just for personal gain. He’s just not that kind of man. And I suspect you know that, as well.”
Fioni stared at her hands. “Maybe… maybe he loves you?” she said in a soft whisper.
Danika sat back, breathless, sudden realization coursing through her. “Fioni—”
Then she paused, suddenly aware of a strange noise that had been growing as they argued. It sounded like distant thunder but constant and growing quickly in volume. The two women stared at one another in confusion, but then, Herla’s body stiffened, and she cried out in pain. Fioni, her face pale, bent over the woman and kissed her forehead. “Wait for me in Nifalgen, my friend,” she whispered as she slid the handle of her sword into Herla’s fingers then held them closed over it with her own.
And Herla died.
#
Leagues away, in the darkened hold of Iron Beard, Serina sat naked and cross-legged atop her corpse-pile, her eyes closed in meditation. A ghost of a smile curled the corners of her lips. “Herla,” she whispered. “Hello. I have questions.”
Chapter 28
Owen
Owen’s eyes opened. For several confused moments, he lay between two of the rowing benches where he had been sleeping. He had been dreaming of a tall waterfall back home, once again standing in the freezing pool beneath the cascading waters, listening to the roar of the water as it fell upon the rocks. Although awake, he still heard the waterfall. Still lying on his back, he stared up at a clear, star-filled night sky. Was he still dreaming? No, he definitely heard the roar of thrashing water. He sat up, rubbing his eyes and looking about the ship. Most of the crew still slept, huddled together even though the air was unseasonably warm. The sail crackled overhead, catching what little wind there was this night. The only light on the ship came from a lantern near the stern. A single crew member operated the tiller, but Lady Danika and Fioni were also awake, staring out over the hull. Something’s going on. He stood, pulling on his clothing and boots and then tucking his sword belt under his arm as he made his way past the sleeping crew members, approaching the two women. The sound of crashing water came from their steering board side, but in the darkness, he saw nothing but the shadow of the cliffs. It’s not a waterfall, he realized, but waves churning against rocks. But how? At his approach, the two women turned and watched him. Lady Danika gave him a slight smile. Just behind them lay the corpse of Herla, the woman whose face Dilan had mauled. He looked sadly down upon Herla’s dead face. “When…”
“Not long ago,” said Fioni, her voice raw with sorrow.
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
He stepped up to the side of the hull and stared out into the darkness. The sound of the waves crashing against rocks was growing stronger. “What is that sound?”
“The Mouth of the Gods,” said Fioni, a tremor of awe in her voice.
The roaring grew in volume as they sailed closer, waking other crew members as well. More of the crew woke and made their way to the steering board side of the vessel, staring out into the darkness.
Lightning struck the nearby cliffs, arcing out into the sky and exposing the opening in the Godswall. Owen only saw it for a moment, but the sight of tall, fanglike peaks thrusting out of the water shocked him to his core. “That’s not possible.”
As they sailed closer, they were able to see the Mouth clearer, even with just the moon and starlight. A gap stood between the cliffs of the Godswall, at least a hundred feet across, but dozens of needlelike rock spires thrust out of the turbulent waters between the cliffs, looking like fangs. And in this narrow obstacle, the waves beat upon the spires, throwing mist into the air and churning the water around them.
“It’s exactly as Serl described it,” Fioni said. She turned to face the woman at the tiller. “Hold us here until sunrise. Keep at least five ells from the Mouth. I don’t want to go anywhere near that gap while the tide is low.”
“What is it you intend to do?” Lady Danika asked in disbelief, her hand clutching her chest.
>
“Courage, my lady of Wolfrey. This is the only way past the Godswall.”
Owen shook his head, breathless, as he stared at the thrashing waters within the Mouth. There was a path through the spires, he saw, but it was far too narrow. “You can’t be serious. The waves will smash us against those fangs of rock.”
“There is no other way,” insisted Fioni. “But the tide is low right now. When it rises, the gap will become much wider, the water less… wild.”
He stared at her, his mouth hanging open. “But…”
“Fifty years ago, Serl passed through the Mouth—and he sailed Iron Beard, a much larger, far less maneuverable ship. Trust me, Owen. When the tide rises, we will slip through the Mouth easily enough—although I warrant it will be a frightening experience.”
“We have no choice, Owen,” Lady Danika said. “If we’re to stop Serina, we must breach the Godswall. We’ve trusted Fioni this far. We must have faith in her seamanship skills.”
#
Several hours later, Owen remained leaning over the gunwale, watching the Mouth and listening to the constant crashing of the waves. Far to the east, a red glow penetrated the mist that surrounded the Godswall. It will be sunrise soon, he knew, an hour, maybe less. At the peak of high tide, when the sun was directly overhead and the waters much more calm, they’d row past the teeth and into the Mouth of the Gods—and then on to Torin Island.
Most of the others remained awake, sitting in the dark, chatting softly or, like Owen, staring breathlessly at the dark Mouth. He would have thought sleep impossible, but Fioni lay nearby, curled up in a blanket, snoring softly. Ekkie lay beside her, guardedly watching Owen. “You don’t like me, either, is that right, girl?” he softly asked the wolfhound.
She huffed in response and then lowered her head onto her massive paws.
He watched Fioni sleep. She was a skilled skipper, he knew. If anyone could slip through the Mouth and reach Torin Island, it would be her. It all seemed so impossible. He didn’t know if Father Craftsman was watching over them, this far from home, in such a strange, otherworldly place, but he whispered a quick prayer just the same. And if we do destroy Serina, he mused, what then? What will become of Dilan? Can we—
He felt a chill rush over him, and he gasped for breath. Pushing himself away from the gunwale, he felt a rush of dizziness threaten to send him reeling to the deck. He saw the same fear mirrored in the eyes of the others. Even Ekkie whimpered, visibly trembling in terror.
It was the Dread.
“Fioni!” He shoved her. “Wake up! Hurry!”
She jerked awake with a start, sweat beading on her forehead, her eyes wild. “No!” she yelled, trying to shove him away from her, still half-asleep. “I’m not going down those stairs.”
He caught her wrists and held her hands as she tried to strike out at him. “Fioni, it’s me, Owen. Wake up, before it’s too late.”
She peered at him in confusion for a moment, and then understanding filled her eyes. “Awake,” she mumbled.
Letting go of her wrists, he bolted up the wooden steps to the raised stern platform. The crew member on duty stood frozen, drool running down his beard, his hand on the tiller shaking visibly. Owen dodged past him and climbed up on the sternpost, searching the dark sea behind them. Just as he had feared, two shapes materialized out of the mist: Thunder Killer and Iron Beard. “To arms!” Owen yelled. “The enemy is on us.”
Time seemed to freeze, as if a spell trapped the crew. They stood in place, staring about one another, incomprehension on their frightened faces. Then Fioni was among them, screaming orders, galvanizing them to action, and the spell broke. The crew jumped to obey, throwing themselves onto the rowing benches while others prepared for battle.
“Move, move, you sons and daughters of Fenya!” Kora screamed. “If you’d live to see the sunrise yet again, move!”
Fioni joined Owen, shoving the crew member on duty away and taking over at the tiller herself. She stared wide eyed at the two ships closing on their stern and shook her head. “Gods help us, how does this keep happening?”
“Can we get away?”
“And go where, Owen?” Her gaze darted from the two longships to the thunderous noise of the Mouth. Just for a moment, indecision flitted across her eyes, before cold resolve flashed in them. “Go get your lady,” she said through gritted teeth, pulling on the tiller. “Time to find out if her sword is aptly named.”
Fen Wolf’s prow ponderously swung toward the Mouth as Owen dashed away.
“Row!” screamed Kora. “Faster.”
A shower of arrows fell among them, hitting several of the rowers in the back. The ship faltered but only for a moment as others took the place of those hit. Fen Wolf sped closer to the screaming Mouth. Owen found Lady Danika. “My lady, we need to borrow the sword. Fioni’s going to try the Mouth right now. She needs it to see the way.”
The noblewoman bobbed her head quickly, and with Owen shielding her from the arrows with his body, they ran back to join Fioni at the stern. A handful of warriors armed with shields opened for them, letting them in among them and then facing outwards again as the arrows thudded into their shields. The roaring of the waves grew in volume, making speech difficult. Cold spray soaked them all. Bright-orange light blazed from the ship’s prow where Kora and another held brightly burning lanterns over the gunwale, exposing the churning maelstrom of sea and rock into which they sailed. “Here!” screamed Lady Danika, seawater running off her chin as she thrust Sight-Bringer’s hilt at Fioni.
Without taking her eyes off the prow, Fioni grasped at the white stone handle of the Illthori sword and held it tight against the tiller. She inhaled deeply, her eyes widening. “Wodor’s balls,” she swore and then immediately pulled back on the tiller, groaning through clenched teeth. The ship’s prow drifted to port—away from the colossal fang of rock hundreds of feet high that they had been heading toward a moment ago.
The Mouth of the Gods loomed before them.
Chapter 29
Serina
“Hurry,” Serina urged Galas.
Their prey pulled away, heading for the Mouth of the Gods, a turbulent storm of waves and freestanding spires of jagged rock haphazardly blocking the opening between the cliffs of the Godswall. Excitement coursed through her, making her feel alive once more. The legendary Torin Island. It seemed like a dream. This is Ator’s will, she realized. He wishes me to find this sacred place. It’s fitting that here, where his hated brother and sisters once lived among men, I will end the Dain bloodline.
On the decks below, warriors crowded near the prow, intent on finally capturing and killing their prey. Those with bows loosed arrows on the smaller longship, causing havoc among its rowers. The last of her ghouls, less than fifty of them, stood in silent, massed ranks near Iron Beard’s towering mast. Thunder Killer, with Dilan aboard, raced ahead of them. If Dilan could board the other ship, his presence would slow them down long enough for Iron Beard to ram them, letting her ghouls clamber onto its decks. Then this damnable chase would finally be over. And I can drink that Dain bitch’s hot blood. Feel it splash onto my breasts. Serina ran the tip of her tongue over her fangs. “I told you, Stron,” she whispered to herself, “fifty years ago, when I pinned that damned sword of yours through your foul heart, that I would end your foul bloodline. I will keep that promise today. And when I’m done with your stupid niece, I’ll go after your king.”
“Fioni’s heading for the gap in the cliffs!” yelled Galas from where he stood nearby. “Is she insane?”
“No, she’s brave. I think I like your cousin, this Fioni Ice-Bound. Are you sure you wish to waste such a warrior as a broodmare?”
Galas’s mouth fell open, his disappointment written across his rugged features. Such a handsome man, she thought, but so inept at keeping his thoughts hidden. His lust controls him. Have I misjudged him?
“My queen, I must have her.”
Must?
Before he could blink, she washed up against h
im, gripping him by the sword belt, and crushed him against her breasts. His blood pulsed in his neck, reminding her of how long it had been since she had last fed. She wrapped a single leg around the back of both of his and pulled his groin in tightly against hers, grinding their sexes together. He moaned in terror as she buried her face in his neck and slowly ran her tongue over his hot skin, savoring the salty taste of his fear. “Then stop her, Yarl Galas Gilt-Mane,” she whispered, “before she reaches the Mouth of the Gods. If she drowns, you’ll never bed her. Worse, I’ll lose my chance to drink Dain blood one last time. And if that happens…”
“Please… please, my queen,” he practically squeaked.
She released him, and he fell away from her. She considered him then, admiring his long blond hair, his ruggedly handsome features. She glanced disdainfully at her new blood thrall, Dey, who knelt nearby, staring at his hands. This one won’t last, she thought. But then the pretty ones rarely do. She pulled her gown open, exposing a single white breast and pink nipple, already hard. “Should I give you the gift of my milk, Yarl Galas? Could you please me? Would you like to bury your sword between my legs?”
“Please no, my queen,” Galas whispered, his eyes round with horror.
“Then catch your cousin,” she hissed, pulling her gown closed once more. “Thus far, she’s out-sailed you every chance you’ve had, and I tire of your constant failure. Maybe she should be yarl of the Waveborn.”
Galas ran to the railing and began to scream at the rowers, spit flying from his mouth. “Faster! Row faster, you get of diseased whores!” He then jumped down the wooden steps and ran among them, waving his sword. “I swear by Wodor, I’ll kill any man I think is slacking.”
Iron Beard surged forward.
Chapter 30
The Vampire Queen Saga: Books 1-3: (The Vampire Queen Saga Boxset) Page 71