Spirit of the Sea

by Keith Walter

  That didn’t jibe with the passion or familiarity Barclay had already witnessed in the girls. More likely they were just smart enough not to chitchat when any number of their captors could have been listening in. “I’m sure they appreciate that,” Barclay agreed dismissively. “But I’m afraid to inform you this boat doesn’t have any way to communicate outside.”

  Talmer’s brows furrowed and he scoffed. “Just what kind of ship is this?”

  “Funny you should ask, actually,” Barclay began. “Grace is looking to make some renovations, and she mentioned she could use the help of someone strong.”

  “Grace, you say?” Talmer asked, a roguish smile creeping up his lips.

  “Yeah, that pretty little thing that seems to have fluffed all our pillows last night. She’s at the bow right now waiting for a hand.” Barclay looked out the window, as if remembering. “I said I might be able to help, but she asked for you specifically.”

  “Did she now?” Talmer drew on finger across his chin. “I must say, she has an eye for talent. I would be remiss not to assist.” He walked around the older man and opened the door to leave.

  “Oh, and Talmer?” Barclay added.

  “Yes?”

  Barclay pulsed his magic outward quickly, before camouflaging it once again. “I don’t want to find you on the bridge again unless I’ve called you.”

  Talmer waved dismissively, already lost to another cause. “Of course, I shall not enter again,” he replied, walking around the bridge and disappearing down the ladder.

  If all it would take to keep Talmer distracted was a pretty face, Barclay figured this whole thing might go easier than expected. Still, he’d have to keep the young man away from transmission portals for now. He doubted Talmer would even know how a human phone worked, so that just left the fey port authority. Whoever wanted Talmer put out to pasture was a big unknown, and unknowns were the worst part of any plan.

  Barclay took a last glance around the bridge, taking account of the Entregon’s continued approach and ensuring Talmer hadn’t touched anything he shouldn’t have. Satisfied with the inspection, he left the bridge and made his way down to the main deck. He steeled himself as he walked to the bow. Already there were Grace, Talmer, Leslie, and Serin. Leslie saw him first and schooled her face, noticeably shuffling a few inches from Serin. Serin stood with all her weight shifted to one hip, her head leaned toward Leslie, and she swayed slightly as if she wasn’t fully awake yet. Talmer was holding a startled Grace’s hand, speaking animatedly through a wide smile. As Barclay approached the group, Grace caught him in her sights and used the opportunity to pull away from the young man at her side.

  “Everything’s ready, Mr. Barclay,” Grace offered.

  “Well,” he replied, “I suppose we should get started then.” He turned his attention on the purebloods behind Grace. “Grace needs to make some updates to the ship,” he began, giving a quick wink to the woman already preparing her magic. “But while doing so, she won’t be able to power the runes keeping this ship and everyone on it hidden.”

  Talmer perked up, realizing what was implied. He took two swift steps forward to Grace’s side. “Then I shall power the runes in her stead.” He smiled at Grace again. “A gentleman is always at the service of a lady.”

  Barclay clapped, grabbing everyone’s attention. “I appreciate your offer, duke’s son. This is a big ship, though, and just to be sure, I’m ordering everyone here to participate.” He looked pointedly at Grace. “So where are we setting up?”

  Grace spun on one heel and strode to the rail at the far front of the ship. Closing her eyes, she brought her hands together. Four shimmering shapes crept from the front of the hull over the edge of the deck. Each shape resembled a letter of some lost alphabet, though on closer inspection each seemed to shift and flow into a new letter every few seconds. She let her hands fall to her side and turned to address the assembled fey. “I rewrote them a bit so each of you can take one.” She gestured to the runes nearly at her feet. “All you have to do is place a hand on one of the runes. Once you are ready, I’ll start working on the ship and the runes will immediately begin drawing magic from the person touching them.”

  Once again, Talmer leapt into action. He stepped up to the runes, sizing each one up before standing on top of the largest rune on the far right. He addressed Grace. “While I do not think the ladies need be tasked with such a chore, I submit to the order of Sir Barclay and shall handle this, the largest of runes.” Turning to address the rest of the group, he added smugly, “Please, do not overwork yourselves with what remains.”

  Leslie and Serin glanced at Barclay with tight mouths and narrowed eyes. “I’ve got the left side, Serin and Leslie take the two in the middle,” Barclay ordered. He smirked as he watched Leslie push Serin to the left middle, away from Talmer. He addressed Grace again. “This is a human shipping port we’re headed to. What other human ships are you familiar with?”

  Grace tapped her index finger against her bottom lip before responding. “I have read about many ships, though great alterations to volume would take significant time.”

  “How about a pallet or fish-feed carrier? There’s gotta be plenty in these parts,” Barclay suggested.

  “Not very pretty though, are they?” she replied, wrinkling her nose in annoyance.

  Barclay closed his eyes, rubbing his index finger and thumb over the bridge of his nose. “It ain’t time to be worried about pretty,” he answered. He covered the distance to the last rune quickly, turned to look at the rest of the ship, and dropped to a crouch. He placed one hand on the rune below. “Let’s just get this done.”

  Talmer, Leslie, and Serin followed into a crouch, placing one hand on the runes beneath them. They watched Grace as she turned away, once again closing her eyes and bringing her hands together. At first, nothing seemed to happen. Then, Grace’s soft white dress began to shimmer. As seconds passed, her whole body began to glow brighter and brighter. A few moments more and the light was blinding, forcing the purebloods to turn their heads away. Suddenly, the light disappeared from Grace and began suffusing the ship around them. Just as the light touched the runes, the purebloods found themselves gasping.

  Serin nearly buckled, dropping from a crouch to her knees. The rune was sucking in every ounce of magic they had. Barclay watched as fatigue immediately hit Serin like a freight train. These weren’t the little runes on the prison transport, eating up excess magic when expressed. This was reaching into her core, and squeezing her dry.

  “Don’t let go!” Barclay ordered. He knew, probably better than the rest, just what they were getting into. Even so, Grace had outdone his best guess. These were noble-class runes, something he hadn’t touched since the last days of the war. Even he wouldn’t be able to keep this up indefinitely, but he understood now why even the great Entregon hadn’t found them.

  He heard Leslie cry out, and he was certain she’d never experienced such a powerful spell. He saw she grit her teeth, determined to keep going. And Talmer seemed as shocked as his companions, though he had the good manners to hold his tongue. The strain was significant and Barclay felt his breath increase. The women looked uncomfortable, Serin clearly laboring. Talmer, however, had forced his breathing to slow and played a bored expression on his face. Even if this rune killed him, it seemed he wouldn’t let anyone see him act out weakness.

  ◆◆◆

  Grace took no notice of the struggling purebloods at her back. She had merged herself completely with the ship. She felt everything so much more clearly then, in her natural form. She could witness every passenger talking softly, trying to figure out why they had been sent to their rooms. She could feel Charles’s astonishment and see his wide eyes following the spread of her presence throughout the ship. No longer were the waves outside keeping them all afloat, now she could feel them lapping at the hull, her true skin. The feeling of the sea holding her aloft was intoxicating. But she had a job to do.

  The light from Grace’s human
form spread fully throughout the ship. Once it reached the end, the changes began. First, the polished wooden deck trembled. The surface rippled like water spreading thousands of waves in every direction. With each crest the wood distorted and changed color. The waves met in fantastic patterns before fading away, leaving behind a completely new surface. Next, the white hull began to bleed. At the edge of the deck, a fire-engine red spilled down the sides, once again transforming painted wood into baked steel.

  Then the really interesting changes started. The smooth steel deck began to radiate in tiny waves outward from the center line. Each tiny wave slammed into the hull, and the ship itself expanded width-wise. As suddenly as they began, the tiny waves ceased, leaving the ship ten or more feet wider than it had been originally. A loud moaning cut through the air as the dining area separated from the bridge, drifting toward the rear of the ship. New steel walls rose up to cover the gaping wounds of the bridge. The bridge hardened, growing a bright white metal shell at the front, and leaving only small circular windows in the lower half. The dining area continued drifting backward, the broken section remaining open, and the entire ship stretched back with it. Just as a twenty-foot expanse opened between the new bridge and dining area, the deck took on the consistency of a swampy pool. The dining area began to sink into the deck. As it sank, it appeared to contract as if it were being crushed by an enormous weight above.

  As the dining area completely disappeared below the deck, the swampy surface hardened once again into corrugated burgundy steel, leaving a giant flat expanse behind the bridge. Suddenly, white steel points began growing—two were mirroring one another at the far rear, one just behind the bridge, and several tiny points from the top of the bridge itself. Each grew like trees, with rounded trunks. The two in the rear grew to a height of ten feet before shedding their rounded forms, becoming rectangular with sloping triangular roofs. The center point grew nearly sixty feet straight up before suddenly bending twenty feet above the deck, solidifying into an attached crane arm. Points above and around the bridge grew into the end sections of the forced air and water systems, the line holding posts, a lookout, and various antennae.

  “Almost done.” Grace’s voice was heard from all directions. “I just need to fix up the lower deck.”

  ◆◆◆

  Each of the purebloods awed at the sights before them, entranced by the raw energy on display. Grace’s voice shook them from their reverie, and they were plunged back into a struggle to hold their runes. Serin, having barely handled her rune from the beginning, fully collapsed on the deck. Barclay watched the rune beneath her hand pulse and contract, incapable of pulling the magic it needed from Serin. Without thinking, he slammed his free hand on the rune and kicked Serin away.

  Immediately, Barclay realized how bad of an idea that had been. One rune was taxing on its own, and he lost control of his legs when the pulling force of the other joined. He hardly noticed as he landed face-first on the deck. He could feel his body heat up and sweat began dripping from every pore. Hold, he managed to think, hold until it’s done. He envisioned the cool waters around him, and he begged for more than he had ever asked of them before. The sea had no time to answer, but the pulling sensation stopped.

  “Okay, all set!” Grace exclaimed, her voice back within the human form in front of them.

  Barclay gasped, suddenly hungry for air. His limbs felt like jelly, but he managed to push himself back to his hands and knees. Talmer leapt up as if he hadn’t been troubled in the slightest, smirking at the older man’s condition. Leslie scooted to the unconscious Serin and knelt next to her, placing a tender hand on the smaller woman’s forehead.

  Talmer took swift, confident steps toward Grace before taking her hand and placing a reverent kiss upon her knuckles. He bowed as he spoke. “It has been an honor to serve you, oh, Spirit of the Sea.”

  Grace blushed, red extending all the way to the visible skin of her chest. While many fey ships—magical seafaring vessels with a life and will of their own—existed, only the greatest of those were given the title Spirit of the Sea. She had hoped to avoid such a revelation. “I don’t… I mean…” She struggled to speak, still flustered. “Such a title is only for the greatest of vessels.”

  “Which surely you are,” Talmer replied. “I have come to know and employ many fey ships in the stewardship of my father. I can say unequivocally, none come close to the heights you have shown.” Not letting go of her hand, he continued, “Surely you must be of the nobility. If I may be so bold, what is your lineage?”

  Grace narrowed her eyes slightly, turning her head away so that she could address Talmer through side eyes. “I am…of the Windrunner Clan.”

  Talmer furrowed his brows, then bowed his head. “I regret to admit I am unfamiliar with your people.” Raising his eyes to meet hers, he smiled. “I am sure they are proud to have you amongst their ranks.”

  “Umm...” Grace trailed off. She looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “No,” she added softly. Continuing to stare at the deck, her eyes opened, hard and determined. “They definitely aren’t.”

  Talmer straightened up uncomfortably. Barclay almost laughed at how the sheer honesty about such an embarrassing truth was so clearly unfamiliar to him. “My apologies,” he said swiftly. Grace continued to stare at the deck as if she hadn’t even heard. As the seconds passed, embarrassment grew, and Talmer seemed to decide it best to escape the situation. “I am a bit parched after all this exertion. Perhaps I should discover the new layout of your efforts.” He let her hand go gently before walking rigidly toward the stern. He stopped briefly, addressing the Grace again. “Lady Grace.” He waited for her to look up at him before continuing. “If you should need any assistance in the future, please call upon me again.” With one final smile, he turned and left.

  Grace looked to the remaining purebloods on deck. Barclay was now sitting cross-legged with closed eyes, drawing on the magic of the sea, still so in tune with the sea from what they’d just experienced. With Talmer gone, Leslie had placed Serin’s head in her lap, and proceeded to stroke the smaller woman’s hair. Grace seemed worried, and she clearly hadn’t expected anyone to get hurt. Making her way toward the women, she asked, “I’m sorry, is she all right?”

  “She’ll be fine,” Barclay answered for them. “She’s tired, but no worse for wear.”

  Leslie never took her eyes off Serin’s sleeping face. “Don’t worry, Grace, Serin’s tough as they come.”

  “You’re sure?” Grace implored.

  The dark-skinned woman finally looked Grace in the eye, forcing a smile. “I’m sure.” Gesturing to the new design, Leslie continued, “She’ll be right as rain once she gets a good meal and a nap. Don’t suppose I could ask you to find us some grub?”

  Grace beamed. “Of course!” She turned around and began scurrying toward the stern. “I’ll make up something special, just for her.”

  Once Grace was out of sight, Leslie let out a long sigh. “Thank you,” she said to Barclay, who was still sitting quietly at her side. “I didn’t even notice how badly off she was. If you hadn’t—” Her breath caught in her throat, and a single drop escaped her eyes. “She could’ve died.”

  Barclay cracked open one eye and stared at the pair. He hated being thanked just for doing the right thing. “Didn’t have a choice. That rune goes down and we’d be found. Even with Grace being…Grace, we wouldn’t make port if the thing on our tail knew where we were headed.”

  Leslie tilted her head, staring toward where Grace had run off. “Is Talmer right? Is that sweet little girl really a Spirit of the Sea?”

  The thought had been spinning in Barclay’s head, too. He had already known she was the ship, but the display he saw was more impressive than he’d ever seen before. Even in the war, the Union warships took an hour to shift from their transport forms to battle forms. Grace had altered the entirety of a fifty-meter ship in minutes. She had kept them off the radar of the scariest thing on the seas. “Spirit of the Sea is jus
t a title, given to fey ships of noteworthy service by the nobles. It’s a recognition of equal status, often provided along with authority over specific waterways. I doubt Gracie has been around long enough to have been working with the nobles.” He gave Leslie a sidelong glance. “But if you’re askin’ whether the lot of us look like ants in comparison, then, yeah.”

  “Did you know the whole time?” Leslie asked.

  “I worked most of it out a little while ago, but never expected something like this,” Barclay admitted.

  The woman bit her lower lip in thought. “So there was a noble ship sitting at those docks the whole time? Was she really trapped in there?”

  Now Barclay saw where the questions were going. “You didn’t see ’em, but there were some seriously heavy spells on her door before. Something had kept her locked up.”

  “What could even do that, though?” Leslie asked.

  Barclay huffed. “Nothing that might be after her could be worse than what’s after us. So there’s no use frettin’ over it.” He could tell that didn’t relieve the young woman’s worry, but it was true. “Look, why don’t you take your bond down to get some food and a nap. We’ve still got some time before we make port, and I’ll need the both of you again if we expect to get out of this.”

  Leslie nodded to herself. She gently pulled Serin into her arms, and steadily rose to her feet. She cradled the smaller woman close to her chest like a child. Before walking away, she addressed Barclay one last time. “You know, you’re a lot nicer than you let on.”

  Barclay scoffed. “Just get outta here.”

  CHAPTER SIX:

  Anywhere but Here

  Barclay had put off the conversation long enough. With less than half an hour before they’d reach port, he couldn’t wait any longer. It had taken a moment to reorient himself in the belly of the ship, everything seemingly backward from what he remembered. The drone of the engines still led him to a quaint little door he knew to be Grace’s room. The broken chains and ominous markings were gone, and he didn’t much miss them. Instead, the door was wood, solid, and intricately carved with patterns swirling around like currents. Art wasn’t really his thing, but he could tell it was pretty.