Spirit of the Sea

by Keith Walter

  The steel of the catwalk bent under the pressure of his feet as Barclay jumped, grabbing the tumbling enemy and thrusting them through the door. His hunch paid off as the invisible protective wards sprang to life and quickly disappeared as they reacted the Union dog’s aura. He thought to himself how different this would have been had these been seasoned soldiers. Underestimating an opponent, not finishing them quickly, these were hallmarks of inexperience. The Union may have sent more ships to the tower, but they must not have had time to send real fighters.

  There was no time to waste—a quick thrust of the sword would finish the opponent in front of him. But as Barclay swung the blade he hit nothing, the enemy appearing to fade like steam. Frustrated, he jumped toward the windows trying to put space between himself and whoever else was there.

  The top floor was completely open, a hundred feet in diameter. The cannon stood opposite the door, aimed out through a large open section of wall. Scattered through the area were desks and chairs mostly toppled by his sonic wave. Windows flanked the cannon and high above an overseer’s platform hung from the roof.

  That platform would be where he would find the illusionist. The bigger issue was how the soldier in his hand had escaped. A quick shriek from his sword and the desks splintered to pieces. No sooner had he let the swing loose then he felt energy welling up directly behind him. Reactively sidestepping, he thrust the sword where his instincts told him the other fey was. The sonic wave from his thrust met only the stone wall of the tower.

  Pain wracked his chest as the previous blast seemed to bend back and find its mark. Staggering, he tried another sidestep but again the energy seemed to twist back at him. Erratically, Barclay retreated across the floor, narrowly dodging several more energy blasts. Barclay slammed his cutlass into the floor, surrounding himself with a momentary sonic shield. In that moment, he realized it was he who had miscalculated. There was no illusionist, there was no second soldier at all. He was most certainly not up against inexperience. This was all a ruse to lure him here, into the den of a trapper.

  What he had assumed were illusions were actually traps covering the tower. Each time he stepped on an invisible rune it would activate—distorting his senses, weighing him down, or rattling off an explosion. All the trapper had to do was keep getting him to move and then wait until his energy was depleted. It was a smart plan. The constant dodging and high-speed maneuvering had him burning through energy much too quickly. At his current rate, it wouldn’t take long before he was weak enough for the trapper to maneuver him into a corner he couldn’t escape.

  He had been overly confident rushing into the room without attempting a contingency plan. It was a fool’s mistake. A trapper with unlimited time to prepare could easily outclass a fey twice their strength. Without an option to attack, he was merely delaying the inevitable. Frustration and anger welled up as Barclay realized he was out of options. Reluctantly, he stopped moving, blocking a last stray blast he had triggered. “You win,” he announced angrily. “I demand to negotiate terms of surrender.”

  A feminine voice sounded from all directions. “Throw down your weapon and I will consider your request.”

  Barclay hesitated. Without the cutlass, his power would be even more diminished. He grit his teeth and dropped the weapon to the ground at his feet. “Fine.”

  “A little farther than that,” the voice replied.

  Barclay clenched his fists and kicked the sword hard. So hard, it smashed out the window in front of him. He could feel the blade as it fell down the tower. At least it would be reunited with the water again. Eyes blazing, he demanded, “There. Now, let’s negotiate.”

  “I already have,” the voice answered. “I just negotiated your death.” The wall behind him shimmered and a woman stepped forward. She was dressed in impeccable robes of white, yellow, and purple. “I was surprised. I thought for sure you would exhaust yourself before surrendering.”

  “You were right,” Barclay replied. “I’m Barclay Serpensis.”

  The woman smiled what would have been an attractive smile. “Eris Wildertie,” she offered. “And I must admit I am glad.” She rolled her head around lazily. “I am sure you know where my main talents lie, but I much prefer things to be up close and personal.”

  “So you intend to attack an opponent who has already surrendered?” Barclay knew the risk but had to scramble for more time.

  “And you weren’t just saying that to bring me out of hiding? I know you’re not worn out yet,” Eris replied teasingly. “You’ve sparked my interest. I had to use the well of magic below to build that ice, and yet you have managed not just to escape it but also to come here to find me. I must know. How did you avoid the trap? What gave it away?”

  Barclay wasn’t about to start talking about Grace or Charles. And the sincere interest from the trapper led him to think maybe the Entregon hadn’t completely tipped their hand. “It just wasn’t very clever,” he retorted sarcastically. “And we’re a lot more dangerous than you think.”

  Eris smiled, a short giggle bubbling from her lips. “You wound me. And yet, I hope you are right.” A manic gleam came to her eyes. “It can be so boring up here, all alone. I hope you can provide some entertainment. If not—” she let her gaze drift to the open window “—I suppose I could continue playing hide and seek.”

  “Oh, I’m much more fun than that,” Barclay replied darkly. He took up an aggressive position, praying he could hold out long enough. “Shall we?”

  “Ready when you are,” Eris answered excitedly.

  Barclay took the lead, launching a volley of punches right up the middle. Trappers were often criticized for lack of hand-to-hand training, but Eris parried this assault with ease. He expected as much. A quick step after her last parry brought him twisting around for a backhand, but no luck. By the time he’d turned, she had crouched beneath the attack and struck out with her leg. Barclay just barely managed to intercept the kick with his shin but the impact knocked him off balance.

  Eris pounced with a vicious uppercut, lifting Barclay off his feet. Quickly switching to defense, he barely managing to blunt a spinning heel to his chest. He was launched across the room, smashing several desks on his way to thumping against the stone wall. Survival instincts kicked in as Barclay quickly rolled backward onto his feet.

  Eris wasn’t letting up, racing across the room to push her advantage. Barclay had gotten into a defensive position quickly, but kicks and punches rained down with devastating effectiveness. He found himself forced backward, away from any windows or avenues of escape. She was good, throwing attacks from unexpected angles and anticipating his moves.

  Barclay realized he was beginning to struggle to keep up. He feinted a sweep of his leg before leaping to the side, opening up a pocket of breathing room. Eris was indeed an experienced fighter, with power and ability to spare. But, as good as she probably was in a spar, she’d never been on the front lines of a real battle. He waited for Eris to close the distance again and prepared to retreat. Eris anticipated the move and shifted to cut off his escape. The ruse worked and Barclay instantly shifted his weight to attack. Eris tried to pull up her arms, but was too slow, receiving a heavy elbow to her nose.

  It was Eris’s turn to be launched across the room. With practiced grace, she flipped off the first desk and landed softly on her feet. Barclay was bearing down on her again when she snapped a finger. A pillar of flame erupted in his path, forcing him to give up the attack. Dashing backward, he held his hands up in preparation for the next onslaught, but Eris hadn’t moved.

  “Back to traps then, eh?” Barclay chuckled. “How’s the nose?”

  Eris brushed blood from her upper lip. “You haven’t disappointed,” she replied with a smirk. Clenching her fists, Eris’s creamy skin turned gray and took on the rough texture of stone. She smiled sweetly, though the effect was lost by her rocky features. “But I’m afraid I can’t play with you forever.” She didn’t wait for a response, launching herself back into the fray.


  Barclay was caught off guard by her increased speed. He lifted one leg to block her kick, but was surprised to realize it was a feint. His hands couldn’t move fast enough and he caught a stony punch straight in the face. Stars clouded his vision as he staggered back. There was no time to get out of the way, all he could do was crouch low and predict her next attack. As expected, Eris had come barreling after him. He caught her outstretched fist and threw her over his shoulder sending her across the room.

  She landed on her feet, seemingly unaffected. She lifted her left fist, showing off fresh red on the knuckles. “How’s the nose?”

  Barclay laughed. “It’ll heal, don’t you worry.” Eris crouched, ready for another attack, but Barclay held up a hand. “I’m afraid, though, you were right. I can’t be playing with you anymore.”

  Eris paused, lifting a gray eyebrow. “You can’t be playing? You may have landed a blow, but this battle has already been decided. You were never a match for me, you were simply a fun way to spend some time.”

  “This battle was decided the moment you came out of hiding,” Barclay replied, deadpan.

  Eris looked around the room skeptically. “You are a fool. You won’t best me in hand-to-hand combat.”

  “No,” Barclay admitted, “I suppose I won’t.” He lifted his arms, and a well of power could be felt from the bottom of the tower. The cutlass, so carelessly kicked out the window, had been gathering water since it touched down. Now, the ice around the tower cracked and shattered. A pillar of water rose from the frozen wasteland, the end forming the face of a serpent. Eris’s eyes widened and she brought her hands together in a clap. The great serpent crashed through the wall next to her, rocking the entire tower. Traps exploded everywhere in a futile attempt to stop Barclay’s final attack.

  The serpent’s jaws opened, revealing rows and rows of icy teeth. In an instant they slammed shut over Eris and the serpent’s liquid head was tinted red. Trap runes shimmered throughout the room before disappearing in a flash of light. As expected, Eris had meticulously prepared the inside of the tower for intruders, but she never guessed her own traps could be used against her. The ice below hid the power of his spell, and infusing the serpent with her ice made it immune to her traps. It was a simple mistake, but it cost her dearly.

  Barclay waited a long moment before releasing the spell. He didn’t bother checking on his opponent. The multiple pieces falling from the serpent’s moth told him enough. He leapt to the overwatch still hanging from the ceiling and grabbed the controls. As hoped, he was able to alter the target and shape of the blast. With the water of the pond as his guide, he took aim. Now, all he could do was wait for the next swell.

  ◆◆◆

  “The ice closes right away,” Serin tried to explain. Once the captain had disappeared under the ice, she’d returned to the ship, and to a barrage of question.. “The captain knew it. I think that’s the real reason he asked me to help.”

  “What do you mean?” Charles asked.

  Serin sighed. “Once I made the hole, I was able to keep it open by pushing lesser flames against the walls.”

  “This is noble-class magic,” Charles stated seriously.

  “I know that!” Serin replied. “But fire and ice don’t mix well, and it seemed to work in my favor earlier.” She huffed. “Unless you think it’s a better idea to just let Grace do it all herself.”

  “I will,” Grace added softly, “if necessary. But you make a good point.”

  “See,” Serin added defiantly.

  Charles eyed Serin, and the overwhelming determination in her eyes. Leslie was right behind her, equally unmoving. He sighed. “Fine, okay. But I don’t think you should do it alone.”

  “Unless someone else here is a fire elemental, I’m not sure that’s an option,” Serin replied.

  “Your bond,” Charles explained in exasperation. “It’s a true bond, right?” At the pair’s indignant stare, he added, “If it is, then you two should be able to share magic.”

  Leslie shared a glance with Serin, “That only works when we are…you know.” Grace’s face lit up bright red and even Serin had a blush rush up her cheeks.

  Charles slapped his hand to his forehead. “I get it, really. But just because that’s the only time you’ve used it so far, doesn’t mean it’s the only way you can.”

  Grace saved all of them further embarrassment by blurting out, “Fey bonding was originally intended for members to grow stronger by sharing their strength. Bonding led to intense feelings and could only be truly completed once. Because of this, it was later used instead for dedicating oneself to another.”

  “Right,” Charles agreed quickly, “so it should work.”

  “But we’ve never even tried it before,” Leslie admitted. “Now we’re supposed to master it enough not to injure one another in the middle of a very stressful situation, just like that?”

  Charles scratched the back of his neck, realizing it may not have been as good an idea as he originally thought. “Yeah, I guess…” He whipped his head up, staring at the wave of ice ahead. He suddenly looked to Grace, who had done the same. “Did you feel that?”

  “The captain,” Grace replied, “he just used a massive spell. If we could feel it from here…”

  “Then either he won or we all lost,” Charles finished.

  “He won,” Serin broke in. Her eyes were filled with unwavering confidence as she whispered again, “He won.”

  “That means we only have moments before the cannon goes off,” Charles reminded them. He glanced at the bonded women. “I suppose it’s now or never.”

  Leslie and Serin ran up to the bow. Serin released any remaining restrictions on her power and held her hand up in front. “We’re going to make it,” she assured them all.

  “Together,” Leslie agreed, placing her hands on the shorter woman’s shoulders. “We’re going to try it,” Leslie announce behind her, “but it’s probably not going to work.”

  Charles stepped up to the tall woman, gently placing a hand on her wrist. “Release your bond,” he asked. Leslie did as he said, and dark figures in embrace stretched over her arms. “Look, don’t think about the act that’s gotten you there before. Think about the feelings. This bond makes you more than lovers, more than partners. When you share magic, you have to become one in purpose and mind. That’s why it happened when it happened before. Clear your thoughts of everything but your goal, and be one.”

  They all heard the boom of the cannon before the blast hit. A second later, the entire wave in front of them burst with light before turning to vapor. Through the haze the true portal materialized, it had been in front of them the whole time. The ice between them swelled and bobbed from the blast.

  “Go time,” Leslie and Serin yelled together, and flames burst from Serin’s chest.

  Charles realized a second or two prior that he had stood much too close to Serin. The fire erupting from her chest was laser focused and intensely hot. It singed the deck, the force pushing her back. Serin dug in her heels with a look of determination that surprised him. “You can do this,” he yelled as he retreated to the safety of the bridge.

  While Serin ignited the air around her, Leslie seemed entirely unfazed. Energy shimmered across her skin, pulsing toward Serin. Leslie was feeding her bond’s flames with her own soul, and it was brilliant.

  Grace leapt on top of the bridge, motioning with her hands all the while. Shields were first. While the cannon had dislodged most of the ice, there was still a little holding her down. With a burst of power, she shook off the ice and her mighty engines revved to full speed. The screech of metal against ice reverberated as Grace realized how close she was to reaching her limit. Leaving that thought aside, a single focus rose to the top: she had to get everyone through that portal.

  The stuck Union ships began firing once Grace started moving. Cannons barked and magic flew impacting the patchwork of shields that were left. Here and there some would break through, thumping into the heavy metal
bow. But Grace would not be deterred.

  Serin and Leslie struggled to maintain their connection. With the chaos surrounding them their focus began to waiver. Leslie gave out first, the sudden lost connection causing her own magic to build into an explosive feedback that knocked her onto the deck. The loss of Leslie’s magic left Serin feeling hollow and the fire from her chest sputtered and died. She watched with terror as the ice closed faster than Grace was moving. A wall began to form in front of the portal. “No!” she cried.

  Just as the ice closed in, a translucent dragon head lifted from the water in front of Grace. Barclay jumped off the spell and landed next to Serin. “Good work, kids,” he offered. “My turn.” The dragon rushed forward, jaws open wide. With a great, trembling smash, the dragon collided with the wall of ice. Water splashed up and around, temporarily blinding the crew. As the spray subsided, a hole the width of the dragon opened in the wall of ice. “Well, shit,” the captain muttered as he realized Grace would be too wide to fit through.

  Everything seemed to unfold in front of Grace in slow motion. From her vantage point, she stared at the icy wall with determination. She would not be stopped, not again, not when they were so close. Closing her eyes, Grace made a decision. She dropped the honeycomb shields completely and pushed everything she had left into the armor on her bow. She slammed forward through the hail of magic attacks, barely feeling the scorching as each one hit its mark. The bow drove deep into the thick ice protecting the portal. Pushing and straining, her propellers clawed at the water frantically to get through. Seconds passed until two giant cracks reverberated through the pocket. Giant chunks of ice rained down and slammed into the ship as she forced her way through.