Spirit of the Sea

by Keith Walter

  Serin’s voice pulled him out of his reverie. “There is an outpost up ahead. It’s going to be hard to sneak around.”

  Barclay chuckled. He had led the group for nearly an hour now, and it was becoming more apparent that the Union was out in force. All those ships forced off the lake had set up encampments all over the shore. Most stayed well enough away from the humans, but that only meant they were placed perfectly around Barclay’s escape routes. Serin had been invaluable with her ability to peer ahead with a disembodied eye of flame, and Leslie knew these parts better than he did. Still, they were coming up well short of a real opportunity.

  Not twenty minutes ago, they’d stumbled across a campsite completely unaware. The handful of Union men must have been particularly adept with camouflage, since Serin hadn’t seen them and they couldn’t be felt until Barclay had actually tripped over a full sleeping bag. The man looked young, maybe even his first real duty, and the shock on his face didn’t have time to fade before Barclay had put a watery blade through his chest. Serin and Leslie leapt into action, probably more to stop Barclay than to help him. They managed to put three under sleep spells, but in the same time Barclay had taken just as many lives. At the end, he had been surprised by the disappointed acceptance in their eyes.

  “Do they have greater numbers or better sensors?” he asked seriously.

  “I can’t tell their numbers, but the outpost looks a lot more official. I’m guessing they didn’t just set this up last night.”

  “If it is a permanent outpost, they will have ongoing communications,” Leslie thought out loud.

  “Right,” Serin agreed. “So we either avoid them at all costs, or take them out.”

  A glimmer of pride ran through Barclay. How long ago had it been since Serin surrendered without a fight to the Union. Since she and Leslie found it impossible to stop their pursuer on the highway. Now she was at least considering all her options, even if she didn’t like them.

  “This would be easier if we could use sensory spells of our own,” Leslie muttered. “Your eye can only do so much,” she added to Serin.

  “You’re not wrong,” Barclay admitted. “But for any of us to use more than Serin’s little spell here, we’d have to stop masking our power. Once we do that, every soldier in the region will know exactly where we are.”

  Silence fell as they struggled to find another way. Leslie turned her thumbnail around in her mouth before she cautiously said, “Perhaps we are looking at this a little too black and white.” Her mind seemed to pull at the problem as she spoke. “Rather than trying to sneak around, what if we could incapacitate them all at once.”

  “I don’t follow,” Barclay replied dismissively. “Even if they don’t have any high-ranking soldiers, what could we do to them that wouldn’t kill ’em, nor put a big red X on our location?”

  “I have an idea,” Leslie replied, pulling her thumbnail from her mouth. Confidence crept into her voice. “We just have to think like someone who has been running from them longer than we have.”

  Barclay understood the implication, but didn’t see how Charles was going to help them here. “What are you saying?”

  Leslie pulled a marker out of her pocket and stared at her left arm. “I have a very good memory,” she replied. Carefully, she began drawing rune designs on her arm. She drew from her forearm to her hand, slowly, until something seemed to click. “I think I can do it!”.

  Barclay was unimpressed. “This is going to help us?” he asked skeptically.

  “Yes!” Leslie replied quickly. “This wasn’t designed to be a trap, but it is to the uninitiated.” Poking the symbols with her finger, she explained, “If I can just build the pattern around the cabin, it should knock out every fey and spell inside, assuming they don’t already know how it works.”

  The outpost was a simple cabin tucked away deep in the woods. Its faded walls and moss-covered roof belied its true purpose. Yet another ruse the fey used to distract humans. The walls were heavily warded, and they hummed loud enough to imply perhaps two dozen soldiers within.

  Barclay took Leslie’s hand gently and let his fingers drift over the drawn symbols. “These aren’t your simple draw-and-jump-start runes. You need to build them with magic if they have any chance of working. How can we to do that without being seen or using our power?” Barclay asked testily.

  Leslie winked. “By asking nicely.” She knelt and placed her hands on the grass and fallen leaves on either side. Barclay could feel her spreading her magic to the plants around. Normally, spells bent the natural world to one’s will, but that didn’t mean the natural world didn’t have a will of its own. The grass and trees were kin somewhere long back, Barclay knew, and it seemed so Leslie’s people were part of that.

  Slowly, Barclay felt movement under the ground. Roots grew and twisted and tied together. The trees were working together, building something they didn’t truly understand. When the roots completed their dance, Serin and Barclay could suddenly see the ground moving as well. Dark brown started to break through the soil.

  It took minutes, but Barclay could see the emerging roots forming the same shapes on Leslie’s arm. The shapes formed a ring around the cabin, and were automatically suffused with the magic of the trees. Leslie hadn’t used an ounce of her own strength, letting nature take the lead. “Well I’ll be,” he whispered.

  With the runes now outlining the cabin, Leslie stood up and moved to the nearest edge. Kissing her finger for luck, she bent down and sparked the edge of the ring. Her eyes darted to the cabin and the humming runes suddenly choked and fell away. She turned around to catch the eyes of everyone behind. “They are blocked from using their power temporarily. They won’t be making any calls out or sensing us now. I’m betting they can barely stand.”

  Serin pumped her fist. “Hot damn. Let’s go take their stuff.”

  Leslie stood and held up a hand. “Anyone who enters the rune will suffer the same fate.” She turned to the cabin, her eyes hardening. “I’ll get their map.” She didn’t wait for Serin to protest, stepping across the roots. She managed to keep her balance, only slightly more prepared now for the cold numbness that she had felt back at the bus depot. She heard Serin call, but refused to turn around. She didn’t think she could bear seeing her love without the bond behind it.

  Taking two careful steps to ensure she could walk properly, she built up confidence and strode to the front door. With those inside powerless, the runes on the outside had nothing to sustain them. She turned the handle, not surprised to find it physically unlocked. The inside was five times larger than the outside, and she could see at least a dozen men and women laying on the floor, flailing slightly. Perusing the tables, she spotted the map in the center and wasted no time in snatching it up. It took seconds to exit and reach the edge of the rune. Stepping over again, she was assaulted by Serin’s concern.

  “Where would you even learn something like that?” Barclay asked.

  Leslie looked at the old fey while Serin ran up and wrapped her arms around her waist. She lifted one eyebrow. “You just pick these things up on the run.”

  “Right,” Barclay added, realizing suddenly those symbols were the same as the tattoos on Charles’s chest.

  The conversation died as thoughts of their friends surfaced. The map now sat on the ground between the bonded and Barclay. It had the consistency of leather and had several orbs of various sizes moving on it. Each person watched as it showed the Union patrols and camps. The troops could only have been half a mile away and moving toward them. Barclay didn’t have time to plan ahead or get his bearings; it was simply time to run as fast as they could and hope to get out alive.

  “Time to go,” Barclay whispered as he stood up. Silently, the rest of the group followed. Barclay held the map up in front of his face, and constantly made sudden turns. The converts tried their best to keep up.

  After twenty minutes of running, the soldiers could be felt without looking at the map. The net was closing in.“We’r
e not getting out of this are we?” Serin whispered just loud enough for Barclay to hear. The old fey didn’t say a word, he just glanced back at her. His stone face and bloodshot eyes told her what she already knew.

  Serin struggled to breath with the weight of their situation. Looking back, she saw her family moving in sequence, hope filling their eyes. Her vision passed over each one. She didn’t realize Leslie had stopped, and bounced softly off the taller woman as she ran into her. Recovering, she turned to see why they had stopped, and the wind was pulled right out of her. In front of them was a pristine beach meeting the lake they had just escaped.

  Barclay turned to the group and yelled, “Everyone back into the trees. Get down on the ground and don’t make a sound.”

  An immense energy swelled from the lake. It was so far above the other soldiers that Leslie couldn’t believe it was an actual fey.

  Barclay intruded on her thoughts. “This is beyond us.” His voice trembled, but his conviction never wavered. “What a day, meeting a whole handful of nobles. I suppose chances were always one of them would be our end.” He turned to Serin and Leslie, who hadn’t returned to the woods like he ordered. “I need you to get your people and run.” He tossed the map at Serin.

  “And what are you going to do?” Leslie asked.

  Barclay stared at the water. “I’m not going to be stronger than I am right here, by the water. I’m going to cause a ruckus big enough for you lot to slip through the Union.”

  “You just said the thing coming is beyond us,” Serin reminded.

  Barclay smiled. “I’ve been on borrowed time a while now. Charles took this opportunity from me two nights ago, but now it’s my turn. There’s still a chance for you. But you have to go.” He didn’t wait for the pair to reply, instead just released the seals concealing his strength. His skin turned scaly and blue. His eyes bulged and he returned to his true form. He was no noble, not by a long shot, but he’d seen enough of battle to know the value of surprise.

  A spray of water like a jet ski’s tail appeared across the lake. At the base of the water, Barclay could make out a lone figure skimming the surface. Seconds felt like hours as he waited for the right time to spring his first trap. Tension rose as the incoming fey passed the hundred meter mark, and then Barclay let loose.

  Jets of water erupted from the lake, soaking the noble in one of Barclay’s favorite delay spells. If it worked, the fey’s reactions would get slower and slower the more the fey was drenched. Water geysers continued to assault their attacker, and his approach slowed. Barclay could clearly see the man as his pace reduced to a quick walk. It was the same man from the docks. Barclay clenched his teeth, he would force that haughty bastard to deal with him now.

  Grand General Kenewath reached the shore and brushed his jacket lightly. Instantly, Barclay’s spell was shattered. Not done, Barclay reached out and two columns of water sprouted from the lake. The liquid rose a hundred feet before condensing into two giant arrows that turned and flew down toward Kene. The general pointed one hand up in the shape of a gun, cocked his thumb, and pulled the proverbial trigger.

  A tiny ball of flame shot up, intercepting the projectiles. Kene smirked as the arrows were blasted into steam. Barclay mirrored the smirk as another geyser shot up from under Kene’s feet. The water swirled and grabbed the general tightly. Barclay raised his hand, and the steam cloud above coalesced into thousands of tiny blades. He brought his hands together and the blades dove for the general. A tornado of water and razors engulfed his opponent.

  “Enough,” the general announced, Barclay’s magic shattering with a wave of his hand.

  Barclay expected that, expected this noble would be unfazed by even his greatest attacks, but saw a small tear in the general’s jacket. He smirked, proud to have done even that much. He could tell by the general’s demeanor that he was getting tired of games. That was fine by Barclay. His little display had caught the attention of every Union soldier for thirty miles. He couldn’t feel Leslie or Serin, wisely hiding their presence, but he figured that should open some holes in their pursuit.

  The general stepped toward him, not wasting any time. Grasping his sword tightly, Barclay prepared for one final strike. Before he could lunge, a shimmer drew his attention to the ground. The image in front of him cracked and shattered like glass. He didn’t remember setting up that spell. It all became clear when he felt Serin’s energy appear behind him.

  Leslie had been hiding in the camouflage, sneaking around the general’s approach. Barclay felt the taller woman’s energy spike and she appeared behind the general with a giant glowing ball in one hand. He watched her lace the fiery ball with brown earth magic before punching it forward at a speed he couldn’t follow. The ball impacted the general and Barclay was knocked off his feet from the explosion. He vaguely felt Leslie burst to Serin’s side, but both energies dropped precipitously.

  “You idiots,” Barclay yelled. “I told you to run”

  Serin sat up, offering a cheeky smile. “Sorry, Captain, but we don’t leave anybody behind.”

  “Besides,” Leslie added. “We got him.”

  Barclay couldn’t help but smile at the sentiment, but shook his head. Without emotion, he added, “No, you are still too young to understand what a noble really is.”

  With a swipe of his hand, Kene dissipated the smoke and steam of the women’s combined attack. Completely unaffected, he continued his forward march.

  CHAPTER TWENTY:

  Too Far Gone

  Charles had forgotten, over the years, just how large everyone had looked when he was a child. He could scarcely remember the wet nurse who had taken care of him, but now she loomed over him with lullabies. The scene changed, and he was on his own two feet now. He was meeting his father. While he would eventually grow to hate him, right now Charles could feel the excitement of meeting, for the first time, the man who sired him.

  His father didn’t have an imposing figure, but the idea of him had built the man into something godlike. Charles waited for ages as his father inspected him, laying hands to get a better feel for the power in his child’s body. When the man smiled, Charles returned it.

  “I have done it!” the man exclaimed, and walked away. Charles felt such profound disappointment. It was a feeling he would come to associate deeply with the man who called himself Father.

  In the painful silence, Charles heard laughter. It was faint, and so for a moment he sunk back into his disappointment. But the laughter continued. It mocked his pain with its lighthearted joy. He looked around but couldn’t find the source. It was somehow outside the memory. That’s what this was, Charles realized, just a memory. Once the thought struck his mind, he was pulled back. Smooth white tiles stretched out from his feet while images and scenes from his life surrounded him.

  The laughter echoed and he walked away from the scenes of his life. Wherever he was, the white tiles expanded endlessly. There were no buildings, no landmarks, and no people to be seen. Turning, he saw the orb of his memories, now clear like an empty snow globe. A glimmer of light flashed from behind. Stepping around his own memories he recognized another globe, this one filled with a young girl.

  She had blond hair and bright green eyes, and something about those eyes ignited a fire inside him. The girl laughed as delicate hands combed through her hair. She was seated, with her eyes closed and face to the sky, totally enraptured by the hands massaging her head

  “Tell me another one,” the girl requested with a giggle, “another funny one.” The hands stopped moving and the girl opened her eyes. “What’s wrong?” she asked, immediately aware of the change in mood.

  Charles walked closer and the scene zoomed out as much as he moved. He could see the older woman now, hands still in the girl’s hair. When he saw the woman’s face, he was assaulted by feelings of anger and fear. Vaguely, he heard his own memory globe begin to crack.

  The woman’s eyes glazed over with pain before hardening, and she leaned down to kiss the girl’s head
. Her face relaxed, but she had lost whatever mirth caused the girl’s laughter. “You are getting older now. I think it is time you learned the greater lessons of life.”

  “Please,” the girl pleaded, “just one more.” The woman pulled on the girl’s hair lightly, forcing their eyes to meet. The girl looked away quickly, “Sorry.”

  Charles stared hard at the girl, so quick to apologize. The woman allowed the girl to continue gazing at the sky, continuing to comb through her hair. The girl accepted it, but he could tell she no longer felt as comfortable. “I know you,” he announced to the void.

  The girl looked around suddenly. “Who was that, mother?” the girl asked. But the woman didn’t answer. She simply combed her daughter’s hair as if she hadn’t heard. “No one else should be here,” the girl whispered.

  Charles heard a loud crack and the crashing of glass on stone before he was assaulted by thousands of tiny shards. Each piece pierced his mind, returning the memories to their rightful place. It was both painful and comforting—everything his life had been. He reeled for a moment before staring at the girl again. She was different, considerably younger, but he remembered her now. He put his hand on the edge of the globe, unable to enter on his own. “I know you, Grace.”

  The girl suddenly locked eyes with him through the globe. No longer did she have the eyes of a child. She knew, just as he had. Grace moved to the edge of the globe and reached out. An adult hand pushed through, closing its fingers around Charles’s own. The memories within the glow disappeared and she walked out. Like a spell being broken, the white void dimmed. The sky gave off a blue hue and covered the tiles in rhythmic moving shadows.

  Charles pulled her into a hug and whispered, “What is this place?”

  Grace squeezed tight before pulling back. As she looked up into his eyes, she caught sight of the sky. Taking a full step back, she gazed above. “I don’t know,” she replied. “But, I can see myself.”