Spirit of the Sea

by Keith Walter

  The shield on the back fell as the big guns charged once more. Charles pulled on his energy and prepared for a direct assault. Slamming his hands together in front of him, Charles’s glowing red runes intermingled with the spiraling tempest. The spells pushed and pulled as each found their place. Before the next volley, he released his hold on his energy and sent the full force of it through the runes. A pillar of ripping wind and fire shot from his hands directly at the unguarded Entregon.

  He could feel the magic increase as he let go. He was now converting every ounce of energy he had directly into the intertwined death spell. The black cloud raced across the sky like a dagger, aiming for the Entregon’s heart. When the spell struck, the Entregon released a massive magical barrier, but it was too little, too late. The swirl of razor wind and searing flame exploded into her deck, tearing across her hull. The impact was so great, it broke the trap in which she lay.

  The giant fingers were blasted for miles into the air. The remaining wrist melted back to the water and what remained of the Entregon fell two-hundred yards like a stone. She hit hard, and her entire hull seemed to bend under the force. Charles considered pumping his fist before he saw the great steel monstrosity right itself. It was still bent, still torn, and still unmoving, but it flipped itself to again float on the water. Charles could scarcely believe what he was seeing. Nothing should have survived that blast, much less the fall along with it.

  He peered at the Entregon, determination filling his eyes once again. She had no shields. That final barrier must have taken everything she had left. He let gravity take over and he plummeted from the sky. As his fall sped up, he built up pure magical energy in his right fist. As the lake got nearer, he pushed against the wind and made a hard curve, retaining his speed but flying across the water. He clenched his fist, focusing everything within, and it began to glow red like the Entregon’s cannons. When he was a hundred yards away, he cocked his arm back.

  And then, there was silence. Charles couldn’t move. He could still see a hazy shape of the Entregon ahead, but feet of ice skewed the light trying to reach him. He bobbed lazily, knowing that whatever iceberg surrounded him was floating on the water. Bringing his magic to the surface, he tried heating his skin to melt the ice, but it didn’t seem to make a difference. He reinforced and flexed his muscles, straining with everything he had to break from this prison. He heard the ice creaking and was suddenly suffocated by pressure from all sides.

  ◆◆◆

  Grace heard the call through her bond with Charles. She couldn’t see him through her mother’s bulk, but he assured her he was okay. It had been a trap, that much was obvious. The Entregon had pretended to be injured to draw him in, banking on Charles taking the bait. Grace’s first instinct was to go to him, break him free from whatever her mother had done. The ship beneath her feet lurched forward before she realized what was happening. Her mother made no move until Grace had closed the distance between them.

  Entregon swooped in front of her daughter before she could get there. It would have been a dangerous maneuver under normal circumstances, even as she brought her shields back up. She used her entire length to block Grace’s path, which presented a giant opportunity if Grace had been so inclined to open fire. Entregon held no such concern with her daughter. When Grace came to a sudden stop, just yards from her side, Entregon manifested at her railing.

  “Has this not been exhilarating, Daughter?” Her voice dripped with satisfaction. Already, the bend in her superstructure had been straightened out, and Grace could see the damage from Charles’s attack fading.

  Grace marched to the nose of her ship, staring intently at the figure smiling above. “This is sick. I do not find pleasure in fighting.”

  “You would,” Entregon replied languidly, “but you have never actually fought. You have not given yourself the chance to find out.”

  “What do you call all this?” Grace retorted.

  “Ah, but look at you.” Entregon pretended to scrape dirt from her fingernails. “This whole time, you have done nothing but hide behind your pet. You have only tried to run or follow his orders, I am sure. I sit in front of you now, in the middle of a battle, and you stop. I offer myself,” she threw her hands up and the honeycomb shields fell away. She watched Grace, waiting several second before continuing. “And you do nothing. You could end this fight in an instant, but you will not.” Entregon sighed heavily. “The two of you could be formidable beyond your wildest dreams, but you will always be weak if you refuse to take action.”

  “It isn’t weakness to spare a life,” Grace screamed. Her anger felt deflating, and she added more softly, “Especially the life of someone you love.”

  “Grace,” Entregon spoke in soothing tones, “you must understand I do this precisely because I love you.”

  “Your love is like poison,” Grace replied. “I don’t want it any longer.”

  “You are my child. I could not choose to give up this love any more than I could choose to give up the sea. It is a part of me. You,” she emphasized the word, “are a part of me.”

  “You lie!” Grace yelled. “You killed me!”

  “I was forced to destroy my weakness,” Entregon answered angrily, finally moved to show her emotion outwardly. “I gave you every opportunity to learn, to change, to prove yourself. Even now, with him fully intent on destroying me—” she waved toward Charles “—I could not help but give you more chances.”

  “You’ve nearly killed both of us already. You call that giving chances?” Grace pulled at her own hair in frustration.

  Entregon stood straight, a piercing look in her eyes. “Do you really think this is all I am capable of? I could have drained your general completely when he touched my deck. I allowed him to escape as a warning. I allowed you to spring your trap, hoping finally to see your resolve. But even then,” she said, curling her fingers into a loose fist before dropping it open dramatically, “you failed to give it your all. Right now, I have your pet trapped behind me. Do you think I could not turn my entire attention to him instead and wipe him from this earth? I did not raise you to be so blind.”

  Grace gasped, hand flying to her mouth. She had been so caught up in plans, maneuvers, and defense that she never took the time to really ponder the flow of battle. The thought of Charles being killed, especially as she sat here talking, brought a twisting feeling to her gut. “I… We…” She couldn’t find the words to reply.

  “This is disappointing,” Entregon added. “I thought at worst you had stopped in order to buy time for the general. He is quite powerful, and my trap will not hold him forever. But now I see it was precisely the same weakness as before.”

  A dozen new cannons grew out from her side, pointing directly at Grace. “What will it take for you to finally do something? Must I destroy you again?” Grace didn’t respond. She glared at her mother, ignoring the cannons gathering magic at their base.

  Entregon returned the glare before surprise fill her face. “No,” she spoke softly. “That is the problem. You do not care enough for yourself. I have gone about this wrong.” The cannons tilted, pointing past Grace to her bridge. “Those fey you love so much, would you fight for them?”

  Grace’s eyes widened in shock. She turned to glance at the bridge. She could feel everyone inside. The last time she faced her mother like this it was just her and Charles, both with the knowledge they would not survive. Now, she remembered that there were people counting on her, people she had to save. “Don’t,” she pleaded. “This is between us.”

  “I am afraid you have involved them in our business,” Entregon replied smoothly. “How many will die before you fight back, I wonder? Let us start with those nearest you.” She smiled, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

  Grace push her arms out in front of her chest. Her own honeycomb shields pulsed, becoming thicker and denser. “I won’t let you.”

  “You and I both know that will not be enough,” Entregon offered sincerely. “At your best, you might be
able to withstand the first volley, but your pet will not. I have paid close attention. You and he appear to draw from the same well. You cannot access everything without leaving him weak, weak enough that my trap with crush him. If you give him enough energy to survive, you will be too weak yourself to protect the fey behind you.”

  “I…” she was at a loss for words. “I won’t let you,” she repeated without conviction. Tears began forming in her eyes as she realized her mother was right.

  “Who will it be, then?” Entregon asked, tapping her own chin in thought. She held up a finger, tilting it to the right. “Will you save your general, or—” she tilted her finger the opposite direction “—will it be your crew?” Grace gaped, and Entregon smiled wide. “There is one other option, of course.”

  “What?” Grace asked, her voice escaping like a deflating balloon.

  “You could stop me.” Entregon winked. “I taught you how to create weapons. My shields are down. You are strong enough to sink me if you did not waste so much energy on shields that will not work anyway. All you have to do is kill your mother.” She leaned over the railing. “Tell me, Grace, do you love them more than me?”

  “No,” Grace choked out. Tears were now streaming down her face. “You can’t make me choose.”

  “Let us make the decision fair first,” Entregon added, almost to herself. “Create a cannon, Grace. I want you to have the chance to make every decision in your own time.”

  “Don’t do this,” Grace pleaded.

  Entregon’s expression turned cold. She commanded, “Create a cannon, Grace, or I will destroy your general right now. Once he is gone you will be unable to stop me from killing your crew.”

  Grace laced her hands together, squeezing until they turned completely white. Shutting her eyes, she turned her head toward the deck to her side. She concentrated and a shiny metal box grew straight up, ten feet long and five feet wide. As it rose, a cylinder grew out toward the stern, pointing directly at her mother. The entire process took seconds, but Grace fell to her knees as if exhausted. “Don’t. Don’t, please.”

  “Do not beg, child, it is beneath you,” Entregon replied, unaffected by her daughter’s pleas. She surveyed the boxy design her daughter created. “Crude,” she commented. “But I suppose it can get the job done.” She took a deep breath, smiling to herself proudly. “Now the truly fun part,” she announced. “Grace, look at me.”

  The soothing encouragement from her mother caused Grace to open her eyes, still filled with tears. Seeing her mother’s smiling face, Grace felt anger, deeper and hotter than ever before. “I hate you,” she declared.

  A flitter of nostalgia crossed Entregon’s face before she smiled wider, “Then this should be an easy decision. Who dies, child? Your crew, your general, or your mother?”

  “I can’t,” Grace cried.

  “I am afraid that is not one of your options,” Entregon replied. “At the count of three, I will fire upon your crew. You can stop me before then or decide who to save at that moment. Are you ready?”

  “No,” Grace admitted.

  “One.”

  “Please, Mother,” Grace pleaded.

  “Two.”

  “Don’t,” Grace cried. She watched her mother’s face fall into sadness. She felt her mother charge the cannons pointed at the crew. She heard Charles crying out through their bond. She saw in her mind’s eye everyone on the bridge cowering from the battle outside.

  Her mind went blank. Time slowed. She watched her mother’s lips begin to form the final number. She squeezed her eyes shut and screamed. The sound came from her lungs, her mind, and the ship all at once. It deafened her ears, it blocked out every other sensation she was capable of feeling. She couldn’t see or hear the great explosion as white-hot magic tore through steel. She couldn’t feel the vibrations in the air or the water that followed in its wake.

  Grace lifted her head and opened her eyes. For a single moment, all she saw was the morning sun lighting up calm blue skies. And then the world came crashing down. Or, specifically, debris and burning stars. Grace moved her eyes down, staring at nothing, a great hole where her mother once was. Glancing to her side, she saw her cannon, the barrel half melted from the strain of her attack. Looking past the barrel, she found what remained of her mother.

  The blast had carved out a clean oval one hundred feet wide. The two ends of what was once her mother seemed almost untouched. If she was looking from bow or stern, Grace wouldn’t be able to tell anything was amiss besides the disappearance of a bridge and upper floors. She stepped cautiously toward her own bow, peering over the edge. Her mother’s metal hull was melted down to just below the waterline. Looking back and forth, she had the image of two boats being held together by a toothpick.

  The deathly hole where her mother once stood allowed Grace a window to the other side. She could see a ten-foot-tall block of ice suddenly crumble and a figure emerge. She wanted to smile, to be happy that he was free, but her heart was empty. She’d killed—the one thing she’d promised she would never do. She could feel Charles already trying to soothe her through the bond, but she couldn’t accept it. She fell to her knees as Charles raced toward her, and she cried.

  “You did what you had to do,” Charles whispered as he leapt aboard and swept Grace into his arms. Even as he spoke, the words felt hollow. Grace didn’t speak, instead just pushing her face into Charles’s chest, her body trembling with sobs. “I’m sorry,” Charles whispered, though he wasn’t sure what he was sorry for.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE:

  Tomorrow

  The ship had been at rest too long, Barclay thought. There were no windows on the bridge, and he figured it was to make it easier for Grace to shield. He hadn’t felt anything besides a big shake in the last few minutes. He was still alive, which meant Grace was okay, but he hated waiting in the dark to find out what was going on. He especially hadn’t liked being ordered in here like a child after he’d gone and pulled Charles’s ass from the fire. The waiting was killing him. In a sudden huff, he walked to the single door and tugged on the handle. He was surprised when it opened. He peeked his head out quickly, looking as far around as he could but finding nothing.

  He glanced at Serin and Leslie, who frowned and nodded. He stepped out onto the main deck, leaving the door open in case he needed to make a hasty retreat. The doorway led to the stern, and he was already aware Grace tended to steer from the bow. He scooted the four paces needed to make the turn toward the bow, and the sight froze his steps. He couldn’t see Grace from his angle, but he could see what was left of the Entregon. That demon ship, the terror of the seas—it looked like some kind of monster had taken a bite right out of it.

  “Holy shit,” he spoke without thinking.

  Serin had moved to the door, ready for whatever assistance the captain might need, and tensed at his soft curse. She stuck her head out the door, catching sight of the captain to her right. His mouth was hanging open and his body seemed to have paused mid-step.

  “What is it?” she asked nervously.

  Barclay was broken from his shock. His mouth remained open, but he was able to turn his head from what remained of the Entregon to Serin. Catching her worried expression, he tried to compose himself. “I, uh, I think everyone can come out now. It looks like it’s over.”

  “What?” Serin asked before her brain could process what she heard. As her thoughts caught up, her own mouth dropped open. “We’re alive,” she announced as if to verify that truth. “Does that mean we won?”

  Barclay turned back to the Entregon. “Yeah. I think so.” His feet picked up where they left off. He marched in awe to the bow, eyes widening as he passed the bridge and could see the whole of the damage at once. He was vaguely aware of Charles and Grace sitting on the deck in a tight embrace, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the Entregon. He walked all the way to the nose of the ship, leaning over the rail to get a better look. What was left was starting to take on water, but the two remaining ends seeme
d to be keeping the structure afloat for the time being.

  Serin had excitedly whooped as Barclay walked away and dramatically motioned for everyone to head out. “It’s over!” she yelled. “We won!” She waited only long enough for Leslie to get to her side before grabbing the taller woman’s hand and running out the door. Just like the captain, their mouths fell open unconsciously when the Entregon came into view. “By Behemoth,” she whispered. They ran forward together to get a better look.

  Unlike the captain, the sight of an obviously distraught Charles and Grace demanded her attention. “Oh, no,” Leslie said. “Grace.”

  Taking the lead now, Leslie pulled her bond to the crying woman ahead. She dropped to her knees, Serin following suit, and reached out to touch Grace’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” Leslie offered. “She was your mother still.”

  Serin touched the crying woman’s knee, rubbing briefly as a show of comfort. “We are here for you.”

  Barclay still couldn’t believe what he was seeing. With no mind to the tone of the conversation going on, he turned to the group. “Charles, how in the hell did you do this?”

  Charles was startled enough by the question to lift his head from Grace’s hair. He could still feel Grace twitch at the question and the sudden despair flood through his bond. “She’s no Ancient,” he answered carefully. He wanted to spare Grace the pain of answering, and everyone thinking he had done the deed would at least deflect the worst of the questions they’d have.

  “I suppose not,” Barclay added wistfully.

  “He didn’t,” a muffled voice announced.

  “Grace, you don’t have to,” Charles said, trying to hush her.

  Grace pulled back from his chest, her eyes red and face glistening. “I do,” she replied seriously. “I killed her. I killed…my own mother.”