Nolan stared at his hand. He felt himself breathe in and out three times.
“Stop wasting time, boy,” Walker said.
Nolan licked his lips. He raised his arm and watched his hand shake. The leather of the whip felt wet and grainy under his sweaty palm.
“Do it, already. He could have gotten us all killed.”
“He’s already punished.”
“What?”
“I can’t.” Nolan shoved the whip to his side, and felt someone else’s fingers close around it. James’s face had gone completely stiff—as hardened as a man ten years older. With one motion, he rolled his shoulder back, brought his forearm down, and let the whip strike. Then he brought his arm up and across again, and left one more bloody mark across his brother’s back.
James turned back to Walker with his eyes lowered to the deck. Three fingers on his left hand twitched. The rest of his body looked completely rigid. “Sir, can I take him to his cot now?”
Walker nodded. “The rest of you, back to work.”
On shaky legs, Nolan started for the ladder to the galley, only to be caught roughly by the shoulder. Walker spun him around until they were nose to nose, with Walker’s fist clenching the front of Nolan’s shirt collar.
“Don’t you ever disobey me, boy,” Walker said softly. “When I give an order, any order, I expect it to be obeyed. There’s no place for cowards on my ship.”
“I’m not a—”
Walker back-handed him, so hard and so suddenly that Nolan staggered. Pain blossomed across his right cheek. Before he could right himself, his uncle caught him by the throat and lifted him, so only the toes of Nolan’s boots still touched the deck.
“Don’t tell me what you are.”
Walker released his grip, and Nolan dropped coughing. He stared at his uncle with a rage he couldn’t find the words for. Walker didn’t look angry. His eyes were sharp, but his face was flat.
“That was your last warning.”
Nut set Nolan to washing dishes and chopping turnips as though nothing had happened. For half a day they circled each other in the kitchen without any mention of Walker, Sam, or the dark bruise on Nolan’s cheekbone. Only later, when James came below, did Nut break his quiet stream of work.
“How’s your brother?”
James nodded grimly. “He’ll be well enough. Sleeping now. Thanks for the herbs.”
Nut nodded and squinted at the bowl he was drying. “Just keep it quiet.”
“I will.”
“Should help dull the pain a bit. ‘Least I could do. A little mercy’s not a bad thing,” Nut said. “Not when a man’s already beat.”
James nodded at Nolan. “I wanted to thank you for trying. It was stupid, but thanks.”
Nolan shrugged. “I didn’t change anything.”
“The captain has to keep a hard line,” James said heavily. “Sam did a fool thing. You grew up a little soft, maybe—that first blood can be a shock to new hands. But once you’re here awhile longer you’ll get used to it.” James shook his head, and his mouth twisted. “Or understand it, at least. We all know what we sign on for.”
“Beating each other bloody?” Nolan asked, raising his eyes to James for the first time. “That’s not what I signed on for.”
James’s cheek twitched. “It doesn’t happen that much.” He cleared his throat. “You just have to take the bad with the good, Nolan. You’ll get used to it.”
When Nolan didn’t answer, James clapped his shoulder lightly. “I should get back to Sam, but you have the night free, right? Why don’t you go see Golden Isle up close? There’s dice, music, girls—a party every night. And it’s midsummer night, so it’ll be even better. Just get away for a bit.”
But when the last bowl was dry, Nolan didn’t go into Golden City. Instead he wandered away from the sounds of music and laughter and followed the shoreline. He had no idea where he was going. He only knew that he felt slightly nauseous, and he wanted to be somewhere cool and apart and alone.
Nolan walked past where the cobbled streets became sand, and let the ships in the harbor fade out of sight behind him. The night’s silence was now only broken by the lap of waves on the sand. The air chilled slightly. Eventually, the flickering lights from the city behind Nolan blended with the expanse of stars shining onto the sand and reflecting off the water. Golden Isle was still as beautiful as ever.
Sam had made a mistake, but this morning’s flogging had gone well beyond a lesson or a punishment. Walker had made an example of him. And all Nolan had been able to do was watch and not hit him. And for that he’d branded himself as soft. A weakling. A coward.
If this were a legend, someone would have stopped the whole thing. They’d have thrown the whip overboard, or cut the rope on Sam’s wrists, or even turned it back on Walker.
Nolan had always thought that would be him.
But then, he never thought he’d have a friend who would drink before his watch. Who could have gotten the whole crew killed.
Either way, he was weaker than he’d thought. But he wasn’t sure he wanted the kind of ‘strength’ that would let him flog a friend already drenched in his own blood. If that’s what sea life would bring him, he wanted no part of it.
Nolan wondered how long it would take for him to go back home. Would he really have to wait until fall, when summer had scarcely begun? He hoped not. He wasn’t sure he could ever even look at his uncle again.
Of course, he couldn’t really see facing his father again either. Or rather, he couldn’t see forcing out the words to say he’d decided to stay with the inn and the stable for the rest of his life. The words would be a lie.
Nolan didn’t want to “go home,” he wanted to get away, and look for something better. For all the good that had done him in the past weeks.
A few miles beyond the city limits Nolan heard splashing and a weak scream. Jolted from his own thoughts, he scanned the water nervously.
“Help!” Distantly, a woman struggling in the sea reached her hand out towards him, then disappeared below the water of the Emerald Sea.
Nolan stared, but she didn’t come back up. No one else was nearby. He kicked off his boots and dived.
He’d swum before at home in the river that gave River’s End its name. That river, eight feet deep and fifty feet across, had a current that was gentle enough for children and just rough enough in one spot to challenge teenagers. He and his friends Owen and Simon used to swim there every summer between school terms.
The sea water stung his eyes. It was warmer than the river water, but the constant movement of the waves made it impossible for Nolan to predict where he’d find the surface. Nolan pulled, kicked, choked on a mouthful of saltwater, and pulled and kicked again. He kept his eyes locked on the place where the woman had sunk, where the moonlight still showed splashes. She was still fighting. Nolan lungs ached by the time he reached that spot, but he dove into the sea’s blackness without a second’s hesitation.
He was blind under the water, and his eyes burned more than ever. He waved his hands in either direction in big, sweeping, windmill motions, hoping to feel anything to give him a hint to where she was. Just before he would have gone up for air, his fingers brushed her hair. Nolan groped wildly, found a firmer grip on it, and kicked for the surface with all his strength. Her hand came up around his wrist halfway up.
Nolan gasped for air when he reached the surface. The woman vomited, retching uncontrollably and without pausing for breath. Nolan pulled her in front of him, locked his arm around her chest, and back-stroked as best he could with one arm and quite a bit of middle-aged dead weight.
Swimming out from the shore had been difficult. Swimming back with another person in tow was the most strenuous thing Nolan had ever done. His right arm, sides, and legs ached with every motion and every breath. He had no idea how far he still had to go at any moment, and the idea of five minutes, of one minute more, became almost unfathomable. The woman stopped vomiting but hung limply in his arms, so helpless and motionle
ss that he thought fleetingly that she had died. Every stroke became agony.
But finally, Nolan’s hands brushed sand and his body bumped against the beach. He rolled himself over, dragged the woman up so her head was safely out of the water, and collapsed face-first into the fine sand of Golden Isle, his limbs trembling and tears streaming down his face. He coughed, ribs aching, and phlegm and sea-water spewed before him. His lungs burned as though he’d never catch his breath. Distantly, he heard the woman retching again, proving that at least she hadn’t died. When his lungs began to ease a bit, Nolan edged himself up on one elbow and rolled to face her.
She crawled a bit more out of the water, coughed, gagged once more, and then breathed freely. She pushed her hair back out of her face and rolled from her hands and knees into a sitting position facing Nolan. Her skin shone in the moonlight, illuminating a flawless, pale complexion and highlighting her unbound black hair.
Her smile revealed perfectly shaped teeth. “That was very brave of you,” she said. “May I know the name of my savior?”
Nolan swallowed. This woman was lovely, more beautiful than anyone he’d ever met. Somehow she seemed younger than he’d thought she was when he first rescued her, too. The ‘woman’ looked to be no more than a year older than Nolan. And while she didn’t have the rounded Surian face, she most certainly wasn’t from Golden Isle.
“I’m Nolan,” he answered, still panting slightly. “Nolan Newman. I’m glad I was here.”
“You were more than here. You saved my life, I’m sure you did.” For someone who’d just had a brush with death, the girl acted quite composed now, combing her hair back with one hand and reclining on the other. Beads of water slid gently down her cheeks and along her throat. Despite his fatigue, Nolan had a strange desire to brush the droplets away.
“Um…it was nothing. I mean it was hard but I’m glad to. I’m glad you’re all right.” Nolan searched his brain for something else to say. “What’s your name?”
“Names carry more power than you seem to realize, Nolan Newman,” she cocked her head to the side, shaking it slowly. “I’m sorry, I just can’t give you mine.”
Nolan stared at her in disbelief. “I almost drowned myself saving you.”
“Indeed. Surely such valor does deserve a reward, don’t you think?” she murmured, her lips curved in a still warmer smile. “What would you have of me?”
She must not have realized it, but now that she’d stopped combing her hair she was in a position where her bosom was now very advantageously displayed. Her dress was still soaking wet, and now clung to her skin, clearly outlining the gentle, generous curves of her body. Nolan’s mind flitted briefly across several strange possibilities before he drew back and forcibly turned his gaze to the sea.
“I don’t need anything. Anyone would’ve done the same. I’ll just…get you back home safely, when you’re ready.” Nolan coughed and cleared his throat. His mouth felt as dry as paper.
The girl arched one midnight eyebrow and waited a moment. “Nothing? Are you sure?” She reached out to brush his cheek with the delicate pad of her thumb.
Nolan felt his cheeks flush. He stood and backed up a pace.
“No.”
The girl’s smile dimmed somewhat. “Is it money that you want then? My father would surely reward you for such a daring rescue.”
Nolan shrugged, part of him regretting his every contribution to this conversation, the rest of him hotly angered by this strange girl. “I almost drowned us both. I’m just glad neither of us was hurt. Keep your money.”
The girl straightened and faced him properly once more. She looked more speculative than inviting now. “You must want something. Every man does.”
Nolan’s laugh sounded more like a bark to his own ears. “You couldn’t give me what I want,” he answered harshly.
“Tell me, and see.”
Nolan shook his head. “Even I don’t know what I want. I want more than it seems like I can ever have, more than anyone can give me. I want…” he gestured helplessly. “Something more than ordinary. More than eating and sleeping and dishes and fights. To do something noble. Feel some proper kind of freedom. I want…” he realized he was railing to a stranger and ran his hands over his face in frustration, now speaking as much to himself as to her. “I might as well want the moon and the stars.”
The girl stood up, peering into his face. “That’s a very grave wish, Nolan Newman,” she said solemnly. Her skin now contained an array of wrinkles, and had lost some of its golden glow. She looked more than twice Nolan’s age, and he could not imagine why he’d thought her a mere girl before. “I cannot give you everything this world holds, or artificially make you content, but… you have earned a wish tonight through noble actions. Perhaps I may grant some part of your wish.”
“What do you—”
“Hush.” The woman closed her eyes. A pained expression crossed her face. Pressure built around her, raising the hairs on Nolan’s arms and neck. With each second that passed, the pressure redoubled, until he found it hard to breath against the weight of the air around him.
She gasped, shuddered, and gasped again, looking like she was having some kind of fit.
“What are you—”
Before Nolan could ask her what on earth she was talking about, the ground below him rolled alarmingly and his vision went black.
As a matter of fact, everything went absolutely and completely dark. And stayed that way.
For a moment Nolan thought he must have fainted. But no, he was still thinking clearly. As best he could tell he was still on his feet. He felt carefully around in front of him.
“Are you there?”
“Yes, Nolan Newman, I am still here.”
“Why can’t I see you?”
“Is this better?”
Light bloomed between her hands, so brightly that Nolan couldn’t look at it directly. The light illuminated everything around them for ten yards or more, allowing him to see the sand he was standing on, as well as the girl…woman…with new-found wrinkles at her eyes and a certain slackness to her face. Her body seemed to be thicker, and hung more loosely about her. She looked at least sixty, and her skin was nearly gray with fatigue.
“What happened? Was that an earthquake? And what happened to your face?”
“I am as I am. Hold out your hands.”
Nolan numbly obeyed, and she passed the light to him. He yelped instinctively and nearly dropped it, expecting the burn of fire or worse, but to his surprise the light was held by something like smooth glass, only mildly warm to the touch.
He stared at the jar in his hands uncertainly. “What is this?”
The woman eased herself back to the ground. Her breathing was slightly labored, but a trace of irony threaded its way through her voice. “What you asked for, Nolan Newman. The moon and the stars in your power, under your control and protection. This is what you asked for, is it not? Is this not something more than that ordinary struggle that you find so distasteful?”
Nolan gaped at her, certain that she was joking and horrified all the same.
“Do not look so disbelieving, Nolan Newman. I assure you I tell the truth of what you possess. Look above you. You’ll find no remainder of the summer sky. Are you not pleased with your gift?”
Nolan’s grip loosened, and again the jar of light nearly fell to the sand.
The woman frowned mockingly. “As a protector you are not making a fine beginning. You hold more lives between your hands than you can count, boy. In your place, I would try to keep a firmer grip on your charge.”
Nolan stared at her. “But…I never wanted anything like this! This is…this is mad!”
“You don’t have all the stars in existence of course,” she continued conversationally. “Only those in your night sky, and their planets and moons. The entire universe is a bit much to give to such a youth, and I’m not so suicidal as to pluck our sun from the sky.”
“You!? You did this?! Then stop it, undo it, p
ut it back!” Despite the chill from his damp clothing, Nolan’s skin was now coated in sweat. He brandished the jar in her direction.
The sorceress, undoubtedly the first magic-wielder he’d met to fit that high title, wagged her finger at him as though he were an amusing, misbehaving child.
“One wish per witch per deed, I’m afraid, and you’ve certainly gotten your share of a gift. You’ll need someone else’s help if you’re so bold as to want another.”
“No no no! I don’t want anything! I want you to take back what you did!”
“That’s not what you said before. Look forward, Nolan Newman, and protect your new charges.”
Then she was gone, vanished into the darkness or into thin air, leaving Nolan standing alone on a beach with a jar of planets, moons, and stars.
CHAPTER THREE
The scriptures do not tell us where the magic that the Night God cast away landed, but legends take the story further.
The magic soared to the world’s northern reaches, and melted into the ice it landed on, where it bubbled as it cooled. The ice that reformed was completely different from any ice that had been seen on the earth before, for it was magical in its very nature. An age passed before mankind remembered the magic that had been lost to them. All that we knew was that anyone who ventured too far into the northern Twilight Mountains never returned.
And then one day Orrigan, a lost Ostmontian goat-herder, walked out of a pass in the mountains leading a string of donkeys. The donkeys’ baskets held blankets, firewood, and enough food to feed Orrigan’s entire village for the winter.
Orrigan spoke of wondrous caves, and of an old man who granted his wish for the village’s supplies. When they heard Orrigan’s story, the other men of the village tried at once to find the caves for themselves. They took all of the village’s beasts and climbed into the mountains as quickly as they could, with no regard for the gathering winter storm.
The donkeys and mules returned. The men did not. The snow grew too deep to send any search parties, and the village was forced to wait until spring to learn the fate of its lost sons.
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