Rise

by Andrea Cremer

  Barrow tensed, casting a sidelong glance at her. “What of them?”

  She turned to face him. “You do know.”

  He didn’t answer her, so she pressed him further. “How long have they been lovers?”

  “Hush, Ember,” Barrow said. “How did you learn of this?”

  In a low voice, Ember told him, “I saw them together. After Sorcha’s death.”

  “And have you spoken of this to anyone else?” Barrow asked.

  “No.” Ember frowned at him. “Of course not.”

  Barrow leaned out over the railing, visibly relieved. “Good.”

  “What did I do to trouble you?” Ember had thought her question simple.

  “What you saw is not something to be spoken of where others might overhear,” Barrow told her.

  Ember’s brow furrowed. “I meant no harm, only wondered—”

  “Your wondering could cost their lives, Ember. You’re forgetting your history, Conatus’s history, why the Templars burned.”

  When he saw the pained look on her face, Barrow pulled her closer to him. “I know you meant no harm, but what you saw and now know about Kael and Lukasz must be kept secret.”

  She laid her head on his shoulder, thinking about the loss she would feel if she were forbidden to enjoy the comfort of his embrace lest others see it.

  “It feels wrong,” Ember said.

  “Love is love,” Barrow answered sharply, dropping his hand from her waist and pulling away from her.

  “Not that!” Ember’s cheeks reddened at his suggestion she would pass judgment on their companions. “What I intended to say was that it feels wrong to be filled with happiness when so much strife and sorrow surrounds me.”

  “Ah,” Barrow said. “That is a much more fitting sentiment, but if guilt over your joys is a burden, I’m certain we can find a priest in France so you can give confession.”

  “Are you so impious as to make fun of my lamentation?” Ember teased.

  “Piety has nothing to do with it,” Barrow answered with a brief smile. “I simply think that wringing your hands over the evils of the world will drain your heart of its courage. We must embrace what happiness is granted us when we can, or else we spend our lives awaiting the next sorrow.”

  Ember grasped the ship’s rail, pondering Barrow’s words as she looked out over the sea. The sun was an orange sliver on the horizon. Its rusty light threw a distant island into stark relief.

  “What if we sailed there?” Ember looked at Barrow. “And made our refuge on an island, hidden from the world.”

  “I doubt you’d be willing to forsake the world for long,” Barrow said. “Of what island do you speak?”

  Ember pointed to the dark ridge of land that rose from the painted sea, but her arm was outstretched toward nothing. The waters lay flat all the way to the horizon.

  Frowning, Ember said, “I saw an island. Just a moment ago.”

  “A trick of light and shadow,” Barrow told her.

  But as Ember watched the sun disappear, the last of its light spilling up into the western sky, the dark island reappeared. Larger this time. Ember squinted into the distance. Though the ship sailed away from the island, she could swear it was closer.

  “There it is!” Ember pointed, and Barrow looked out to sea. As he did, the island sank below the waves. “But what—”

  “I think your island is a whale, my love,” Barrow said.

  “I’ve never seen a whale,” Ember told him, delighted. She leaned out over the railing, hoping to catch another glimpse of the beast.

  “Be careful, Ember,” Barrow said. “If a swell pitches the ship, you could lose your footing.”

  “I’m holding the rail,” she answered. The whale hadn’t resurfaced, and she sighed, but as she was about to turn away from the sea, the remaining light of the sunset captured a shadow below the ocean’s surface.

  Ember drew a startled breath and stepped back. The whale was massive, twice the size of their ship.

  “Do you see something?” Barrow was still searching the distant waves.

  “It’s gone below the ship,” she answered. “I just saw it beneath us.”

  “What?” Barrow’s alarm brought her eyes to him.

  Before she could ask what put such panic in his voice, the ship lurched. Ember fell against the railing and Barrow stumbled backward toward the center of the deck.

  The ship pitched violently again, and Ember flew over the rail. She plummeted into the frothing waters, which were stirred by some unseen force.

  If she hadn’t been submerged, hitting the water would have made Ember scream. The sea was filled with frigid talons that slashed her skin. Kicking hard, she forced her way to the surface, gasping for breath and grateful that she’d forced Alistair to teach her to swim.

  Waves manifested without wind roiled around her, making it difficult to keep her head above water. She heard screaming as she turned to swim back to the ship, but then she screamed too.

  Huge tentacles were wrapped around the balinger from prow to stern. Some of the crew slashed at the thick appendages with their swords to no avail. The ship groaned as the shrill sound of splintering wood pierced the air. Pilgrims surged from belowdecks, flinging themselves to the sea’s mercy.

  “Barrow!” Ember couldn’t see him on the deck or in the water.

  A terrible screech and boom filled Ember’s ears just before the ship buckled. The great tentacles had torn the ship in two. It released the severed prow in favor of ripping what remained of the hull to pieces. With horror, Ember watched as the monster’s sucker-covered limbs grasped not only timber but bodies, some living and shrieking, some limp. Some people were dragged beneath the waves; others, tossed far out to sea.

  Then she saw Barrow. He was floating on the water, faceup but unconscious.

  With a cry, Ember swam toward him. Her limbs no longer felt cold; they were on fire, and Ember knew how dangerous that was. She forced herself to move through the waves while wreckage swirled around her. Reaching Barrow, Ember hooked her arm through one of his and prayed she had the strength to tow him to shore.

  Struggling through the waves and forcing herself to shut out the cries of other victims, Ember dragged Barrow toward the coast. The fire devouring her skin had diminished to a dull needling. Her limbs felt so heavy.

  “Ember!”

  The call came from behind her. Ember turned to see Lukasz swimming toward her.

  When the commander reached them, he looked grimly at Barrow. “Did he take water into his lungs?”

  “I don’t know,” Ember said. “When I found him, he was floating on his back.”

  “We’ll hope for the best, then,” Lukasz said. “Let me help you.”

  Threading his arm beneath Barrow’s opposite shoulder, he began to swim.

  “Kael?” Ember asked.

  “He’s getting help,” Lukasz answered. “Don’t stop moving. The ocean will kill us as quickly as that beast.”

  Ember obeyed, though she was alarmed when Lukasz steered them back toward the shipwreck. The creature was still hunting for intact sections of the ship to obliterate, and it had taken to plucking men and women from the water as well.

  “What about Sawyer?” Ember’s teeth had begun to chatter.

  “I don’t know,” Lukasz said. “Kael and I were in the berth when one of those tentacles tore the beams from above our heads. Sawyer wasn’t with us, and I’ve seen no sign of him.”

  A sharp whistle sounded in the waters ahead.

  “Here!” Lukasz shouted, then he said to Ember, “Kick hard. We have to catch them.”

  Following the commander’s intent gaze, Ember saw their goal. Kael cut through the water with hard strokes, but he wasn’t alone. Four long necks bobbed alongside him. The horses’ eyes were rolling, wild with fright.

  Lukasz and Ember swam at a diagonal, working hard to intercept Kael and the horses, who were swimming directly for the coast. Though she wanted to be strong, Ember groaned with pain, f
ighting to keep her arm and legs moving.

  “Courage, Ember,” Lukasz said, his jaw clenched against the cold slap of waves. “When we reach the horses, we’ll have relief.”

  They were closing the distance, but Ember could feel her body shutting down as the cold sea cocooned her limbs.

  Feeling her slow, Lukasz said, “Call out to Caber. He may hear and wait for you.”

  In desperation, Ember shrieked, “Caber!”

  She whistled and called his name again. The stallion’s chestnut head turned in her direction. Caber gave a shrill whinny. His nostrils flared.

  “Again,” Lukasz ordered.

  “Caber!” Ember saw that the stallion hesitated, watching her as Kael and the other horses continued toward the shore.

  “Good,” Lukasz said, and Ember could hear how strained he was. “Now swim.”

  With all she had left, Ember plowed through the water, matching the commander’s furious pace. When they reached the horse, Ember wept.

  “Hold on to Barrow and to Caber’s tail,” Lukasz told her. “He’ll follow the other horses and tow both of you to the shore.”

  Freed of Ember and Barrow, Lukasz swam quickly ahead.

  “Go, Caber!” Ember cried out. The stallion whinnied, his legs churning beneath the waves. Not trusting her grip to hold, Ember wrapped the length of Caber’s tail around her forearm. The horse dragged them through the water.

  Ahead, Ember saw Lukasz reach Kael and the other horses. The two men grasped the tails of their mounts and let the swimming horses pull them toward the coast. With the single purpose of swimming taken from her, Ember dared to look back.

  The ship was gone. Floating timber and scattered debris were the only evidence that a vessel had once sailed. The turbulent waters had stilled, and Ember searched the wreckage for signs that the beast remained. But its flailing and grasping tentacles had vanished beneath the waves. As dread filled Ember at the thought of what lurked in the darkness below, Caber’s feet hit ground. He snorted and dragged Ember and Barrow into the shallows.

  Despite reaching the shore, Ember couldn’t find the strength to move. She held Barrow against her, relieved when Lukasz and Kael splashed through the water to reach them. Giving up Barrow to Kael’s care, Ember succumbed to her own exhaustion as Lukasz pulled her from the grasp of the frigid sea.

  EIRA’S IMPATIENCE WITH her sister was unbearable. When Cian had asked to meet alone in their former quarters, Eira had known this fight was inevitable. It seemed that anytime Bosque or Alistair was absent, Cian was determined to question everything that Eira had worked for. At least today Eira had questions of her own.

  “You’ve learned nothing?” Eira asked her sister.

  Cian let her head drop back against the top of the chair. Eira noticed the new lines of strain and exhaustion on her sister’s face.

  “Not for lack of trying,” Cian said.

  Unwilling to show softness, Eira answered, “Try harder.”

  Cian sat up. “Is it your wish for me to hand over our entire kitchen staff to your pet monsters? Perhaps they’ll at last confess the secret blend of herbs for the savory stew you crave.”

  A wave of fury rose in Eira’s chest, but she forced it back. “Sister, the creatures are the means to an end. That is all.”

  “And Lord Mar?” Cian asked. “What is he?”

  “An ally.” Eira turned away, angry and unsettled by Cian’s question.

  Rising from her chair, Cian came to Eira’s side and took her hand. “I fear this course you’ve plotted, Eira.”

  Eira clasped Cian’s fingers. “Why must you question everything I do? Can’t you see how much good has come of this?”

  “Tell me what’s good,” Cian said. “You have power, yes. More come to you each day from all corners of the world to swear their allegiance. But it isn’t for love of you.”

  “I have never needed love,” Eira snapped, shaking her hand free of Cian’s.

  Cian sighed. “You still have mine.”

  “I know.” Eira relented. “And you have mine. But I swear your reluctance to embrace this new path is pointless. This constant bickering wearies both of us.”

  “I only wish to fully understand the nature of an alliance with Lord Mar,” Cian said. “You quickly forget that he is lord of all that we have sworn to destroy. That is the mission of Conatus.”

  “You don’t understand because you keep me and Lord Mar at a distance,” Eira told her. “If you’d join us—as Alistair, Thomas, and Claudio have—you’d know the wonder that it is to command the nether beasts.”

  Cian shook her head, but Eira pressed on. “You refuse to see all that’s changed. Lord Mar’s aid transforms our purpose. He is no longer forced to scavenge our world for what he needs. We are no longer beholden to the Church or to kings. We rule all, including Bosque’s minions. His servants bow to us, serve us.”

  “But he still has need of this world,” Cian said. “His creatures still find nourishment here, do they not?”

  “Yes.” Eira’s shoulders ached from tension. They’d had this argument so many times. “But we decide—”

  “You decide.” Cian cut her off. “You and this Bosque. How can you trust him so?”

  “Because I know him as you do not.” Eira’s mind flashed to the forest outside Dorusduain. She remembered cradling Cian in her arms, her sister’s body broken beyond repair. If not for Bosque.

  A polite knock was followed by the sound of Alistair’s voice. “Lady Eira?”

  “Come in, Lord Hart,” Eira answered. She ignored Cian’s low sound of disgust.

  Alistair entered the room, offering a short bow to the sisters.

  “The clerics who wish to make the oath have assembled in the great hall,” Alistair told them. “Lord Mar awaits you there as well.”

  Eira cut her eyes at Cian. “I’m so pleased that our scholarly peers have come forward, embracing the path of visionaries.”

  “How many?” Cian asked quietly.

  “Seven,” Alistair answered. “Though in speaking to Hamish, who brought their request, I believe more will partake in the ritual soon. They’re waiting to see how the first fare.”

  “So many sheep.” Eira laughed coldly.

  “That’s hardly fair,” Cian said. “Caution does not bespeak cowardice.”

  Eira turned hard eyes on her sister. “So speaks the queen of caution.” With a smile, she continued, “I think I have a fitting task for you.”

  Cian didn’t respond, but her lips thinned as she watched Eira.

  “We’ve been waiting for the sheep to come to us,” Eira said. “But are we not the shepherds?”

  “My lady?” Alistair asked.

  “Lord Mar offers an incredible gift to those who swear fealty,” Eira told him. “Why share it with only a few when all could benefit?”

  She turned to face Cian. “I have a new task for you, sister. Since your attempts to find Mercer’s assassin have been fruitless.”

  Cian wore a stony expression. “What would you have me do?”

  “Take Lord Hart and Claudio,” Eira said. “The three of you shall be emissaries of the Circle to all of Tearmunn. Let the clerics, craftsmen, and Guard know that at sunset on the morrow, they are invited to join our new order. To become part of the future.”

  Cian nodded slowly.

  With a smile, Eira said to Alistair, “Lord Hart, you will take note of all who refuse this gift.”

  “You’re forcing loyalty.” Cian’s face had gone pale. “There is no honor in that, sister.”

  Eira approached her sister and, without warning, slapped her hard across the cheek. “You will not speak to me that way again.”

  Alistair’s eyes were wide, but he stayed silent.

  “We’re awaited in the great hall,” Eira said, passing him as she went to the door.

  He nodded and followed while Cian stood silent in the room, her hand pressed to the red welt on her face.

  As Eira and Alistair descended the staircase, A
listair said, “Forgive me, Lady Eira, but was it necessary to shame your sister so?”

  Eira glanced at him. “My sister behaves as a child, and until that changes, I will treat her so. Her doubts are like a sickness that will spread dissent through Tearmunn. It forces me to deal harshly with her.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Alistair said.

  “What do you think of your new task?” Eira asked him. Her fury at Cian had inspired the idea of forcing the whole of Tearmunn to swear fealty, but as her anger waned, she recalled the plan with a measure of uncertainty.

  “It’s wise.” Alistair’s unwavering tone reassured her. “Lord Mar spoke to me of forming a new command within the Guard. And that will require more of our number who can summon nether creatures.”

  “Lord Mar has already spoken to you of this?” Eira asked in surprise. She knew Bosque favored Alistair, but she was taken aback that he would have approached Alistair about new plans for the order without speaking to her first.

  “Only in passing,” Alistair responded quickly. “He wondered if I would aspire to lead the Guard.”

  “And would you?” Eira smiled at him, wondering how far the young knight’s ambitions stretched.

  Alistair ducked his head, suddenly shy. “If it would serve your greater purpose, my lady.”

  “It may,” Eira replied thoughtfully. “See who among the Guard are eager to join us. Report to me what you make of them and how you would proceed as their commander.”

  “It would be an honor.” Alistair’s boyish grin made Eira laugh. He was young, but so hungry for acknowledgment. It was no wonder, given that he was the third son of a nobleman, left with only a name and not even the scraps of an estate to inherit.

  When they reached the great hall, Eira paused. “Alistair, have you written to your family since Lady Morrow came to us?”

  A blush colored Alistair’s cheeks. “I have not, my lady.”

  “Send them a letter,” Eira told him.

  Alistair’s eyes widened. “What would you have me say?”

  Eira touched his cheek. It was an odd gesture for her, almost motherly. “Our task is to secure loyalty within Conatus, but also to ensure subservience without. Starting with Abbot Crichton, we’ve demonstrated that we shall not be ruled by the Church. Who else might contend with us?”