by Shae Ford
He didn’t want to let go. He tried to say as much, but his lips wouldn’t move. Slowly, his strength failed and Amos slipped out of his grasp. He went plummeting, falling end over end for a thousand years, until the darkness finally swallowed him. Kael stood up and prepared to leap in after him when a strong hand gripped his shoulder.
A man held him back. His tunic and breeches were pure white and Kael thought he might have recognized his face. Just when he was about to ask the man who he was, a loud growl startled him out of his sleep.
Now there was a ring of cold sweat around his neck, and Jonathan was snoring too loudly for him to go back to sleep.
Long ago, Roland taught him how to see meanings in his dreams. And the meaning of his first dream was clear: Amos was still alive, but he thought the pit might have meant that worrying wouldn’t help anything — that his fear would drag him down and under, if he let it.
The second dream was much more disturbing. Roland had warned him that Death often took the form of a man dressed all in white — and when he appeared, it meant danger was not far behind.
It was that worry that drove Kael to put on his boots and climb to the deck, just to make sure Anchorgloam wasn’t about to run aground.
The night air was hot and sticky. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the weather: it was like wearing a cloak of steam everywhere he went. He’d intended to take a quick walk and go back to his hammock, but then he saw a cloaked someone standing at the mainmast, wielding a lantern.
He thought it might be Morris, so he made his way over. Then the person turned and he saw Lysander’s teeth glinting in the lamplight. He tried to make a hasty escape.
“Kael, so good to see you,” he said, beckoning him closer.
He realized that Lysander wasn’t alone: there were three boatfuls of pirates bobbing on the waves, catching the sacks that two more pirates tossed down to them. Tiny lights blinked on the horizon and the dark, jagged edges of rooftops grew along the hills. He realized they were anchored less than a mile from a village.
“You’re going to raid them?” he guessed.
But Lysander shook his head. “Not quite. Can you keep a secret?”
When he nodded, Lysander waved to one of the pirates, who tossed him a sack that he passed off to Kael.
When he opened it, he could hardly keep the surprise off his face. A loaf of bread, six apples and a handful of copper coins was not at all what he was expecting to find. “You mean there’s real food somewhere on Anchorgloam?”
Lysander laughed. “Yes, but it isn’t for us.” He retied the sack and sent it down to the boats below. When they were full, the pirates rowed away, slipping into the dark quiet of the sea.
“You’re sending it to the people,” Kael said, even more shocked now than he’d been a moment before.
“Yes. No doubt you’ve noticed how the Duke keeps his subjects from earning their bread? It’s wrong to try and keep us from the sea.” Lysander’s voice was dark, darker than Kael ever thought he could make it. “Saltwater flows in our veins, our hearts thump with the beat of the surf. We live by the turns of the tide … it’s as sickening as trying to keep two lovers apart.”
Kael knew how the people of the High Seas felt. Those few weeks when he wasn’t allowed to go into the forest were torture. To be able to see the trees and not walk among them made him want to drive a dagger through his heart. He thought death might have been a kinder sentence.
“We do what we can,” Lysander continued. “We sneak in rations and coins small enough that the guards aren’t likely to notice, but I wish we could do more.” He took a deep breath and when he turned around, his smile was back. “Look here — there’s something I want to show you.”
He held the lantern up to the mainmast. The light chased the shadows away, bending them backwards until he could see the fresh words carved into the wood. Kael the Wright — twelve turns, they read.
“I had Noah cut this in yesterday. I told him to put your name just below our previous champion,” Lysander said.
He raised the lantern a little higher, so that he could see the name carved above his: Kyleigh — twelve turns.
Kael was more than a little shocked. He thought the number next to her name would have been much more … infinite. “Wait, does that mean someone actually beat her?”
Lysander smiled. “It does, clever lad.”
“Who was it?”
The light climbed higher, stretching into the shadows above Kyleigh’s name. Another carving came into view, so faded that he had to squint to read it. But when he did, his heart nearly stopped beating.
“Who else?”
Chapter 25
The Tempest
Setheran the Wright.
There was no number carved next to his name, no explanation at all. And it wasn’t needed. For the one thing every historian seemed able to agree on was that Setheran the Wright was the greatest warrior who ever lived. So of course he’d been able to defeat Kyleigh …
Hold on a moment. “That isn’t possible.” Kael did the sum quickly. “Setheran died seventeen years ago, which means Kyleigh would have been an infant.”
He thought it was some sort of joke: that the pirates were saying the only one who could ever have a hope against her would have been Setheran.
But Lysander just smirked. "Kyleigh is no ordinary woman. She hides her powers well: there are few who know her for what she truly is, and none who know her story. But believe me when I say that she’s not at all what she seems.” He stepped back and gestured around him. “I was only eight years old when Kyleigh and Setheran fought on this very deck. I wasn’t there, but my father told me all about it. He said it was the greatest battle he’d ever seen.”
Kael wasn’t sure he believed him. He couldn’t imagine Kyleigh being twice his age. She didn’t look older, and she certainly didn’t act like it. “That isn’t possible,” he said again. He searched Lysander’s face for any hint of a joke, any whisper of a lie. But there was only calm assurance.
“She’s a powerful woman,” he said quietly. “Perhaps one day she'll let you see her other side."
“Why can't you tell me?”
“And betray the trust of a dear friend? I think not."
“Only a dear friend?” Kael didn’t know why he asked that question. He could have kicked himself for changing the subject.
At any rate, it seemed to amuse Lysander. "Yes. Does that surprise you?"
He made his face serious. He had to know for sure — for Aerilyn’s sake. “It does, actually. The two of you seemed very ... close."
Lysander laughed, and the light bounced with the movement. "You flatter me, but no — Kyleigh and I were never more than friends. It would take a better man than me to tame her, as you put it,” he added with a grin that made Kael want to punch him. “Any man who chased after Kyleigh would have to charge in fully-armed. He'd have to be her match in every way: strong, cunning, and dangerous."
"And handsome," Kael muttered.
Lysander looked at him curiously. "Do you think so? Perhaps, but then again she’s never been much interested in treasure — which is why I've often said that she makes a horrible pirate.” He touched two fingers to his forehead. “I’m afraid I must take my leave. I’ve got to make sure the weather doesn’t stay too clear. If anyone were to spot my good deeds, it might tarnish my ruthless reputation. Ah, don’t worry — it’ll be rain, not fog.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “Sleep well, for danger lurks on the 'morrow."
He glanced at the mast, and the lantern barely caught the curved edge of his grin. Then he disappeared in the direction of his cabin, leaving Kael alone and baffled in the darkness.
*******
A few hours later, he’d stumbled back downstairs and fallen into his hammock. He knew from the forlorn cry of the watchman’s bell that it was three o’clock when he finally drifted back to sleep.
Two bells later, Morris jostled him awake.
“No, it’s too early,” he
groaned. He tried to roll over and temporarily forgot that he was in a hammock. The result was that he wound up on the floor, his nose inches from Jonathan’s boots. He didn’t know if it was the fall or the stench that cleared the sleep from his eyes.
“Come along, lad. We’ve got a lot to do today,” Morris whispered, which made his voice even more croaky and broken.
“What could we possibly have to do that I need to get up an hour early for?” Kael muttered as he crammed on his boots.
“Not we,” Morris jabbed an arm at him, “you. You’re the one who’s got to steer us through the tempest. I would, but,” he held up his nubs, “I can’t make the turns so sharp anymore.”
An icy feeling twisted in the pit of his stomach. “What tempest? Are we in a storm?”
“Nah, not yet. Now quit your fussing and let’s go!”
An hour, a stale biscuit and cup of warm water later, Kael stood alone at the ship’s wheel. It only took him a few minutes to understand how to turn it, and a few minutes more to order the sails into position. He found he’d absorbed most of what he knew through watching Morris.
“There you are, now you’ve got the hang of it,” Morris said approvingly. “Keep her on course. I’ll be back in a while.”
“Where are you going?” Kael said after him.
He turned and grinned through the gaps in his teeth. “To catch a little shuteye, of course.”
He was lucky Kael needed both hands to steer.
The sea was calm and the weather was fairly pleasant: the sun wasn’t high enough for things to get too hot. He was actually enjoying the peace when Lysander skipped up and ruined it all.
“Are you ready?” he said.
Kael glared at Thelred, who sneered back from over Lysander’s shoulder. “Ready for what?”
“To pay off your debt, of course. We’re leagues and a bit from Wendelgrimm. I think it’s time to give the Witch a knife in the ribs. Or two.”
In all of the excitement of the past few weeks, Kael had nearly forgotten about his debt. But now that he was reminded of it, he wanted nothing more than to settle it. “All right, I’m ready.”
Lysander nodded. “Good.” He made to turn, and then turned back. “Ah, I may have forgotten to mention this earlier, but there’s a bit of an obstacle we’re going to have to get through before we can actually sail into Wendelgrimm.”
“What is it?” Kael said warily.
Lysander combed a hand through his hair, making it stand on end for a moment before it fell back in waves. “Oh, nothing much. Just a bit of rain and wind — nothing a Wright can’t handle.”
“It’s a tempest,” Thelred said, his sneer growing wider. “A spell that the Witch of Wendelgrimm cast to keep trespassers out of her realm. It’s a fury the likes of which few sailors have ever seen … and even fewer live to tell about.”
Lysander gave him an annoyed look. “It isn’t all that. Stop trying to make an ocean out of a raindrop.”
“I don’t understand. If you can control the weather, why can’t you just make it sunny?” Kael said.
Lysander’s smile faltered. “Because, my dear boy, the Witch gives my curse no power in her realm. Ironically, it’s the one place in the Kingdom I can go without putting anyone in danger. Now,” he clapped him on the shoulder, “let’s meet this thing head on, eh? No hesitation — not like the last time, when we let Morris steer. I don’t mind saying that we all very nearly perished. But I’m sure a fellow of your talents and, ah, appendages won’t have a problem.”
He slipped off before Kael could question him further, pretending to correct the way Jonathan mopped the deck. Thelred gave him one last smirk before he followed.
He figured the truth was somewhere between the two stories, but only one person knew for sure: and he’d decided that now was the perfect time to take a nap. Perhaps Kyleigh might have known something, if only he could get her attention. There were several times that he waved to her as she passed, but she never looked up. It was almost as if she was trying to avoid him.
He blamed Lysander. He probably let slip that he mentioned something about her being much older than she looked, and now she knew Kael was going to question her about it.
Blast.
The day passed uneventfully. The pirates went about their usual chores and the clouds stayed the same boring shade of gray. It was only when the sun began to set that he noticed something amiss: the sky wasn’t red or orange or any of the normal sunset colors. It was turning … green.
They sailed closer, and he realized that it wasn’t the sky after all. No, it was a wall of sickly green clouds.
They rested squarely on top of the ocean, billowing up from the waves and stretching skywards. Anchorgloam drifted towards them and they reached out with mile-long tendrils, wrapping them neatly in a cold embrace. It wasn’t long before they were surrounded on all sides. Ahead, fog yawned to swallow them.
“It’s the tempest,” Morris said loudly, nearly scaring Kael out of his skin. He hadn’t even heard him waddle up.
“This is the tempest?” So far, all he could see was a lot of fog.
There weren’t any storm clouds or even an ominous rumble of thunder. In fact, it was eerily silent. The pirates lined up at the railings, whispering anxiously to each other as the green clouds sealed them in.
“Every man to his station, every man in a lash!” Lysander barked, and they scrambled to get ropes knotted around their waists. “Fall overboard in a lash, and we might be able to reel you in. But fall untied, and you might as well — Aerilyn!”
She’d been in the process of tying her lash when Lysander ripped it out of her hands. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” she said angrily.
“Get below deck this instant! A tempest is no place for a lady.”
“I thought you said this was only a raindrop,” Kael called, and he was rewarded with a glare.
“I think I’ve earned the right to sail through anything,” Aerilyn said indignantly. “I’ve kept up, haven’t I? I’m just as much a part of this crew as anybody else.”
Lysander wasn’t used to being argued with, and he didn’t take her mutiny well. “It isn’t about rights, it’s about survival. Now get below —”
“Or what?”
“Or I’ll haul you down myself.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Oh, I would,” he brought his face down to hers, “and I will.”
She didn’t back away. She stuck her nose to his and jabbed a finger in the middle of his chest. “If you even think about throwing me over your shoulders and carrying me around like a sack of potatoes, I’ll make sure you limp for the rest of your life.”
That was Kyleigh’s doing. She was the one who’d taken Aerilyn aside and taught her everything she knew about inflicting pain. Under her careful instruction, Aerilyn had become less like a dainty merchant’s daughter and more like a force to be reckoned with. She could bring tears to any grown man’s eyes — and Lysander knew it.
So rather than risk a life-altering injury, he turned his anger on Jonathan. “Make sure she’s tied!” he roared, flinging the lash at him. “If I have to dive in and save her, I’m coming after you. Do you hear me, scallop skull? My ghost will haunt every foul note you ever play!”
Jonathan stumbled over himself in his rush to get her tied to the nearest mast.
It wasn’t long before the fog closed in on them. It swept up, covering everything in a cloud of green. The deck disappeared and voices bounced around in every direction. Lysander’s orders drifted in and out of Kael’s ears. Three words would come from in front of him, and three more words from behind. He itched madly where the fog touched his skin and had to keep taking his hands off the wheel to scratch.
“Steady, lad. I know the magic is tickling you, but this is the tricky part,” Morris said. Kael could just make out the side of his stout arm. “Hold your course, listen to the waves.”
He focused every ounce of his concentration on the sound
s of the ocean. He closed his eyes so the fog wouldn’t distract him, blocked out the panicked whispers that swam through his ears from the deck below. The steady, rhythmic slap of waves striking Anchorgloam was his heartbeat, his breath. And then it suddenly wasn’t right.
He spun the wheel to the left and the ship groaned under his command. Pirates cursed and stumbled sideways, holding onto whatever piece of rigging they could grab. Kael heard something whoosh by, and turned in time to see the object they’d so narrowly missed: it was the full half of a wrecked ship. Its nose stuck up out of the water and its tail was hung on a jagged cluster of rocks. He blinked, and the fog swallowed it back up without a sound.
Morris’s breath came out in a hiss. “That was a good turn, lad. I nearly lost my britches, but it was a good turn.”
“Veer right.”
Kyleigh’s voice startled him. He didn’t know how she’d managed to find the wheel when he could hardly see it himself, but he felt the ship turn as she leaned around and pulled down on it.
On their left, a mast stuck out of the water. The sails that clung to it were tattered and filthy. Their ragged ends swayed a little in the breeze, reaching feebly upwards like a wounded soldier begging for mercy.
Then the air started to rumble.
It began as a low growl — the start of a snarl deep inside a wolf’s throat. It grew and grew, until it filled their ears with an awful, guttural roar. Kael thought the world was ending: he thought the sea was being sucked downwards as the clouds caved in. Morris leaned over the rails and bellowed to the pirates on deck, who shouted back.
Kael couldn’t hear what they said. All he knew was that the cold feeling in his stomach was back. It reared up and though he fought with it, his hands still shook. He turned the ship to avoid another wreck, and the rumbling faded back — which only worried him further. Now he didn’t know if the danger was behind or before them.
“Kyleigh?”
“Yes?” She was right at his ear.
He cleared his throat. “You do think we’ll make it out alive, don’t you? You don’t think we’re going to … wreck, or anything?”