Several more cannons fired in quick succession. “Who are they fighting?” Danielle asked, knowing the question was a foolish one. They could no more see the Phillipa from here than she could.
She counted six more shots before the mist thinned enough to make out the shape of the Phillipa and a larger ship with red sails.
“Hiladi mercenaries,” Talia said.
Douglas stopped rowing. “Hold here. We’re not bringing the princess into the middle of a fight.”
Danielle turned to the undine. “Lannadae, you said Lirea’s prince was Hiladi.”
It was Morveren who answered. “He was, but why his people would help Lirea, I couldn’t say. They see our kind as little better than animals. Given what she did to him, they should be the last to come to her aid.”
Snow squinted at the second ship. “I count four masts.”
“That’s a galleon.” Talia swore. “She shouldn’t have been fast enough to catch the Phillipa with a broadside.”
“They’re riding Lirea’s winds.” Morveren had taken the remains of her fish from her sack. She chewed as she spoke. “They speed the Hiladi ship while slowing your own.”
Danielle stared. “The storms that tried to sink our ship. Lirea controls those?”
“She inherited them,” Morveren corrected. She picked a piece of fin from her teeth and tossed it into the water. “Nine spirits of the air. They were Gustan’s guardians. When he died, they remained with Lirea. She doesn’t control them, exactly. She may not even understand what they are. But they serve her.”
“What do you mean?” asked Snow.
“After Lirea killed Gustan, I tried to help her. I used magic to calm Lirea, but her spirits attacked before I could complete my spells.” Morveren jabbed her half-eaten fish back toward the clouds. “I could feel Lirea’s fear and rage through the winds.”
“So it’s an empathic bond rather than true mastery,” Snow said. “Less precise, but harder to break. No wonder I had such a hard time fighting them.”
“You fought Lirea’s spirits?” Morveren sounded impressed. “One of them remained behind to guard my island. I meant to ask how you had gotten through.”
Lannadae beamed. “Snow White is a powerful sorceress. She’s done many amazing things, Grandmother. I can tell you some of the stories. How she fled to the woods to escape her mother, or how she fought her mother to avenge the death of her lover.”
“I’m more interested in how you beat those spirits,” Morveren said. “I was never able to destroy them. It was all I could do to stop them from killing me.”
“Mirror magic.” Snow raised her chin, showing off her choker. “I didn’t try to destroy the spirit. Instead I used one of the mirrors to capture the spiritual emanations from the crew. When we sent the mirror away, the winds followed.”
“Given the size of those mirrors, how do you maintain the strength of the emanations?”
Snow beamed. “These aren’t the true mirrors. Each one is clear glass, bound to a much more powerful mirror at the palace. There’s plenty of magic in that one to—”
Danielle touched Snow’s arm. “Is now really the best time for magical theory?”
“Oh. Sorry.” Snow flushed and turned around.
“The Phillipa’s having trouble holding her position,” said Talia. “The winds again?”
Douglas spat over the side. “She’s outgunned. The Phillipa’s a tough old bitch, but she can’t take on a Hiladi galleon with the winds against her.”
More shots thundered over the water. Screams followed, making Danielle flinch. “Snow, can your magic affect the Hiladi ship?”
“I can’t do much from here.” Snow stood up in the boat. “If I can reach the ship, I might be able to stop them. The smoke should cover my approach.”
“No,” said Talia. “The wind is too strong. It sweeps the smoke away between shots. If even one person spots you, you’re dead.”
“So what?” James snapped. “We wait here in the cutter and watch Captain Hephyra go down with her ship? I’m not watching another ship sink! We’ve got to do something.”
Danielle leaned toward Morveren. “When we came to your island, you sang to us. Can you do the same to the Hiladi? Frighten them off, or at least lull them into stopping their assault?”
Morveren’s smile revealed missing teeth and a fish scale stuck in her gumline. “That’s one of the few powers left to me. My voice isn’t what it once was, and I can’t sing to them without affecting your friends on the ship as well, but I’ll do what I can. You’ll want to seal your ears.”
“With what?” Danielle glanced at the boat’s contents, finding nothing beyond an extra oar, a small barrel of fresh water, a length of old rope, and a sodden mouse nest.
“Oh, that’s right. Humans can’t close their ears at will.” Morveren reached into her sack and pulled out a small basket. Inside was a flat black stone. A cluster of flowerworms clung to the surface of the stone, their bodies limp. “These might work.”
James scooted back. “You’re not putting worms in my ears, mermaid.”
“No, of course not.” Morveren cradled the stone in her lap. “Just their secretions. The paste should muffle my song enough for you to resist. You don’t have to use them, but if you refuse, don’t hold me responsible. The song of the undine is known to have a powerful effect on men. A few find themselves irresistibly drawn to the singer.” She lay back and winked. Beside her, Lannadae muffled a giggle.
Douglas and James spoke as one. “We’ll take the worms.”
Morveren smiled and plucked one of the worms from the rock. “Don’t know what I’ll use for my poor skin,” she muttered. “Who’s first?”
“Me.” Danielle held the side of the boat for balance as she crawled closer to Morveren. She sat down and tilted her head to the side, pushing her hair back. “How do we clean this stuff out when we’re finished?”
“It will dry and crumble away in a day or two.” Morveren’s cold fingers pinched the top of Danielle’s ear.
The slime was cool, trickling into Danielle’s ear like syrup. She swallowed, trying to relieve the sense of pressure inside her head. It felt as though she had jammed a finger deep into her ear.
Morveren gently turned Danielle’s head and repeated the process on the other ear. She squeezed the rest of the slime out of the first worm and grabbed a second before pronouncing Danielle done.
Danielle rubbed a finger along the outer edge of her ear. Her fingertip came away smeared with a film of pearly wax.
She moved to the side to make room for Snow. She could still hear the others talking, but their voices were muffled. She could hear the cannons as well, and the screams of the wounded. “Please hurry.”
Lannadae plucked two worms from the stone and helped, squeezing the paste into James’ ears while Morveren tended to Snow. Even with both undine working together, it seemed to take forever before they were finished with everyone.
Morveren returned the worms to their basket, then wiped her hands on her scales. “Are you ready?”
Her words sounded flat and distant. Danielle nodded, as did the others.
Morveren began to sing. There were no words, only a deep, mournful melody. Even Danielle could feel the longing behind the song, the sorrow and the despair. She touched the mirror on her wrist, thinking of Jakob and Armand. Tears filled her eyes.
If things went badly, she might never make it home to Lorindar. She would never see her son or husband again. She would die here, alone and forgotten. Abandoned, as Morveren had been.
Morveren. This was her song, her sorrow and grief. Danielle was too close. Even with her ears plugged, the song overpowered her. She struggled to climb out of the boat, but her muscles wouldn’t obey.
“Morveren, stop.” Either Danielle’s words were too weak or Morveren couldn’t hear over her song. Danielle fell to the side, banging her shoulder on the bench before toppling into the bottom of the boat.
Snow closed her eyes, feeling the magic of
Morveren’s song as it swept past her. In some respects, it reminded Snow of a trick her mother used to use, forcing power into her voice in order to command obedience. Morveren’s power was both broader and more focused. Even with her ears plugged, Snow could feel the song tightening its grip on her.
Snow smiled and set about crafting her own magic. As a child, she had learned to resist her mother’s commands. She had concealed that power, obeying at all times so her mother wouldn’t learn of her rebellion. But she obeyed by choice, not because she was forced to. It might have been a meaningless distinction, but to a little girl, it was an important one.
She whispered one of her earliest shielding spells, repeating the simple singsong rhymes she had devised as a young child.
“Gray stones, gray stones,
hear my call.
Gray stones build a
great big wall.
Build it high as the clouds I see.
Build it strong as strong can be.”
The stones of the spell were from her bedroom; the clouds were her only view through the high, narrow window in her wall. On those nights her mother worked magic, Snow would lie awake, fighting off the nightmare sensations of that power. She hadn’t understood what it was she felt, only that it was dark and wrong and hungry and that it would consume her if she dropped her guard.
As when she was a child, she imagined those stones leaping forth in rows, stacking one upon the other until they formed a barrier between herself and Morveren. She opened her eyes to find Lannadae staring at her, so close their noses almost touched.
“I’m all right,” Snow said. Lannadae didn’t seem to be affected, but the other humans sat stupefied.
“If she stops singing now, the Hiladi will come after us,” Lannadae shouted. “They know we’re here, but they shouldn’t be able to do anything so long as the song continues.”
“I understand.” Snow considered trying to expand her spell to protect Talia and Danielle, but that would require too much time. With a grin, she grabbed Danielle beneath the arms and hauled her up onto the bench. The cutter rocked dangerously, nearly dumping them both overboard, but she managed to recover.
“Sorry, Princess.” With that, Snow tossed Danielle overboard.
Danielle splashed to the surface. “What are you doing?”
Oh, good. She had hoped the water would muffle Morveren’s song enough to weaken the spell. To Lannadae, she said, “Help me with Talia?”
Talia had been grouchy ever since learning Snow had hidden Lannadae’s existence. So it was with a certain degree of pleasure that Snow dumped her overboard after Danielle.
“Help them swim,” Snow said. Danielle wasn’t a terribly strong swimmer, and every time she and Talia surfaced, they had to fight Morveren’s song.
Lannadae slipped into the water, grabbing Danielle’s left hand and Talia’s right. Her gills flared open, and her powerful tails propelled them toward the Hiladi ship, leaving Snow struggling to catch up. By the time they passed the Phillipa, Danielle and Talia seemed free of Morveren’s spell. Snow risked lowering her own shield. She could still feel Morveren’s magic, but the wormwax blocked enough of the sound for her to ignore it.
The air spirits were also unaffected. They continued to blow, rotating the Phillipa away from the Hiladi ship. The wind made swimming much more difficult, as the waves battered Snow back toward the Phillipa. Lannadae helped the others to reach the Hiladi ship, then returned to pull Snow along.
Talia had drawn two of her knives. Where did she keep them all, anyway? Talia slammed one into the side of the ship, pulled herself up, then drove the other home. She shifted her weight and pried the first knife free. Hand over hand, she scaled the side of the ship.
Snow turned around to study the damage to the Phillipa . The railing had been shattered in three places, and one of the cannons was gone. Several holes punctured the side of the hull. They had torn some of the rigging as well.
“What about the rope from the cutter?” Danielle shouted, cupping her hands to her mouth. “Could we use that to climb?”
Snow shook her head. “That rope’s old and wet. Even if you could hold on, I wouldn’t trust its strength.”
Lannadae bent double. Her tails kicked air, and then she disappeared into the darkness of the water. Snow searched to see where she had gone.
Moments later, Lannadae shot up from the waves. She didn’t clear the side of the ship as Lirea had done, but she flew high enough to catch hold of the railing. She swung from side to side until she hooked a tail over the rail. From there, it was a simple matter to pull herself onto the ship. A rope soon tumbled down into the water.
Snow smiled and began to climb. She stopped beside Talia to say, “Don’t take too long. Morveren can’t sing forever.”
Danielle was next up, and then Talia reached over to take the rope. She yanked her knives from the ship with a scowl, tucking them back into their sheaths before scrambling up the side.
The crew weren’t moving. Many sat on the deck their heads bowed, weeping. A smaller group stood at the edge of the ship, peering longingly toward Morveren. They wore typical Hiladi garb in fiery colors. Beaded black cords secured billowing sleeves at the elbows and wrists. Broad, flat hats protected them from the sun. Snow grabbed one and tried it on, then tossed it aside. Too sweaty, and far less stylish than her tricorn back on the Phillipa.
Splintered wood covered part of the deck, proof that the Phillipa had fought back despite her disadvantages.
Snow turned slowly, fingers brushing her choker as she drew on the mirrors to enhance her vision. There was magic on this ship. Not as strong as the enchantments on the Phillipa, but still respectable. There . . . a spell carved into the mainmast to protect it. Another woven into the wheel to enhance the strength of the helmsman.
Talia and Danielle were arguing about what to do first, but Snow was more interested in the ship’s spells. She had never studied Hiladi magic before. Most appeared to be runic in nature, like the characters embroidered along the edge of the sheets to give them strength. To undo the spell would require hours of careful work, but there were alternatives.
“What are you doing?” Lannadae asked.
“Playing.” Snow smiled as she traced new symbols in the air. Painting them directly onto the sails would have been better. Casting with only her fingers meant the spell would be easy to remove . . . but first they would have to find it. How long would it take for the Hiladi to realize their sails had a flavor, one the rats should find particularly appetizing?
“Come on,” Snow said. “Let’s see what we can do with their navigation equipment.”
Having reached the ship, Danielle wasn’t sure how to best disable their attackers. Talia had no such problems. Knife in hand, Talia approached the closest sailor.
“Wait!”
Either the plugs of wormwax in Talia’s ears kept her from hearing, or else she simply chose not to. Danielle hurried to catch her arm.
Talia spun, nearly cutting Danielle before she stopped herself. “Sorry,” she mouthed.
“They’re helpless,” Danielle shouted, pointing to the crew. “You can’t just kill them.”
“They meant to kill us, remember? Your duty is to your people, Princess.”
Between the wormwax and Morveren’s song, Danielle had to watch the shape of Talia’s mouth to make out what she was saying. “Not like this. We can cut the ropes and disable the cannons.”
“We don’t have time to be civilized.”
Snow had already wandered off. She appeared to be casting some sort of spell on the mainsail. So far, the crew hadn’t even acknowledged their presence. A few glanced up, but not one managed so much as a frown before Morveren’s voice lured them back under the mermaid’s spell. Some were barely more than children, the soft fuzz on their chins the closest they could come to the beards worn by the older men.
“No,” said Danielle. “Cripple the ship, but leave the crew alone.”
Talia shook her head, but pu
t her knife away. “If Morveren’s song fails, they’ll kill us all.”
“And if you start killing them, that might be enough to break Morveren’s hold.” Danielle drew her sword. The enchanted glass blade cut easily through the ropes behind her. A few more swings sent lines snapping back across the ship. She crossed the deck and raised her sword.
Talia caught her arm and pulled hard enough to throw Danielle to the deck.
“Do you even know what you’re destroying?” Talia pointed upward to a yard that now hung at a dangerous angle. “Cut those ties, and you’ll likely kill us both when the topsail yard comes crashing down.”
Danielle stood, her heart pounding. She brushed black sand from her palms and clothes. The sand covered most of the deck. “Thank you.”
Talia was already storming toward the ladder to the gundeck. A man stood enthralled beside the ladder. Talia knocked him out of the way, bloodying his nose before dropping him to the deck, unconscious.
Talia had never been a cheerful woman, but Danielle had never seen her like this. She was hurting, that much anyone could see. She was still punishing herself for what had happened to Beatrice. But any time Danielle had tried to talk to her, Talia brushed her aside. Beatrice was the only one who could get through to Talia when she was this upset.
What would happen to them if Beatrice didn’t recover? Officially, both Snow and Talia were personal servants of the queen. Danielle could have them reassigned to herself, but she could never take Bea’s place.
Pushing such thoughts aside, Danielle hurried to the back of the ship and cut the ropes that connected the wheel to the rudder. She hacked through the wheel itself for good measure, then followed Talia below.
The Hiladi kept their cannons in a lower deck. Dust shimmered in the sunbeams coming through the open gunports. Small pyramids of cannonballs sat in triangular brass frames beside each one. Danielle had to hunch to keep from banging her head on low-hanging beams.
Talia was already assaulting one of the cannons on the port side with a large hammer, driving an iron nail into the touchhole. Two men stood beside her, leaning out the gunport to better hear Morveren’s song.
The Mermaid's Madness Page 13