by L. L. McNeil
‘Moroda. The top deck is here. It’s the captain’s cabin!
Reckon our treasure is locked away in there. No sign of this Jato yet. Dragons above, we’ve been lucky,’ Amarah said, clambering up the final set of stairs and stepping out into the open.
Moroda followed, and the wind buffeted her at once, but she was grateful for the fresh air and open space. She pulled the hood of her cloak up against the bite of the wind, and felt the familiar waves of energy as Arillians flew wildly above.
Flames licked at one end of the deck, and she felt the ship slowly dropping from the sky.
They didn’t have much time.
She saw Amarah a short way ahead, crouched by a door to the captain’s quarters. The sphere was there. She knew it. The crystal knew it. She licked her lips, and Amarah picked the lock, breaking in just as Moroda caught up. She clenched her fists, ready to take on whatever danger was inside. She knew she was capable, the flames from the corridor were proof of that, she just needed to have faith in herself, and control it.
The door swung open quietly, odd, amidst the chaos outside, and as Moroda stepped into the large cabin, she immediately saw him. The Arillian sat in the corner of the well-furnished cabin, eyes closed, arms folded, hunched forward slightly, a staff of ebony laid on his lap. The sphere was mounted on a stand behind the wheel of the ship, completely unassuming for those who did not know what it was: a pale orb nestled among rich mahogany. Moroda’s crystal burned so hot she could barely stand it. She held her breath again, unsure whether to speak, watching as Amarah approached.
Amarah took a few steps, then paused, before daring another few paces, watching Aciel all the while. Moroda could hear nothing but her blood pumping in her ears and the wind rushing outside, and Aciel seemed completely unaware of their sudden intrusion.
She clasped her hands together as Amarah grew closer to the sphere, praying they wouldn’t be seen.
‘Amarah.’
Moroda gasped as Aciel opened his eyes and looked at the sky pirate. Amarah froze and looked back at him, tightening her grip on her scythe, ready if it came to blows.
‘What are you doing?’
Moroda glanced fervently between the two, almost hopping from one foot to the other. Where was Sapora when you needed him?
‘The sphere,’ Amarah said.
‘Is not yours to take, is it?’ Aciel replied.
‘No.’
‘Then leave it and go back where you came from.’
‘Amarah!’ Moroda called, rushing forward to Amarah’s side. ‘Don’t listen! We need the sphere!’
‘You.’ The cool voice was now speaking to her. Moroda ignored the chill and grabbed Amarah, shaking her, trying to get her away. ‘Moroda.’
His words filled her, drowning out the wind, fear and panic. He didn’t speak another word, but her mind rang with his voice, his whispers, and the intense, biting cold that came with it. She held her head in her hands, trying to drown out his words.
‘No!’
Anger filled her once again, and with it, the heat from her crystal. She forced back his coldness, his voice, and pushed forward with her own fire. An explosion rang out, blinding her for a moment, and when she could see again, the captain’s cabin was alight, rain pouring in from the gaping hole in the roof.
‘Moroda! Grab it and run!’ Amarah called, bringing her back to the present. She had her scythe held across Aciel as she fought to hold him down. His skin and hair were pale, almost translucent white, and he wore similarly light robes, even white gloves, but his wings were deep black. His eyes, though, almost glowed silver-white, and she could not see his pupils.
But her fire had broken the compulsion he pushed onto her and Amarah, and Moroda didn’t need telling twice. She darted forward and grabbed the ereven sphere with both hands.
Immediately, she felt the power and energy of the dragons she sought, and those Aciel had claimed for himself. Sickness replaced the heat and cold, and she now realised the difference between the imitation ornament Andel had provided her, and the real thing. She took several deep breaths, trying to will the overwhelming nausea away, then lowered her head and raced out of the cabin. She heard a clatter behind her followed by a shriek, and Amarah bolted out behind her.
‘I’ve got it! Where’s Khanna?’ Moroda called, running out onto the open deck. The few Arillians and guards that Sapora had yet to deal with were out on deck, panicking and trying to douse the flames which ripped through the wooden hull. There was another shockwave as another engine took to flame, and the ship let out a mighty groan. In the smoke, wind, rain, and darkness, Moroda could not spy Amarah’s ship, and she fought to keep her rising panic at bay.
‘Moroda.’
Aciel’s voice somehow penetrated her mind in spite of the noise around her. She held the sphere to her chest and ran to the front of the deck, hoping to get away from him. Scared of what he might make her do. Sweat loosened her grip on the sphere, and it took all her efforts to hold it safe.
She knew Palom had seen Jato on the deck somewhere, but so far there’d been no signs of Arillians save those in the air, and they were preoccupied with stopping the flames.
‘Where are you going? Stop running. There’s nowhere to run. You cannot run.’
Moroda halted, unwilling to continue running. She felt her body cool at his words, and the nausea swelled again.
‘Turn around.’
‘I don’t want to,’ she whimpered, turning around.
‘That’s okay. Hold out your hand.’
She could see him walking towards her, his feathered wings in contrast to his hair, his staff held in his left hand. He did not hurry, he did not seem to mind the raging fires surrounding him—he simply allowed his energy to extinguish the flames. A few gusts of strong wind pushed them away, and another reduced them to little more than embers. As he grew closer, she could see a large jewel mounted to the top of his cane. She tried to think what it might be, but her mind was hazy, filled only with the thought of not running.
Moroda could hear Aciel’s thoughts, could just touch on them, as he instructed her. She shivered where she stood, and held out her hand, the sphere held tightly.
‘Step forward.’
Moroda shook her head, but her body obeyed, and she took a step toward him. ‘Please don’t.’
‘Hush. It’s okay.’
She watched as he fluttered his wings, loose black feathers floating to the burnt deck underfoot. She saw each step, felt every wave of energy, and couldn’t move. She knew he was looking at her, but refused to meet his gaze, forcing her eyes shut. Her crystal still buzzed on her hand, a tiny speck of warmth in the coldness she felt.
Moroda tried to focus on the heat of the crystal and drown out Aciel’s whispers. She wouldn’t give up the sphere. Not after everything they went through. Not after she promised Eryn she’d come back safe. ‘It’s not okay!’
‘Yes it is. Step forward. Give me back what you stole. You’re above stealing, aren’t you? Why are you travelling with thieves and criminals, Goldstone?’
His words stung, but all Moroda could feel was sickness and shame.
‘You cannot get away without being punished. What would be a suitable punishment for you? Murderers are beheaded, aren’t they?’
‘I’m not a murderer.’
‘You are a murderer. You’re killing my followers.’
Tears streamed down her face.
‘Give me back what you stole, murderer.’
She trembled and flattened her hand, the sphere rocking slightly in her palm. Her hood had fallen back in the wind, and the rain soaked through her hair and clothes. She forced her eyes to stay shut, and knew he was standing right in front of her. She felt him take the sphere from her hand, and could do nothing about it.
‘Murderers don’t deserve to live. Turn around and walk. If the fall does not kill you, you will drown.’
Unable to resist any longer, Moroda opened her eyes and looked into his. Now he was at arm’s len
gth, she saw his eyes were the softest green, not silver, and were utterly devoid of emotion. A new wave of fear washed over her, and she turned around.
‘Walk.’
The command struck her like a hammer. Her knees trembled in defiance, but he had control of her body. She took a few steps, and the instruction lingered in her mind. She tried to think of her companions, of Amarah and Sapora, but her thoughts were dim, like ghosts in her mind, and disappeared before she could make them concrete. She took a few more steps.
Eryn flashed in her mind; her sweet, strong, loving sister, who was far cleverer than she, more positive, too, and who had said from the start the journey was a mistake. Moroda closed her eyes and stepped off the side of the warship.
Chapter Seventeen
Moroda tried to scream, but her breath caught in her throat. The wind rushed as she fell, the dark, angry sea rose to meet her, and towers of swirling water raged closeby. Aciel had let go of the mental hold on her body the moment she stepped off the ship, so her mind was once again clear, but fear gripped her as she plummeted.
Half a second later, she felt cold hands gripping her waist, feathers all around her as she stopped falling and began to rise. ‘Kohl?’
She closed her eyes, dizzy, and only when she was laid down on solid ground did she open her eyes. But she was not safe on Khanna. Fires burned around her. She struggled to breathe and coughed, shaking her head as she tried to get her bearings. When she glanced at the Arillian who had caught her, Moroda realised it was not Kohl.
‘You… you’re Jato?!’
‘Pleased to meet you, my dear.’ Jato flexed her wings, a cruel smile on her lips as she leered at Moroda. She had dark blonde hair and grey eyes, and her wings were dark brown. She wore a little armour and had a small, oblong shield fixed to her right arm.
‘But… Aciel said…’
Jato laughed, a hollow noise without true mirth. ‘Aciel lets me play games.’ She raised her hand and spread her palm wide; blue-white light flickered from her skin, and she struck Moroda with a ball of lightning. The force of the strike sent Moroda flying, and she rolled over when she landed. Her hood covered her head, and her skin smoked from the intense heat of Jato’s attack. Moroda cried, tears streaming down her cheeks as her body convulsed.
Moroda heard Jato’s laugh and attempted to push herself onto her hands and knees, to get away, but was struck by the next ball of lightning before she managed it.
‘Pathetic. No fight in you. Not so fun, anymore, is it? Where’s your fire now? You killed my followers. Destroyed my airship! Perhaps I should have let Aciel make you kill yourself.’
Moroda coughed again, her hands burning as her entire body stung. She rolled over and lay flat on her back, and her breathing quickened as panic took over. She was exhausted from using magic, Aciel’s compulsion, and the intense fear, and she was unable to get up or defend herself. She screamed as Jato attacked her with balls and bolts of lightning. The corners of her vision dimmed as the pain took hold of her, her body spasming under the intensity.
‘Oh I wonder whether you’ll cook first? Or ignite? You like the fire, don’t you?’ Jato taunted, sending forth another strike.
Moroda shivered as she was buffeted about, her cloak singed. ‘Please…’
Jato laughed, taking to the air and diving back down, striking Moroda with lightning bolts with renwered intensity. ‘Aciel has already won. You’ve thrown your life away by coming here. So silly.’
Another strike.
‘Looks like you’re almost done, now!’
Another.
And another.
‘Get up, Moroda.’
Moroda opened her eyes, only half-conscious. Her vision blurred, made worse by the heavy rain, but the figure in front of her was unmistakable. ‘Sapora…?
‘Best you stay alive.’ His back was to her, his focus on Jato.
Moroda tried to respond, but she had no voice left. She shuddered, weak from the attacks.
‘A Varkain? Hmph. Dirty worm. Shouldn’t you be buried in the ground somewhere?’ Jato said, while Moroda feebly attempted to get to her feet. ‘You’re a disease on Linaria. Disgusting creature. Aciel plans to get rid of your kind after the Ittallan are gone. Maybe we’ll strike the holes to your underground cities and burn you in your tunnels while you sleep. Just you wait.’
Sapora didn’t reply, but Moroda watched as he drew two scimitars from his sleeves and widened his stance. She fought to get onto her hands and knees, and shuffled backwards, trying to get her breath back, eyes locked on Sapora and Jato as they squared up to one another. She was in too much pain to register anything other than the attacks had stopped, and she needed to get away.
After several long breaths, she managed to get to her feet, but stumbled over her cloak. It was bunched up around her boots and she was sent sprawling again. Laying where she was, Moroda tried to will away the pain that stung her arms and face, and looked around her. The warship was chaos; fire and smoke mixed in with the heavy clouds above, torrential rain, and rolls of thunder. She tried to work out the best way to escape, but could not see Khanna in the darkness.
She was dizzy, exhausted, and her body shivered as it recovered from the lightning strikes. She heard the clang of weapon against shield, and turned to look over her shoulder. Sapora danced around Jato, his movements too quick for her to register at first, while the Arillian took to the wing and countered with her electrical attacks. Moroda felt the waves of energy pulse around her, and couldn’t get to her feet. Turning away, she crawled along the deck of the warship, avoiding smoking debris, no plan in mind other than to get as far away from the fighting as she could.
‘Moroda.’
She winced, closing her eyes as she heard his voice. How had he spotted her in the utter confusion? She continued to crawl. It was painfully slow, but she had no strength to get to her feet.
‘Stop, Moroda. You’re too tired.’
She stopped where she was, unsure whether she was giving in to her own exhaustion, or his compulsion again. Behind her, explosions sounded and she felt, more than heard, the crack of thunder from Jato’s lightning. She opened her eyes and looked at Aciel from where she lay, waiting for the inevitable command. He was some thirty paces away, stable and calm amidst the turmoil, almost a halo of light surrounding him as he fended off the rain and fires with his own energy. Aciel was scarier than Sapora, Moroda realised. He was evil. Whatever his reasons for starting this war, whatever his justifications, they fell flat. He was a true horror she had never known existed.
Tears streamed down her cheeks and mixed with blood, rain, and soot. She shivered as he grew closer. Twenty paces. Ten. Five.
A shadow passed overhead, dimming Aciel’s light for a heartbeat. Moroda sniffed and shook her head, still trembling. In her peripheral vision, she saw the glint of silver, but didn’t understand what it meant until the white of Aciel turned crimson as Amarah’s scythe bit deep into his arm.
Everything happened all at once. Aciel’s hold on her disappeared, filling her with sudden warmth and clarity, blood gushed from the open wound on his forearm as Amarah’s weapon sliced through to bone, and she pulled her scythe back, yanking him to the ground, and Jato’s scream somewhere behind her drowned out all else.
Amarah fell onto Aciel as he hit the ground, her blade still pressed deep into him. Blood pooled beneath them. Moroda shivered, pushing herself up onto her hands and knees, too afraid and too shocked to do anything else. She saw the sky pirate wrestle with the Arillian leader—despite his grievous wound, he could fight back. He sent off waves of electrical energy through the air, the thunder deafening at such close range, but Amarah’s gaze was steely. She endured his attacks and held his good arm with one boot, her other knee in his back, pushing him to the ground; one hand held her weapon while the other grasped at his neck and chest.
Jato’s attacks joined the fray, and Moroda saw her swoop towards the two. Sapora was faster, though, and he slashed at her with his weapons, seeing sh
e did not reach Aciel and Amarah.
Blood continued to spill and the chaos shifted into panic.
Moroda hyperventilated, panic gripping her as well as her surroundings. The waves of Aciel and Jato’s attacks threatened to shove her backwards, and she couldn’t understand how Amarah and Sapora could fight them. Movement from above caught her eye as a falcon dived towards Aciel. She knew it must have been Anahrik, but she couldn’t speak or move to acknowledge him or signal that she needed help.
Anahrik’s talons slashed at Aciel, but he and Amarah were both thrown off as the Arillian screamed and lightning blazed in all directions from his body. The shockwave shook the ship, and Moroda, Amarah, Anahrik, and Sapora were hurled backwards.
Shuddering, Moroda’s head span from the impact of her landing, and she felt a wave of familiar cool wind as another Arillian descended. Even in the midst of panic, she recognised the hat and cloak of Kohl, and watched as he grabbed Amarah from the deck and flew off with her. Moroda struggled to her feet, her confidence renewed at the sight of Kohl.
She was shaky on her feet, and backed away as Jato rushed to Aciel’s side. Even in the darkness and confusion, Moroda could see the river of crimson growing. Where once she would have pitied him, she had a flash of a dark thought: perhaps he deserved it.
Jato watched as Moroda stood there, and raised her hand to her once again. Moroda ducked, but the lightning strike did not come; Sapora had darted to Jato’s side, his claws holding the Arillian still as he bit into her shoulder. She shivered, watching as Jato went limp at once, and as the warship finally crashed into the sea, she dropped to her knees.
Moroda lay flat on her back, unable to muster any more strength. She was overwhelmed by the smell of sea salt, blood, and burning, and saw a familiar wide-brimmed brown hat as her world went dark.
*
Moroda felt a weight on her chest and muffled voices all around her. She struggled to listen, unable to make any sense of what she heard, and when she opened her eyes, she found she was wrapped up in Palom’s large cloak. Amarah stood some way in front of her, by the wheel of Khanna, and further ahead, Kohl stood out on deck, Sapora beside him. She turned to her right, and saw Palom sat on a crate, his arms folded. To her left, Eryn and Morgen sat beside her; everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts.