The rain outside and the ferocious waves spitting up surf and mist left his visibility diminished. But as he focused his eyes and summoned those golden rings around his pupils, he could cut through the distractions. There, so far away still, he saw Liam upon that crude dais. That fallen mortal had become an angry god, and he would only be tempered in flame.
Kelvin spun the ballista around, keeping his eyes closed to preserve the focus he needed to see his target. As soon as he heard the sizzle of the flame on the end of that massive bolt, he looked to the sea again.
“Strike true,” Marin said.
Blowing out a breath as though he was going to draw back that immense cord, the prince lined up his shot. With Liam unaware he was in the crosshairs, a loud thunk resonated amongst those ships, and the flaming projectile soared across the air.
That missile didn’t hit the oil-soaked villain, but it didn’t matter. It struck the stage he had made for himself, and it all ignited at once. Liam looked to his side and noticed those savage flames rip into his seat of power. Before he could even consider leaping to the safety of the water, he was engulfed in the inferno.
Though the roars of his created beasts were monstrous, his cries of agony, mixed with theirs, were uncanny. The krakens lost their foundation and spilled apart. After a moment, the rocking, pounding punishment being inflicted on the Naiad’s Gift subsided.
Kelvin kept his gaze locked to the water so far away, though. It was there he saw the burning remains of the true Kraken. Liam Black plunged beneath the waves.
Up above, a great cry rang out as the sailors aboard the upright ships realized they were no longer in danger.
Captain Gardner was the first of the trio below deck to rush toward that grate in the adjacent chamber. As soon as he was topside again, he called out orders.
“Is Jarvey all right over there?” he barked to the members of the Lockspark. When no answer was given, he marched across the gangplank and helped several injured sailors to their feet. “Hoist that anchor. We’ve got men from the Hornet in the water. In these waves, I wouldn’t want them to deal with it any longer than they’ve got to!”
As Kelvin and Marin arrived from the hold, a weary Edmund looked to them and offered a drained smile. “He got right back into it, didn’t he?”
“Are you all right, Edmund?” the Silver Serpent asked. “You should go lie down.”
The old advisor swat that thought out of the air like a bothersome gnat. “I’ll be fine. We did what we set out to do—no small feat. That will lift my spirits, and my body will follow.”
Kelvin set his sights on Douglas, who seemed, at last, at peace. The lad braced himself on the railing of the Naiad’s Gift and looked at the ocean, no longer troubled by the rain.
“Is it finally over?” he asked when the disguised prince drew near.
“For now, at least,” Kelvin replied. “I watched him light aflame and saw what was left of him sink beneath the waves.”
As the two young men conversed, they watched as the bodies from the Titan’s Quill—men Douglas had worked alongside for months—submerged beneath the water, taken to the same end their killer was.
The rain slowed, and they both knew the sea would be safer for their efforts.
*****
That latest victim—his latest conquest—sat propped up against the wall of the barn. Her eyes were open, watching him as he pulled his pants up and cinched them tighter.
That woman’s clothes were still bunched into a ball just beyond the bales of hay that had offered them some privacy. As Gerard turned to her, he could see the satisfaction in those eyes.
“I’m going to see if Schaeffer is back yet,” he said, nodding as though she had said something back to him.
The constable walked out from there with renewed vigor, eager to finish the task he had set out for himself that morning. He had to tell the coroner what he knew about the woman’s—
For a moment, Gerard hesitated, tilting his head to the side. He narrowed his eyes, as if trying to locate something that was missing. With a grunt, he waved that notion away. Nothing was wrong with him.
He arrived back at the back door to Schaeffer’s office once more. The horse had drawn a bit farther from the edge of the pen, and farther still when it saw Gerard come close.
There was still no indication that Schaeffer had arrived, but the constable made his way to the door anyway. He rapped on the solid entrance, attempting to make his presence known.
“Schaeffer!” he growled.
The sun was beginning to set, he realized. He had been there for half the day, it seemed. Then again, it wasn’t a total loss, he considered as he reflected on the hours of passion he had spent with—
Once more, something lingered just beyond the veil. It felt close enough where he could reach out and touch it, but what was it?
Gerard raised his hand to stave off the bright sun in the west. He was reminded, then, of his strange power when he could see through his body. No longer disturbed by the sight of himself in that state, he waved his arm to understand it more thoroughly. His limb sloshed back and forth, bending and moving in ways that were atypical for a living person. Still, it was as if he was seeing it for the first time.
The constable arched an eyebrow and turned once more to the coroner’s office. He pushed forth with his ability, extending the reach of the water that encompassed him. Gerard watched as his arm, his shoulder, his chest turned to liquid, and then felt when it pressed further.
He sank toward the ground, into a rolling pool of sentient fluid. The door proved to be no obstacle to him as he filtered through it.
When he reached the other side, he reconstituted, back into a solid human being. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, as though he couldn’t be truly sure that he was in one piece. In due time, though, he noticed his skin returning back to its normal color. Even his clothes were still intact.
Gerard had other concerns, then. The office seemed odd, off in a way that he couldn’t determine at first. He proceeded farther, until he arrived in that cold storage room where the bodies that Schaeffer had collected were pushed into walls and surrounded by magical ice.
He saw there the reason that the coroner was not able to meet him at the harbor to collect the latest body. Schaeffer lay on the ground, a pool of blood collected around his head.
The constable felt a cold chill rip up his spine. All over the room, furniture was upturned, tools and instruments were on the floor, and blood lined the walls. But it was not that disarray that caused Gerard alarm. Not even seeing the body of someone he considered a friend was enough to send him off kilter.
It was the opened doors where the other bodies once rested that had him on edge. He crept forward and looked into those slots with anxiety. The bodies that they recovered—all of them—were gone.
Gerard had never felt so cold as in that moment when everything that he had done seemed to be for naught. His body felt light, and he teetered back into the wall, growing dizzy from the sight of the destruction.
He saw Schaeffer’s eyes, opened wide to perpetually show the terror that he died with. Seeing that pitiful, lasting gaze had the constable clenching his jaw shut, but he was already shaking his head.
With a growl, Gerard reached out to his fallen friend and ally. A jet of water burst from his hand and short forth into the body of the coroner. Schaeffer rolled over and slid across the room, the force of that torrent more powerful than even Gerard could have expected. That wasn’t enough to placate him though. With a rage unrivaled by any he ever had, he spun about, shooting off more eruptions of water at anything he set his eyes on.
Tables flipped, those opened doors slammed off their hinges—wood even splintered away from the beam holding the room upright. Gerard didn’t know if the office would survive his rage, but he didn’t care.
He let loose his torrent, knowing that the villainous killer had bested him once more.
*****
The horse snorted as it t
ugged the cart forward. That late at night, it hadn’t the energy to carry the hopeful pair and their belongings. At Thoro’s urging, though, it didn’t quite have a choice.
He looked over his shoulder, the former member of the Brotherhood watching as the eastern gate of the great city faded out of sight.
“Having some second thoughts?” Brielle asked.
Thoro scoffed and shook his head. “Not one. I’m making sure we’re not being followed.”
“I don’t think we have anything to worry about,” she ventured. “This far from the city…” The woman reached over and draped her hand atop his leg. “We’re starting our new life tonight. Everything will be better in Peritas.”
He sighed and bowed his head. “Part of me is disappointed with how we’re leaving things. My main concern is getting you to safety, but to see what’s become of the Brotherhood in these past few weeks…”
“It’s not your fault,” Brielle insisted. “Jerrod has his hand wrapped too tightly around their throats now. And those fools believe it’s exactly what they want.”
“I’m not just worried about the Brotherhood, though. The whole city will be upended. If we ever decided to return, Argos wouldn’t be the same.”
A grin was upon her face a moment later. “Who knows, maybe the Silver Serpent will set things right now that you’re not there to knock her down.”
“If she had a hard time with me, I can only imagine the amount of torture she’ll go through trying to bring Jerrod to justice.” Thoro shook his head again. “No, Argos is about to become a very dark place, except for the spots the Magician covers in flames.”
“Perhaps we should think about the place we’re going instead of the one we’re leaving behind,” Brielle said. “There’s a whole world of possibility before us, and it doesn’t necessarily stop at Peritas.”
He didn’t seem to value that concept, as he peered over his shoulder once again.
“You don’t have to keep doing that,” she pressed, gaining his attention once more. “We’re free of their grasp.”
A crack like that of a whip resounded in the woods surrounding their wagon. It was loud enough to send the horse bucking into the air and stopping in its tracks. Neither of the escaping pair knew what happened, but Brielle grit her teeth as a fierce pain took hold of her.
Thoro looked to the young woman and saw the crossbow quarrel protruding from her chest. His eyes widened, and she caught wind of what occurred. She looked down at the bolt that impaled her and gasped—more to catch her fleeting breath than in surprise.
“I wouldn’t say you’re free just yet,” a snickering voice echoed in the woods.
Standing upon the seat, Thoro pulled a dagger from his belt. But as the blade shimmered in the starlight, he saw another trace of illumination. Another projectile—smaller than an apple that would have fallen from one of the surrounding trees—flung out at him. Before he could determine how to react, that second missile glowed brighter than the stars in the sky and exploded before Thoro could cover his eyes.
The lad flew backward, over the bed of the wagon. Those he traveled with—Brielle and the horse—felt the cruel sting of that detonation as well. It threw the lass from the seat, knocking her to her side, and the equine’s hindquarters were set alight, its tail bearing the brunt of it. It liberated the beast of burden as well, those flames chewing through the leather straps that kept it harnessed to the vehicle. Once it set its feet beneath it again, it charged into the forest, trying to get away from the otherworldly blaze.
Thoro gasped, trying to channel any air he could through his lungs. He couldn’t sense anything beyond that hollow feeling in his chest, and despite the flames upon the wagon, everything seemed unnaturally dark. Without a breath to draw in, he rolled to his side, crawling back toward the vehicle.
“Come out now, Thoro,” Jerrod’s voice resonated from within the woods. “It wouldn’t do to keep you from your trip. Though I don’t know if you’re headed to the same place you once believed.”
The fleeing member of the Brotherhood gnashed his teeth together and kept up his slow crawl. The flames were bright enough for him to see the wagon without difficulty. On the side of the cart, propped against a wheel, he saw Brielle, her head bowed. He found a burst of adrenaline and crept beneath the vehicle until he reached the side of the woman he loved.
“We have to go,” he whispered. “We’ll disappear into the woods and figure out some other way to get to Peritas.”
Brielle didn’t answer him.
Thoro shook his head, unwilling to accept the truth. He grasped her by the shoulder and pulled her close, fighting back the emotion that left his throat feeling raw and sore.
“This wasn’t your fight,” he said. “You should have never suffered because of any of this.”
Stifling a growl, Thoro sprang back to his feet and reached into the bed of the wagon, moving about until he found what he was looking for. When he drew out the crossbow from within, he knew it would be his last stand.
A figure emerged from the woods, and the wounded former member of the guild plucked that trigger like the string on a lyre. That instrument was far more dangerous, though, and it sent a vicious quarrel screeching through the air until it collided with a loud thump. That man upon the horse grasped at the wound, letting go of the reins. Before he fell from the saddle, Thoro took account of him. It was Saren, one of the Magician’s favored associates.
Steadying himself with a quiet snarl, the lad pulled back on the cord of that crossbow, until it snapped into place. He reached into the wagon once more, blindly feeling for another bolt, but an odd sound hissed beneath the wagon.
Thoro never had a chance to investigate as two more of the Magician’s spells exploded, sending bursts of fire forward beneath the wagon. It was enough to send Brielle tumbling aside, though the weary lad stood fast, grimacing through the pain.
He looked down to see his trousers had caught fire, but before he could move to extinguish them—before he could even think to protest that pain—another sound resonated. Two loud cracks reported, and Thoro looked beside him by reflex alone. He watched as the spokes of the wagon’s wheels snapped outward, one by one.
His reflexes weren’t enough to save him from the wagon as the wheels shattered without that support. The vehicle lurched toward Thoro, and it was all he could do to lift his hands to try and catch it. That heft was beyond what he could support, though, and it knocked him over. It slammed atop him, pinning him to the ground.
With all his breath forced out of him, Thoro was left with fading vision once more. All the pain meant nothing to him when he saw the sight of the woman he loved just out of reach.
The former member of the Brotherhood knew he had lost everything.
*****
When he heard the captain of the Lockspark call for the anchor to be lowered, the young fellow perked up. Kelvin leapt to his feet and looked through the gallery windows. They were still far from home, though. The lights of Argos were distant enough that only he could see them when he focused through his powers.
As he made his way toward the door of the captain’s quarters, the way opened before him, and Edmund walked in.
“Why have we stopped?” the prince asked.
The old advisor and member of the King’s council allowed a weary smile to creep to his face before he crossed the room to end up at that desk again. Once more, he pulled out the bottle of alcohol and poured himself a drink. “Can I interest you in any of this?” he asked.
“Is there a sign the Kraken survived?” Kelvin wondered. “Is Liam Black still alive?”
“No, nothing of the sort,” Edmund insisted. “But the Lockspark was damaged in the attack of that monstrous fellow. They’re performing some necessary repairs before they reach the harbor. There’s no sense pushing to get home if it ends up causing more problems than it’s worth. They have to drain the bilge water, tar the damaged—”
“None of that is true, is it?” Kelvin pressed. He leaned ba
ck and looked out those gallery windows, setting his sights on the ship fading into the distance.
Signs of Liam Black weren’t present, but even without summoning those golden rings around his eyes, the lad in green could see as a plank was extended over the water, and he understood what was transpiring.
His widening eyes were not lost to Edmund, who tapped his knuckles upon the desk. “Look away, child. There are some things you don’t need to see.”
It was too late to sway him, though. Kelvin was already on his way to that door, and Edmund would never reach him in time to stop him. “I just watched creatures made of oil pull men down into a watery grave. I can handle whatever is happening now.”
He cleared the way and shifted onto the quarterdeck, ignoring the sailors who were setting to work maintaining the Naiad’s Gift. While the lot of the crew from that other ship came up from the hold, it was the familiar woman who taught him all he knew who addressed them.
With an arched eyebrow, Kelvin allowed his sight to focus on the Silver Serpent. “What are you up to, Marin?” he whispered.
“As you all know, we didn’t just lose a ship in the battle with Liam Black,” the Silver Serpent declared. “Not only did we suffer the loss of the Hornet and a score of the sailors of that ship, we also lost members of the crew that once served here upon the Lockspark. Those of you who fought did so valiantly. Those of you who kept the ship in one piece are to be commended.
“But there is someone here who is not worthy of praise,” Marin went on. “This man was responsible for the destruction we encountered on the sea. It’s because of his indiscretions the Hornet lies at the bottom of the ocean. He’s to blame for the deaths of the men you worked with aboard Volpe’s fleet, in addition to the unrest that grips Argos now.”
The Silver Serpent bowed her head, her eyes hidden beneath that tricorne hat. That gesture was enough to stir the first mate. He walked into the crowd and grabbed one of his men by the crook of his arm, dragging him from the crowd to stand before the lady in silver.
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