The Lion of the Sea (The Maiden Ship Book 2)

by Micheline Ryckman

  The Lion of the Sea

  Micheline Ryckman

  For Hunter.

  Despite the struggles you face everyday,

  you get up again the next and bravely keep on living.

  The Lion of the Sea

  Copyright © 2021 by Whimsical Publishing

  whimsicalpublishing.ca

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN 9780986937361

  Edited by Dylan Garity

  Cover art by Gabriella Bujdoso - @gabriella.bujdoso

  Map art by Diana Worak - dianadwork.com

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Prologue

  She came every day, the woman with ebony skin and eyes like starlight. Sometimes she’d stay for hours, other times only minutes. She’d walk, sit, or stand before Elden as she sang, and each new wordless melody seemed to ease the burden of stone. There were times he thought he felt a breeze against his cheek or even caught a whiff of pine from the surrounding trees, and though he tried not to hope too fiercely, he wondered if freedom might be attainable after all.

  The woman never told him her name—in fact, she rarely spoke, usually only offering a brief word of greeting before she sang. Elden knew her attempts to free him were dangerous, every visit a calculated risk, so taking time to talk was not a priority.

  Still, despite their lack of conversation, they developed a camaraderie, an unspoken alliance as fellow prisoners. Obviously she had more liberties than the average prisoner, especially himself, but her singing was always softly wary and her brow ever-knit. Elden understood her concern. He knew the man who held them captive, and he knew what the monster was capable of—his own prison was a testament to it. Being made of stone, cut off from everything including his beloved, able to think, see, and hear, but do nothing—that was eternal life with no life at all. He’d been garden statuary for more than two centuries now, and Elden had never understood why he hadn’t gone mad. Perhaps it was another part of the curse—sanity as torture. But where the magic encasing him was all shadow, his new friend’s songs were all light, and Elden basked in the hope they brought.

  Today, however, his ally looked more like a hunted songbird than the defiant woman he’d grown to know. She was breathing hard when she emerged from the trees before him, and her hands and skirts were covered in dirt like she’d crawled for hours through the underbrush. Her starlit eyes were wide, scouring every shadow before she finally looked into his stone face and spoke. “The emperor found it—the perfect weapon. It won’t be long before it arrives.” Her lips didn’t move, but her voice filled his mind. “If we don’t intervene, the four kingdoms are doomed.”

  1

  The attack was imminent, and Dain knew he was too late to stop it.

  Casper swooped in fast, gliding across the rain-soaked deck to slam his wooden broadsword into his student’s exposed rib cage. Doubling over, Dain gasped for air as his instructor said, “Swordplay isn’t all about offense, Captain. Keep yer footing limber enough to dodge, and pay attention to yer opponent’s reach.”

  Daggers had always served Dain well enough—Mo had seen to nurturing that skill—but the sword was an extension of the arm, and he’d decided, circumstances being what they were, that the added advantage might prove useful. The finesse of swordplay, however, was proving harder to master than anticipated. Thankfully, Dain didn’t give up easily. He tried not to wince as he pulled himself upright. “Don’t go easy on me, Casp, I can take your worst.”

  “Aye, Captain, I don’t doubt it, but fer now, I’ll be gentle.” Casper winked, then gave his practice sword a theatrical flip. “Yer looking a mite peaked, sir. Shall we call it a day?”

  “Call it a day?” Dain shoved at his damp hair, attempting to replace his grimace with a smile. “I’ve got a dozen more rounds in me.”

  His handsome, copper-skinned friend laughed, grabbing a skin full of rainwater. “Do ye now? Well, drink up first, and then we’ll see.”

  Despite the bruise burning to life on his ribs, Dain wasn’t as eager as his teacher to call it a day. These sword lessons had become an outlet—a form of emotional release after the unexpected resurrection of his mother. His knuckles whitened on the water skin as he drank. Not only had Alis Alloway faked her death and deceived everyone, she’d also abandoned her family and her only child. There was no doubt she’d dedicated her life to a worthy cause, one that now lined up with Dain’s own, but why in all the four kingdoms had she done it without including the people who loved her? He felt his expression sour.

  “Water tainted, Captain?”

  Dain tried to school his features. “Just a lot on my mind.”

  Casper gave him a serious, uncharacteristic nod before turning his face toward the fogged-in spires of Aalta. He looked almost mournful, and the mood swing piqued Dain’s curiosity. “It seems you’ve had a few things on your mind too—I never asked, didn’t want to pry, but why didn’t you stay and enjoy your leave in Aalta? Why return to The Maiden so early?”

  Casper’s solemn countenance faded with a shrug. “Let’s just say I said all the wrong things to the right kind of lass.” He threw Dain another wink. “A well-connected lass. Isn’t it funny how we tend to say everything else besides what we should? ‘Twas best I kept my head down after that—maybe one day I’ll learn.” He shrugged again, a rakish grin eclipsing his lips. “Or maybe I won’t. I’ve never been one to hold back on living. Ye ready fer another beating, Captain?”

  Dain knew he’d get nothing more, so he kept his next question to himself, chuckling as he rubbed his ribs. “I think you might be right. I should probably call it a day.”

  Lifting a hand in the air, Casper let the raindrops patter against his palm. “Probably fer the best. The deck’s getting slick, and this fog is thick as mud.” Then he gave Dain a hard, friendly punch to the shoulder before sauntering below.

  Dain watched him go, shoulders slumping as his thoughts drifted back to Alis. Lydia, Toff, and Mo had all encouraged him to reconcile with the woman, but even though he desperately wanted to move forward in their plans to stop the stalkers and end this centuries-old genocide, Dain hadn’t been able to face her again. The one time had been hard enough. Plus, now that his father was dead, his resurrected mother was on a mission to re-establish herself as head of the Alloway estates. She’d even sent missives to Dain detailing everything she wanted done before they sailed from Aalta’s harbor in the spring. And she’d demanded that Thornwalsh, Dain’s appointed man, be replaced by a more competent candidate as master of the Alloway Trading
Company. No doubt Alis had more experience running an estate than Dain did, but her demands inflamed him nonetheless. So far, he’d ignored her requests. If someone was going to play dead and abandon their family, they shouldn’t expect everything they gave up to be handed back on a silver platter.

  Sable was the only one who seemed to understand. She never inundated Dain with advice or lectures on reconciliation—actually, amidst it all, she’d been the light, the bright spot while they waited, anchored in Aalta’s bay through the long, drizzling weeks of winter. He didn’t know what he would’ve done without her.

  The two of them were getting close now, their relationship growing more intimate by the day, but for fear of moving too fast, he’d held back on expressing his feelings. He just didn’t want to risk pushing her away, especially right now—

  A mild Ernhamian accent rang out behind him. “A copper for your thoughts, Lion Cub.”

  Dain felt his lips turn up at the corners as he swiveled toward the voice. “I prefer ‘Lion of the Sea,’ sailor.”

  “Well, besides that tangled mop of hair, you’ve yet to earn that nickname in my books.” Sable skipped across the wet deck to his side, tilting her chin as she looked up into his face. The freckles dotted across her nose and cheeks had paled some during the winter months, but Dain still instinctively counted them as she continued, “But—perhaps you can try earning that nickname later tonight?”

  Dain forgot about his sore ribs, his mother, the stalkers hunting them in Aalta, and he dropped his training sword to wrap both arms around her waist. He might’ve held out on expressing his feelings to Sable orally, but he’d grown quite confident in expressing them physically. His blood thrummed as he lifted her off the ground, but right as his lips reached hers, a loud curse bellowed out from the port side.

  “Yow! Damn.”

  It only took a minute to reach the deck edge, both of them peeking over the rail to spy Toff swaying just above the rowboat, his right foot twisted in the rope ladder, upside down.

  Dain laughed out loud. “How in all the four kingdoms did you manage that, old man? Some renowned assassin thief you are.”

  “Stop gawking and jawing and help me up, boy.”

  “Hey now, sailor, that kind of talk is insubordinate. I’m your captain, after all.” Dain heard Sable giggle lightly beside him.

  Toff only cursed again, writhing manically against the hull.

  Descending the ladder with care, Dain twisted the rope up and over the old sailor’s ankle, then quickly grasped Toff’s hand to pull him upright.

  Exhaling in relief, the old sailor reached down to rub at his ankle. “Grateful, Captain,” he mumbled.

  Dain’s only response was a chuckle. To be honest, he was surprised that Toff had managed such a feat. This man was the epitome of stealth and secret grace. It at least made Dain feel better about the solid beating he’d just been given by Casper. Apparently no one was infallible—not even the Ghost of Aalta.

  Once on deck, the old sailor groaned as he hobbled toward them. Sable greeted him with open arms. “Here for the big reveal tonight, Toff?”

  He waved her off. “Obviously, girl, but first I’ll need to see that sourpuss brother of yours. My foot feels like it’s starting to swell—no doubt it’ll be whale-sized soon.”

  “He’s on The Wildflower, but he’ll be back tonight. Let’s head out of the weather, and get your foot elevated.” Toff grumbled as Sable offered a supportive shoulder.

  Dain followed behind, his thoughts turning to Tars. Sable’s brother had spent nearly everyday aboard The Wildflower since its arrival. The healer-alchemist was soaking up the opportunity to learn from a superior adept—Alis Alloway. Dain was happy Tars had been given this chance, but all his friends, besides Casper and Sable, were spending a generous amount of time on board the other ship, and he couldn’t help wrestling with a bit of resentment.

  They set Toff up in the dining room attached to Dain’s quarters, and Sable stayed to fuss over the old sailor while Dain headed to his sleeping chamber for dry clothes. The large, four-poster bed filled most of the space, and at the moment, it was covered in books. Sable had borrowed dozens from Alis’s trove, and she’d been as relentless in her studies here as her brother apparently had aboard The Wildflower. The tomes varied from Old Ernhamiam fairytales, to Selt hieroglyphics, to a volume on prophetic visionaries. The latter, for Dain’s sake, was her current read. And amidst the fray lay the volume that had started it all—his mother’s first journal. The diary had harkened the return of Dain’s childhood memories and the revelation of his two talents: elemental conjuration and prophetic visions. The conjuring talent was a constant thrum inside him; the heat, the air, the moisture, the electricity, always beckoning—always insistent.

  He’d yet to discover the extent to which his power could be wielded, because being docked in Aalta’s harbor was, well, not a great place to practice. Not only would the sight of constantly changing weather patterns be conspicuous, the magic would lure the prowling stalkers ten-fold. Sadly, any real exploration of his talent would have to wait until winter was over and they were well out to sea.

  Once dressed, Dain ran his fingers through his hair, vainly attempting to smooth out his long blond tangles before heading into the dining room. He only succeeded in adding a few new snarls. From the other room, he could hear Toff regaling Sable with stories from the glory days. No doubt the old man was hoping to distract her from his earlier incident.

  “I wasn’t always a sailor, girl. I’ve done things that’d bend your toes backwards in fright. Why, in my prime I scaled the tallest spire in Aalta with only my bare feet and hands …”

  Dain interrupted the old man’s boasting as he entered. “Maybe next time you should skip the ladder and simply scale the hull? Might be safer.”

  The sailor huffed, pushing his spectacles up before wagging a crooked pointer at Dain. “I said in my prime, Captain.” Shifting his finger toward his wrinkled cheeks and long white beard, he said, “Do I look like I’m still in my prime?”

  Sable laughed, the contagious ripples filling the room.

  Dain loved the sound of her laughter.

  It was Morgan Crouse who answered Toff’s question, the first mate’s hulking form now filling the doorway behind Dain. “Ye don’t look a day over ninety, old man.”

  Toff cackled loudly, slapping his knee several times. “I’ve missed you, Mr. Crouse. All these days in the city, away from this ship—I’ve missed you all.”

  Dain knew it was unlikely that their situation had changed, but he asked anyway. “Any news, Toff?”

  The sailor’s expression soured. “The stalkers still roam—they feel everything in the harbor, it seems. At night, they linger in the shadows, as close as they can get, but they’re too afraid of the sea to go farther… Still, more and more of the blasted demons show up weekly. I think the draw is too great with both ships here—there’s just too many adept in one place. I warn against venturing into the city, sir, and I told the captain of The Wildflower the same thing yesterday.”

  Dain ignored the reference to his mother, shifting his thoughts toward all the people aboard her ship. The enormous galleon was a sea-faring haven, created by his father to house the adept. Entire families lived on board, with many children among them, and while the ocean might be keeping the stalkers at bay, who was to say a crew member wouldn’t brave the shores? There had to be over two hundred people on that ship—could Alis Alloway keep an eye on them all? Dain would hate to see anything happen to those families. His voice was low. “Do you think the crew of The Wildflower will heed your warnings, Toff?”

  Through his ever-present red toque, Toff scratched at his scalp. “I don’t know, Captain. I suppose there’s always a chance someone could do something stupid.” Pushing up his spectacles again, Toff gave Dain a beady, pointed look. “Maybe you should discuss it with your mother.”

  Dain clenched his fists. He couldn’t escape it—every time he turned around, one of them was tryi
ng, again.

  Thankfully, Sable interceded. “Perhaps it’s something you could mention the next time you’re aboard The Wildflower, Toff?”

  The old man only gave a loud sniff in response.

  Mo came alongside Dain, swathing his shoulder with a dark, giant hand. “Ye know lad, ye’ll have to face her eventually, and needs being as they are, it might be sooner than ye wish.”

  Dain looked up to see Mo’s gaze filled with kindness and affection—it was the kind of look a father would give a son. And Morgan Crouse had been a father to him in all the ways Dain's own had not. Because of that, he had a hard time denying his first mate anything, but this particular issue—well, he just wasn’t capable, not yet. Dain tried to choose his next words carefully. “I’m aware of our circumstances. However, for now, the topic of my relationship with my mother is closed. Toff will make inquiries tomorrow.” Then he slipped up, a sharp sarcasm leaking into his tone. “We all know Alis Alloway has plenty of tricks up her sleeve; apparently, playing dead works for more than just possums. I’m sure she’ll figure out a way to keep her crew safe.”

  Sable stood, a hint of reprimand edging her voice. “Captain, I need your help in the galley. We should pull together some dinner before nightfall.”

  2

  Sable swiped at her skirts, trying to hold her tongue until they’d reached the galley, but her impulses got the better of her and she rounded on Dain in the corridor. “You ought to give them some slack—they’re only trying to help.”