Their guard led them to a small dais off to one side of the arena, where he ordered them to wait. Sable had no choice but to follow his orders. With Idris in full control, she couldn’t even sigh in frustration or shiver in fear if she wanted to. What were they going to do with her?
It wasn’t long before she smelled it, the ash and frostbite scent that clung to the emperor; she only wished she could square her shoulders, or set her brow into a furrow. Despite the gnawing in her gut, she desperately wanted to be able to show her defiance, somehow. Valir’s voice rung out behind her, addressing the mass of trainees before them. “My friends, my faithful ones, I am in need of at least twenty volunteers. Who will help their emperor?”
Soldiers stumbled over themselves to reach the dais, clamoring to his call, but from what Sable could see of their expressions, they seemed to do it out of fear—not devotion. Valir moved forward to handpick twenty men, then shooed the rest away in his flippant, condescending style. The men who left looked relieved, and Sable decided that while the emperor might be amassing an army, he was doing it as a tyrant—not a loving leader.
What came next was more than Sable expected. She’d guessed that her training would have something to do with her talent, but she had never guessed how.
Valir waved a hand toward Idris. “It’s time.”
At first, it felt a lot like how her limbs succumbed to Idris’s control, but then it shifted, becoming even more invasive and all-encompassing. The boy’s power—lithe, stronger than anything she’d ever felt—dove inside her. And it forced her own talent to his will.
The invasion sickened her, made her want to rage, protest, but she could do nothing as her hands lifted to sign in the air. She watched, entirely helpless, as the soldier’s eyes went wide, then they began to disappear. One by one, the men were shifted from the arena to Orthane-knows-where. The remaining soldiers shuffled nervously. She thought they might run, but Valir’s commanding tone held them in place. “Hold.”
Though she was frozen, Sable could feel herself quickly tiring, a wave of nausea rising as her talent was drained. Five people had been the most she’d ever shifted, and she’d been weak as a newborn after that. If it hadn’t been for Ileana’s healing touch, it might have taken her days to recover. Now, when Idris drew again to attempt the sixth soldier, her knees wobbled even under his control. The boy instantly dropped the draw on her power.
Valir rounded on them. “Why have you stopped?”
Idris’s voice shook. “She’s reached her limit, my lord. If I push too hard, she’ll—” The boy trailed off.
The emperor strode in front of Sable, robes trailing, amber eyes dark. “Already?”
“Yes, my lord.”
“Make her do one more.”
10
The triple moons waxed and waned at the same intervals, pulling at the tides together, and brightening the night sky with their simultaneous glow. When Dain was a boy, he’d always imagined the moons as brothers, the smaller orbs in friendly competition, vying for the affection of the larger, the eldest. Perhaps the fantasy had sprung from his desire for a family of his own, for people to love—people who didn’t abandon him physically or emotionally. It’d taken him a long time to find that family, and surprisingly enough, they’d been right under his nose all along. Dain’s stomach clenched as he remembered how Sable had been the one to reveal that Mo, Toff, Lydia, and others aboard The Maiden were his true family. She’d kissed him that day, she’d brought him home… He bent over the foremast rail, shutting out the moons as he clenched his eyes tight. Please let her be alive.
A sudden bustle of noise burgeoned on the main deck below, causing Dain to look up again. The Wildflower would host the wedding of two young crew members tonight. It would be a celebration of love and family—the irony was not lost on him. He watched lanterns flame to life as a tepid sea breeze tousled his hair and dried his eyes. He spied Tars among the throng, carefully cradling his lute in the center of the fray. The musician would play the bridal march. Dain shifted his gaze, locking his eyes on the mother who’d abandoned him so long ago. His spine stiffened as he watched her twirl a few children in circles before hugging a woman who must have been the mother of the bride. Alis Alloway captained The Wildflower with an iron will, but everyone seemed to love her—worship her, even. He supposed she’d been their savior—she and his father. Curiosity flickered. Why had she chosen this path over a life with her family? Why fake her death? His mind was quick to darken to the questions. What difference did it make? Right now, he just needed to save Sable—nothing else mattered.
Alis, however, had not been very forthcoming with her findings. She kept putting Dain off, ordering him to train with Jord instead of answering his questions about the Dernamn. His patience was growing thin. He watched now as she began to call orders, directing people to their respective wedding stations. Tars and a few other musicians gathered to one corner of the deck, striking up a lively folk tune as everyone rushed to organize the scene. Amid his scrambled emotions, Dain didn’t even notice the first mate approach. Her light tap to his shoulder made him jump.
Anira smiled, raising a silent hand in greeting as her peacoline swirled around her legs. Thankfully, her ever-present interpreter Leara An was not by her side. Dain nodded back politely, again resisting the urge to reach out and stroke the great turquoise feline.
The first mate moved to stand beside him, leaning her lithe frame against the rail as she joined him in watching the proceedings. He knew she was deaf, and that she’d understand little by his lips in such dim light, but he needed to talk, vent, to someone. Anira’s silent presence sort of reminded him of Ileana in her wooden form back on The Maiden, so he said, “How do we do this? How do we just keep moving forward, living, laughing, marrying people—when the ones we love are missing—probably suffering? Mo says living is the best way to honor those you’ve loved and lost, but I feel like I can’t keep on—”
A large, furry form pushed up against Dain’s thigh. Startled, he stopped mid-sentence to stare down at the peacoline, who was affectionately rubbing her head under his hanging palm. Then, clear as the salmon skies on a summer’s eve, a voice sounded in his mind. “She likes you.” Dain’s head snapped up to see Anira’s slanted gaze fixed upon him. The voice came again. “It’s rare for Deena to like men.”
He licked his lips, staring back at The Wildflower’s first mate as he said, “Are you talking to me?”
Anira’s full lips spread into a smile, her voice filling his mind again. “Yes, via Deena’s touch. This is my talent—animalia. I can communicate with animals, and through them if necessary, but there are few people Deena’s willing to touch. You should be flattered.”
The peacoline gave a deep, rumbling purr as she preened under Dain’s touch. He moved his hand more freely now, swirling his fingers in circles over the top of her great head. “She’s so beautiful.”
Anira laughed in his head. “Yes, and she knows it.” Then her internal voice sobered. “I read some of what you said, and I can empathize. I have also suffered at the hands of men and stalkers.” She lifted an arm, waving it toward the crew below. “All of us have. We’ve lost countless friends—family, and yet forward is the only motion we know. The only direction that can make sense of the loss, that can perhaps, even one day, restore it. Have hope, Dain Alloway. We may yet see all things redeemed—if we work together.”
The peacoline suddenly broke from his touch, his connection to Anira instantly severed as the feline sauntered away. The disconnect left a slightly hollow feeling in his gut. Anira gave him a small shrug as though to say, ‘cats.’ He smiled in understanding, nodding his thanks for her words even though he wasn’t sure how much to invest in them.
She gave him a small chin dip before turning to follow Deena toward the festivities. Dain considered joining them, but decided against it. He’d been training daily on deck with Jord for the past two weeks, and though the crew was growing less wary in his presence, he didn’t want to
make anyone uncomfortable at the wedding.
The music swelled as Tars’s fingers flew over the strings of his lute. Dain’s body unconsciously swayed with the tune, and he couldn’t help being once again mesmerized by his friend’s talent. The woman playing the flute beside Tars lowered her instrument and began to sing, her voice a low alto that suited the bridal march perfectly.
She is here among us now,
two hearts ringing out to call
It is love that draws her nigh,
love that harkens one and all
Can you hear the Selteez sing,
raise their voices loud on high
Feel the peace a wedding brings,
we celebrate and cry…
The music swelled into the chorus as Alis Alloway took her place at the head of the assembly, the captain of The Wildflower now in position to perform the wedding rites. Dain stopped swaying and watched his mother closely again. At first he thought he was mistaken, but then he saw for sure—she wiped at her eyes when the groom and his bride started their dance toward her. Perhaps there was a heart in her chest after all?
As he kicked at the pile of books directly in front of his boot, Dain’s voice rose. “I’ve held up my end of the bargain, Captain. I’ve met here daily, submitted to Jord’s tutoring, and eaten with your officers. I’ve answered every ridiculous question you’ve thrown my way, and in less than a fortnight we draw near our destination, which means I’ll be leaving you to join The Maiden. I need to know what you’ve learned about the Dernamn.”
His mother didn’t even look up from her book, her tone all business. “Yes, Jord said you struggled at the beginning, but you’re finally making progress. How is the water manipulation coming along?” She absently scribbled a note in the margin of her book.
Shaking, Dain leaned across the large desk to snatch the notebook from Alis’s grasp. “We had a deal.”
It was the first time he’d seen the woman look uncertain. She was always in command of everything, including herself, but now she refused to meet his gaze, shifting uncomfortably in her chair. “It’s dangerous.”
Dain dropped the book on her desk, righting himself. “What's dangerous?”
She lifted her chin, fierceness returning fast as she pointed an upraised finger at the pendant around Dain’s neck. “The Dernamn—if it’s real, if the legends are true, it should not be trifled with.”
“It can summon a god, can’t it?”
She pulled off her reading glasses, her pale blonde brows drawing together. “If you already knew that, then why did you have me study it?”
Dain crossed his arms over his chest with a shrug. “That’s all I knew—I needed more.”
Leaning back in her chair, Alis squinted as she rubbed at the sides of her nose. “I know where you're going with this, Dain, and it’s not going to save her.”
“I'll be the judge of that. Just honor your end of the bargain.”
A sincere look of concern clouded Alis Alloway’s gray eyes, but Dain tried not to care that the motherly look stirred something deep inside. “How do I use the Dernamn?”
Alis stood, hands flying to her hips. “I think it’s time you grew up, Dain Alloway. Time you saw the bigger picture. There’s more at stake here than one girl’s life.”
Dain had been shaking before, but now, as he pulled his fingers through his long hair, he felt his entire body writhe. He knew he should hold it together, he knew he shouldn’t even go there, but he couldn’t help himself. “Is that the logic you used when you faked your death and abandoned your only son? Did you tell yourself there was a bigger picture, more at stake than one little boy’s heart?”
Alis’s eyes flew wide. “No, that’s not what I told myself. I can explain everything, if you’ll only give me a chance.” She appeared confident, but Dain saw a threat of tears in her eyes—he’d struck a chord somewhere deep inside her too. Perhaps she did feel bad for leaving him? For a moment he was tempted to hear her out—for a moment he wanted to hear her out, but the memory of Sable’s screams quickly silenced it all.
“I don’t want your explanations, Captain, and I don’t want your lectures either.” He grabbed the Dernamn around his neck, holding it up. “What I do want to know is how this thing works.”
At first, Alis looked like she might protest again, but she simply donned her glasses and reached for a large tome sitting on the floor beside her desk. Setting the volume in front of her, she scoured the foreign hieroglyphs as she spoke. “The Selts mention the Dernamn pendants with reverence. Apparently, the necklaces were given to the Selteez as gifts of honor by the goddess Orthane. It’s unclear why they were given, or what their exact purpose was, but it does say they believed the necklaces could summon a god. As you know, the four kingdoms acknowledge only one deity, Orthane, but the Selts talk like there were other creators.” Alis looked up from the ancient tome. “Either way, gods are mythical, and the tome warns against using it for summons—it says few can withstand it. It must be a very old magic.”
“I’ll take my chances. Does it say how it’s done?”
She looked down at the book again, flipping a few more pages ahead as her voice dropped into a bare whisper. “Through sacrifice.”
Dain cleared his throat. “What kind of sacrifice?”
Alis didn’t lift her gaze. “A portion of your soul.”
“That’s all?” His words sounded brave, but a small spark of fear ignited inside Dain. What did it mean to give up a part of one’s soul?
His mother’s head snapped. “Don’t be naive, Dain. You don’t understand the risks. The pendant might summon something unpredictable, and it’s probably tied to some kind of alchemic magic. Untested magic can kill. These kinds of artifacts require years of study. I need to run tests—”
Dain interrupted her, lifting his chin. “There will be no studies, and no tests.”
Alis sucked air through her teeth as she braced her hands on the edges of her desk. “What good will you be to her—to everyone—if you’re dead? Or irrevocably changed?”
His arms cinched tighter across his chest. “Just tell me how it’s done.”
His mother’s words haunted him—a little. Dain was surprised she’d even let him walk away with the pendant after all her warnings. He knew there was some wisdom in what she said, and yet he still pulled his dagger from the sheath on his belt and set the well-sharpened edge against his palm. This was it—his only chance, however far-fetched, to save Sable. He wasn’t going to hold out for months, maybe years, hoping that somehow she’d survived. That would drive him mad with grief and fear. If there was even a sliver of hope, he’d happily give his life for hers. The blade sliced into his hand. Blood oozed. Grabbing the Dernamn from around his neck, Dain pressed the front of the medallion facedown into his palm, squeezing his fingers tight. He watched with a sort of manic fervor as several dark droplets of blood fell to the cabin floor by his feet.
Seconds, minutes passed. Dain fidgeted, hand tightening further. What if nothing happened? What if something did? More seconds, more minutes. Maybe Alis got it wrong, maybe she lied. Dain reeled around the cabin, shutting his eyes as he spewed a frantic prayer. “Please, help me save her! You can take anything you want from me.”
Nothing.
His palm throbbed voraciously. Then he doubled over, falling forward to the floor.
Please!
Something wet met his knees.
Dain’s eyes flew wide. Water? It rose around him, filling the cabin at unprecedented speed. A breach? Scrambling to his feet, Dain pitched the bloody Dernamn around his neck as he waded through the cold, ankle-deep pool toward the door. He yanked on the handle, but the door didn’t budge. What the—? Bracing a foot against the jam, Dain tore at the handle with both hands. Nothing. The water was knee-high now, and rising threateningly fast. He turned to the porthole, unsheathing his dagger and smashing the butt end into the glass repeatedly. Like the cabin door, the window held firm. What was going on? The frigid water had rea
ched his chest now, a heavy swirl shoving him up and away from the porthole.
He was going to drown.
It wasn’t until his head cracked against the ceiling that he recalled his water lessons with Jord. Reaching for the element, Dain coaxed the current, trying to woo it to his will. He felt the waves resist, pulling away internally. Jord called it a dance, a give-and-take between the adept and creation—a relationship. Dain knew he had some gifts, but wooing was not one of them. How he’d even managed to secure Sable’s interest was a miracle unto itself, but right now, it was either woo or die. He tried again, internally explaining to the current how he needed help, a sweet and gentle coaxing. This time the water responded, reaching out tentatively in return. Dain sucked in a huge breath before weaving the flow in a pocket of air around his head. At the same moment, the cabin burst apart, and the dark, wild sea enveloped him.
They couldn’t have sunk deep enough to create the pressure for this. It wasn’t a hull breach—it was magic.
Dain barely maintained a hold on the air pocket as he flailed through the ocean, trying to propel himself toward the surface. The effort only made him sink more. Reaching for the current again, this time out of sheer panic, Dain demanded the water propel him upward, all hint of wooing gone. Nothing. He continued to sink. The bubble surrounding his head wavered as he stared, heart thumping hard, through the watery darkness. If he didn’t die of hypothermia first, he’d inevitably drown, because this pocket wouldn’t last forever. Maybe she’d been right, his mother—maybe he’d end up being no use to anyone at all. Perhaps grief had made him mad. Dain started to kick wildly again, but the movement did nothing to propel him upward.
The Lion of the Sea (The Maiden Ship Book 2) Page 6