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

by Micheline Ryckman

  Mo winked at him again. “There’s always better things to do than talk about myself, but for the sake of dimming those rosy cheeks of yers, I’ll tell ye the tale.” The first mate referenced his compass, then tucked it back into his tunic before fixing both hands on the wheel again. “Ye know my father was a fisherman, but I never told ye that he was the best Aalta ever had. He spent his youth seeking secret coves, pools of ocean where no other man was smart enough to find or follow. I grew up in those coves. And when I was old enough to man a boat myself, he sent me fishing with permission to sail all but one of those havens.” The first mate’s eye glinted.

  “You headed straight for that forbidden cove, didn’t you?”

  “Aye, that I did—” Mo interrupted himself, sending a deep bark toward some sailors who’d taken to lounging now that The Maiden was well out to sea. Dain grinned as he watched them jump to attention, hastily busying themselves on deck. So many of the men on board were new, mostly weather-worn sailors gleaned from The Wildflower. And Dain knew a good captain would take the time needed to get to know each of them, but he was beginning to question that role for himself.

  He shook off the thought for now, nudging Mo. “And?”

  “And, I fished a boatload, lad. More fish in one day than I’d ever seen my father haul.”

  Dain wrinkled his nose. He’d never liked fish, but it was the foundational industry of Zaal, and it comprised nearly 30 percent of the Alloway Trading company’s commerce. Fish had made his ancestral family rich.

  Mo adjusted The Maiden’s heading with a slight tug. “But my last pull of the day was extra special—I barely wrangled that net into the boat myself.”

  Imagining the first mate struggling to haul anything was a feat; the man’s biceps were boulder-sized, and Dain had secretly envied the first mate’s strength many a time.

  Mo grinned. “Ye’ll never guess what was in that last catch.”

  Dain rolled his eyes. “A merrow.”

  “Aye, a merrow. And the minute I set eyes on her, I believed I was in love. I ruined that net trying to get her free.”

  Dain thought of Hannon—how he’d been so irresistibly drawn, he probably would’ve done the same thing. He nodded. “Their lure is strong.”

  The first mate hummed in agreement.

  A moment of silence followed.

  “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to tell me?” Dain flipped his hands in mock exasperation.

  Mo grinned again. “The rest is private, lad. Mind ye, it was worth the wicked tongue-lashing I got for disobeying my father.”

  Dain snorted and rolled his eyes.

  “Speaking of love…” Mo cleared his throat. “I’ve something I need to ask ye.”

  Dain wanted to hazard a guess—he’d seen the way Mo looked at Lydia now, but the giant man was so uncommonly awkward that Dain stayed respectfully quiet.

  “Things being as they are—Sable’s loss—for yer sake we considered waiting—but then waiting ain’t always wisdom. The future’s unknown, and we’ve wasted so many years alone.” Mo’s knuckles tightened on the wheel. “Lydia and I would like ye to marry us, Captain.”

  Dain’s stomach lurched. He’d expected a profession of love for Lydia, but he hadn’t expected marriage. The same mix of emotions that’d plagued him while attending the wedding aboard The Wildflower came back in a sudden, vibrating rush, but Anira’s words resurfaced with them as well. ‘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.’

  He felt Mo’s hand engulf his shoulder. “I understand if ye say no, lad. Considering yer situation, it’s a difficult thing we ask.”

  Warmth spread through Dain’s chest. Mo was always thinking of him first. He unexpectedly grinned, and the next words out of his mouth came more naturally than expected. “I always knew you two would make a formidable match.”

  Every head on the ship turned their way when Mo’s rich laughter rang out again.

  21

  It was obvious that Idris was enjoying his freedom. Sable even caught a skip in his step when he thought no one was looking, but despite their newfound truce, the boy still treated her with suspicion. He’d inevitably warmed to Elden—the huntsman was all kindness and welcome, and Sable might even say that, in a more old-fashioned, chivalrous way, he rivaled Morgan Crouse. On top of that, the man was a natural with children, constantly telling Idris stories and giving him swimming or archery lessons whenever they took longer-than-usual rests. Idris never really stood a chance. It was no wonder that Ileana had fallen in love with the man in one short winter.

  For a moment Sable imagined their happy reunion, but then her mind flitted to Dain. She’d spent so much timing shutting him out of her thoughts in prison, that now she found herself thinking about him constantly. Her breath hitched—she’d also fallen in love with a man in one short winter, and she missed him more than life itself.

  Her gaze turned toward Idris and Elden. If only she could shift the boy, then they’d all be reunited right now. The temptation to test it was real, but Sable resisted. She’d made a promise to try to help Idris free his sister, and a test could potentially alert the stalkers to their location—it just wasn’t worth the risk. She let out a long sigh. After so many months at sea, free from being hunted, she now felt like she’d walked right back into her old life.

  Elden stopped, stretching his long muscled arms high above his head. “What say you, Idris—shall we rest?”

  Sable answered first. “I vote yes.” Rests were rare, Elden pushed them hard, and she’d begun to wonder when the soles of her boots would finally give way to these sharp crystalline floors. Not only that, but her feet were groaning in protest too. They’d been following the cavern river for days now, and she still couldn’t see an end to it. Not that she was complaining—this warm underground world had proven itself a safe haven, and despite the disgusting, wormy wall clumps, it was a far cry better than being hunted in the damp spring weather above. Elden figured the caverns should get them within a few spans of the sea. After that, they’d seek out the witch’s hidden cove along the coastline. Sable knew it was futile to hope that the stalkers had given up searching, so just in case, she’d refrained from using the Harbourage. It was a risk, but so far, so good. And hopefully there would be just enough potion left to get them to the sea safely.

  Elden eased the pack off his back, setting it against a large amethyst as he rolled his shoulders and looked from Idris to Sable. “Perhaps we should take the rest of today off?”

  Idris didn’t even respond. He simply stripped down to his undergarments and ran for the water.

  Elden’s brown eyes shone. “I’d say he’s a regular fish now, wouldn’t you?”

  Sable hummed in response, plopping to the ground as she watched the boy warily ease in up to his ankles. Not quite a fish, but definitely an improvement. Elden began rummaging through their pack, no doubt checking on their dwindling rations as Sable yanked off her boots and rubbed at her feet in relief. The massage was painfully delicious. It was only moments later that she looked toward the water again, and a cry lodged in her throat.

  Idris was gone.

  Sable jumped to her socked feet, running for the water’s edge. The surface was barely rippling, and she could see nothing but clear turquoise water straight through to the bottom. Where did he go?

  Elden was beside her in seconds, quickly stripping off his boots and heavy outer clothes as he frantically voiced her thought. He didn’t wait for an answer, simply dove and began searching every crystal crevasse beneath the surface.

  Nothing.

  Sable’s heart lurched, and she instinctively raised her hands. If the boy was down there, then she’d be able to sense him with her talent, even if she couldn’t shift him. Her fingers moved fast, signing for and pulling at whatever invisible force moved her magic. She’d always wanted to understand the full essence of her power—where it came from and why it worked the way
it did. For now, it just ran on pure instinct. Eyes tight, fingers flying, she felt the familiar resistance of her power. It always fought her to some degree, but she also felt a new strength well within. At least her imprisonment had been good for something.

  Straightening her back, she visualized Idris as she forced her magic to reach for him through the river, it was only seconds before it led her directly to the boy. He was submerged near the far side of the bank, but something had wrapped itself around him. She grasped for Idris internally, commanding her talent to shift him out of the water to her side, but the resistant force that hit her knocked her clean off her feet. Flat on her bottom, eyes wide and fingers shaking, she pointed and screamed, “Elden, over there!”

  The huntsman swiveled in the direction she was pointing. It looked empty, but he still pushed through the water for the opposite bank and dove.

  Sable held her breath as she watched Elden flail his arms, combing up and down through the empty water as he swam. Idris was there—she knew he was there.

  The huntsman stopped, his hands groping at something solid, and then he disappeared too.

  Sable gasped. What’s going on? For a moment she considered jumping in after them, but then she pushed to her feet and raised her hands again, willing her power back through the water as she visualized Elden. She quickly found the huntsman and shifted him, coughing and sputtering, to her side. Her fingers whipped through the air as she focused every ounce of strength on the invisible entity inside the water. If she couldn’t shift Idris out, she’d move whatever it was that was wrapping itself around him. Her talent resisted, arguing with her, telling her she couldn’t see it—that she didn’t know what she was doing. Sable ignored it, internally forcing her will and pressing harder. The water erupted, and she heard Elden suck air through his teeth as an enormous, water-wrapped form was lifted up to hover above the river.

  Idris floated to the surface seconds later.

  Elden dove for him.

  Sable stared at the entity. It looked exactly like one of the worms that clumped along the cavern walls, only it was the size of The Maiden’s mizzen sail, and the creature seemed to be able to wrap itself in water. Did the wall worms eventually grow this big and migrate? Sable grimaced. She had no idea how she was suspending the creature in mid-air, but the huge water-worm was writhing against her invisible hold, and Sable’s arms began to shake with the effort. She hadn’t only grown stronger, but her talent seemed to be leading her in new directions as well.

  Sable tore her eyes away from the worm to see Elden climbing back to the bank, Idris in tow. The boy was limp, still. Her chest squeezed—she’d made a promise. Something inside Sable snapped, and her hands wound into furious twists right before her fingers clamped painfully tight.

  The creature burst apart.

  The spray of water and worm hit the shore with storm-sized force, coating Sable and everything around her.

  What had she done?

  “Breath, Idris, breath!”

  Sable’s head snapped up to see Elden compressing the boy’s chest. She shuffled over the worm-littered bank toward them. The child was always pale, but now, every vein beneath the surface of his skin was visible. Sable stifled a sob.

  More compressions.

  The huntsman cursed. She turned away, grimy palms covering her face.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  She’d made a promise…

  A gurgle.

  Sable spun.

  Idris vomited.

  Elden slammed the boy hard on the back and turned him over on his side. “There, there! Keep coughing, Idris. Get it all out.”

  Sable sighed in relief. She wanted to reach out and pull the boy’s pale, wet hair from his face, but she hesitated. The memory of weeks in his thrall was still uncomfortably clear—maybe one day she’d be able to touch him without fear.

  For a time, the boy’s chest shook in watery, ragged gasps, but when his breathing finally evened, he looked up at Elden and said, “What was that?”

  Sable answered before the huntsman could. “A water-worm of some kind, but it’s gone now. You’re safe.” Her voice wavered, betraying her. They were not safe at all. She’d used her talent, and they had no proof the stalkers wouldn’t sense it down here. They needed to get moving, fast.

  Elden gave the river a wary look before lifting Idris in his arms. “We’d best move on.” He glanced at Sable next, his eyes filled with another kind of wariness. “Are you well enough to take the pack while I carry the boy?”

  Sable tried hard to ignore the look in Elden’s eyes—he’d seen her kill the worm, he’d experienced being shifted. She shoved the thoughts away. We’ll deal with it later. Pushing herself to her weary feet, she grabbed her boots, donned the pack, and nodded for Elden to lead the way.

  They’d been walking for hours, with Idris passed out but breathing against Elden’s chest. There’d been no sign of stalkers yet, but that didn’t mean anything. If the hunters had sensed her magic, if it had flowed out through any crevasse, they’d probably find a way down. Sable rubbed at her neck and rolled her aching shoulders. She’d put them all at risk. And yet, no matter how many times she played the scenario out in her mind, she still didn’t see any other way. If she’d dove into the river after them, she probably would’ve been trapped by the worm as well.

  The huntsman hadn’t said a word to her since leaving the riverside. She didn’t blame him. Sable felt rather dumbstruck herself. Idris may have used her talent to shift an entire battalion of soldiers in the emperor’s courtyard, but she’d just used it to levitate a giant worm and tear it to pieces. She glanced at a glowing orb of worms on the cavern wall, shivered, and then looked down at her shaking fingers. Her power had shifted, it was growing, and yet, it was completely useless on Idris and the stalkers. What had the boy suffered while being made? If it even compared to how the stalkers suffered—Sable heaved a deep breath.

  The boy squirmed in Elden’s arms.

  The movement drew Sable’s gaze up just in time for her to prevent herself from colliding with them. Elden stopped, turning with Idris still in his grasp. Sable wondered if he’d finally say something. Her talent might have come as a surprise to him, but they’d need to work this out, or the journey ahead was going to be awkward.

  Elden’s face was blank, empty.

  Sable jerked back a step. Idris’s eyes were ancient again, his gaze burrowing into her own, but it was Elden who spoke. “Don’t ever think that just because we have an agreement, and you saved us back there, that I forgive you for how you used me.”

  It was Elden’s voice, but not his words. Sable looked again at his vacant stare, her heart skipping a beat. This was the first time either of them had come into any extended physical contact with the boy since their truce, and Idris now had Elden in his thrall. The boy could use the huntsman anyway he liked—it’d been the risk the minute she’d suggested untying him, but despite these eery, ancient moments, she knew the boy was still in there, somewhere. She shuffled back a few steps, tilting her head, and planting her fists on her hips. “We don’t have time for this, Idris.”

  “Right. Because you put us in danger by using your magic.” This time, the boy spoke for himself.

  “And aren’t you using your talent right now?”

  Idris’s eyes turned a dark pink, and Elden’s shell took a step toward her. “The stalkers don’t sense me. I’m made—like them.” The boy winced at his own admission, like the memory jabbed at him somehow. Idris glanced up at Elden’s empty eyes, a petulant boyish look on his face. “We’d probably be better off without you.”

  Whatever fear Sable had first felt ebbed away entirely now. “Go tell that to the worm I just saved you from.”

  The boy’s eyes snapped back to hers. The ancient gaze was gone now, replaced by the tortured, pleading eyes of a child. “I can’t. It’s dead, and you’re still covered in the guts.”

  Sable rolled her eyes. “Let Elden go, Idris. This isn’t how you treat your friend
s.”

  The word friend seemed to resonate, thankfully.

  Elden’s arms shifted to set Idris by his feet.

  For a moment, Sable thought the boy might not take his hand off the huntsman’s arm, but then he awkwardly stepped away and broke the connection.

  Elden jolted like he’d woken from a nightmare, swatting at himself in reassuring pats. Sable wondered if the man was trying to make sure he hadn’t turned to stone again. What a horrible prison that must’ve been. The huntsman’s gaze flitted over Sable, landing on Idris at his side, and she could only interpret his look as dread. Sable remembered that feeling, that moment in the dungeon when she’d realized that someone else was in complete control of everything she did.

  Idris seemed to realize his folly. His chin tipped down, his white lashes fixed firmly on the crystalline ground at his toes. Sable’s first thought was that the child should have known better, but then she wondered how he could. He may have never known his parents, or had a proper upbringing. Who knew how long he’d suffered at the emperor’s hands with no one to love him? After nearly drowning, after all his trauma, the boy was probably grasping, trying to control whatever he could in his uncontrollable world. And, perhaps, since he’d grown so attached to Elden, he’d been afraid of losing his newfound friend if he didn’t find a way of keeping him. Sable’s childhood had felt chaotic, but she’d always had Tars to love her—to see her through. She’d obviously been one of the lucky ones.

  Elden swallowed visibly. Then, just as he opened his mouth to speak, a loud steel-on-stone cry echoed through the cavern walls.