by Elle Cardy
“And the visions are back,” she said, bracing for his reaction.
His frown deepened. Nothing else. His lack of reaction begged an explanation.
“What happened when you went ashore with Marcelo?”
Finn studied the teapot. “We should talk later. His tea will get cold.”
“Let it get cold. What do you care? Tell me what happened.”
Finn looked toward the glowing lights of town. “I … witnessed another silencing.”
For a brief second, the world seemed to hush at the mention of the appalling practice. Countless times they’d tried to convince Marcelo to stop the silencings, the Guardians’ weapon of choice when dealing with rogue wielders. Somehow the Beast fed off the silencings, making it stronger. But Marcelo would hear none of it. He had even declared that their claim about the Beast’s existence was a fanciful hallucination their minds had conjured while under extreme pressure.
A fresh silencing? That could explain the visions. It would also mean it hadn’t been something she’d done.
“There was nothing I could do.” Behind his eyes, ghosts haunted him. “The scream…” He shuddered. “No one came running to the sound of that scream.”
Jasmine found herself suppressing a shiver. “That old codger needs to know how important it is to stop the silencings.” She dropped her voice to a whisper as if her terror would draw attention. “The Beast—”
“No need to remind me.” Finn held the teapot close to his body as if gaining warmth from it. “I still have nightmares about that thing.”
“You too?” He should’ve told her.
“I should’ve told you, but I didn’t want you to think I was…”
“Weak?” She laughed and stroked his adorable face. She wanted to kiss him, but she was supposed to be on duty. “Go take Marcelo his tea before he dies of thirst. We’ll talk more later.”
Just having an explanation for the visions eased her mind a thousand-fold. It was something she could understand, if not control. While there was no reversing the power already given to the Beast, they would need to find a way to stop the silencings. Somehow. The future of Erenna depended on it.
Jasmine shuddered at the thought of the Beast escaping its prison.
Finn caught her fingers in his hand and gave them a gentle squeeze. “Jasmine, I love you.”
To hear him say those words warmed her, but she was never sure what to say in return. When she said it in her head, it sounded awkward, even silly. Yet she cared deeply for him. She was certain he knew that.
She nodded and let him go.
Finn headed for the hatch that led below. Before he could get there, he stiffened. The teapot slipped from his fingers and shattered against the deck. Hot liquid splashed against the timbers.
“Finn?”
He fell to his knees as if praying to the sea gods.
The hidden intruder. She must’ve returned. Regardless of the warnings, Jasmine wielded. With her power, she blasted the area surrounding Finn. A flurry of sparks blew out from a single point in front of him. A petite woman appeared in blue light. She flew backward off her feet and slammed against the door to the captain’s quarters. The brass sea serpent knocker jumped on impact. The woman didn’t move.
Finn collapsed to the deck, his hands covered in blood.
Jasmine rushed to him.
A barb lay buried in his side. She gathered him up in her arms as a woman might gather her child. Closing her hand around the barb’s obsidian end, she pulled. Above the roar in her ears, she barely heard it clatter to the deck. Pressing her hands against his wound to stop the blood, she wielded.
She didn’t know what to do to save Finn. She didn’t know how a body was made or how all its pieces worked together. All she knew was that he needed to be stitched back together. So she did. Or tried to. The weapon had gone in deep. So very deep.
Marcelo appeared, clasping both sides of the door leading below. “Don’t be a fool!” Power surged from him, so rapid she had no time to defend against it.
The force of a stone wall struck her. Her magic cut off in mid-flow, and she fell away from Finn. Scrambling to her knees, she reached for him. She had to finish healing him. He couldn’t die. Her body refused to obey. It suddenly felt weighted as if she sank into a depthless ocean. Her limbs fought against the pull. She found herself sitting on the deck, unable to move.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on wielding. Nothing happened.
“What have you done to me, old man?”
Marcelo panted. His skin shone with a pale gleam. “I’m doing this for your own safety,” he said through clenched teeth.
The assassin by the captain’s door stirred. She sat up and blinked. “Interesting,” she murmured, then vanished.
The ship’s bells tolled.
Chapter 4
Willem burst onto the deck at the same time as Durne flung open his door. With one arm in a dry shirt, the captain swept the scene with a shrewd eye. He barely glanced at Jasmine sitting on the deck as if it were a fine summer day. He raised an acknowledging hand to Aurelius, who stopped pulling on the bell.
“The intruder?” Durne asked as he shouldered into his shirt.
“Gone,” Marcelo said. “As should we be.”
Durne frowned at the man and barked out orders for Willem to fetch Brusan to the infirmary.
Brusan was a cook, not a doctor. What was the captain thinking? It didn’t matter that they hadn’t had a real doc since their old one retired a month ago. That was no excuse for putting Finn in the care of a cook, of all people.
“I can heal him,” Jasmine said.
“No, you can’t,” Marcelo whipped back.
Ignoring them both, Durne gently picked up Finn and swept away.
Jasmine had to get down there. Instead she was stuck with Marcelo, the broken shards of a teapot, and a pool of Finn’s blood. Where was the dagger that had been used to attack Finn? She couldn’t see it anywhere. She didn’t recall the would-be assassin taking it either.
“What are you looking for, girl?” Marcelo asked.
She blinked away stinging tears and again cursed Marcelo. “Did you pick up the weapon?”
Aurelius approached. “It melted.”
“Blades don’t melt,” she snapped.
The kid hesitated.
“Explain,” Marcelo said to him.
“It was as if it had been made of shadows,” Aurelius said. “It turned into a puddle, evaporated in a curl of black smoke, and vanished.”
More magic.
There was nothing she could do while Marcelo held her down with his power. That old wielder had more tricks in him than she’d guessed. She was supposed to be stronger than him. She tried gathering her power again.
“Stop that,” Marcelo hissed. “You must hear me, Jasmine. When left unchecked, you are a beacon with your wielding. You must learn to control it, or in the very least, hide it.”
No power came to her grasp, so she gave up.
“The Beast is back,” she said.
“Not this again,” Marcelo said as he looked skyward. “There is no Beast. If there were some Big Bad out there, I’d know.” He paced the deck.
“What about the visions?” she asked. “Have you seen new visions of boiling seas?”
With his back turned, he stopped pacing. She should’ve waited until he faced her before she’d asked the question, then she might’ve been able to glean something from his expression.
As he scratched his gray-whiskered chin, he muttered to himself and slowly turned. His expression told her nothing except that he was tired. “Those visions were changed when we defeated the mad captain. That particular course of history was diverted. Be happy with the victory and move on.”
Jasmine stopped listening when he rabbited on about her energy being better spent toward controlling her magic. Even Aurelius moved away without another word.
Like a shark sniffing bloo
d, the old man swiveled on his heel. He peered into the shadows of a hatchway. Willem climbed out.
The crewman tugged on his belt. “Seems I’m on watch now.”
Jasmine turned her stare on Marcelo.
“Fine,” the old man said to her. “I’m going to release you. Promise not to cause a ruckus?”
Jasmine continued to glare at him.
“No lashing out. I had to stop all that wielding of yours. You are a bonfire. Promise not to wield?”
She gave him no promises.
Marcelo did something. She couldn’t read what it was. It seemed he could hide his flow of power if he chose. Weight lifted from her shoulders. The invisible tethers binding her limbs and her magic unwound. She shook herself free and clambered to her feet. As tempting as it was to lash out at him, she pushed past without a word. She needed to get to the infirmary. She needed to save Finn.
When she burst in, she stopped short. The room was steeped in death. The sick bay was barely big enough to house a cupboard of medical supplies, a narrow desk, and five low cots for patients. The close bulkheads and the low light gave it a funereal feel. The quiet too. Thick and sullen, misery clung to the timbers, the gray blankets, and the shadows. It choked the very air.
A single lantern hung from a hook above the cot closest the door. In that light, Brusan hunched on a low three-legged stool, the large curve of his back casting long shadows at her feet. His head was bowed. Jasmine couldn’t see past Cook’s large form. Durne stood at the foot of the bed, looking surly.
All Jasmine could see of Finn was his booted feet. She’d run the whole way to the infirmary, and now that she was there, she was afraid to move into the room, afraid of what she might find. Beyond the pool of light, Philips shifted in his sleep in the cot farthest from the door.
Durne approached her. “He’ll live,” he said in a low voice.
His words rattled through her. He’d meant Finn. Finn would live. Relief sang in every nerve. She released a slow breath.
“Brusan did a fine job patching him up, but Finn needs rest.”
She shifted her feet to get past Durne. He didn’t budge. At last he muttered something under his breath and stepped aside, giving her room to pass. She swept to Finn’s side, opposite Brusan.
Brusan scowled as he ran his gaze over her. “You go swimming for some reason?”
Finn’s skin had an ashen sheen, and his breathing was shallow. A puddle of sweat had gathered in the hollow at the base of his throat. He still wore the ragged remnants of his bloodied shirt, which had been ripped open, revealing his bare chest. A bandage wrapped around his waist was stained with seeping blood.
She sank to her knees beside him, cupping his hand in hers. She could still heal him. In the very least, she could take away his pain.
Marcelo entered, a burning presence in the room. “No wielding.” The command in his voice made her hesitate. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You could risk Finn’s life. Neither do you understand the dangers of wielding so close to this particular shore.”
“Then explain it to me,” she said, straining to keep the anger from her voice.
“I shouldn’t need to.”
What kind of reply was that? Jasmine needed answers like a fire needed fuel. “What about the would-be assassin? She’s still on the loose somewhere.”
“She’s no longer on the ship,” Marcelo said.
“How can you know for sure?” Jasmine hadn’t seen or even sensed the assassin. How could Marcelo?
“Why did she want to kill Finn?” she asked. “What happened when you went to shore?”
Marcelo ran a hand across his face. “We need to leave these shores as soon as possible.”
“Answer me.”
“I’d like to know that story too, old man.” Durne said. “Clearly something happened in Oakheart.”
Marcelo let out a slow sigh, dropping his shoulders and bowing his head. He had the look of someone who could’ve sunk to the bottom of the ocean and been pleased about it. Dragging his feet, he moved into the room and sat on the cot next to Finn. He breathed another sigh.
“Oakheart has never been a good town.” His gaze traveled over Finn. “For wielders especially. We’re not exactly revered at the best of times, but in Oakheart we are downright feared and abused.”
Great place to set up a base for the Guardians, Jasmine thought.
“We passed a narrow alley in the middle of town. Finn must’ve sensed the power. I don’t know how. Maybe he is attuned to it after his experience at Sapphire...” His voice drifted off, and he seemed lost in his thoughts.
“We don’t have all night,” Durne rumbled.
Marcelo coughed. “I tried to stay him, to explain it wasn’t our business, but as usual, the boy wouldn’t listen.”
Finn made no response to the talk floating around him. As far as Jasmine could tell, he was lost in some fever dream. His fingers twitched in her hand.
“Without a thought to himself or anyone else, the boy ran into the alley.” Marcelo’s chin quivered. He rubbed at his whiskers. When he looked up, his eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Perhaps Jasmine had misjudged him. Perhaps he did care, just a little, about what happened to his former student.
“I chased after him,” Marcelo said. “The fool boy. We found two wielders in that alley. One was silencing the other. A nasty business, granted, but not our business. Still, Finn decided to barge in on a matter about which he had no understanding. He wielded, revealing himself as a wielder. An untagged wielder. In a town where it’s law to tag all wielders.” Marcelo shook his head.
“I take it that didn’t go well,” Durne said.
“The one doing the silencing retaliated. Of course. If I hadn’t been there, Finn wouldn’t have had a chance. He nearly got himself killed. Fool boy.”
Finn hadn’t told her any of this. All he’d said was that he’d witnessed a silencing.
“You think that’s why the assassin attacked?” Durne asked. “Oakheart justice?”
“Most definitely. Which is why we need to leave. Now.”
Marcelo might’ve spoken a lie. Her magic usually told her when someone lied, but it was harder to tell with the old man. His explanation hadn’t felt right. While the attack on Finn might’ve had something to do with revenge or justice for his part in interfering with a silencing, it might’ve also had something more specifically to do with the Guardians. Finn had once told her that only Guardians knew how to silence. If Finn had tried to mess with their plans, then that was bad. So very bad.
“The majority of my crew is still on shore leave,” Durne said. “We aren’t going anywhere.”
“We have enough supplies for our journey to Auslam,” Marcelo said. “With an assassin on the loose, why endanger the ship more than necessary?”
“You don’t tell me how to ‘captain,’ and I won’t tell you how to ‘old man.’”
Jasmine raised her eyebrows. A part of her wanted to see how Marcelo would react to the insult. The other part feared for Durne. She wasn’t sure her captain knew the magnitude of the old man’s powers or his willingness to make things happen his way.
Marcelo clasped his hands in front of him and took in a deep breath. “I understand leaving early might hurt potential trade opportunities, but the safety of the ship should be your first priority.”
He’d likely get thrown into the brig — if they had a brig. Maybe Durne would throw him overboard. That would be worth seeing.
Jasmine frowned. Marcelo must’ve wielded to save Finn, revealing he too was an untagged wielder. In the very least he would’ve messed with the Oakheart Guardians by saving Finn from their retaliation. Maybe that was why he was eager to leave. It wasn’t solely about Finn being in danger, it was about Marcelo saving his own precious neck. That made more sense.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Durne shook his head. “This ship is my first priority, old man. This ship and this crew. Be
cause of that, we aren’t going to do anything just yet.”
Jasmine had to agree. As much as she wanted to keep Finn safe, running away wasn’t the solution. Hiding didn’t fix anything. If they ran, then the assassin could follow. Guardians weren’t quick to give up a pursuit either. Finn would never be safe if they ran.
But to do nothing was worse.
Jasmine studied Marcelo’s face in the lantern light. The white strands of his hair were in a constant state of disarray, making him look befuddled. That was a lie if ever there was one. There was nothing befuddled about the man. He saw visions and took care to craft plans to turn those visions to his own advantage. “Did you know this was going to happen when you took Finn to town?”
A dark look came to Marcelo’s eye. “I don’t see every moment of every day.”
That wasn’t a no, though. He couldn’t be trusted. Too many times he’d proven he had his own agenda.
A gentle hand touched her shoulder. Durne. “There’s nothing more you can do here. Go. Clean up.”
No one had ever cared about her appearance, clean or otherwise. She looked down at herself. She was covered in blood, and she was still sopping wet.
She tightened her grip on Finn’s hand. “What about the assassin? She could return and finish the job. If we aren’t going to leave, then … then we should hunt her down.”
Guarding Finn wasn’t enough. To be sure of his safety, she needed to fight back. This was something she could do, something she understood. No one got away with trespassing on her ship. No one hurt Finn.
“And how do you propose that?” Durne said.
The captain’s question gave her hope. He hadn’t dismissed her outright. He was willing to listen, to consider. She just had to come up with a smart plan.
Brusan glowered at her from across the cot. “Don’t be messing with that woman. You know nothing about her.”
Of course he wasn’t going to support her. “We could follow the assassin’s trail,” she said to Durne. “I could hunt her down. I’m sure of it.”
“You couldn’t see her,” Durne said. “It seems unlikely you’d be able to find some vague trail to follow. Besides, we don’t know enough yet.”