The Poison of Woedenwoud (Magicfall Book 3) Page 6

  Chapter Eight

  Ling stared upwards, listening to the sounds of the crew. She rested on the top of the wheelhouse, her back flat against the vibrating deck of the Courser. It was dark, and she couldn’t see what was going on around her, but she’d been on ships and boats enough to know what was happening. Besides, the grimoire had been very clear about it. They were leaving the Darkling Sea behind, and the boatsmyn were preparing to raise the sails once again. She could tell everyone on board was lined up out on the deck, anxiously awaiting their first sight of the sun in months. She could hear them all around her, talking and laughing excitedly.

  Sails dropped from the mast with a loud whoompf, accompanied by a cacophony of shouts and the steady thump of feet against deck as the boatsmyn went about their tasks. Their excitement at leaving the dark was palpable, even from where she rested. She understood the feeling; she desperately wanted to see daylight again. She wanted to see what it was like to sail over that dividing line for herself. She tucked the grimoire into the leather bag Witch had given her and climbed to her feet.

  It was still completely dark on the Courser, but a short distance in front of them she could see a brilliant whiteness. It was as stark as if she’d painted a black line right alongside a white one, neither color blending into the other even the slightest bit. Real light didn’t work that way. Everywhere else in the world they’d sail through something like a sunrise, the darkness slowly fading away as the light grew in strength. But here magic dictated, not nature, and the dividing line was as clean as a perfect slice along her flesh from a newly sharpened blade. She pushed the glasses onto her face and several breaths later they swept out into the sunlight.

  At first she couldn’t see anything, blinded even with the dark glass over her eyes. She heard the sails snap in the wind and felt the warm touch of sunlight on her skin. The ship picked up speed as its sails filled with air. She blinked and blinked again, waiting for her eyes to recover from being sun dazzled.

  She heard a shout from somewhere off to her left. It sounded alarmed. She forced her eyes open against the brightness and immediately saw why. A ship drifted a short distance away from them. It looked like a fishing boat, but she could see no buoys in the water around it. Her blood went cold.

  A shout went up from the other ship, and suddenly the decks of both ships were boiling with activity. She could see no colorful robes in the seething mass of humanity on the other deck, but of course they’d not want to announce what sort of skills they had on board. The Courser was moving much too fast, and the other ship was far too close to avoid. They were going to sail right into it.

  “Warlocks!” Drake shouted from beside her. And then fire rained down on them.

  Dreskin was suddenly up on the deck, bow in hand. Any boatsmyn not directly involved in sailing the ship joined him, and volley after volley of arrows arced across the quickly narrowing gulf of water between the ships, burying their heads in flesh or wood or sail. Screams split the air.

  “Don’t let anything, human or animal, off that ship!” Drake yelled down at them. “We can’t let them get word of our location to the others.”

  The warlocks had far more people than they did, and much greater firepower. But they’d been completely unprepared for the sudden appearance of the Courser. The boatsmyn on both ships scrambled frantically to avoid a direct collision. The two ships came together just off of center and slid by one another so close Ling heard the scrape of wood on wood. Rigging snagged and tangled as they passed. Dreskin tossed his bow aside and leapt onto the deck of the other ship, blade flashing in the sun. An instant later the warlock crew boiled over onto the deck of the Courser.

  Several boarders scattered, knives flashing as they killed where they could. But several others moved in a tight knot, killing only when directly confronted. They looked behind every pile of crates, opened every door, and with a sudden chill Ling realized they were searching. They were using the cover of battle to sneak about the ship with an entirely different mission in mind. Ling had no doubt they were searching for her, though she was equally certain they’d be perfectly happy with Fern if they happened to find her first.

  With a jab of fear, Ling vaulted off the roof of the wheelhouse and sprinted toward the cabin. She had to get there before they did, to get Fern out before they could capture her. Her sudden movement caught the eye of a tall, pale-skinned woman. Their eyes met for an instant, and Ling saw two small purple amethysts shimmering to either side of the woman’s nose. And then the woman was moving as she whistled, a sharp sound that cut through the din of twanging bows and clanging swords with surprising clarity. In an instant Ling was surrounded. Only a few wore the stones of a warlock, but all stared at her with naked menace on their faces.

  The woman clamped a hand around Ling’s throat, lifting her up off the deck. Ling stared at her, wide-eyed, wrapped in a strange calm. They couldn’t kill her, she knew. For a moment she considered letting them take her. Perhaps capturing her would be enough to distract the warlocks, allowing Drake and Fern to get to Vosh and close the breach without the constant threat of warlocks on their tails. But she discarded the idea immediately. The one thing Drake had asked of her was to not allow herself to be captured at any cost.

  Before Ling could act, the woman coughed, then gurgled. A trickle of blood leaked from the side of her mouth. Ling stared at her in confusion before seeing the tip of a sword protruding from her chest. Her grasp on Ling failed as her arms began flailing wildly. One hand smacked one of the small biolumesce cups that lined the ship, knocking it off its bracket. It crashed to the deck as the woman fell, the water within it splashing everywhere as she sprawled onto the wooden planking.

  Ling saw Celene yank her hand back from the sword that was still jutting out of the warlock’s body and jump backward, eyes wide. Ling stared in shock. Her mind flashed to the story she’d read about the man who’d dunked a single finger into one of those bowls, the dire warning Fariss had given her about the small creatures that provided that gentle glow. The other warlocks exchanged quick looks before leaping overboard, not even bothering to look where they were going.

  The warlock’s body began to melt like a candle exposed to a very hot fire, and soon the deck below her began sagging too.

  “Run!” Ling shouted, but Celene stood still, eyes wide as she watched the body in front of her dissolve away. Ling could see Amalya a short distance away, huddled against a pile of crates as she cried. Ling leaped over the melting body and shoved Celene away from the quickly spreading mess. “Run!” Ling shouted. “Get Amalya and get out of here!”

  Celene’s eyes snapped back into focus as Ling continued shoving her forward, toward her daughter and away from the melting portion of ship. Ling lifted her voice, screaming for everyone to hear. “The biolumesce! It’s out! It’s eating through the ship!”

  Drake leaned over the rail on the wheelhouse, eyes two small circles of white in her brown face.

  “It’s out, Drake!” Ling yelled. “It was knocked over. We’ve got to get off the ship!”

  Drake clanged a bell that was bolted to the railing beside her. She tolled it three times, then leaped off the wheelhouse, landing beside Ling. “We couldn’t have sailed the Courser all the way to Nantes anyway,” She said, her tone flippant through the loss. “To the other ship!” She bellowed as she darted away, shouting at the boatsmyn around her as she went.

  Celene and Amalya followed Drake, but Ling sprinted the rest of the way to Fern’s cabin. She flung the door open so hard it bounced off the wall behind it and rocketed back toward her face. She let it slam closed behind her. The room was empty. She darted out again, screaming Fern’s name as she ran. All around her, people were dropping their weapons and leaping off the ship. Already the Courser was listing heavily to one side. In just a few more minutes there’d be nothing left of the ship.

  Boatsmyn were up in the rigging hacking at tangled ropes and bits of sail. Everywhere she looked, people were fleeing the ship, but she w
ouldn’t leave without Fern. She skidded up to the bow and collided with Fern as she came running around from the far side. They tumbled, falling to the deck together.

  “Ling! We have to go, we have to get off this ship!”

  “I know, I know.” Beyond Fern’s shoulder Ling could see the melting deck moving toward them. She couldn’t believe how fast it all was happening, how something so small could cause such destruction.

  Fern yanked her to her feet, and together the two of them leapt overboard as the last of the Courser melted away beneath them.

  They swam toward the big-bellied fishing ship. There were bodies all around them, some struggling, some floating serenely, faces turned forever downward into the dark depths of the sea. Ling could see Drake up on the deck of the other ship, side by side with Dreskin, blades flashing. But the fight was over. The warlocks had been disorganized and slow to respond, and despite the depression and anxiety that had plagued the Courser’s crew over the last months, they were well trained. The fighting was over almost as quickly as it had begun.

  The crew tossed the last of the warlocks over the edge as Ling and Fern were hauled aboard. She could hear Drake bellowing commands as the crew jumped into action, preparing the ship to sail. Ling let them do what they did so well, and she stood watching as the last bit of the Courser melted from view. She wondered how much damage the biolumesce would do as it sank to the bottom of the sea. Would it die in the saltiness of the ocean, or would this portion of ocean remain a deadly mystery to all who sailed it?

  Fern crouched beside her, head resting against the rail as she coughed and heaved.

  “Are you all right?” Ling asked hesitantly. This was the closest she’d been to Fern since her three disastrous attempts to make peace, and she was afraid just the sound of her voice would set Fern off again.

  Fern didn’t flee, but she didn’t answer either. She coughed again, dragging herself to her feet with the help of the deck rails, and then stumbled away without saying a word or even looking in Ling’s direction. Ling considered going after her. Fern looked much better than the last time Ling had seen her. She’d gained back most of the weight she’d lost, and the black bruising and angry scars had faded. But it was clear Fern was not as strong as she had been, and now she was exhausted, barely able to hold herself upright. Ling turned away, too afraid of Fern’s dagger words to risk running after her. Fern was safe, and that was enough for now.

  Instead Ling turned back, resting her elbows on the railing, and stared at the bodies floating in the water. Red stains spread from many of them, and with mild surprise she realized warlocks bled just the same as everyone else. She’d known that, of course. But Fariss and the warlocks had grown so formidable in her mind that somewhere along the line she’d started thinking them immortal. Ling’s side had won this skirmish, but she seriously doubted they’d win the war. Their enemy was too big, their window for success too narrow, and Ling was so tired.

  “She’ll come around, Ling. Just give her time.” Ling turned as Drake approached, settling her elbows on the rail beside her. Ling looked away, clamping her mouth shut on her harsh reply. Drake and Dreskin kept saying that, but Fern had not let up on her desire to go back even for one moment. Even now Ling could hear her talking to Dreskin, trying to convince him to turn back, to go back to Marique, back to Alyssum.

  “We’d have had to leave it behind regardless, but I hate to see it go that way.” Drake sighed with regret. “The Courser was a great ship.”

  “She won’t come around, Drake. She hasn’t budged even the slightest, has she?” Ling asked, knowing the answer.

  Drake sighed, shaking her head. “She will, though. She knows as well as I do this is what Alyssum wanted us to do, no matter how grievous her injuries. Or ours, for that matter. She’ll come around.”

  Ling could hear Dreskin saying much the same thing to Fern somewhere behind her. “I think she’ll leave as soon as she’s strong enough,” Ling said.

  “I think you underestimate her,” Drake said.

  Ling shook her head. “I’ve seen what she’s capable of. But I know how hard it is to be the last or the only. If there were a chance of me having even one other like me…I’d do anything to get to them too. It’s too much to ask of anyone, to be the last.”

  “It was too much to ask of you too.” Drake moved closer, her arm resting so close Ling could feel the heat radiating off it.

  Ling had spent much of their journey to this point huddled in the quietest corners she could find on the ship cutting herself over and over again. She’d tortured Amalya relentlessly, touching her or squeezing an arm or a toe, anything to set her off and torture Celene. She was angry, a deep, unforgiving, implacable sort of anger. Every morning she awoke as Evelyn, but by the time she’d finished reading the grimoire she was as angry as she had been when she’d finished writing the night before. Up until Drake had given her the choice to stay or to leave she had felt so out of control, so furious, and so lonely. It had driven her into a place darker than she’d ever thought she was capable of. Yes. She thought. Perhaps too much to ask of all of us.

  “You’re not alone, Ling. We may not be made of the same things, but your feelings are no different from mine or Dreskin’s or Fern’s. Your fears are our fears. Your joys are our joys. It doesn’t matter how you were created; you are one of us.” Drake closed both her hands over one of Ling’s. Her skin was damp, from sweat or seawater Ling couldn’t say. But her hands were so warm. “You found your way to it, so will she. Just give her time.”

  Drake moved away, yelling orders at her crew as they set about making their new ship sail-worthy. Ling lingered where she was, watching as some of the bodies floating in the sea around them began to bob and dance as the creatures of the ocean began to feed.

  Ling had decided to continue on with this quest, as hopeless as she thought it was. But Drake was wrong about one thing: Ling did not belong. Even in death those warlocks had more in common with living things than Ling ever would.

  Chapter Nine

  “Did anyone see anything make it off that ship? Anything at all, even if you think it insignificant. We have to be certain. This entire plan requires absolute secrecy if it’s going to work.” Drake looked at each of them in turn.

  They were huddled in the tight quarters of Drake’s cabin. Other than the small galley, which was big enough for two people to cook and serve food, this was the only enclosed place on the deck of the big-bellied ship. The deck was wide and empty, the usual clutter of a working fishing vessel torn down and removed. The barrels and crates of salt that should have been in the hold had been emptied out and replaced with dozens of swinging hammocks and straw-lined crates filled with all manner of alchemical concoctions. The warlocks had outfitted this ship for battle, not for fishing or comfort. The only remaining indication of the original purpose of the ship was its shape, a tangled knot of netting clustered in a dark corner of the hold, and the overwhelming stench of fish.

  Ling wondered how many ships the warlocks had commandeered in their effort to find the Courser. How many fishermen sat idle in port while their ships were used this way, and how many families would have no dinner tonight because of it?

  “There were a number of birds, but I’m certain we killed them all before they took to the air,” Dreskin said.

  Ling’s attention snapped back to the conversation going on around her. Dreskin, Drake, and Fern were crammed together in the tight space. They stood back as far as they could from one another, leaning against the walls, but would easily have been able to touch hands if they merely stretched toward the center of the room.

  For her part, Ling had been so overwhelmed with just keeping everyone alive she’d not even thought to look for anything that might get word to Fariss about where they’d exited the Darkling Sea. With a chill she realized just how broadly they’d had to analyze that risk. If all the warlocks aboard had been Tovenveran, the risk was relatively small. But if they’d had a Tovendieren…her mind boggled a
t what that would mean. Tovendieren magic meant that any living creature could have been used as a messenger—bird, reptile, insect. She had no idea if there were any limitations to what a Tovendieren could speak with, and the thought gave her a shiver.

  “I watched. The crew watched. Nothing got off that ship,” Dreskin answered. “I didn’t see any citrine either. Every navire I saw was amethyst.”

  Citrine, the beautiful golden yellow stone that was the color of the Tovendieren. She hadn’t noticed any yellow navire at all, only the glinting purple amethyst of the one woman, the Tovenveran, who had attacked her. Her mind flashed for a moment to the bloody tip of a sword jutting from the woman’s chest, and Celene’s wide, terrified eyes. Celene had killed that warlock, had saved Ling’s life, after Ling had stared her in the eye and grabbed Amalya to set her off. An ugly twist of guilt tangled in her guts at the thought.

  “Ling?”

  Ling yanked her focus back to Drake and to the topic at hand. Drake was looking at her, eyebrows slightly raised.

  “What?”

  “What navire did you see? Any yellow?”

  “I only saw amethyst, none other.”

  “I doubt they only had Tovenveran on board. They had to have had at least one Tovendieren,” Drake said, almost to herself.

  “Perhaps they were taken by the biolumesce. Or perhaps they wore no navire. Not all warlocks have them,” Dreskin said.

  They were quiet for a while, considering. Ling watched Drake as thoughts flitted across her face, ideas picked up, examined, and then set aside. “Dreskin, ask Celene to join us in here please.”

  Ling didn’t want to see Celene. Not after what she had done to the woman, to her daughter. What she’d done over and over again for weeks. She felt her cheeks flood with shame. She had no choice about sharing the ship with her, but Ling had no intention of sharing this room with her. She moved to follow Dreskin out of the cramped space.