He could not control his motion. Creatures flew from him, from arms and shoulders and torso and legs, spinning away into the gloom. Others clung on, claws digging through flesh and leather, chittering wildly in his ear. His arm struck a thrust of stone, and Mother’s Mercy spun from his grasp, clattering away into the dark. The last strength of his blood-bond left him. All his energy was stripped away, flayed like skin from flesh. His eyes darkened at once, and his thoughts fled him, and down he went…down down down.
He did not feel the rest.
He did not know how far he fell, or how he came to stop.
But when next he opened his eyes, he was lying bathed in a pool of radiant blue light, and dead creatures lay all about him, sizzling and burning. He could hear the rest of them, but only faintly now, staying far away, chittering in the blackness.
Exhausted, Jonik pressed himself up onto an elbow. His eyes flickered to the source of the light, blinding and beautiful in the dark of the underworld, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The smallest, weakest of smiles touched his lips. He reached out, stretching from the floor to touch it. “I found you…” he croaked. “I…I found you…”
His arm fell back down to the floor. He had no strength in him. He fought to stay awake, to drink in the glow, the power, the warmth, but it was no use. Once more the dark was closing in from the sides of his eyes, but this time he knew he was safe. He will protect me, Jonik thought, eyes closing. They cannot get to me here…here in Vandar’s light.
And there, deep in the bowels of the earth, he gave himself up to sleep. Lying alone in that island of godly blue light, surrounded by an ocean of darkness.
57
The weather was turning again.
From the window seat of Prince Robbert’s cabin Saska could see the dark rainclouds on the horizon, gathering menacingly, the unruly whitecaps on the water frothing and hissing. The waves had not yet grown large enough to trouble them, but that could change in an eye blink. The weather is as capricious as the gods, she thought. She’d come to hate both of late.
A pebble pinged across the room and Del gave a roar of triumph. “Finally!” He soared to his feet and pointed a finger down at the Butcher, who sat cross-legged on the floor, looking like a giant overgrown child from hell. “You lose, Meshface! You have to do what I tell you now.”
The Butcher did not look pleased. “You cheated,” he said, unfurling his legs to stand. His tattered red cloak fell down his back in strips. “I do not like being cheated. The last man who did that to me lost his manhood.” He leaned forward. “Do you want me to snip you, Dellard? I have made a hundred eunuchs in my time.”
The boy was aghast. “I never cheated.”
“You did. You crossed the line. Your throw was too close. You cheated.”
“I never.” Del’s eyes shot to Leshie and Jaito, who’d both gotten all of their pebbles into the tin cup already. That had left only Del and the Butcher to battle it out in a fierce finale, throw for throw and stone for stone until both only had one pebble left. On the previous throw, the Butcher’s pebble had hit the rim of the tin cup and bounced away when it looked sure to fall inside. The reprieve had granted Del one final chance and the boy had made sure to not miss it. “Did I throw too close?” he asked the others. “I didn’t, did I? Tell him I didn’t.”
“You didn’t,” Leshie confirmed. “That was fair and square, Parapet. Don’t be a baby. Just admit that you lost.”
“Never.” The Butcher folded his large scarred arms. “I never lose.”
“You did this time. You lost and now we get to choose a forfeit for you.” Leshie’s eyes twinkled with malice. The girl liked conjuring her forfeits, damn her. Saska had decided not to play the game herself for fear of losing again. Leshie’s stupid forfeit had only gone and made things awkward with Prince Robbert and frankly she could do without that sort of hassle. It was nice, she had told him, and that was the truth. A nice kiss, and he was a handsome prince. But a friend, that’s all. She never wanted him to think anything else.
“I will do no forfeit,” the Butcher declared adamantly. “I do not do forfeits for cheats and their cronies. Ersella is a crony to the boy Dellard. She is in cahoots with him.”
“Jaito will say the same,” Del insisted. “He saw as well. I never crossed the line.”
“Jaito is an honest boy,” the Butcher said. “And honourable. A fine archer, yes, and a finer man. He will speak the truth of this.”
“Stop trying to butter him up,” Leshie hissed at him. “Jaito saw the same as the rest of us. The shot was fair and you’ve got to do a forfeit. If you don’t we’ll throw you over the side and let the sharks eat you.”
“The sharks will not eat me. They are afraid of the Butcher.”
Leshie showed what she thought of that with a derisive hoot of laughter, then proceeded to jabber on again about forfeits and how the Butcher would do his ‘or else’. The Butcher took his leave from the cabin, pronouncing them all liars and cheats. Saska heard it all in snippets only as she turned her eyes back to the window, watching the waves grow taller, wilder, whiter. An eye blink, she thought. Already the black clouds were getting closer and she could feel the churn of the water beneath them, the thickening swells as Hammer rose and fell with the motion of the sea.
Del was still mumbling about how he didn’t cross the line when the door knocked and the young midshipman called Finn Rivers entered. He was a stout and sparky boy of thirteen, with a face full of freckles and flappy orange hair who seemed comfortable around everyone, whether prince or pauper, Butcher or Wall. That was the Rasal way. The boy was a Seaborn of strong blood and the protege of Bloodhound Burton, Robbert had said. “Sorry for the intrusion,” he chirped jauntily, as he drew to a stop just inside the doorway. “Just to say the weather’s roughing up and it might get a little wobbly in here. Captain says to batten down the hatches and sit fast. Do any of you get seasick?”
“Leshie does,” Saska told him.
“I do not.” The girl could be affronted by anything if she felt it made her look weak. The truth didn’t seem to have a say in the matter. “I never get sick. From the sea or anything.”
“You were sick on the crossing of Vandar’s Mercy.”
“Vandar’s Mercy? That was a thousand years ago. I was never sick when I sailed south with Rose and Ranulf, and that was a much longer voyage. He’d tell you if he was here.”
But he isn’t here. Ranulf had spent no more than a few hours in their company before he and Talasha and Cevi went flying off to the north again. To meet a demigod, Saska thought. Apparently Eldur wasn’t the only one of the Five Followers to have arisen…as Drulgar wasn’t the only titan. “You didn’t face bad weather on that voyage,” Saska reminded the Red Blade. She looked at Finn Rivers, taking matters into her own hands. “Leshie gets seasick. No matter what she says. Do you have a bucket for her to vomit into?”
“I’m not going to vomit.”
“You will. You’re already looking queasy.”
“I shall fetch one,” the boy said. He bustled off and returned a moment later with a pail in hand, placing it before Leshie.
She glared at him. “Are you stupid or what? I said I’m not going to…to…” Hammer rose up sharply upon a swell and Leshie visibly paled, swallowing her next words.
The midshipman gave a chuckle. “You and that bucket are going to become well acquainted, I feel.” He turned back to Saska, smiling. “Is there anything else you need?”
“Some fresh air,” she said.
“Oh? I’m not sure that’s…”
She wouldn’t hear of it. If they were going to spend any length of time cooped up down here she would take some air on deck first.
The wind assaulted her as soon as she stepped up the stair, howling like some dying beast as sea spray hissed across the decks, biting at her cheeks and stinging her eyes. On the main deck scores of soldiers were moving toward the ladders to descend down into Hammer’s bowels so the sailors might work unimpeded. The first mate Bill Humbert and boatswain George Buckley were going about, shouting for anyone who wasn’t required to clear off and find some space below. It was horribly crowded down there, Saska knew, and the soldiers did not look happy. Few had the luxury of space like she did. “I hope you have more buckets aboard,” she said to Finn Rivers. Half the men on deck looked green and nauseous and some were already retching.
