A grumble of thunder rattled overhead, an unnatural rumbling summoned by Celine and the man missing an eye. I’d heard the eerie hum of their
voices, then the violent skies that followed. Air fae existed back home. Hells, Stieg was one and had the power to pull sharp gusts of wind, but not like the sea fae.
Their songs brought violence.
“Sewell, do you know what’s going on?”
The cook stopped humming. He halted his scrubbing, and came to a frightening still. For a moment, I thought I might’ve offended him, but a rush of blood jolted through my veins when his eyes went wide. “Down, little fox!”
I didn’t have time to think, didn’t have time to breathe, before the thunder rumbled again, but it wasn’t alone. A boom sounded somewhere overhead. The walls shuddered. Clay ewers and tin plates tangled in chaos. Pots and knives fell off hooks and clanged against the floorboards.
I covered my head as two heavy bowls fell over my back. A bite of pain carved into my shoulder when the rim dug into my flesh before it clattered onto the floor.
“Keep her down. Keep her down,” Sewell shouted above me.
Only once his brawny arms wrapped around my shoulders did I realize he was shielding me. The man was built strong, but seemed weaker in a way, too gentle for a ship as this. It made me want to shield him. I tried to shirk Sewell off my body, but another blast swallowed the cooking room in deafening booms.
Wood splintered in painful cracks as the ship lurched and pitched in the rough sea. The knife fell from my grip. I tried to scramble for it but was thrown back when the ship swung in the opposite direction.
“Dark tides, me boys!” Sewell shouted at the madness.
We were tossed about like we’d been trapped in a rolling rum cask. On a third blast, Sewell flung toward the back wall, me right behind. His body bolstered my fall, and on the impact he moaned painfully.
I hurried off him, and let out a garbled scream. One of the chopping knives had lodged into his side. A stark bloom of blood stained his dingy tunic. Sweat already lined his brow as he panted, gripping the hilt of the knife.
“No!” I pitched to my knees and grabbed his wrist. “Don’t pull it.” The ship rolled. I had to brace on the wall to keep from falling into him and lodging the blade deeper. “Dammit! Sewell, breathe with me.”
He chuckled. “Shallow bite, little fox.”
Not as shallow as he likely hoped. Gods. I didn’t know this fae. No doubt he’d slaughtered my people by the dozens if he’d fought in the war, but he’d protected me. He was kind to me.
“Sewell,” I said, breathless. “Hold here.” I took his hand and secured his grip around a post marking the stove nook. “I’ll be back.”
“Dark tides, little fox. Best stay in the burrow.”
“Well, I’m rather averse to blood and death in my burrow.”
“Aye.” He nodded as if our conversation made a great deal of sense. “I’ll be back for you.” There was only one place on the ship I knew had
clean supplies. “Don’t move, and bleeding hells, don’t pull out that knife.”
I snatched the blade I’d dropped and scrambled to my feet, heart racing. Sewell hummed, but his skin was layered in sweat, and too much blood spilled from the wound.
All across the lower deck were cloth hammocks dangling from the ceiling. A few rooms near the back I took as wash areas, or the rooms where the crew dined. Sweat, leather, and the burn of piss perfumed the space. Another cruel dip of the hull, and I used one of the hanging cots to steady myself.
Damn Bloodsinger. Always calls for keeping the ship steady, and he was working mightily hard to toss the lot of us overboard.
I clamped the dull edge of the knife blade in my teeth and used both hands to steady my feet up the stairwell. Two more wild plunges over the
storm-tossed waves, and I managed to crack the hatch wide enough for my hand to slip through.
“Dammit.” A rope kept the hatch secured to the deck floorboards, trapping Sewell and me below.
I sawed at it with the knife until it snapped, then tossed the hatch and stepped into the chaos of the main deck.
Shards of wood and the black spikes flung over the deck in a cloud of smoke and ash. Crewmen scrambled up rope ladders to the high points of the mast. Most laughed wildly, much like Sewell, and swung from the rigging across a gap between the Ever Ship and a smaller ship with only one mast in the center.
Dozens of men manned the odd iron barrels pressed through openings in the hull I’d never noticed. One man opened a lid on the top, while the other dropped in a type of amber fluid. Together the men would brace the barrel.
My heart battered my ribs when the end of the barrel burst with a furious blast of flame and smoke, firing a glossy orb the size of a man’s skull across the gap between ships.
What the hells was this?
“What are you doing?” Bloodsinger held to the handles on his helm in an unforgiving grip. His hat was gone, only the black scarf on his head was left behind. Through the thin fabric of his billowy tunic his muscles throbbed with the exertion of steering his ship.
“Get below deck.” He glared down at me, teeth clenched.
“Sewell is hurt.” I didn’t give him a chance to protest before I sprinted into his chamber and flung open the wardrobe. “Linens. Linens. Oils. Where are they?”
I tossed quilts off the cot. Flung boots, tunics, and the fine, green coat. Celine had taken oils and linens when she’d forced me to wash before leaving the chamber. I spun around where the wash basin remained. Spilled beneath the table was the overturned basket.
The ship lurched, and caused my forehead to slam against the edge of the table. Dazed, I rubbed the spot, ignoring the heat of blood on my fingers, and grabbed the ball of linen wraps and the cleansing soaps.
Doubtless the wound needed to be stitched, but if Bloodsinger couldn’t steady his bleeding ship, pressure would have to do for Sewell. When I shoved through the door, the edge slammed into Celine. Her teeth were jagged points, and blood spilled from her eyes.
She tilted her head to one side. “King says get your ass belowdecks.” “What happened to you?”
“Nothing.” Celine patted her cheeks and lips, then chuckled and tugged on the points of the teeth, pulling them away. They were false, used to fit over her true teeth. “Terrifies stupid men. Now, get down there, or end up in there.”
She gestured over the rail of the ship. Gods! A swirling hole was punctured deep into the sea. Across the whirlpool was another ship. Smaller, but with the same dark laths and thick sails. There was no end to the abyss between the Ever Ship and the smaller vessel, yet the crew was lining up along the rails, snatching thick ropes of rigging.
“Take her in.” Larsson’s voice rose over the maelstrom.
He couldn’t be serious. I swung my gaze to the helm. Erik’s jaw was set. His stance wide. He spun the helm rapidly until it caught, rotated as far as it would go.
I grasped for the rail of the stairs leading to the king’s deck and watched in a bit of horror as the ship swerved abruptly off its course and dove bow- first into the torrent of the whirlpool. Before I had a chance to consider rushing back through the hatch, water spilled over my head. My lungs burned against the sea, and angry currents of the watery vortex pulled and shoved against me, threatening to rip me down into the depths.
The ship lurched as though tumbling down a rocky, underwater hillside. A violent tilt and sway of the hull churned my gut, then in the next breath, the bow angled toward the surface again. With a violent jolt, the Ever Ship burst through the white-capped waves on the opposite side of the whirlpool.
Bloodsinger worked with the whole of his body to control the tension of the helm. His voice was strained but furious as he barked orders for his crew to make ready. For what, I didn’t know.
“Hold tight, earth fae!” Celine’s high voice rose over the cries of the crew.
I didn’t look behind, didn’t question, and tightened my hold onto the railing. The ship skidded through the waves, twisting until it carved through the sea at a new angle. In the next breath, a deafening crack rattled through the storm when the jagged hull of the Ever Ship slammed into the weaker rails of the enemy’s vessel.
The bony spikes rammed into the wood sides, skewering the second ship. There was no pause, no waiting, before the crewmen used the rigging
and leapt from one deck to the next.
A hand curled around the back of my head. Erik, eyes dark with rage, pulled my brow to his. “Get below. Now.”
“Sewell is injured,” I snapped. “I wasn’t going to let him bleed out, you bastard.”
For the first time, Erik noticed the supplies in my hands. He offered me a pointed look, then bared his teeth briefly. “Go, and seal that damn hatch behind you.”
Without another word, the king wrapped a rope twice around his wrist, and swung over the torrential sea to meet his enemy.
There was a pinch of worry that tightened in my belly, like an annoyance, a bit of unsettled meat. No reason to fret over Erik Bloodsinger’s wellbeing. Truth be told, it’d be better if the gods took him to the Otherworld.
I spun on my heel, burying the disquiet, and raced down the steps belowdecks.
