His heart threatened to burst from his chest as the spikes descended toward them. Mage Threll cast a spiral wave of flame into the creature’s maw. The thing stalled and released a screech infused with a putrid wind but resumed its attack. Wesson knew the end was upon them, and for once permitted a trickle of the macabre joy at his core to breach the surface. He chuckled with mirth as he wove an unfamiliar spell of fire and nocent energy. A thrill drove through him as he cast the dark power. It spread from a single point, an oily black sphere the size of his fist, and each sphere thereafter splitting again and again. The swarm of black spheres struck the sea monster, some sailing past then turning to accost it from the rear. The blobs splattered against the creature’s slippery skin and stuck like molasses. Then, they began to sizzle. The creature screamed and its massive tentacles flailed as its skin bubbled and popped in acrid pustules. Wesson laughed uncontrollably as Mage Threll watched in horror.
“No!” she screamed, as she reached into the air.
Wesson’s laughter died when he spied the source of her distress. There, wrapped in a colossal tangle of tentacles, was Rezkin. His sword gleamed in the golden-red light of the setting sun as he struggled to free himself from the giant’s grasp. Then, he was plunged beneath the frothy waves as the creature dove into the darkening water.
Mage Threll began weaving a spell that Wesson had never seen used in such a way, a web that spiraled outward from the ship and then sunk into the water.
“There,” she said, pointing at the deck. “They’re beneath the ship. We must do something!”
Before Wesson could respond, the ship began to rise, the hull lifting free of the water high enough to send a shock wave through them when it crashed back down. Wesson and Mage Threll both collided with the deck and then tumbled into wall that supported the quarterdeck. Wesson looked up at the orange sky and blinked until all the images of a broken mast and sails became one.
His heart leapt as tentacles suddenly surged across the deck. The monster wrapped itself around the ship, and Wesson saw that one of the sinuous appendages ended abruptly in a pulsating amputation that spewed an acrid goo over the planks. He was alarmed that Rezkin was once again missing. Wesson sat up, and just as his head stopped spinning, the warrior came tumbling over the railing on the far side of the deck. Rezkin’s chest heaved as he tried to fill his lungs while pulling himself to his feet. He pointed, his sword fisted in a white-knuckled grip, and met Wesson’s gaze. He hollered something and then ran across the deck, picking up speed until he took flight, propelling himself from the railing onto the creature’s blistered, foaming head.
Wesson played the image over in his mind, trying to figure out what Rezkin had said. There, in front of him, for the briefest moment, it was as if the wind took shape. An unexpected gust smacked into him, and he heard it, Rezkin’s words carried on the wind.
“The ships! Demon on the ships!”
His heart pounding, Wesson turned and nearly tripped over Mage Threll. He helped her to her feet, grabbed her arm, and ran dragging her toward the rail. Two silhouettes stood out against the light of the setting sun.
“The ships,” he said to Mage Threll. “Rezkin thinks a demon is among them. It must be controlling the sea creature. If we do not destroy the demon, the sea monster will continue to attack no matter how much damage we inflict upon it.”
She said, “You saw him? He is alive, thank the Maker.”
“You did not?” he said, finally looking at her. That was when he noticed the bloodied matt of hair on one side of her head. Her eyes were unfocused, and she swayed on her feet. “Sit down,” he said. “Hold on to this rope so you do not fall overboard.”
As she slumped to the deck, Wesson glanced across the angry waves and saw that Rezkin was clinging to a sword buried deep in the creature’s hide while he hacked at the beast with a smaller blade. Then, Wesson looked to the two ships. Their sails were stowed, and they had not closed any distance.
“They are holding back,” he mumbled, just as the monster grabbed Rezkin and flung him into the air. Rezkin crashed into the frothy water, and the creature turned in pursuit. “He is only buying us time,” Wesson said.
He felt sick as the laughter bubbled inside him. He held his breath and then exhaled as he allowed the mirth to ascend. His heart danced to the symphony of destruction that sang within his mind as a spell, bred of chaos, shimmered in the air before him. He grinned, and the thrill of it pressed him into a fit of giggles. Finally, he whipped his hands forward, and he shouted. It was a terrible sound, a sound of anguish and desire. A silent wave of dark energy cut a scar across the water toward the farthest ship. He could see its crew scrambling, as if it might do them some good. Wards began rising along the ship’s bow, and Wesson’s laughter grew.
The dark wave did not collide with the wards or the ship. It shot straight through the hull with no apparent effect. Wesson released another breath. In that instant, the ship imploded, everything within crushed by a might force. When the compression reached a maximum, it exploded in a fiery ball of molten debris that rained ash and glass down upon the second ship. Wesson delighted in the wails of pain and fear that reached his ears on a hot wind. He raised his hands to dispatch the second ship, but his arm was pulled down by a firm grip.
Mage Threll used him to draw her weight upward until she was standing beside him. Her face was pale as she wearily pointed toward the frothy water nearer the ship. The sea monster’s tentacles had gone slack, and it listed to one side before sinking slowly into the depths. Rezkin floated in the water for a moment, facing the star-speckled, dusky sky, and then he began swimming toward the ship.
Wesson glanced back at the other ship. A gleeful smile threatened at his lips, but he wrapped it tightly with his will and pushed it deep into the dungeon from which it had sprung. It was a struggle, and part of him wanted to let it go, but Mage Threll’s firm grip kept him anchored. Then, the aftermath struck him. He heaved into the water as a cry escaped him. He looked at the evidence of his destruction. Where once dozens of men and women had lived, stood nothing but debris. He knew it was unlikely they would find bodies. They would have been crushed and vaporized, leaving behind no evidence that they had existed. Wesson slumped to the ground and buried his head in his hands as he sobbed.
Rezkin grabbed hold of the rope ladder someone had thrown down to him. He dragged himself aboard and stood tall, despite his fatigue. He still felt as if he were fighting for breath beneath the water, but he could not allow the others to witness his physical distress. His sodden armor was heavy after the long battle, and he had lost Kingslayer, but the monster was gone. Rezkin spied Captain Estadd at the helm barking orders. Others scrambled out of his way as he pushed away from the railing and tromped across the deck. They were like ants in a frenzy after someone had stomped their mound, except in one location. Journeyman Wesson sat on the deck with his head buried in his lap, and everyone was giving him a wide berth.
Gazing across the water, Rezkin saw the trail of debris that had once been a ship, and he understood. He glanced at Wesson and then waved to Captain Estadd. He said, “Light the flame.”
“What does that mean?” said Mage Threll, who sat beside Wesson, eyeing him warily.
Shezar, who had felt it necessary to hurry over to inspect him, answered in his stead. “They have raised the flag of surrender. We are accepting.”
Mage Threll said, “Our ship is in pieces. I am currently holding a ward over a hole in the hull right below us. If it is not repaired before I run out of energy, we will sink. Why would they surrender to us?”
“The second ship has been destroyed,” said Shezar. “The first is concerned that we will do the same to them.” His gaze landed on Wesson. “I doubt anyone has ever seen a ship so thoroughly decimated, and in a single attack, no less.”
Rezkin was focused on maintaining a steady breath as his heart calmed. He looked at the tortured mage. “Journeyman, how did you know which ship was carrying the demon?”
Wesson raised his head but would not look at them. “I had no idea. I intended to destroy them both. I decided the closest would be less likely to escape if I destroyed the furthest first.”
Rezkin nodded. “That was a well-considered strategy, and your spell was quite effective.”
Mage Threll hesitantly reached out and patted Wesson on the back. “That was … impressive. Where did you learn such a thing?”
Wesson shook his head, covering it with his hands again. No one pressed him.