“We’ll sail to the other side of the island,” Cat said, “and give those frigates a wide berth.”
“That will take hours,” Ilior said. “The other side might be just as bad or worse. Let’s just take our chances—”
“Absolutely not. We’re short-handed enough as it is. We can’t outmaneuver any threat with so few hands. And once on land, we’re without Svoz or Selena or even that Bazira witch and her magic.”
“Or Sebastian and his swords,” Niven put in.
Cat gave him a tired look. “The best we can hope for is an empty stretch of water to anchor down and an empty beach to land on. We have no numbers; we need stealth. And it won’t take hours. Calinda is small.” She gave the Bazira ships another look. “We sail on.”
Ilior didn’t argue but then he had no choice.
They sailed an easterly route parallel to Calinda until Cat commanded the crew to head the ship north, toward the island. The storm clouds were thicker now and Niven thought they’d open at any moment and the rain would come down. The wind had picked up, and the Black Storm plowed through swells bearded in white.
Cat peered into her glass. “Now what in the bloody Deeps…?” Niven watched her frown, lower the glass to watch the island with her naked eye, and then raise the glass again.
“What is it?”
“I thought they were logs or some other kind of flotsam,” Cat murmured. “But now…”
“What?”
Cat’s eyes looked haunted. “You’ll see soon enough.”
A deep silence fell over the crew as the ship sailed closer to Calinda and the first corpses thudded against the hull. Niven felt his stomach roil to see the water littered with hundreds of them—merkind and men, both—bobbing obscenely on the choppy sea.
“The god have mercy,” Niven breathed. “This is where the sickened merkind have come to die.”
“No, it’s where the sickness is born,” Ori said in a quiet voice. “The poison of the darkpool.”
“The darkpool?” Niven asked. “The water Accora gave us?”
“Yes,” Ori said, inclining her head in Ilior’s direction ever so slightly. “Dangerous and deadly. Especially in the hands of the Bazira.”
“Bacchus will use that foul water on Selena,” Ilior said. His voice was low—none dared to speak too loudly as if they feared to disturb the dead—but a bright anger burned behind it. Bright like fever. “Your witch lied to Selena, didn’t she? She sent her to her death…to die like these…” he waved his hands at the corpses surrounding the ship. “It was a plot all along, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, a plot,” Ori said. “I do not deny it. And I’m certain that Accora hasn’t denied it either. But the plot was not for Selena’s death, but Bacchus’s.”
“But what of Selena? Does her wound remain?”
Say no, Niven thought. Say no! His heart plummeted when Ori only shrugged and said, “Impossible for me to say.”
Ilior curled his lip. “She’s been lied to by everyone around her since the beginning.”
Ori cocked her head. “Including you.”
The Vai’Ensai fanned out his lone wing and Niven thought for sure he would throw the Haru overboard.
“Something’s happening on shore,” Marcus called from the main deck. “Big commotion.”
Cat put her glass to her eye. “Looks like someone kicked over an anthill. I see ice and steel flashing. A battle.” She snapped the glass shut. “Someone is fighting the Bazira.”
“So…what does that mean? What do we do?”
She smiled. “We help.”
Cat barked orders at the crew to speed their arrival on Calinda, but there weren’t enough hands to sail the Black Storm efficiently. She was tossed on the choppy seas and fought the wind at every turn. By the time the ship neared Isle Calinda, the battle was ending. They heard the clang of steel and even the calls by the Bazira for ice, and then the storm broke. The sky tore open and rain fell in sheets. Between flashes of lightning, they saw the beach was empty but for the dead.
Cat ordered the anchor dropped and the skiff lowered.
“You will not leave us here,” Marcus told her. Rain streamed down his face and dripped off his salt-and-pepper beard. “We must be permitted to come. To fight for Selena…and for Sebastian.”
Ilior rounded on him. “I should rip your throat out, old man, for all the lies between you and Vaas.”
Marcus smiled sadly at the dragonman. “Such hatred is not in your nature. You fear for the girl. That fear is speaking, not you.”
“You deserve my hate,” Ilior loomed over the man. “You and Vaas both.”
Marcus shook his head. “He needs her in a way you can’t understand…”
Ilior roared, his voice as loud as the thunder that boomed in the sky. Marcus cowered. “He needs her? To the Deeps with him!” He raised his sword and Niven thought he would slice the old man to ribbons.
“There’s no time for this!” Cat pushed between them, shouting to be heard above the storm and Ilior both. “Ori will come with us but no one else. We’ll need her light weaving and healing. You, Spit,Whistle, and Cur, you need to stay with the ship. Ilior’s right,” she said. “You knew who he was. We can’t trust you.”
“Aye, but you can trust us with the Black Storm if it suits you?” Marcus countered.
“If the four of you can sail her by yourselves with only one voice and a storming sea, then you deserve her.” She jabbed her finger at Marcus when he started to protest again. “You made me captain when you were desperate and needed me. So now I’m the captain and I’m giving you an order. You will stay here and man the ship until we return, savvy?”
She didn’t wait for a reply but snapped at Spit and Cur to ready the skiff. Marcus fell back into the silence he’d adopted for so long. Niven patted his shoulder.
“It will be all right,” he said. “I think.”
Marcus’s eyes shone under his bushy brows. “I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter, lad. If our girl has learned the truth about Sebastian from the Bazira instead of from him, it’s too late for him.” He patted Niven’s cheek with a calloused hand. “Best get on now, and bring Selena back safe. If you can.”
Ilior rowed the skiff ashore as fast as the choppy waters would allow. Niven winced every time the boat or an oar struck a dead body but the Vai’Ensai paid no mind. He pulled hard and when it ran aground, he jumped out and hauled it onto the beach. The foul water lapped at his boots but he didn’t seem to notice or care. The others were careful not to let it touch them as they leapt out of the skiff and ran up the beach. The rain no longer came down in sheets but showed no signs of abating either. The sliver of a moon hid behind the storm and the beach was cloaked in darkness but for the occasional tear of lightning across the sky.
“Ori,” Cat said, “light.”
“Are you sure that’s safe?” Niven glanced about. The bodies of the dead were dark lumps amid the stands of dried grass, while the merkind corpses tumbled and rolled against the shore with the tide.