Page 78
Story: Minor Works of Meda
Kalcedon shook his head in exasperation.
“It’s not forever,” I told Oraik. “We’ll fix this eventually.”
We exited the cove, the wide ocean before us, capped by Montay’s hazy, distant forests. I turned us left along the coast of our isle, hunting for any signs of a village or town where we might find something to eat, or at least something to fish with. The tide was going out, and the wind with it. I let it pull us away from the shore, still in close enough sight to circle and hunt for somewhere to dock.
There was a pulse of something, in the water: raw power. The magic was formless, untamed. A strange, wild heat.
“What was that?” I twisted over my shoulder to look back at the stretch of ocean. Kalcedon moved along the edge of the boat towards the stern, dark eyes studying the horizon.
“What was what?” Oraik wanted to know.
“I felt it before. When we escaped,” Kalcedon said.
“A tracker?”
“I’m not… it’s in the water.”
“Oh, I don’t like that,” Oraik muttered, and inched towards the center of the boat.
“I felt it yesterday too,” I admitted to Kalcedon. “Nothing came of it. We have to keep sailing.”
“That doesn’t seem wise,” Kalcedon murmured. He turned to look at me instead of at the sea.
“Well, what else is there? Go investigate?”
“We could go ashore, like sensible people,” Oraik said.
“There. It’s closer.” Kalcedon whipped back away from me. “It’s coming this way. Fast.”
A hum of power. Then nothing. A hum again, loud, right by us. And then absolute silence, the only power coming from Kalcedon, as if the magic were gone, or pulled tight. I squinted the way it had come from, wondering if someone were sending a tracking barb our way; perhaps a witch or a faerie under a concealment.
A massive shape erupted between us and the shore, rocking the boat violently. We flew back from Degnac. Oraik screamed.
The beast had slick skin and a heavy jaw. Its wide-set, glossy eyes regarded the boat like an inconvenient toy—or perhaps a snack. The eel-like head, as big as any of us whole, rose ten feet above the water on a thick and sinewy neck. Unfamiliar, untamed magic shimmered around it like a cloak.
“Holy horned Goddess,” the prince shrieked, and then repeated it again.
An empty water jug rolled across the deck. I went with it, sliding straight into Kalcedon, who was pressed to the railing. He straightened me with one arm, the fingers on his other hand already working towards the same spell he’d used time and again on the warship.
A fae beast. Drake. On this side of the Ward.
I dove for the ropes. Catching the wind, I spun us away from the isle and the beast. Land would be safer, but we couldn’t reach it without getting around the drake.
It lunged towards us as we fled, jaws snapping a foot away from the wood. Its mouth was full of rows upon rows of long, serrated teeth, each as long as a sword. A hot gust of breath that stank of rotting fish assaulted my nose.
Kalcedon’s attack hit. I could see the exact spot; his magic marred the skin of the drake just above its right eye, but seemed to have less effect than it had on the soldiers. The creature didn’t come to pieces.
It only roared, reared up high out of the water, and came crashing down flat like a falling tree. We tilted so hard water sloshed into the wolf’s hold. I nearly went over and had to grab the railing with my whole arm to keep from popping out of the boat like a mussel pried from its shell.
“Wind!” I yelled. Kalcedon formed another attack. “Wind, wind!”
“I don’t know how,” he snapped.
This was what we got, for Kalcedon’s reluctance to study. I shoved the ropes into Oraik’s hands and did it myself, grabbing a fistful of Kalcedon's power. As strong a wind as the wolf could handle punched straight into the sails, and we leapt further out to sea.
The beast was below water. Somewhere. It could come up beneath us, I realized. Was it worth turning around and heading towards Degnac? What if it blocked our way; what if I sailed straight into it?
A pulse of magic beneath the waves, thick and hot as soup. Kalcedon cursed. He roamed the rail of the ship, eyes hunting for his target.
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