Page 10 of The Malice of Moons and Mages (The Broken Bonds of Magic #1)

Ten

Lua

S ong hovered over the horizon as morning marched toward the Requin . When Starling rose, it would rouse the crew and burn Lua’s skin. But, for now, the ship still slumbered.

While Audra retrieved his robes, Lua found his way into the kitchen for sustenance of his own. He’d lied when he said he could get them safely away. He was still too weak, and drawing on Audra wasn’t much better than starving.

What he found in the galley would have to do. The large man slumbering in the tight closet reeked of onions and burnt rat meat. This must be the infamous Munk whose “stew” was slowly giving the entire crew dysentery and had probably contributed to his anchor’s malnourishment. Lua drained him before he could wake. It would have to be enough for them to get away and speed toward land. Audra would have to handle things during the day to ensure their survival.

It was too risky to siphon the other crew members. Waking them was dangerous, and confrontation would likely lead to a quick death. Audra would be little help. He rubbed the sore bruise around his eye. Of course, he might be underestimating her, though people rarely surprised him.

With his hair secured in a top knot and donned in his robes, they crept onto the deck. Two men stirred momentarily before resettling. The lookout remained silent in his nest.

Six feet below the port side rail, ropes and winches lashed a dinghy to the hull. Lua swept his black robes around him and slid gracefully over the side, landing softly in the small boat. Audra followed, dropping in a crouch.

The boat rocked as she stood, throwing her off balance. He steadied her instinctively. Heat spread through his hands and up his arms as another thread lashed between them. He pulled back at the same moment she pushed him away. Her cheeks flushed, and for a moment he thought she might punch him again. They looked awkwardly away and moved to opposite sides of the small dinghy.

A layer of crusty brine coated the winches. Lua pulled at the gears, picking at the salt while Audra tried the same. His shoulders tightened; his neck cramped. Glancing over, he realized why. Audra was much shorter than him, and the winches were about the height of his head. She strained to accomplish the same task from a much lower vantage while balancing on the balls of feet trapped inside straw shoes that rubbed her toes.

The gears jerked. The boat dropped an inch and stuck. They exchanged a glance before feeding the ropes through again. It lowered another inch as the winches creaked. After six more inches, the ropes ground to a stop and refused to move.

Magic shouldn’t be used for such menial tasks. If Dain were here...

But he wasn’t. Dain was dead. Lua motioned Audra out of his way and stood in the middle of the boat.

“Hold on,” he said.

Audra crouched, gripping the sides of the boat. His arms swept wide as he drew strength from the remaining moonlight that slipped from the horizon. Tugging on Audra slightly sent silvery light from his fingers. It snaked up the ropes and slithered to the winches. The ropes gave an inch, followed by another .

As Audra groaned, looking green, the lookout’s voice shattered the night air.

The rope’s sudden release dropped the boat into the water. They landed with a sharp jolt. Audra fell sideways, slamming her arm into the thick wood. Lua hissed, pulling her back. Blood dripped from a new gash down her forearm. Beneath the sleeve of his robe, wetness oozed into the fabric.

Chon’s voice rang above. Though his words held remnants of alcohol, his tone was threatening.

“Get the sails up,” Lua said. He had to save his magic for the wind.

Audra shook the daze from her head, fumbling with the sails and raising the boom. She untied the oars from the bottom of the boat as Lua kicked them away from the Requin’s hull.

Chon’s yell drew their eyes upward. A small fire cannon angled over the rail and pointed toward the dinghy. The captain held the all’ight lantern, angling the flame toward the wick of the cannon.

“You stealing from me, little mouse?” Chon yelled. The wick caught. It would only take a press of the trigger to rain fire down on them. His voice dimmed for a moment, giving them only a fragment of his question. “—to Munk?”

Lua cursed, but Audra’s attention was fixed on the cannon. Chon’s words slipped past her.

“They’d never use it. We’re too close,” she said without conviction.

Toman dove overboard with a blade between his teeth. The dinghy rocked from his waves as he landed only a few feet from them. He broke the sea’s surface, water dripping from the blade’s edge in his mouth. Lua could either handle the brute or get them safely away. Accomplishing both was not an option.

“Take the rudder,” Lua ordered.

“But the oars?—”

“Mind the damn rudder!”

Audra cursed at his pull, then scooted to the back and gripped the rudder’s handle. Toman reached the side of the boat, rocking it. He hoisted himself up, not enough to get in but nearly enough to tip it.

Lua stood at the front of the boat, legs adjusting with the movement. Magic shimmered from his fingers as he chanted soundlessly. He couldn’t break the spell to deal with the brute. Audra’s fear and repulsion of Toman swept down their connection and Lua yanked on that thread.

“Get rid of him,” Lua ordered her.

Toman leaned on his elbow and pulled the blade from his teeth, beady eyes gleaming. Releasing the rudder, Audra gripped an oar. Her swing hit the side of his head. The blade dropped from his hand, but he didn’t release the boat.

She slammed the oar down on his knuckles, hearing the crunch as he wailed. The next swing smashed against his head again. Toman toppled into the water.

Lua’s arms rose higher, robes billowing as wind filled the sails. The dinghy lurched forward as the Requin’s crew screamed above. Audra lunged for the rudder, angling them away from the hull.

The cannon brightened as a fiery blast surged toward their small mast. Lua’s wind swelled, sending the flames back the way they’d come. The crew scampered backward as the rail erupted.

The mage wind propelled them into the dawning sky. Lua pulled his robes over his head, turning his back to the dawn until the boat and flames disappeared behind them.

Finally, he collapsed to a seat and surveyed his anchor’s status. Audra was paler than her western complexion allowed, turning her almost sallow. The wind ruffled her chopped hair, but her eyes were warm, amber tones intermingled with brown. They reminded him of another westerner he knew. Lua looked away when he felt her discomfort beneath his gaze.

Starling’s rays stung the side of his cheek, and he pulled the robes tighter around him. The pull to Audra was like a fresh wound—painfully irritating and strangely compelling. He shook his head, rubbed his arm where it bled beneath his robes, and slowly lowered himself onto his side.

“The wind should last a while longer. Wake me if you see another boat or land.” He drew his robe over his head, covering himself completely, and fell asleep.