Page 72 of The Sea Witch (Salt & Sorcery #1)

“Traitors deserve no trial,” Strickland snarled as he charged at Ben.

“Betrayers deserve no mercy.” Ben widened his stance as his former commanding officer attacked. Sword pointed at Ben’s heart,

Strickland sprang forward. The admiral’s posture was perfect, his technique straight from the most respected fencing manual.

Ben parried Strickland’s blow, knocking it to the side. He dove down, rolling across the sand in a way that wouldn’t be found

in any sword-fighting book.

Stunned by Ben’s unsanctioned technique, Strickland drew up short. He shouted in pain as Ben’s blade cut just above the admiral’s

knee. Blood darkened the fabric of his breeches with crimson. Hobbling, Strickland spun around.

Ben was on his feet when the admiral attacked again with a textbook combination. Ben parried, then slashed across Strickland’s

torso. There was a crunching sound as Ben struck hard enough to crack ribs.

Strickland stumbled back and looked down at himself, his expression disbelieving and twisted in pain. He gazed up at Ben,

who strode toward Strickland.

A wall of fire sprang between them, its blistering heat forcing them apart. The admiral’s arrogant face sneered at Ben from the other side of the flames.

“Warne’s protecting me,” Strickland jeered. “What can your witch whore do for you?”

“She can fight,” Ben answered, watching Alys bear down on Warne. “And kill your fucking mage.”

“An ignorant witch is no match for an educated mage.”

Ben drew himself up, his sword ready. “Underestimating women sends you straight to hell.”

Alys trudged through the sand, toward the mage. He turned, just in time for her to kick him in the stomach. Retching, he bent

over. Yet the wall of fire continued to blaze between Ben and Strickland.

She summoned a wave. The water crashed over the flames, and they sputtered out. With the fiery barrier gone, Ben moved in

quick purposeful assaults as his commanding officer struggled to keep up. Yet Strickland managed to get one blow in, his sword

stabbing into Ben’s shoulder.

She cried out in pain as thousands of invisible thorns pierced her skin. Pinpricks of blood dotted her visible flesh, blossoming

red beside her freckles. It was as though she was being flayed alive. The mage’s hands formed complex shapes in the air, casting

more spells.

Forcing herself upright, Alys slogged toward him. She faked an attack, and he moved to deflect. He spun in one direction and

she lunged with her cutlass raised.

She brought her sword down.

The mage screamed as his severed right hand fell to the sand. Blood streamed from the wound in a red cascade.

The thorny pain stopped. Replaced by a vibration traveling up her sword arm. It surged, and a ferocious ringing sound stabbed

through her head. She was almost blind with agony.

The ringing... it came from her cutlass. All along the blade, the mage’s blood congealed into patterns and figures.

She dropped her sword. Yet the ringing continued, filling her head with white-hot misery.

The mage chuckled through his grimace of pain.

“Stupid witch... you haven’t stopped it...” the mage gasped as he sank to his knees. “This is... but one battle...

the war... the war is coming.”

“What war?” Alys demanded, grabbing the mage’s hair.

But the mage only smiled. “A war... you’ll never win.”

Still in agony, Alys threw the mage forward, and he sprawled in the sand.

“We’ve heard enough from you,” she rasped.

Mustering her last scraps of magic, her hands clenched around all the air within the mage. She pulled it from his lungs, dragged

it from his mouth, stole it from every corner of his body.

His eyes bulged and his mouth gaped wide. He clawed at his throat in a desperate attempt to breathe. Yet he couldn’t. He writhed

in the sand, making awful smothered sounds. Hand shaking, he reached for her. He thrashed, and then... stilled.

At once, the ringing in her head stopped. She gasped, released from agony.

Alys turned at the sound of steel against steel. Ben and Strickland battled their way up the beach. They fought on, despite

their wounds.

She hadn’t enough power left in her to take the air from the admiral’s body. Her arm shook with exhaustion as she tried to

pick up her sword. There was nothing she could do to help Ben. All she could do was watch. And hope.

Ben had heard Alys’s cry of pain. The sound had torn him into bleeding shreds, more than the wound in his shoulder.

At once, he’d spun to go to her aid, but Strickland had blocked his path.

Limping, the admiral had struck with surprising speed, and Ben had been forced back to parry Strickland’s offense.

Now, Warne’s twisted body lay in the sand. Alys stood near the mage’s corpse, her skin covered with flecks of blood, her face

drawn and weary as her wet hair hung in tangles around her, and she struggled to grab her cutlass. But she was alive.

Ben turned back to Strickland. The admiral had one hand pressed against his side, red dripping through his fingers, and he

kept weight off his wounded leg. Yet Strickland’s mouth twisted in disgust as he glared at Ben, the length of their swords

between them.

“A failure,” the admiral jeered. “That’s what you were to him. What you are now. Disgraced in the navy, whoring yourself with

that witch pirate. A disappointment to him, that’s all you’ll ever be.”

Ben’s jaw firmed. “His approval isn’t necessary. Neither is yours. Killing you is for myself.”

Strickland spat onto the sand. “When this is done, I’ll personally take Tanner to London and light the torch on her bonfire.”

Sword first, the admiral pounced.

Ben rammed his fist into Strickland’s face before knocking the blade out of the stunned admiral’s grip. The sword fell to

the sand.

Strickland’s eyes widened.

“I’m unarmed,” Strickland said, desperation in his voice. “An honorable man wouldn’t slay an unarmed man.”

“ Honor . That word doesn’t belong in your mouth. You showed no honor murdering my father. I don’t give a fuck about killing you.”

Ben stabbed the tip of his cutlass straight into Strickland’s heart.

The admiral looked down at the weapon plunged in his chest, then back up at Ben. He opened his mouth to speak. Nothing came

out but a trickle of blood.

Ben pulled his blade from Strickland’s heart.

Strickland sank to his knees. Ben knocked him over with the heel of his boot, and the admiral splayed in the sand, motionless.

A wave washed over him. When the water ebbed, it was pink with Strickland’s blood.

Shouts arose from the remaining marines, still fighting the witches. Seeing their admiral and mage lying dead on the beach,

they fled for the cutters.

“Ben.” Alys ran to him, wrapping one arm around his waist and he pulled her close.

They stared down at Strickland’s body. It seemed much smaller now.

More bodies littered the beach, and marines and seamen piloted their cutters back to the broken naval ships listing in the

bay.

Ben waited for a sense of relief, of victory. He stared up at the cloudy sky. “It’s over. It’s all over.”

To his own ears, his voice sounded hollow, as if he was deep in a cave.

Alys cupped her hand against his jaw and angled his face toward her. He stared into the hazel of her eyes, all the greens

and browns and golds. Smudges of exhaustion ringed beneath her eyes and she was filthy and bedraggled and beautiful.

“They’ve taken so much from you,” she said gently. “Don’t let them take your heart.”

She lifted onto her toes and kissed him. The touch of her lips to his roused something within him, the pain and sorrow and

fury and feeling awakening at once. He gasped into her mouth.

“There you are,” she murmured. “Don’t worry, Sailing Master. I’ve got you.”

He held tightly to her as shudders wracked his body. And she held him. And there would always be pain, but that was all right,

so long as he had her.

“Ben...” There was worry in Alys’s voice.

“We’ve won the day, Flame,” he said. “There’s naught—”

“Look.” She pointed toward Warne’s severed hand.

It was moving.

The hand continued to twitch. Yet they weren’t the last spasms of a dying creature. It formed complex shapes and forms in

the air.

“It’s finishing the spell Warne began,” Alys said in alarm.

Alys ran and stabbed the hand with her cutlass, and it went still.

Then... screams went up. Three of the fleeing sailors dropped to the sand, curling in on themselves. They shook and shouted,

and tore at their clothing. Their bodies twisted, their muscles stretching horribly. Markings appeared on their flesh. Markings

that Ben knew all too well.

Torment tore through him. Something... something lived in the husk of his body. It pushed against the inside of his skin.

The thing inside him fought to break free. He doubled over as his vision dimmed.

“Ben,” Alys shouted. She moved toward him, but he pushed her back.

“Stay... away.” His voice had changed, becoming raspier, deeper.

She gasped as his clothing tore. His shoulders grew impossibly wide. The breadth of his arms split the seams of his coat.

His feet lengthened, as did his now black-clawed hands. His skin shivered and peeled. Gray blue scales emerged from beneath

his flesh. His rangy form knotted into thick muscles. Piece by piece, his clothing fell away as he continued to change. Inch-long

spikes emerged from the skin along his arms and down his back.

“Run,” he grated.

But she couldn’t. She stared as he rose up, stretching and lengthening to ten feet tall. His hair hung limply around a face

that was and wasn’t Ben. His mouth widened.

He tried to speak. But his teeth were now jagged and sharp. Gills erupted along his throat.

She gazed into his azure eyes, seeking Ben . For a moment, there was terror and awareness, and heartbreak. And then a gray film covered his eyes. Her connection to him

was clouded by animal ferocity. Ben disappeared.

“My love,” she whispered.

The creature in front of her stood still for a moment. They stared at each other. There was something familiar about it...

She could reach him, somehow. Use the threads that wove them together to—

Roaring, claws out, the creature dove for her.

Alys hit the sand as Stasia threw her down. She barely understood what was happening, only that her friend dragged her across

the beach.

“Cease fighting me,” Stasia growled.

Alys couldn’t stop. “They did this to him.”

“Him and the other sailors. No end to the Royal Navy’s treachery. Cursing their own men.”

“I have to get to Ben,” Alys insisted. “Have to help.”

“There is no help for him,” Stasia answered grimly.

“But—” Alys grunted as Stasia threw her against the prow of the jolly boat.

The three other sailors who had transformed were also charging toward them. They were smaller than Ben, their skin a greenish

color, but they had the same scales, the same claws.

Dimly, Alys was aware that the landing party was lifting her into the jolly boat as they hurried out into the water. Inés

and Dayanna took up the oars, and Susannah and Thérèse cast a spell to speed them along the top of the waves.

Alys clambered to the stern, facing the island. Four monsters now dotted the beach, and the creature that had once been Ben

was the largest of them all. He charged into the waves in pursuit.

Stasia muttered something under her breath.

Suddenly, Ben stopped, and he roared in what sounded like frustration. Seaweed wove up from the shallow water and wrapped itself up his legs.

“I am sorry, fili mou,” Stasia said to Alys. “He is lost now.”

“I saw this.” Alys’s words were hoarse. “The beach. The creature. The first time I dreamwalked with him. I saw this.”

“It was fated.”

The boat sped toward the waiting Sea Witch . The Jupiter listed, cutting a weak circle in the water. The Fearless could only limp with its broken sails. Both ships let them pass, each deeply damaged by the liberated sea creatures.

Alys pressed a hand to her aching chest. Her heart split apart. Hot tears gathered in her eyes and she blinked them back,

yet a few ran down her cheeks and into the hollow of her throat. She reached for him along the threads that wove between them.

All she felt was chaos and brutality.

He was in there, somewhere. He had to be.

Tearing through the seaweed that bound him, the thing that had been Ben tried to pursue, but the jolly boat was too far away.

The creature grew smaller as the boat neared the Sea Witch .

“Fate?” Alys’s gaze never left him. “Doesn’t exist. There’s only the fight.”

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