The last draig, p.5
The Last Draig, page 5
No, I hadn’t noticed. I squinted at the water, barely visible by the light of Ewan’s lit lanterns. My mouth fell open. “It’s pushing us?”
She nodded. “Ewan’s magic is related to the sea, like most from Nautia. Rather than waiting for the wind to push us forward, he commands the sea to do it instead.” The pride in her voice was clear. “It makes it easier for his crew, not having to adjust the sails as much—the ideal Captain.”
My mouth tilted up in a smile. “That’s incredible.”
“Aye, it is.” Ewan joined me on my other side as he patted me on the back. “If I don’t say so myself.”
We laughed and fell into silence as we stared at the horizon ahead.
“So, the dresser gave you winter clothing, eh?” Ewan asked.
“Yep. Deep winter clothing.”
“No one has ever been that far north,” Iaso said, leaning onto her elbows.
“Not until now,” Ewan whispered.
The silence crept back over us as the full moon ascended, casting us and the sea in its silver light, bouncing from the crest of each wave. The same moon over the same horizon that only a day prior had carried Rogue as he disappeared—a full day ago now with no sign of his return.
My chest tightened. I pulled my eyes away and turned around, reclining onto the rail to face the ship instead.
“We will find him.” My voice was low but sounded much stronger than I felt.
Ewan and Iaso nodded in agreement, and the ship groaned as it picked up speed, racing toward the edge of the world.
Chapter Five
Ara
A week had come and gone—seven painfully slow days, each one longer than the last, literally and figuratively, as the sun seemed to set later and later.
The nights, while short, had garnered something beautifully entrancing over the past two days. After the sun sank below the horizon, the sky lit with more than just moonlight. Iaso called it the Northern Lights, but the interesting part was that everyone saw different colors. We had argued incessantly, hilariously, the first night it happened before coming to that conclusion. Iaso saw green in every shade imaginable, while Ewan saw a rolling blue, like an ocean in the sky.
For me, a deep fiery orange and red flickered against the black expanse. I had never seen anything like it, so utterly breathtaking, and while I knew it had nothing to do with Rogue, I couldn’t help but see it as his fire consuming the darkness.
It gave me hope on this seemingly endless journey. It also made me wonder what Rogue saw; if perhaps what he gazed at each freezing night, even in his current state, also gave him comfort. I hoped so.
We had been steadily sailing north, moving slower while Ewan slept but moving at record speed when he was awake.
The air had cooled from the sticky heat of Ravaryn. It wasn’t quite cold enough for the winter gear yet, but the days were crisp and the nights biting—getting more so with each passing day. Thankfully, Ewan had small heating lanterns bought from craftsmen in Blackburn, lit with a never-ending fire that would warm any room, no matter the size or temperature. While they were incredibly helpful, they only worked in enclosed spaces; they wouldn’t protect us from the icy weather on deck in the open air.
As the last rays of sunlight extinguished, the temperature dropped with it. I rubbed my hands together and breathed into them, my breath a puff of white steam.
We would need our coats tomorrow at this rate.
Everyone aboard the ship had been warned about the possible weather and packed accordingly, but we still didn’t know exactly what we were sailing into.
The weather was one thing, but what of the rest of nature? The sea, the sea life. If Rogue was out here, he had to be hunkered down somewhere, which would mean land. Were there creatures on that land other than him?
With a sigh, I gave one last glance at the horizon before climbing down the ladder to go below deck. The instant warmth soothed my frigid muscles, and I shook out my tense shoulders, breathing in the heated air.
The main hallway was lit the brightest, but even it was dim during the night. Running my hand along the wall, I continued forward until I heard Ewan’s hushed voice.
“You don’t believe in the legend?” he asked.
The sound of movement and a glass bottle being set on a table trickled out from the cracked door, along with the light of a heating lantern.
“No, I don’t believe they exist anymore. Maybe centuries ago, but I’ve been alive for a very long time and have never come across a single person who has seen one,” Iaso said. Another clang sounded from the room.
“Maybe that’s because no sailor has lived to tell the tale,” Ewan replied, his voice low, barely above a whisper.
The room went silent, nothing but the sounds of the sea and the ship’s groans audible—not even the sound of my own breathing.
Saw what? What could kill every sailor who has laid eyes on it?
The rational part of me wanted to go in and ask, but the tired, overwhelmed part couldn’t take the remaining few steps into the room. Not yet.
The answers to those questions could at least wait until morning.
I made a beeline for the room down the hall. Opening the door, I slid in and silently closed it behind me. The smell of Fae rum filled my nose as the heating lantern lit, illuminating the barrels and bottles. Other than lanterns and winter clothing, rum was the next best thing—for both warmth and distraction.
Grabbing a small wooden stool, I dragged it closer to the lantern and picked a random bottle from the shelf. I plopped down on the stool as I popped the cork and took a large gulp. Flinching at the taste, I swallowed and took one more for good measure before turning my eyes to the small fire within the lantern.
Losing myself to the flames, my thoughts returned to Rogue as they often did. I took another swig and sputtered a little as it burned its way down my throat.
His beacon was still just as bright, calling me ever farther north, but…
I sat up straighter, dropping my eyes to the floor as I focused on the feel of him. I set the bottle down.
He was no farther north than he was the day before. Was he stationary?
Between the whirlwind of the last few days, I hadn’t noticed he hadn’t truly moved in the last day. He was on the same land, and we were inching ever so slowly closer rather than just trying to match his pace northward.
My heart leaped into my throat as my eyes darted to the porthole.
We’re coming, Rogue.
The small, rusted circle was frosted with ice but perfectly framed the moon. I gazed at her, just as she watched me in return—just as she watched over Rogue.
It felt like reassurance, like the moon was offering her sympathy with the promise that this wouldn’t last forever.
For the first time since we boarded, a small beam of hope ignited in my chest. He didn’t seem so impossibly far away anymore. We were gaining ground. I sucked in a deep breath as my heart fluttered and took another swig, cringing and wiping my mouth with the back of my sleeve.
We’re coming.
* * *
I couldn’t tell if the room was swaying around me or if I was swaying within it.
An involuntary groan escaped me as my vision spun again, nearly knocking me from my feet as I edged my way down the hallway, leaning on the wall as I went.
I was working my way to Iaso. She would have a tea that would soothe this before it became a hangover, and as the ship swayed with another swell of the sea, I was desperate for it.
It was late, but I hadn’t slept yet. Not that I thought I would. After sleeping most of the first day away, sleep had been just as elusive as Rogue. Although, if I was being completely truthful with myself, the issue started way before this journey.
The last few months had been…a lot, this and the resurrection of my mother taking the cake. Not that I wasn’t happy—I was. My mother being alive…That was a twist of fate I would thank the Goddess for every day for the rest of my life.
And I was glad Rogue had finally, finally shifted. I knew it was something his soul had needed, but the way it unfolded left me stunned, worried, and…scared.
Is that selfish? Am I allowed to be scared? It’s not me who’s been subjected to such pain and forced to lose himself.
Oh, but I was. I was so damned scared. Maybe we wouldn’t find him. Maybe I would spend the rest of my days trying to catch him, because I knew, in my heart of hearts, I would never stop looking. Maybe I wouldn’t be able to bring him back like I promised.
What would happen to Ravaryn without their king? What would happen to Rogue…to me?
Would I survive never seeing him again, never touching him, or speaking with him? Could I survive chasing his ghost?
My breath hitched as my drunken heart physically cracked.
My hand was flat on my chest, holding the pieces of my heart together, when I reached Iaso’s door. I gave a quick knock and waited, inhaling another shaky breath as the ship gave way again. She opened the door within a minute, the look of concern pressed into her features barely visible in the dim, flickering light.
“Ara? What happened?” Her golden eyes roamed over my body. “Have you been poisoned?”
“No, it’s just rum. Do you have tea?” I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead on the door frame, searching for the coolness I hoped it would bring.
She pressed a hand to my cheek, whispering, “Are you all right, Ara?”
I cracked my eyes open to her. The circles under her eyes had deepened with lack of sleep—haunted, just like I was.
“Are you?” I whispered back.
She dropped her eyes, giving a quick nod as she stepped aside. I stumbled inside and sat on her bed, resting an elbow on the bed frame as she quickly poured water into a metal kettle and placed it over the small flame.
She turned the chair from her table to face me and sat. “Rum, hmm?” she asked, pulling me from my stupor.
“Right now, my head is quiet,” I replied without opening my eyes.
The sound of movement nearly pried my eyes open, but not quite.
“I know you’ve been through a lot. You’ve endured more in the past few months than most do in their entire lives, but just like Rogue, you are s—”
“Strong,” I finished for her and snorted, even as tears pricked behind my lids. “So very strong.”
“Ara…”
“No, Iaso. If anyone is strong, it’s you.” I opened my eyes to find she had moved to sit on the bed next to me. Her brows pulled together as she tilted her head to the side, listening. “It is my mother. It’s…It’s Rogue and Alden and Delphia. No, if I’m strong, I’m strong like a roach that refuses to…refuses to…die.” A sad chuckle escaped me, followed by a shaky sigh. “Just a sturdy, little roach that refuses to die.”
These were drunken words, steeped in self-pity, alcohol, and doubt, but it made them no less true.
“Well then, if you are a roach, then I am as well. As are your mother and Rogue and Alden and Delphia. Against all odds, we are still here. Enduring, surviving. We are all here, just as you are. Whatever fate has in store for us, it matters not because we are survivors. As we always have been. As we always will be.”
My eyes watered as they lifted back to hers.
“This is just another thing we will survive,” she whispered and slid an arm around my shoulders.
I laid my head on her shoulder, letting the tears fall freely. They dripped from my cheeks, wetting her shirt, but she did nothing to stop me.
“I’m already so tired,” I croaked. “And there’s so much more to come. That battle…We were so outnumbered. That’s not even a fraction of his army, is it?”
She lifted a hand to my head and slowly smoothed my hair.
“No…No, it’s not.” Her voice was solemn as her body stilled. “But we must continue because people need us. Ravaryn needs us. They’ve placed their last hope in us, so you will continue. We all will. And one day, the sun will peek over the horizon and shine so brightly, you’ll forget it was ever dark at all. And then… Then, you will live.”
The word struck a chord—live—but I knew she wasn’t speaking solely for me.
“That includes you, too.”
She was silent for a moment before responding. “Yes.”
I waited for her to continue, but she didn’t, and I didn’t push. We sat in silence, my head on her shoulder and her arm wrapped around me, swaying with the ship for Goddess knows how long.
Minutes, hours, days later for all I knew, the kettle whistled, snapping me awake. Iaso carefully slid out from under me and walked to the table. After mixing the herbs, she placed them in a tin mug and poured the heated water over top before returning to the bed.
She blew on the cup as her eyes lit, strengthening the tea.
“Here. This will help,” she said, handing me the steaming cup.
I took a tentative sip, testing my stomach. The first swallow instantly soothed the nausea, and I gulped the rest without another thought.
“Can I stay here tonight?” My words slurred as I fell back, already slipping into unconsciousness.
“Of course.” She patted my hair once more before she slid in beside me, pulling the thick, wool covers up to our shoulders. “Goodnight, child.”
* * *
I stirred awake a few hours later. Glancing at Iaso, I carefully slid out from beneath the covers, found the last bit of tea, and brewed another cup.
Once it was done, I grabbed the mug and snuck from the room, careful not to wake her. Back in my own room, I pulled on fur-lined leggings, boots, and my thickest coat before heading for the deck with the tea, climbing the ladder and cracking the door open.
The air hit me in the face like pure ice, sucking the breath from my chest. I quickly climbed onto the deck and shut the door behind me.
The tea steamed as the temperature rapidly cooled it, and I gulped it down before it could freeze over. After I finished it, I turned, finally taking in our surroundings.
My lips parted in a gasp.
Everything sparkled—the pale sunrise in the distance, the chunks of floating ice in the relatively calm sea, the frost that coated every surface of the ship. The soft rays of yellow did nothing to warm the air around us, but they ignited every surface. It was magnificent, even as my lashes started to freeze.
The cold had created a world of beauty that thrived in its harshness.
Tears pricked my eyes as chills erupted over my covered skin—not from the temperature but from the view. I knew in my bones this wasn’t a sight seen by many, if any at all.
Slowly and carefully, I walked to the rail. In the distance, large icebergs bobbed in the open waters, bumping into those around them, creating small waves in an otherwise calm sea. Dropping my gaze to the waters below us, I watched as they pushed us forward, the bow of the ship plowing forward through the ice.
I was mesmerized and lost in thought, my attention glued to the wooden syren’s tail as it cut through the frozen ocean when I noticed a thick layer of ice creeping its way up the bow. It slowly climbed over her tail, spreading out as it continued upwards.
My heart skipped a beat, and I leaned over the rail to get a better view. It continued, consuming the ship quicker than was natural. The ice crept along the entire bottom of the ship, rising from the water on all sides, casting the wood in a solid sheet.
The door behind me opened and shut.
“The ship is slowing,” Ewan shouted. “What—”
“Ara?” Iaso asked behind me, but I didn’t pull my eyes away from the rapidly growing sheet of ice as I waved them over.
“Come here. Look.”
They joined me, leaning over the edge as I pointed to the ice. Ewan’s eyes followed, but when I looked at Iaso, her gaze was straightforward, her face pale and eyes wide.
“Oh, my…” she breathed.
“Iaso.” Ewan’s voice was tight fear as his eyes darted to hers. “It’s…”
“Syrens,” she finished. “We’re in the Sorrowed Sea.”
The blood drained from Ewan’s face.
Turning, I followed Iaso’s line of sight. My breath shallowed as I locked eyes with a creature I hadn’t noticed. She nearly blended in with the frozen ocean around her. With pale blue skin and white hair, she was the personification of winter herself. Ice dripped from her hair, her bare breasts, her skin. Her eyes were as white as her hair with no pupil, but they were still clearly locked on us, her gaze heavy and chilling.
The ship came to an abrupt halt, tossing us forward. Everyone aboard the deck staggered forward as the ice crept over the handrail. My breath hitched as I watched it inch closer and closer to my glove.
I didn’t pull my hand away. It was almost mesmerizing—the beauty of it, shimmering in the sunlight, even beneath its hidden promise of death.
A choked scream snapped me out of it, and I jerked my hand back.
My head whipped toward the sound.
The entire stern of the ship was frozen—men included. At least half a dozen, icebound. Another man, oblivious to the impending icy doom, climbed up from another hatch.
Ewan shouted, “Don’t touch the ice!”
He didn’t listen as his eyes locked on his comrades. He sprinted toward one—an old friend by the sound of his cries—and the second the bare skin of his fingertips touched the ice, he stilled. He was frozen in motion, his momentum carrying him overboard, long before the ice consumed him. His muffled screams reached our ears as he hit the water. Then he bobbed, as solid as any other iceberg.
My breath shook as we staggered back from the rail, watching the frost rapidly devour the ship.
Hundreds of Syrens pulled themselves from the water and sat on the floating chunks, the droplets of water freezing along their skin, creating crystalline diamonds.
“These are the creatures of legend you were speaking of last night,” I whispered.
“Yes,” Ewan answered before doing a double take at me. “How—”
“Doesn’t matter,” Iaso said.
