Minstrel's Serenade (25 page)

“Yes, sir.” Fear welled in the man’s eyes and Bron wondered where his training had failed. If these men were afraid of a sea beast, how would they react to a swarming horde of fire-breathing worms?

He helped the man stand. “Get to the infirmary below.”

Bron released Eli and brought up his sword. Soldiers swiped at the tentacles, cutting some in half. For every one they felled, three more sprang up. The air hummed with the minstrel’s song as the sound changed pitch from a low growl to a high shriek. Had they gone mad? Whatever the minstrel’s were doing, Bron wasn’t going to wait until their song worked.

The captain stood at the wheel, turning the ship away as tentacles reached toward him.

Bron sprinted toward the helm. If he lost the captain, he’d have to steer the boat to Scalehaven. The warrior had as much experience steering ships as he had wearing women’s gowns.

A tentacle closed on his arm, and he swiped the wet flesh in half with his sword. More wiggled on the deck at his feet and he jumped over them as the tendrils tangled in the netting, pulling at their supplies. One soldier, a cityman from Brimmore named Ale Cleary, writhed on his back, a tentacle wrapped around his neck. Bron’s first instinct was to help him, but the captain was more important.

Three tentacles wrapped around the captain’s left arm and both ankles. He held onto the steering wheel with white knuckles, his grip slipping.

“Hold on, Captain!” Bron threw his dagger as he took the stairs two at a time. The dagger sliced through the tentacle on the Captain’s arm as the ones around his ankles slowly climbed his legs. He lost his grip and fell, slipping along the deck toward the railing. Bron dove forward on his stomach and skidded across the deck. He grabbed the man’s hands with both of his and gave him a stare so strong, it should have held him in place all by itself. “Hold on.”

The captain winked in relief. “I’m not letting go.”

“You’d better not.” Bron gritted his teeth as he heaved. They locked in place, just like the
Knights and Wizards
game in his dream. Only this time there could be no stalemate. He could not overpower the pull of the sea beast. He’d have to find another way.

“Hurry!” The captain kicked at the tentacles as they traveled up his back to his neck.

Bron transferred all of the captain’s weight to one hand. As his muscles bunched with the strain, he sat up slowly and drew his sword. “Duck!”

The captain shoved his face against the deck and Bron swung, slicing one of the two tentacles. The appendage released its hold and slithered back into the foamy waters.

Bron cut at the second tentacle, careful not to injure the captain’s leg. The fishy flesh slithered away, half torn.

“I thought I was going under.” The captain panted on the deck as he lay on his back.

Relief and shock flowed over Bron as he forced himself up. “Did you not know? The captain must stay with his ship.” He pulled the captain with him. “Can you steer us out of here?”

The captain eyed the deck, half tangled in tentacles as the men loaded cannons and shot into the water blindly. “I’ll try.”

“I’ll guard you.” Bron cemented his feet in front of the helm. He chanced a glance at their sister ship, thinking of Danika. The
Destiny
bobbed closer to them, dropping anchor instead of sailing away.

The minstrels must have lost their minds. Their music failed to have any effect on the sea beast, and their fighting skills were less than desirable. What did they mean to accomplish?

Perhaps they knew destiny tied their fate to the
Fortune’s.
Without the steel of the Royal Guard, Danika would have no triumph at Scalehaven. Her life, the minstrels’ lives and the safety of Ebonvale depended on him and his army and they on them. Both sides were duty bound.

Pressure tightened around his ankle as a tentacle coiled up his calf. Bron raised his sword to slice the appendage, and another one stuck to his arm with suction cups, holding his sword in place. Before he could react, a tentacle thick as an aging blackwood shot from the railing and knocked him off his feet. He hit the deck hard, air stolen from his lungs. As he struggled to rise, the thick tentacle wrapped around his chest, bending his armor as the leviathan pulled him to sea.

Bron breathed in, his chest pushing against his armor as he filled his lungs. Metal armor sank like boulders in water. The beast dragged him to his death.

He wished he could have told her how he truly felt.

Bron tightened his grip on his sword even as the tentacle cut off circulation to his fingers. He’d fight to the death before he lay in such an abysmal, watery grave. He may still have time.

A silver blade arced above him, glinting brightly in the sun. The blade hacked the smaller tentacles first, then cut through the large one, hitting the deck with a thunk. The force of the lunge embedded the blade deep into the wood, splintering the plank. Stunned, Bron shielded his eyes from the sun as a slight figure knelt beside him. Two bright green eyes shone from the helmet’s visor.

It could not be.

“Are you all right?” Danika’s voice spoke to his heart.

Had he died in the beast’s grasp and awakened in heaven?

“Are you hurt? For Helena’s Sword, speak!”

“I am unharmed.” Bron’s voice came out wispy with awe and disbelief. How dare she risk her life to save his? “How did you travel to this ship?”

“Rope.” Danika raised her visor and a smile stretched. “I convinced Valorian to steer closer. Though, I must say, I will not be auditioning for the festival acrobats when we return. Now get up! There is a battle to fight.”

Bron took her hand and they stood. Danika yanked her sword from the deck and swung the blade in front of her, testing the arc of the edge. Her eyes were fierce emeralds. “This blade will still fight true.”

Tentacles slithered toward them, and the starboard side of the ship looked more like an overgrown weed garden than a deck. “Come, let us clean this mess.” Bron lunged forward. They fought side by side, clearing a path through the tangle.

The boat groaned and started to tip as the tentacles pulled the masts toward the water. Bron leaned backward, trying not to slip. “Find something to hold onto!” He snaked his arm through the railing of the stairway leading to the helm. Danika skidded, and he grabbed her hand as boxes, netting, and other supplies slipped into the sea.

Beneath them, the oily hump emerged, water raining off the slimy surface as the neck rose and uncoiled. A massive headdress of leathery fins framed a long toothy jaw and white eyes with no pupils. The beast towered over them, seawater and slime dripping on their armor in goopy streaks. Bron licked salt from his lips. Was it from the spray of the sea or his sweat?

“It’s a leviathan.” Danika whispered as she dangled from Bron’s hand. “A distant cousin of the wyverns. I thought them to be myths.”

“Unfortunately, they are not.” Bron tightened his grip on her hand as if his courage alone could save them.

The leviathan hissed and opened its jaws, dipping its head toward them. Its scales were paler than the wyverns’, reflecting an oily blue, which turned to silver in the angle of the sun. Danika raised her sword, arm shaking.

Would she be safer dangling from his arm under the leviathan’s jaws or dropped into the sea? She’d never forgive him, but at least then she’d have the slim chance of swimming back to the minstrel’s ship.

She shouldn’t have deserted Valorian and risked her life to save Bron. He and Danika had grown too close, developing feelings running too deep, risking everything he’d sworn to protect.

He must abandon this dream before it was too late.

The leviathan smacked its jaws above them. It might already be too late. Bron had to release her, but his hand wouldn’t let go.

Around them, the low, droning hum separated into harmony. The sound resonated in perfect chords, harmonies building upon each other, to create a cathedral of sound. The notes changed, growing farther apart, and the collective song wailed with dissonance. The sound reminded Bron of a thousand cries of suffering. Were the minstrels truly mad? Or did they sing their own funeral ballad?

The beast shrieked and whipped its head back and forth as if the tones shot daggers through the membranes covering the earholes. The tentacles loosened, retreating across the deck as the beast released the ship. The deck pitched backward and Bron slammed into the stairway as the
Fortune
rocked upright once again.

The leviathan disappeared into the dark waters, leaving a trail of sea foam in its wake. A fountain of water and bubbles shot up from the surface as it expelled its breath. A mournful cry, deeper than a whale’s call, echoed over the sea.

“They did it.” Danika lay on the deck beside him, propping herself up with an elbow as Bron released her hand.

“Did what?” Fog covered Bron’s mind. All he could think of was pure, comforting silence in the dissonance still pinging in his head.

“Found a chord ugly enough to drive the beast away.” Danika shouted above the din and stood.

Bron felt as though a storm had battered his body and soul. His breastplate was bent in where the tentacle had gripped, cutting into the sides of his chest. Disappointment outweighed his relief. He wanted to be the victor, not the one saved. He’d underestimated the minstrels’ power. Once again, Valorian had saved his life.

Bron sat up, leaning on the railing for support. “We should return you to your ship, my lady.” Perhaps she was safer there than he’d thought.

“Not a chance.” Danika wiped slime from her armor and threw the sludge overboard like poison.

Bron blinked in confusion. Had she lost reason?

Danika winked. “I told you, no more acrobatics. You know how I despise ropes.” She walked away, helping the healers tend to the soldiers.

Bron sat back with his legs sprawled before him. He knew her better. She’d never mentioned a fear of ropes before. In fact, he’d caught her sneaking out at night to swing across the chasm between her tower and the main building, hanging on the laundry ropes.

She wanted to be close to him. Bron had allowed his feelings to reach too far, endangering the very kingdom they sought to protect. The barmaid was wrong. He could not sacrifice duty for love.

Bron stood, swearing to himself he’d adhere to his sworn oaths and do whatever he could to gain victory. With the minstrels’ magic song, they’d won this battle, but another, far greater clash loomed. Black volcanoes topped with smoke, oozing lava red as blood claimed the horizon. Scalehaven tempted him. Bron stared at his destiny with determination and acceptance.

“Thank goodness you’ve alive, sir.” His first in command, Recktus Fairhaven, bowed before him. His long, black hair dripped as though he’d taken a plunge into the sea and someone had fished him out.

“Yes, it appears luck is on both our sides.” He placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Good to see you, my friend.”

“There are many casualties, sir. The soldiers are wondering if we are to go back.”

Go back? Returning home empty-handed wasn’t an option. Bron took a deep breath. “Rally the troops we have left. We go to battle tomorrow at dawn.”

“Yes, sir.” The solider saluted him with a grim expression. He jogged toward shouts of triumph coming from the main deck.

As Bron’s father liked to say, someone had beaten him to the mead barrel.

Danika stood at the helm, addressing the survivors. She’d taken off her helmet, and her golden hair glowed in the noonday sun. In her battle armor, she looked more beautiful and glorious than in any courtly gown. His heart sped.

As much as he feared for her safety he knew there was no escaping the wyverns either here or back in Ebonvale. If they failed, there’d be no kingdom to return to. Danika had been right to come. She embodied everything good and true in Ebonvale, and today she gave his troops hope. She’d trained like any soldier and had the courage of a true warrior. Why not have her fight for her kingdom if she wished it? But, he couldn’t have her risking her life for his, or leaving Valorian unguarded.

Bron would do everything in his power to keep her safe, even if it meant sacrificing his life, his love.

At least he’d have her beside him one last time.

Song of Power

The minstrels took no chances. They sang their foul song throughout the night and Danika tossed and turned in the spare bed in the captain’s chambers, wishing she could clog her ears with seaweed. She’d left all of her elegant nightgowns on Valorian’s ship, and she sweated in her undergarments, kicking the thick sheets to her ankles.

Ironically, she preferred to sweat on the
Fortune’s
hay-strewn mattress than sleep in luxury on Valorian’s ship. Bron lay only two rooms away and the beat of his heart came through the walls, calling to her.

Danika thought back to their quest to Darkenbite, when she’d slept an arm’s length away. Why hadn’t she reached out to him at least once? Why had it taken her this long to realize the shape of her heart?

Valorian.

He was why. Even if they succeeded in this quest and returned home victorious, Valorian would be waiting. Only a fool would tempt fate by rejecting the House of Song’s union and leave her kingdom vulnerable and alone. First, the army of Sill plagued Ebonvale and now the wyverns of Scalehaven. What would rise up next to fight them? Could she handle a new threat with Ebonvale’s army alone?

Her legs kicked at the sheets anxiously. She longed to ramble through her mother’s grove of cherrywoods in Ebonvale’s orchards outside the castle. A night like this needed a long walk to tire the useless wanderings of her mind.

Danika shot up and wrapped the sheets around her in a robe. The salty, wet decks of the
Fortune
would have to do.

The night air singed her eyes as she emerged under the stars. A foul, sulfurous stench blew from Scalehaven. The volcanoes’ hulking shadows claimed the horizon, their fiery wrath lighting the southern sky in a reddish haze. Thunderous cracks echoed around her. The volcanoes stirred as if sensing their presence.