Rise (12 page)

“But we must wait,” Ember breathed, catching his hand as it moved up her thigh.

“Some things must wait.” Barrow kissed her cheek, then her throat. “But not all things.”

His mouth lingered at the swell of her breasts before he continued down. Ember closed her eyes when Barrow pushed her chemise over her hips. His lips touched her inner thigh. Higher.

Ember’s hands tangled in the bedclothes as Barrow coaxed her body into revealing its secrets. And though Ember knew that the art of love offered even more than this, she hardly believed that it could be so.

Much later, after Barrow actually had rested, he and Ember joined Kael and Lukasz at the ship’s rail, gazing westward to watch the sea swallow the sun. Though the wool dress offered enough warmth against the stiff breeze, Ember had donned a cloak so she could wear her belt while still keeping Silence and Sorrow hidden.

Barrow’s arm wrapped around Ember’s waist, and she leaned into him. Kael glanced at them, chuckling and nudging Lukasz with his elbow.

“Let them be,” Lukasz said with a smile. Ember watched the commander’s fingers meet Kael’s beneath the ship rail, and her heart warmed at the sight, though she worried at the burden of secrecy they were forced to bear. While Barrow seemed unafraid to show his affection for her, Kael and Lukasz could never risk the same.

Kael leaned toward the commander, whispering. Lukasz laughed quietly to himself, and Kael left the rail to go belowdecks.

“You look much better, my friend,” Lukasz told Barrow, still smiling at whatever Kael had said.

Barrow nodded. “I feel it too.”

“Good.” The mirth faded slightly from Lukasz’s face. “I doubt it will be long before you’re needed in a fight.”

“That seems likely,” Barrow answered. “I’ll be ready.”

“Enjoy the twilight,” Lukasz told them. Then he too went below.

Ember watched the commander disappear into the dark inner compartments of the ship.

“Do you know?” she asked Barrow.

“I’ve been injured before,” Barrow answered. “I’ll recover soon enough. Don’t worry.”

“That’s not what—” Ember paused. “I was speaking of Lukasz and Kael.”

Barrow tensed, casting a sidelong glance at her. “What of them?”

She turned to face him. “You do know.”

He didn’t answer her, so she pressed him further. “How long have they been lovers?”

“Hush, Ember,” Barrow said. “How did you learn of this?”

In a low voice, Ember told him, “I saw them together. After Sorcha’s death.”

“And have you spoken of this to anyone else?” Barrow asked.

“No.” Ember frowned at him. “Of course not.”

Barrow leaned out over the railing, visibly relieved. “Good.”

“What did I do to trouble you?” Ember had thought her question simple.

“What you saw is not something to be spoken of where others might overhear,” Barrow told her.

Ember’s brow furrowed. “I meant no harm, only wondered—”

“Your wondering could cost their lives, Ember. You’re forgetting your history, Conatus’s history, why the Templars burned.”

When he saw the pained look on her face, Barrow pulled her closer to him. “I know you meant no harm, but what you saw and now know about Kael and Lukasz must be kept secret.”

She laid her head on his shoulder, thinking about the loss she would feel if she were forbidden to enjoy the comfort of his embrace lest others see it.

“It feels wrong,” Ember said.

“Love is love,” Barrow answered sharply, dropping his hand from her waist and pulling away from her.

“Not that!” Ember’s cheeks reddened at his suggestion she would pass judgment on their companions. “What I intended to say was that it feels wrong to be filled with happiness when so much strife and sorrow surrounds me.”

“Ah,” Barrow said. “That is a much more fitting sentiment, but if guilt over your joys is a burden, I’m certain we can find a priest in France so you can give confession.”

“Are you so impious as to make fun of my lamentation?” Ember teased.

“Piety has nothing to do with it,” Barrow answered with a brief smile. “I simply think that wringing your hands over the evils of the world will drain your heart of its courage. We must embrace what happiness is granted us when we can, or else we spend our lives awaiting the next sorrow.”

Ember grasped the ship’s rail, pondering Barrow’s words as she looked out over the sea. The sun was an orange sliver on the horizon. Its rusty light threw a distant island into stark relief.

“What if we sailed there?” Ember looked at Barrow. “And made our refuge on an island, hidden from the world.”

“I doubt you’d be willing to forsake the world for long,” Barrow said. “Of what island do you speak?”

Ember pointed to the dark ridge of land that rose from the painted sea, but her arm was outstretched toward nothing. The waters lay flat all the way to the horizon.

Frowning, Ember said, “I saw an island. Just a moment ago.”

“A trick of light and shadow,” Barrow told her.

But as Ember watched the sun disappear, the last of its light spilling up into the western sky, the dark island reappeared. Larger this time. Ember squinted into the distance. Though the ship sailed away from the island, she could swear it was closer.

“There it is!” Ember pointed, and Barrow looked out to sea. As he did, the island sank below the waves. “But what—”

“I think your island is a whale, my love,” Barrow said.

“I’ve never seen a whale,” Ember told him, delighted. She leaned out over the railing, hoping to catch another glimpse of the beast.

“Be careful, Ember,” Barrow said. “If a swell pitches the ship, you could lose your footing.”

“I’m holding the rail,” she answered. The whale hadn’t resurfaced, and she sighed, but as she was about to turn away from the sea, the remaining light of the sunset captured a shadow below the ocean’s surface.

Ember drew a startled breath and stepped back. The whale was massive, twice the size of their ship.

“Do you see something?” Barrow was still searching the distant waves.

“It’s gone below the ship,” she answered. “I just saw it beneath us.”

“What?” Barrow’s alarm brought her eyes to him.

Before she could ask what put such panic in his voice, the ship lurched. Ember fell against the railing and Barrow stumbled backward toward the center of the deck.

The ship pitched violently again, and Ember flew over the rail. She plummeted into the frothing waters, which were stirred by some unseen force.

If she hadn’t been submerged, hitting the water would have made Ember scream. The sea was filled with frigid talons that slashed her skin. Kicking hard, she forced her way to the surface, gasping for breath and grateful that she’d forced Alistair to teach her to swim.

Waves manifested without wind roiled around her, making it difficult to keep her head above water. She heard screaming as she turned to swim back to the ship, but then she screamed too.

Huge tentacles were wrapped around the balinger from prow to stern. Some of the crew slashed at the thick appendages with their swords to no avail. The ship groaned as the shrill sound of splintering wood pierced the air. Pilgrims surged from belowdecks, flinging themselves to the sea’s mercy.

“Barrow!” Ember couldn’t see him on the deck or in the water.

A terrible screech and boom filled Ember’s ears just before the ship buckled. The great tentacles had torn the ship in two. It released the severed prow in favor of ripping what remained of the hull to pieces. With horror, Ember watched as the monster’s sucker-covered limbs grasped not only timber but bodies, some living and shrieking, some limp. Some people were dragged beneath the waves; others, tossed far out to sea.

Then she saw Barrow. He was floating on the water, faceup but unconscious.

With a cry, Ember swam toward him. Her limbs no longer felt cold; they were on fire, and Ember knew how dangerous that was. She forced herself to move through the waves while wreckage swirled around her. Reaching Barrow, Ember hooked her arm through one of his and prayed she had the strength to tow him to shore.

Struggling through the waves and forcing herself to shut out the cries of other victims, Ember dragged Barrow toward the coast. The fire devouring her skin had diminished to a dull needling. Her limbs felt so heavy.

“Ember!”

The call came from behind her. Ember turned to see Lukasz swimming toward her.

When the commander reached them, he looked grimly at Barrow. “Did he take water into his lungs?”

“I don’t know,” Ember said. “When I found him, he was floating on his back.”

“We’ll hope for the best, then,” Lukasz said. “Let me help you.”

Threading his arm beneath Barrow’s opposite shoulder, he began to swim.

“Kael?” Ember asked.

“He’s getting help,” Lukasz answered. “Don’t stop moving. The ocean will kill us as quickly as that beast.”

Ember obeyed, though she was alarmed when Lukasz steered them back toward the shipwreck. The creature was still hunting for intact sections of the ship to obliterate, and it had taken to plucking men and women from the water as well.

“What about Sawyer?” Ember’s teeth had begun to chatter.

“I don’t know,” Lukasz said. “Kael and I were in the berth when one of those tentacles tore the beams from above our heads. Sawyer wasn’t with us, and I’ve seen no sign of him.”

A sharp whistle sounded in the waters ahead.

“Here!” Lukasz shouted, then he said to Ember, “Kick hard. We have to catch them.”

Following the commander’s intent gaze, Ember saw their goal. Kael cut through the water with hard strokes, but he wasn’t alone. Four long necks bobbed alongside him. The horses’ eyes were rolling, wild with fright.

Lukasz and Ember swam at a diagonal, working hard to intercept Kael and the horses, who were swimming directly for the coast. Though she wanted to be strong, Ember groaned with pain, fighting to keep her arm and legs moving.

“Courage, Ember,” Lukasz said, his jaw clenched against the cold slap of waves. “When we reach the horses, we’ll have relief.”

They were closing the distance, but Ember could feel her body shutting down as the cold sea cocooned her limbs.

Feeling her slow, Lukasz said, “Call out to Caber. He may hear and wait for you.”

In desperation, Ember shrieked, “Caber!”

She whistled and called his name again. The stallion’s chestnut head turned in her direction. Caber gave a shrill whinny. His nostrils flared.

“Again,” Lukasz ordered.

“Caber!” Ember saw that the stallion hesitated, watching her as Kael and the other horses continued toward the shore.

“Good,” Lukasz said, and Ember could hear how strained he was. “Now swim.”

With all she had left, Ember plowed through the water, matching the commander’s furious pace. When they reached the horse, Ember wept.

“Hold on to Barrow and to Caber’s tail,” Lukasz told her. “He’ll follow the other horses and tow both of you to the shore.”

Freed of Ember and Barrow, Lukasz swam quickly ahead.

“Go, Caber!” Ember cried out. The stallion whinnied, his legs churning beneath the waves. Not trusting her grip to hold, Ember wrapped the length of Caber’s tail around her forearm. The horse dragged them through the water.

Ahead, Ember saw Lukasz reach Kael and the other horses. The two men grasped the tails of their mounts and let the swimming horses pull them toward the coast. With the single purpose of swimming taken from her, Ember dared to look back.

The ship was gone. Floating timber and scattered debris were the only evidence that a vessel had once sailed. The turbulent waters had stilled, and Ember searched the wreckage for signs that the beast remained. But its flailing and grasping tentacles had vanished beneath the waves. As dread filled Ember at the thought of what lurked in the darkness below, Caber’s feet hit ground. He snorted and dragged Ember and Barrow into the shallows.

Despite reaching the shore, Ember couldn’t find the strength to move. She held Barrow against her, relieved when Lukasz and Kael splashed through the water to reach them. Giving up Barrow to Kael’s care, Ember succumbed to her own exhaustion as Lukasz pulled her from the grasp of the frigid sea.