Scimitar War (49 page)

Another jolt of agony as more stone and metal succumbed to the pressure. The light of the chamber faded to a dull crimson, and he knew the end was coming. Soon the pressure of the sea would overcome the waning magic and crush the crystalline walls of his prison, killing him, killing her, killing them.

They would die together.

Then something moved outside the crystal walls, a pale shape swirling in the ruddy light. It fluttered like a ghost, moving too fast to be corporeal. The specter circled the crystalline chamber, and new fear gripped him. Was this some angel of death, the ghost of some long-drowned seafarer? Was it here for his soul?

Edan saw a glint outside the chamber, and a tone rang through him—beautiful, like a crystal bell. Something was striking the chamber. A second tone, then a third, this one off key.

It’s breaking in
, he thought in a panic, even as he wondered how a ghost could break anything.

With a crack, the crystal fractured, and the last of Akrotia’s magic flared like a beacon. The dry heat of his fire was smothered as warm seawater surged over him. In one last glimpse through the magic’s eye, he saw the ghost in the stark light, and it wasn’t a ghost at all.

It was Cynthia!

The sea witch!

Then a million crystal knives stabbed through him. He screamed in agony and inhaled only water. He was drowning.

≈

Cynthia dropped the heavy head of the boarding axe that Feldrin had dropped what seemed a lifetime ago. She had used it to shatter the door to the crystal chamber, then gently eased the sea into the space beyond. She blinked against the last flare of magical light, but that instant of radiance revealed Edan and Samantha locked in a lattice of crystal shards, their bodies pressed together, lips touching.

And Cynthia suddenly understood.

Samantha loves him!

That explained so much: why the girl had followed them to the Sea of Lost Ships, her insistence that Edan leave with her, even her murder of Ghelfan, who had simply gotten in her way. Cynthia would never forgive that, but at least now she understood.

The lattice of crystal that held them immobile melted away, and they floated free in a tangle of thrashing arms and legs. The panic they must have felt urged her to act quickly. Cynthia cast the spell to allow them to breathe underwater, and saw their skin flush pink; the spell was working. Samantha floated calmly, seeming dazed, but Edan thrashed and coughed out bubbles as he struggled to breathe.

Akrotia shuddered, and rubble tumbled down through the water as great cracks shot through the stone walls of the outer chamber. There was no time for delay; they had to get out
now
. Cynthia urged the sea to grasp Edan and move him from the crystalline chamber into the open, but he fought against it, clawing at his throat and kicking wildly. If she tried to bring him through the corridors like this, he would beat himself to death on the jagged bits of stone. She tried to get his attention, but his eyes were blind with terror. There was only one thing to do.

Odea protect me
, she thought as she reached out and grasped Edan’s wrist.

The elemental forces of fire and water clashed ferociously where their flesh met. Water vaporized in a cloud of steam, and pain lanced through Cynthia’s hand. Her head whipped back as the magic of the winds shared by both Cynthia and Edan blasted through her. A storm raged in her mind, a tempest of wind and water and fire. Above the shriek of the storm, Cynthia heard a jangle of keys and a peal of unearthly laughter. Odea’s laughter.

In that moment, she and Edan connected.

As if they were her own, Cynthia understood his hopes and dreams, his loves and fears. She felt Edan convulse and saw his eyes widen, no longer wild, but full of comprehension, and she knew that he, too, had felt it. Immediately, he stopped struggling.

Cynthia released Edan’s wrist, daring to look down at her hand. Bits of boiled skin peeled away from the cooked flesh to flutter in the water, pale and ghostly. She tried to flex her fingers, but the wave of agony almost made her retch, her mouth gaping in a silent scream. She clutched her wrist and waited until the searing pain ebbed.

Edan, she noticed, had no similar injury, his skin immune to the blistering steam. He looked at her hand and winced, his expression apologetic. Cynthia gestured with her uninjured hand, hoping he understood that she was going to use the sea to move them out of the chamber. As Akrotia’s magic drained away, the light dimmed further, and the walls around them groaned; they didn’t have much time. As she turned, a shape surged out of the gloom, an obsidian dagger thrusting toward her.

≈

Sam felt groggy, floating, as if still dreaming. She had had wonderful dreams of Edan; they were together forever in a sea of light, united body, mind, and soul. Then the dream had turned ugly as he tried to push her away, rejecting her. Now she was alone again, with only her madness to console her.

It wasn’t fair! She had rescued him from the sea witch. He was hers.

The sea witch!
Every time Sam thought of the woman, her rage flared like an inferno. Cynthia Flaxal should have died, but somehow she had lived. Visions flashed in her mind: ships, mer, the sea witch…pain…

With a start, Sam realized she was floating in a sea of waning twilight, her body pained but free. She felt no need to breathe, as comfortable as an enwombed child. But she felt…alone. Where was Edan?

He was there, moving toward the shattered door of the crystal chamber. Sam started to pull herself toward him, then saw another figure. The sea witch was pulling Edan away from her! Sam’s fury rose.

Her obsidian dagger lay on the crystal below her feet. Snatching it up, she lunged.

≈

Edan gazed at the sea around him, felt the comforting warmth of it against his skin, and wondered why he had feared it so. For a brief, shocking moment, he had known Cynthia’s mind, felt her deep love of the ocean…and shared it.

The seamage gestured, and he understood. Akrotia was dying, but he was no longer part of it. He wouldn’t die here at the bottom of the sea, in the cold and dark. Despite all the things he had done, Cynthia had rescued him from his worst nightmare.

A shadow flitted past him toward Cynthia. He had forgotten about Samantha. With a shock, he saw the black blade plunge toward the seamage’s chest. He grabbed at Samantha’s arm, jerking her aside. She whirled on him, and he saw once again her madness; eyes alight with fury, her lips pulled back, pointed teeth bared.

Pain…

Edan looked down. A dagger hilt protruded from his stomach. As he watched, streams of crimson drifted from his torn flesh and swirled in the eddies of water. Though the sea around him was warm, he suddenly felt cold. He looked up to see Cynthia’s wide eyes, and understood.

She had rescued him from Akrotia, but he was still going to die here.

≈

Cynthia saw the madness in Samantha’s eyes fade to disbelief, then shock. The girl’s hand fell away from the dagger she had thrust into the man she loved, and she stared down at the blood swirling in the water, then at her hands. Samantha floated, unmoving, paralyzed by the horror of what she had done.

Cynthia, however, was not paralyzed.

She flung the girl aside with a flick of the sea’s power, pinning her to the far wall of the crystalline chamber. Edan drifted, shock painting his features, his hands grasping at, then retreating from, the dagger that impaled him.

Cynthia wished she could cry out in frustration. With the pain and shock of her contact with Edan, all thoughts of the girl had slipped from her mind. Edan’s mouth gaped open and closed, and his eyes pleaded with her. She reflexively reached out toward him, then pulled back. She couldn’t touch him again, not without maiming herself further. Besides, another shock like the one they had already endured would likely kill him. She urged the sea to gently surround him and move him, motioning to him to stay still. He coughed a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth, and stared blankly at her.

As they reached the door to the corridor, Cynthia looked back. Samantha remained pinned to the wall, but she didn’t struggle against the power of the sea. She just stared into the water before her, eyes wide and blank, transfixed upon the drifting tendrils of blood, bereft of cognizant thought.

For an instant, Cynthia felt a piercing sympathy for the girl; she was a victim, a product of Bloodwind’s merciless indoctrination. But she was also responsible for the deaths of dozens of Cynthia’s friends, and indirectly for the conflagration of the
Clairissa
. She had murdered Ghelfan in cold blood in this very room, and had tried to kill Cynthia and her baby. Any one of these had earned her a quick death, but Cynthia could not make herself do it. She could not murder her.

But she’d be damned if she’d save her life.

Let the sea decide
, she thought as the last of the light faded from the chamber.

The peal of splitting stone snapped her moment of reverie. The last vestiges of magic that held Akrotia’s structure intact had failed. Cradling Edan in a gentle cocoon of water, Cynthia urged the sea to take them out of the chamber.

Shrieks and howls of collapsing metal and stone sounded them; Akrotia’s death throes. Then from behind them a tremendous rumble, deep and powerful, as the Chamber of Life collapsed. Struggling to suppress her panic, Cynthia pushed ahead as quickly as she could without harming Edan, but an instant later, the pressure wave of the room’s collapse hit them. Tumbling in the roiling water, utterly disoriented, she called on the sea to protect them.

In the silent darkness that followed, she saw in her mind’s eye the faces of her son and husband. The last of her energy was gone, the sea’s power slipping from her grasp, and all she could think was that she would never see Kloe or Feldrin again.

≈

“Admiral!” Captain Betts snapped an exhausted salute. “We’ve searched all the wreckage, and all survivors are aboard. There’s still no sign of the mer or…the seamage.”

Admiral Joslan gazed out across the calm blue sea from the vantage of
Indomitable
’s quarterdeck. They had done it!

Actually
, he admitted to himself,
she
has done it
. The warships’ attacks had been like the pecking of pigeons on a granite statue, save for Donnely’s foolhardy plunge. The seamage and her magic had made the difference. Without her, his vaunted navy would all have burned, and with them, Tsing itself, the seat of the empire, would have gone up in flames.

He heaved a sigh of relief. Peering down into the crystalline depths, he searched the waters one last time, looking for a sign that the seamage had survived. Nothing.

“Very well, Captain Betts,” he said as he strode down to his cabin for a stiff drink. “Signal the armada. We’re going home.”

Chapter 34

Spoils of War

Chains rattling, Feldrin once again walked the grim corridor toward the room where he had last met with his wife and son. The guards who gripped his arms would tell him nothing, and his heart hammered with trepidation. He’d heard already some of the news: Akrotia destroyed, two ships lost in the battle, but not a word about Cynthia.

Hold fast
, he thought vehemently.
They’re gonna open that door, and Cyn will be sittin’ there as beautiful as ever, holdin’ Kloe. You’ll see.
He wouldn’t—couldn’t—think otherwise. Then the door opened, and Feldrin felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach.

Count Norris sat at the table, his face as still as stone. Feldrin stepped forward and gripped the back of the chair before him. The wood groaned under his grip. When his legs felt like they would support him no more, he collapsed into the seat.

“Count.” His voice cracked, and he swallowed before attempting to speak again. “How’s Kloe?”

“He’s well,” Norris said, attempting a smile. “Camilla dotes on him.”

“Good.” Feldrin cleared his throat. He had only one other question, and he both longed for and dreaded the answer. “And Cyn?”

Finally Norris’ unreadable façade cracked, his eyes registering a deep sorrow. “She…didn’t come up after Akrotia capsized. Admiral Joslan assumed she was lost.”

“He assumed?” Feldrin clenched his hands in his lap to still their shaking, but his voice came out loud and accusative. “She saved their precious city and no one could bloody well take the time to make sure she wasn’t just hurt? They couldn’t even recover her body for a proper burial?”

Norris waved back the nervous guards and fixed his eyes on Feldrin’s. “They did search, Feldrin. Admiral Joslan’s entire armada scoured the area for hours. He even admitted that she was the reason they succeeded where the navy alone couldn’t have. But I’m afraid she’s gone.”

“I see.” Feldrin swallowed again, slumping back in the chair as both his rage and his strength drained away. He clenched his teeth against the scream that threatened to tear out of his throat.
Cyn!
Breathing deeply, he forced it all down until he felt no emotion at all. His soul was empty. When he finally spoke, his voice was dull to his own ears. “Is that all?”

“No, Feldrin.” Norris shifted in his chair. “In light of Cynthia’s success and personal sacrifice, as well as recent…negotiations, the emperor has reduced your sentence to just one year. During that time, he has agreed to employ the crew of
Orin’s Pride
to train navy personnel in the art of sailing a schooner. At the end of your sentence, since the empire will be constructing a fleet of ships from Cynthia’s designs, he will no longer need
Orin’s Pride
, and has agreed to revert ownership of the schooner back to you.”

“I…see,” Feldrin replied, not knowing what to think. He’d been given his life back, though what kind of life would it be without Cynthia? But there was Kloe to think about. “That’s…very generous of him.”

“The emperor’s not a tyrant, Feldrin,” Norris explained.

“Not as long as he gets what he wants,” Feldrin countered through clenched teeth. “Well, I’ll not look a gift horse in the mouth, Count. I don’t suppose he’d grant a few visits with my son over the next year?”

“Camilla and I will visit with Kloe every week, Feldrin. You have my word on it.”

He nodded. “Thanks fer that, Count. I’d like him to know me when I get out.”

“He will, Feldrin.” Norris gave a quick nod and rose. “I promise.”

“Aye.” Feldrin stood, steadying himself until his knee stopped shaking. “And Camilla. How is she?”

For the first time, Norris truly smiled. “She’s fine, Feldrin. Completely over her ordeal. She’s even agreed to marry me.” The count’s smile faltered with the realization of the pain such a thought might bring, but Feldrin understood. He smiled and nodded, then turned away without another word.

He barely noticed the walk back to his cell. They may as well have been leading him to the guillotine, so bleak was his mood. Memories of Cynthia ran through his mind: walking along the beach in her bright sarong, emerging from the sea with a wide smile, laying with him in the dark of the night… He wondered how he could ever live without her, but realized that he had no choice; his son needed a father.