Union (16 page)

The circle eventually disappeared into nothing, the blue haze vanishing as the dragons’ magic dissipated into the air. Once again reduced to nothing more than gentle waves, the sea lapped at the sides of the ships with an easy roll.

They were flying low in the sky now, low enough that Nykin could see the deck of the ships where bodies sprawled out on it. None of them looked like they were moving, and Nykin’s pulse began to race as he scanned for Ryneq among the bodies.

“Nykin
,
”
Fimor soothed, his voice velvety soft as it wrapped around Nykin like a blanket.
“It’s all right, they’re not dead. Look closer
.
”

Nykin rubbed at his eyes, wiping the last of the rain away before doing as Fimor suggested. It took a few moments, but eventually the men started to move, pulling themselves upright. But still he saw no sign of Ryneq. “
Can we go a little lower, Fimor? I need to see him.”

Nykin heard the desperation in his own voice, but he didn’t care. His chest ached, and only seeing Ryneq would ease it. Fimor let out a low rumble and dipped his wing, taking them in a low sweeping circle around the ship.

Nykin twisted in his saddle, craning his neck to see. For a few more awful moments, only the crew was on the deck of the
Dragon’s Breath
, and then the doors from below were pushed open, and more men began to stagger out on shaky legs. Then there he was, climbing up onto the deck, followed by the rest of his men, and Nykin finally released the death grip he had on Fimor’s harness and breathed.

Thank the Gods
. He blinked back the relieved tears threatening to spill over, laughing in disbelief when Ryneq looked up and saw them, a huge grin on his face. Nykin offered him a salute in return, and after another sweep of the ship, he and Fimor left to check on the
Wildfire
.

The second ship was in much the same state, the deck a flurry of activity as the crew began to get things back to normal. They spotted Princess Cerylea, leaning over the portside railing, clearly suffering from a bout of seasickness, and all things considered, Nykin was hardly surprised. They left her to it and flew up to join the other riders.

R
YNEQ
CLIMBED
up onto the deck, his legs still a little unsteady, and gulped in the fresh salty air surrounding them. The sky was beautiful—full of dark reds and oranges as dawn slowly chased away the night—and the sea no longer seemed to try its best to capsize them. He let out a deep sigh of relief when he spotted Cerylea’s ship in the distance, close enough that he could make out movement above deck. Unless you looked closely, it seemed as though the storm had never happened.

The
Dragon’s Breath
told a different story though. The crew, although now back to work and busy getting back to full sail again, looked ragged and half-drowned. Ryneq felt the lingering effects of seasickness, but unlike the rest of his men—most of whom were currently throwing up over the back of the boat—he didn’t think he was going to be sick.

The storm seemed to have stopped as soon as it had started. One moment they were clinging to anything they could reach while violently tossed around below deck, the next the ship righted itself and everything just stopped. Ryneq immediately made his way over to the rail, walking as if he’d drunk several jugs of wine, and looked out over the calm water.

He had no idea why the storm had suddenly disappeared, but when he looked and saw his dragon riders circling above, he wondered if they had anything to do with it. There would be plenty to discuss when they arrived in Alel.

He caught sight of a familiar form dipping low and flying closer to the boat.

Nykin.

Ryneq’s heart turned over in his chest as they came close enough for him to see Nykin’s face, and his breath caught in his throat. It had been one of the worst nights of Ryneq’s life, right up there with the death of his parents and his capture by Hatak. He really wanted to drag Nykin into his arms and kiss him hard. Wanted to feel Nykin’s strong arms wrap around him and bury his face in the crook of Nykin’s neck, so he could just breathe him in. Just seeing him sitting astride his majestic red dragon was enough to make Ryneq grin broadly. Nykin and Fimor together were a sight to behold, and Ryneq would never take it for granted. He smirked as Nykin offered him a salute and watched them fly back up to join the other riders.

He searched around the deck until his gaze landed on Vahkil, still barking orders but looking remarkably calm and collected, considering what they’d all been through. Ryneq made his way over to the captain, dodging the sailors as they hurried around to do Vahkil’s bidding.

“How bad was it?” Ryneq asked, as he came to stand alongside him, leaning against the rail behind.

Vahkil hummed thoughtfully, his gaze running over the ship as if debating how to answer. “The king was no fool. He knew exactly what to ask for in his ships.” Ryneq tried not to flinch at the mention of his father, but Vahkil’s expression softened a little anyway. “She was built to last, this one”—he patted the wheel almost lovingly—“otherwise we’d all be resting at the bottom of the sea. Even this beauty wouldn’t have taken much more of that though.” He turned to cast a curious gaze over at Ryneq. “I don’t know who, or what, got rid of the storm”—he flashed a look up at the dragons circling above, but didn’t comment—“but they did it just in time.”

“Yes, they did,” Ryneq agreed. He was itching to question Eldin about what had happened—Nykin too, but that would have to wait until later—and the sooner they got to Alel, the sooner that could happen. “Have we lost much time?” He had no idea how long the storm had lasted, or if they’d been pushed off course at all.

Vahkil eyed the rising sun where it had started to creep up over the horizon. “A couple of hours, maybe. We’re not too far off course, but we were almost stationary throughout the length of the storm.”

Ryneq sighed, closing his eyes as he felt exhaustion creep over him. He wanted to get off this ship and onto land. The thought of having to stay aboard even longer wasn’t a pleasant one. “Will we still make it before dusk tomorrow?”

“Yes, Sire.” Vahkil gestured to the billowing sails, now fully set “The wind’s in our favor. We’ll make Alel well before the sun sets.”

“Good. I’m going to check on my men. Let me know if anything changes.”

Vahkil saluted, and Ryneq acknowledged the gesture with a short nod.

Most of Ryneq’s personal guards, including Peros, were slumped against the crates now lashed to the deck. Only a couple of them were still retching over the rail, but they all still looked a little green around the edges, so Ryneq dipped back down below deck to retrieve some more ginger for them.

Some of the men eyed him with a dubious expression as he handed out the root. “Trust me,” he said, pushing some into their hands. “I know you don’t feel like chewing this, but it’ll make you feel better and keep the sickness at bay.” Ryneq decided to lead by example and popped a piece into his mouth. While not the best thing he’d ever tasted—the raw ginger made his tongue sting and his mouth burn—the end result was definitely worth it.

The four guards who’d had it earlier took it now without hesitation, and Peros reluctantly did the same. It took the others a little longer, but eventually all of them were chewing slowly.

With everyone more or less over the worst of their seasickness, Ryneq ushered them all down below to get some food inside them. They still had almost two days’ journey ahead of them, and Ryneq wasn’t about to do it on an empty stomach. He just hoped they could all keep it down this time.

T
HE
SUN
was low in the sky by the time their ships rounded the headland leading to the elven city of Alel the following day. The entrance to the city was hidden by magic, but Morkryn had sent Cerylea the coordinates to an area just outside the barrier. The sea was thankfully still calm, and Ryneq wondered if that was due to the two long boats already on their way out to meet them. Eight elves rowed the boats as far as Ryneq could tell, and he couldn’t help but admire how smoothly they pulled the oars. The boats split off, one going to Cerylea’s ship, and one coming to Ryneq’s.

He assumed they each had an elder on board, because that was the only way the Torserian ships would be able to pass through the barrier protecting Alel from the outside world. The elven boat pulled alongside them, and Vahkil ordered his men to secure it and help the elves aboard.

Only one of the elves actually boarded the ship, though. He was tall and willowy, with long white hair flowing over his shoulders, and his almond-shaped eyes were dark and piercing. After thanking Vahkil for allowing him onto the boat, the elder walked over to Ryneq.

“Welcome to Alel, King Ryneq.” He bowed his head in greeting. “My name is Glaevahl. I trust your journey was safe and uneventful this time?”

Ryneq returned the greeting, inclining his head slightly. “Not quite. We had a little trouble with the weather.”

“Oh? How so?” Glaevahl’s eyes widened, and his gaze drifted over the rest of the ship, lingering on the way the crates were now tied to the deck.

Ryneq paused, debating how best to explain it. “We hit a storm.”

Glaevahl raised an eyebrow. “In this sea?” He waved his hand out wide, gesturing to the calm sea surrounding them on all sides. “You must tell us more about this when we reach land.”

“Of course,” Ryneq replied. He wanted to find out who was behind the magical storm that almost killed them. If the elves could shed any light on it, then Ryneq was only too pleased to tell them everything.

Glaevahl closed his eyes for a moment, and Ryneq felt a soft pulse of something under his feet. “You can safely pass through the barrier now.” He opened his eyes and smiled, and Ryneq felt instantly at ease. “Captain Vahkil, you may follow our boats back into Alel.”

Vahkil looked to Ryneq for confirmation, and when Ryneq nodded, he shouted orders to the rest of the crew to furl all the sails and take to the oars.

The
Wildfire
was already ahead of them, trailing the elven boats until all three vanished from sight. Ryneq’s gaze snapped to Glaevahl, who held up his hand.

“It’s just the barrier doing its work. This is how we protect Alel and its people.” Glaevahl pointed to where the boats had disappeared, and Ryneq relaxed a little. It made sense for the elves to hide the entrance to their city.

“How will my dragon riders cross the barrier?” Ryneq asked, glancing up at the sky to where Eldin and the others were still shadowing them. All his focus had been on getting the ships safely through to Alel, and although only Selene and Nykin were accompanying them into the city, they still needed to get through the protective magic.

Glaevahl smiled a little wistfully. “The barrier was put in place a long time ago to protect us from any attacks by sea, not from the air. The dragons will know where it ends, and can fly safely over it. Watch.”

They both looked up, and sure enough, two of the dragons split off from the main group and flew higher up into the sky before heading after the
Wildfire.

Ryneq’s skin tingled with anticipation as they approached the barrier, and he watched in stunned disbelief as the front half of the ship seemed to vanish bit by bit as they went through. A cold, tickling sensation washed through Ryneq, and judging by the expressions on the faces of his men, they’d felt it too. Then they were on the other side, and Ryneq’s mouth fell open at the sight before him.

Alel.

He’d imagined what the elven city would look like—the strange ethereal beauty of the elves making him think their city would be much the same. But the reality was so much more than his mind could ever have come up with.

“O
H
. T
HAT
’
S
just… wow.” Nykin was almost speechless as they flew over the elves’ protective barrier and caught their first sight of Alel.

Fimor snorted in amusement.
“Very eloquent, Nykin. I’m sure the royal family would be thrilled with your description of their beautiful city.”

Nykin rolled his eyes, even though Fimor couldn’t see him. “It’s just so….” Nykin’s gaze flicked from one place to another as he tried, and failed, to take it all in.

“Yes, I suppose it is
.
”
Fimor laughed loudly, the sound echoing in Nykin’s head and a tendril of fire shot out into the warm evening air.

Fimor had probably seen many things as amazing and exciting as the Elven city of Alel, but Nykin hadn’t, and the view from this high up literally took his breath away. He watched the Torserian ships as they glided slowly and easily into the huge bay. The elven boats were already mooring at the long jetty off to the side, and both the
Wildfire
and the
Dragon’s Breath
slotted in seamlessly alongside them, as though guided by an unseen hand.