Larine clung to the port rail as the ship tossed, straining to see ahead. She’d stood in the prow until the waves crashing over the deck had driven her back. Most of the other wizards had gone below to wait until they reached their destination. But Larine couldn’t bear to be confined in the stuffy, cramped spaces, the heaving motion of the ship echoed by the heaving of her stomach. At least up here there was fresh air. Far too much of it, in fact. The wind beat her with cold fists and lashed her with whips of rain.
Daisy stood beside her, head up, mouth open, eyes bright, her four legs giving her much better stability than Larine’s two. Whenever an especially strong gust of wind hit or the ship lurched with particular violence, she barked in excitement. As far as Larine could tell, her familiar was enjoying herself immensely. She seemed to view their mission as a thrilling adventure and she and her wizard as glorious heroes.
Larine felt sick. Vomiting over the side had helped the physical nausea, but it had done nothing for the dread in her gut. She kept hearing Ozor’s voice screaming after her as she fled. Could anything justify hurting her child that way? Maybe it would have been better to let him and all of Elathir die than to stab him through the heart. He might survive, but he’d carry the scars for the rest of his life.
It was too late now to change her mind. The ship drove through the howling wind and turbulent waves, fighting its way to the spot the Mother had identified where a handful of thrown pebbles could change the course of an avalanche.
Larine pulled Dabiel’s terse instructions out of her pocket and squinted to read them again, even though she’d memorized every word. She didn’t see how this could work. The forces raging around her were immense beyond comprehension, and the ship was only skirting the edge of the storm. Even the combined energy of sixty-two poured-out lives would be scarcely a breath in comparison. How could they hope to turn the monster aside?
They weren’t going to try. They were going to push it a tiny bit faster along the course it was already traveling. According to the vision the Mother had given Dabiel, the enormous spinning vortex was approaching the coast of Tevenar at an angle, driving a huge surge of ocean water before it. If they did nothing, the surge would sweep over Elathir, drowning the city.
But the storm was rotating. On the north side of the circle, the wind and waves drove west, toward the shore. That’s where the greatest influx of water would inundate the land. On the south side, the wind blew east, out to sea. The division was so dramatic that the heart of the storm held a single calm spot about which everything else turned.
If they could speed the storm just a little, so it traveled only a short distance farther up the coast before it reached land, the surge would flood the uninhabited marshes north of Elathir. The city would be hit by the less destructive southern side of the storm. The Mother had told Dabiel it would be enough.
They wouldn’t be alone. Dabiel would lead the rest of the Wizards’ Guild to line the shore and send as much air as they could to push the storm out and north. Every one of them would spend themselves to the edge of exhaustion. Their contribution would be vital. But only the combination of their efforts and the sacrifice of the wizards and familiars aboard the ship would be sufficient to move the storm the necessary distance.
Look out! Daisy’s bark reached Larine’s ears at the same instant her warning reached her mind. The ship plunged. A wave loomed. Larine crushed the paper in her fist and clamped her arms around the rail. Cold water drenched her, tearing at her body with terrible strength.
Just as her arms were about to give way, Daisy’s teeth seized her ankle. Hot, bright power dragged Larine back to the deck. The ship tilted the other way and the wave drained through the railing into the sea. Larine peeled her arms loose, shaking, as Daisy sent the Mother’s power to heal the punctures her teeth had made.
“That was too close,” Larine said aloud. “Thank you.” She shivered. “Leave those. We need to save as much of our energy as we can.”
Daisy wrinkled her nose and kept the flow of power going until the wounds closed. You need to be able to walk. She whined and licked the line of red marks. I’m sorry I had to hurt you.
You kept me from being swept overboard. You have nothing to apologize for. It’s my fault for staying up here. Larine peeled the drenched wad of paper apart. Dabiel’s words were still legible, barely. She tucked it back in her pocket, grabbed the fur at the nape of Daisy’s neck, and held on tight as they headed aft.
Shiar was at the ship’s wheel. She could see the effort he was expending to keep it steady, although he didn’t look worried. His navigator was beside him, pointing and shouting. Shiar studied the compass she showed him and followed her gesture to look at the shore just visible through the driving rain. He nodded, and she retreated through the door behind him.
Larine approached him. “We’re still on course?” she yelled.
She had to lean close to hear him over the wind. “Right on schedule. We’ll keep the shore in sight for about two more hours until we’re far enough south, then head out to sea for another hour. We’ll get you to your spot in time.”
“Good. Thank you.”
He waved acknowledgment and turned his attention back to the wheel and the sea ahead.
Larine moved away, but she watched him for a moment before heading below. This was where Shiar belonged. His head was high, his eyes bright, his mouth stretched in something between a grin and a snarl. The muscles in his neck bulged as he wrestled the twisting wheel. She’d never seen him happier. Sailing through a storm fulfilled him the same way the Mother’s healing power flowing through her body and out her hands fulfilled her.
Larine sighed and turned away. Seeing him like this reminded her why she’d married him. Why she’d loved him. It had been real love, no matter how foolish and doomed. It was good to remember that now, at the end of her life.
She shuddered, her thoughts shying away from the truth that was too intense to contemplate for more than a moment or two at a time. Renewing her grip on Daisy, she made her way to the hatch, held it open against the tearing wind while the dog slipped through, and ducked inside. Daisy scampered down the ramp that had been built with four-footed creatures in mind, Larine close behind.
Most of the other wizards and familiars were crowded into the captain’s suite that took up the rear of the deck. The cabin wasn’t much bigger than the rest, but the office was a good size. People and animals huddled alone or in small groups. Many were quiet, but some conversed in soft voices. They all looked up when Larine entered, expectant, afraid, or both.
“A few more hours,” she said. They nodded and gave her wan smiles, then turned back to what they’d been doing.
She went to join Tirar, the youngest of the wizards besides her. He’d been named by the Mother the same year as she and Dabiel, twenty-seven years ago. He’d been a good friend and guildmate all that time. Larine had never dreamed they’d die together.
She yanked her unruly thoughts back into submission. “How are you?”
“All right, I guess.” He stroked the cat in his arms. She purred. “I wish I could have said good-bye to my sister. I’m her only family in Elathir; all our relatives live in Thedan. I looked for her at the dock, but she wasn’t there.”
Larine nodded in silent empathy. It would be weeks before her family in Gemgeda got word of what had happened. She couldn’t let herself picture her parents’ grief.
Tirar smiled, his eyes bleak. “I kept telling her to settle down, stand up with someone, start a family. She always laughed and said she had plenty of time. She’s much younger than me; she only made master last year.” He was silent for a moment. “I hope she’ll be all right.”
The cat butted his still fingers with her head. He resumed rubbing. “True. I have to remember that.”
He didn’t tell Larine what his familiar had said, but she could guess. Knowing their loved ones would survive to grieve was the only comfort they had.
Quiet weeping made Larine turn her head. Jesia stood with Helmed, her head on his chest, his arms around her. They’d been married since before Larine came to the Hall. She couldn’t imagine the guild without them.
At least they were doing this together. She ached for Hanion’s arms to hold her the way Helmed was holding Jesia. And yet at the same time she was fiercely glad he wasn’t here.
She didn’t have anything to offer they weren’t already giving each other. She turned back to Tirar.
He dragged his eyes away from them to meet hers. “I’m like my sister. I always thought there was time.”
She couldn’t answer. With a choked mumble of farewell to him and the rest, she retreated from the room. She’d find an empty cabin to hide in with Daisy until it was time.
Dabiel should have asked one of the others to lead. How could she guide and comfort and inspire her fellow wizards, when she was furious and grief-stricken and afraid?
If anyone was going to lose courage, it would be Larine.