ARC: The Wizard's Promise (20 page)

CHAPTER 16

Benedict spotted land just as the sun peeked above the horizon. I was asleep when the call went out, and the clanging of bells wove through my dreams, which were of starlight and the wind. I opened my eyes to find the crew scrambling up on deck.

“Land!” Benedict shouted. “We’re home!”

My heart leapt at the word
home
, even though Tulja wasn’t home, not really, not for me. But it was home for Finnur. There had to be someone here who could bring him back to life.

I ran up on deck and found the crew preparing to make port, so I grabbed a rope and started tying down the sails. We worked largely in silence, the gray dawn lighting our way. Asbera wasn’t on deck, but the captain’s quarters glowed with the light from a magic-cast lantern.

“How’s Finnur?” I asked Reynir when he joined me at the masts.

“Still alive.” Reynir nodded. “I watched over him last night.” He hesitated. “Asbera insists there’s no change, but I took his pulse and it was weaker than it was yesterday.”

I kept winding the rope around my wrist. “At least we’re back,” I said after a time.

Reynir grunted in response.

The
Annika
sailed through the still, calm waters of the bay, missing one of her crew and nursing another, but not trailing any monsters to land. As the docks appeared in the dim light, I checked over the side of the railing, afraid one of the monsters had found its way back to us. But there were only the dark waters.

“Listen up,” Baltasar shouted from the helm as we approached the docks. “Gather round.”

We did as he asked. The wind pushed us gently toward the shore.

“I know you’re all relieved to be home,” Baltasar said, his rough hands gripping the ship’s wheel. “But first thing we need to do is to send word to the priests. Finnur’s our priority, but you need to tell them about Harald as well. Reynir, I’m putting you in charge of that. Compose the message yourself. Benedict and Seimur, I’m asking you to rent a pair of yaks and take the message in person. You know how the priests can be.”

There was a stilted pause at Baltasar’s blasphemy. He pulled a couple of stones out of his pocket and tossed them down to Benedict and Seimur. “For the yaks,” he said.

They nodded.

“The rest of you can clear the boat. But stay close – head over to the Yak’s Horn if you want. Don’t know what the priests’ll need to get Finnur better. May be sending you out on errands.”

The crew muttered their agreement.

The
Annika
slowed as she sailed into the docks proper. I stayed up on deck to help with the wind, standing by the railing so that the crew could scramble up and around the masts. The light peeked over the horizon, illuminating the boats lined up in the bay. There were five of them, more than I expected. Fishing vessels, mostly.

Including one lined with spiky, Jolali-style icons.

I gasped and clutched the railing so that I could lean out over the water. The
Penelope II
. She was still docked at Tulja. They hadn’t left after all. Lord Foxfollow’s attack must have left them weak.

I whirled around. “Baltasar!” I shouted. “Baltasar, I may be able to help Finnur, faster than the priests.”

He had all his concentration focused on bringing us to the docks, like a good captain, and he didn’t look at me when he answered. “What are you on about, girl?”

“I know someone who might be able to help. I thought he’d be gone by the time we arrived, but his boat’s still here.”

“And who’s that?” Baltasar adjusted the line of the boat as we moved closer to land. “Your old captain?”

My blood vibrated in my body. Finnur; we’d be able to save Finnur.

“He’s a powerful wizard,” I said. “It’s worth a try, and he can come faster than the priests–”

“Right you are on that. Go fetch him when we get to land. I’m willing to try anything.”

I nodded and turned back to the starboard side. The
Penelope II
gleamed in the encroaching dawn as the
Annika
settled into her customary place at the docks.

When the crew were dropping anchor, I raced into the captain’s quarters, grinning with the good news about the
Penelope II
.

Asbera sat at Finnur’s side, laying damp cloths on his forehead. My grin vanished.

“What’s wrong?” I slid into place beside her. Finnur’s expression was the same, still that frozen terror, but his skin was pale and tinted blue. Horror crawled over me. “Sea and sky, is he–”

“Not yet.” She tucked a cloth around his throat. “His temperature has risen. I’m not a healer, but it feels too hot–”

I immediately laid the back of my hand against his cheek. His skin burned.

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” I babbled. “Maybe it means he’s coming back around.”

Asbera shook her head, her hair falling into her eyes. “It took too long,” she whispered, and draped another cloth, this time across his chest. “I know you got us here as fast as you could, but the priests will take at least a day–”

“We may not need the priests.” I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She looked over at me, confused. “The
Penelope II
is still here. Kolur might able to help. I know he’s familiar with Mists magic.”

She didn’t say anything, but a light came back into her eyes. A glitter of hope.

“You should open up the windows,” I said. “Maybe the cold air will help bring the fever down. The wind’s still blowing out of the north.”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“I won’t be long,” I said. “I promise.”

I raced along the docks, my hair streaming out behind me. A few fishermen stood scattered around their boats, and old Muni with his fish stand was already set up in the usual place. They all stared at me as I ran past, but I didn’t care. I was only focused on getting to the
Penelope II
.

Her masts poked up against the horizon, dark against the pink dawn. Her sails were down. I breathed with relief – she wasn’t going anywhere yet. But I didn’t slow. My feet pounded against the old saltwater-soaked boards, and I sucked in cold salty air until my lungs burned. When I finally came to the
Penelope II
, I stumbled to a stop and I leaned over, trying to catch my breath. Everything was quiet here except for my panting. Even the ocean seemed to have fallen silent.

The gangplank was down, so I climbed aboard. No one was on deck, but I could smell the residue of magic, like burnt salt. A scrap of woven blue fabric had been nailed to the boards beside the ship’s wheel. A Kjoran protection charm – I’d grown so used to the Tuljan ones that the sight of it startled me. I wondered how new it was.

“Hello!” I shouted. “Hello, is anyone here?” I walked across the deck, my voice lifting with the wind. “It’s Hanna. Please! I have an emergency!”

No answer. I turned slowly in place. The waves sloshed out in the bay. A cold fear gripped at me. Maybe they weren’t here at all. Maybe Lord Foxfollow had killed them, or dragged them away to the Mists. Or done worse, somehow.

“Hello!” I screamed again, panic turning my voice ragged. I ran to the hatch and flung it open. The underbelly of the boat was lit with a faint blue glow. A lantern. I scrambled down, taking deep breaths every time my foot touched the rung of a ladder. “Kolur!” I shouted when I made it down. “Frida! Anyone?”

The
Penelope II
was not laid out like the original
Penelope
, and the corridors twisted off in strange narrow angles. It must have been the Jolali style, but the confusing layout just made me frustrated. I could hear the ocean everywhere, but nothing else, no human voices, nothing. “Kolur!” I screamed. My voice echoed like I stood inside a cavern, not a boat. Another side effect of the magic that had been done here.

“Be quiet.”

Frida. I recognized her voice.

I whirled around. I couldn’t see anything but blue-lit darkness. “I can’t see you,” I said, lowering my voice. “I need to speak with Kolur.”

“He’s resting.” Frida ducked through a low-hanging doorway. She was dressed in sleeping clothes. “What are you doing here?” She looked at me. “You shouldn’t come with us, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s too dangerous. Stay here until you can find passage home.”

Her voice was sharp-edged and it made me shiver.
Too dangerous
. At least they were being honest now.

“It’s not that.” I shook my head. “I need Kolur’s help. The magic he did a few nights ago, when Lord Foxfollow attacked – it hurt one of my friends.”

Frida froze. “How do you know that name?” she hissed. “Lord Foxfollow.”

“I know everything that’s been happening.” I jerked away from her. “Plus, I
talked
to him. He showed me what Kolur did, sending the monsters into the open sea. He sent them straight to the
Annika
.”

Frida’s hand went to her mouth. “No,” she said softly. “No, we didn’t mean–”

“I know you didn’t.” I slumped down. “But one of those monsters bit my friend and put him into a magic-sleep and I have to know if Kolur can help him. Please? They sent for the village priests, but it’s almost a day’s journey for them to leave their cave and I don’t think Finnur – that’s my friend – I don’t think he has enough time. So will you please let me talk to Kolur?”

The words spilled out in a tumble, and when I finished, I had to steady myself against the wall and catch my breath. Frida looked away from me, her hand still covering her mouth.

“What?” I asked breathlessly. “What’s wrong?”

The lanterns threw liquid light across us both. I wanted to scream. Finnur was dying, and Frida wouldn’t help me.

“Kolur can’t go to your friend,” she said softly.

“What? Why not?”

“Magic-sickness.” Frida looked back at me. “Parts of him changed – he can’t leave the ocean, not for the time being. Pjetur and I wove a spell to reverse the effects, but it will be at least a week’s time before he’s able to breathe air again.”

The world fell away. I heard a rushing in my ears like the air was pouring out of my body. I hadn’t seen
that
in the vision Lord Foxfollow gave me. Only the magic.

I pressed up against the wall, my whole body shaking, Sea and sky, we were lucky the magic-sickness hadn’t infected us on board the
Annika
.

“I’m so sorry,” Frida said. “I am.”

“You can heal him,” I said. “You’re powerful, I’ve seen it–”

She stared at me sadly. “I’ve never had the ability to heal,” she said. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable, not against Mist magic. I’d likely cause more harm than good.”

Panic hammered through my thoughts. “What if we put Finnur in the ocean?” My voice echoed around the strange corridors of the
Penelope II
. “We could put him in a rowboat and Kolur could look at him that way–”

Frida shook her head.

“Why not?” My voice trembled. I didn’t want to cry in front of her, but I was afraid I was going to anyway. “Please, I swore to his wife–”

“He’s too weak to work magic,” Frida said. “Yes, he could look at your friend, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Not in his current state. It would destroy him, turn him into saltwater.”

I couldn’t hold back my tears any longer. I stalked away from Frida and ran through the corridors, choking back my sobs even as tears streaked down my face.

“Hanna!” she called out, but I ignored her. I stumbled through the murky shadows until I came to the square of sunlight illuminating the ladder leading back up on deck. Finnur was going to die. Kolur couldn’t help him, and the priests would never get there in time.

The burden of my responsibility hung like a weight around my neck.

I climbed back onto the deck of the
Penelope II.
The sun had risen completely, lemony and bright like the summer sun back home. I felt like it was mocking me.

“Hanna, don’t go yet.”

I stopped. I almost recognized the voice. It was more human than I remembered.

Isolfr dropped down from the masts, landing softly on his feet like a cat. The sunlight refracted through my tears, and in that liquid haze, he shone the way he had when I first saw him.

“I was just leaving,” I said, trying to hold my head high. I turned away from him.

“Wait.”

There was an urgency in his voice that I didn’t expect. I stopped, staring off at the dock in the distance. The wind blew my hair into my eyes. I was blinded.

“My friend’s going to die,” I said. “I can’t stay.”

“What?” Isolfr walked over to stand beside me. I thought he was going to put his hand on my shoulder, but he didn’t. “Why? What happened?”

“Don’t you know?” I snapped. “Don’t you know everything?”

Isolfr looked down at his feet. His cheeks reddened. “Not in this body.” He lifted his eyes, peering at me through his lashes. “But I heard you yelling, and so I know that it must be serious.”

I hesitated. The wind blew harder, gusting in from the west. I thought I smelled summer on it, the fresh scent of berries and wildflowers.

And then I told Isolfr everything. I was desperate.

He stared at me as I spoke, not once looking away. His eyes were the same color as ice. They were the only part of him that didn’t seem human.

“I can help,” he said. “Take me to him. But we have to move quickly.”

I stared at Isolfr, taking in those blandly handsome features, those unsettling eyes. It made sense, in a way. Isolfr was not human, and Finnur had been struck down by inhuman magic.

“You don’t trust me,” Isolfr said.

“Why should I?” I snapped. “I won’t put my friend in any more danger–”

“I want to help him!” Isolfr shouted. “I want to help you.”

I’d never heard him raise his voice before, and I took a step back, shocked.

Isolfr seemed to shrink down inside himself, back to the soft Isolfr I knew from our time at sea. “I’m not from the Mists,” he said.

“You’ve certainly told me that enough times,” I snapped. “Not that you’ll say where you
are
from–”

“I’m from this world,” Isolfr said. “From the north.”

“Jandanvar?”

He hesitated, and that was how I knew. Somehow, he came from Jandanvar.

“I know what to do to help your friend,” he said.

The wind gusted again.

I nodded.

“Show me the way.” He ran toward the gangplank. I followed, too scared to let myself get hopeful.

“We kept him on board the
Annika
,” I said. “It’s moored at the usual place – the seventh dock.”

“All right, yes. I know where that is.”

We ran. I focused on the line of Isolfr’s back ahead of me. Then the
Annika
rose up against the docks. With the masts empty, she looked haunted.

Zakaria and Reynir were standing guard next to the ladder. They looked up at us as Isolfr and I skittered to a stop.

“Who the hell is this?” Reynir asked, jabbing his thumb at Isolfr. “Baltasar said you were going to get your old captain.”

“He couldn’t come. This is – Pjetur. He can help.”

Reynir narrowed his eyes at me.

“We don’t have time for this! Move!” I shoved Reynir aside, and he let out a surprised cry of protest that made Zakaria laugh. But neither of them tried to stop me.

I let Isolfr climb up the ladder first.
Please don’t betray us
, I thought.
Please please please
.

The deck was empty except for Baltasar. He sat over by the ship’s wheel, smoking a pipe and staring off into the distance. He glanced at us when we scrambled on board.

“This is Pjetur,” I said before he could ask any questions. “He’s not my captain, but I know he can help.”
I hope he can help
.

“Where is he?” Isolfr stopped in the center of the boat and sniffed at the air. “He’s far gone. I need to see him
now
.”

“Captain’s quarters.” Baltasar blew out a ring of smoke. “Sure hope you can help him, boy.”

Isolfr nodded. The way the sun shone on him, he didn’t look human at all but like some manifestation of the spirit world, a creature of light and magic.

A creature of wind.

I went very still, thinking of the north wind, the whistling, whispering voice, the way it had cradled me down from the stars–

No. It couldn’t be.

Isolfr disappeared into the captain’s quarters. Baltasar studied me through the haze of his pipe smoke.

“What is he?” Baltasar asked.

I decided not to lie. “I don’t know.”

Baltasar turned back to the sea. “You better get in there. He might need your help.”

My entire body felt shaky and indistinct, and the world didn’t seem real. But I nodded and walked over to the captain’s quarters with careful, quick steps. Cold, brittle magic was already seeping out through the walls. It wasn’t human magic. But it didn’t belong to the Mists, either.

The door swung open when my hand passed by it.

The scene inside the room was a quiet one, not the wild display of enchantment that I’d half expected. Asbera stood pressed up against the far corner, her arms wrapped around her torso. Finnur’s shirt was peeled away from his chest, which gleamed pale and weak in the lantern light. I slid over beside Asbera.

“It’s that boy,” she said, her voice flat. “The one at the mead hall. I don’t remember his name.”

“He didn’t give you a real one.” I hesitated. Isolfr was tracing patterns on Finnur’s chest with his fingers, runes that I didn’t recognize. They glowed in the darkness. “His real name is Isolfr.”

“He’s not human.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

But Asbera didn’t seem to be talking to me, not really. “He’s kjirini.”

“What?”

Asbera blinked. Isolfr ignored both of us, all his concentration focused on painting those runes on Finnur’s body, working with light and magic.

“It’s a Jandanvari word.” She looked at me. “I don’t know how to translate it, not exactly. Sometimes they use it to mean wind, but a particular kind that sweeps in from the north.”

I went very still.

“It also means magic,” Asbera said. “But a certain ki–”

And then Isolfr began to sing.

Asbera cried out and grabbed my arm. She never finished what she was going to say.

Isolfr’s voice was not a human one, and he did not sing a human song. The notes were low and whistling and mournful
, somehow just like the wind,
and it filled up the room with a presence strange and eerie and – familiar.

A word that means wind.

The north wind.

And so, I finally understood completely: Isolfr was the presence in the north wind; the presence in the north wind was Isolfr.

I didn’t know how and I didn’t know why, but I
knew
.

Magic materialized on the air and dotted across my arm like snow. Asbera pressed closer to me. I wrapped my arm around her. We pressed close together.

Isolfr’s voice grew louder. The music seeped into me and drew out my emotions: loneliness and fear. Homesickness. A yearning for something beyond home, for something larger than just me. Tears streaked down my cheeks. When I looked at Asbera, she was weeping, too.

Across the room, Isolfr flickered. In one second he was Pjetur, a dull and handsome human boy, and in another he was Isolfr, shining like the moon, sharp-eyed, elven, too delicate to be real. He shifted back and forth between the two. The song grew louder and louder.

And then Isolfr’s hand slid into the skin of Finnur’s chest.

Asbera shrieked and moved to lunge forward, but I caught her and held her tight. This was not evil sorcery. I could sense it deep inside me, a hard echo inside my bones. It was the magic of the north wind, the magic that brought me home from the in-between world, the magic that drove the Mists away outside the mead hall. He was helping.

Isolfr’s hand disappeared completely.

He shut his eyes and flickered once, and then remained Isolfr, his skin glowing with foreign light. The song shifted, abruptly, into something faster and more howling. It didn’t even sound like music anymore, just the shriek of wind in a storm. The enchantment in the room thickened. The walls rippled like sails. I squeezed Asbera tighter.