Magic of Wind and Mist

  I squinted up into the sunlight. Reynir was a burst of enchantment among the sails, a silhouette wreathed in a halo.

  “No,” I said. “I need his help.”

  I left Zakaria. Reynir was fully enveloped in his magic, his eyes closed, a stretch of rope knotted around his arm. I waited until he finished, standing there amidst the cries and shrieks of the monsters.

  It didn’t take long. Eventually, his light faded, and he sagged against the rope, his chest rising and falling. I climbed up the masts.

  “Hanna?” he said, squinting at me. “Is that you? The real you? You know how it is with magic—”

  “Yeah, it’s the real me.”

  “What are you doing here?” He leaned against the mast and unwound his arm from the rope. “Has something happened with Finnur?”

  “No, he’s the same.” I leaned forward. “Reynir, I need your help. Probably Asbera’s, too.”

  He looked at me with his tired eyes. “For what?”

  “To get rid of the monsters.”

  A pause. The wind whistled around us. It smelled sweet, like honey, nothing like the cold steely scent of the Mists.

  “Have you known how to do this the entire time?” His voice was low and accusing.

  “No! Well, not exactly. I learned something when I went to the in-between place.”

  “I knew it.”

  “I didn’t realize I’d learned it until just now. I thought I’d been betrayed, but it was—a trick. Kolur, my old captain, he’s the reason they’re here in the first place. But not—” I stopped and took a deep breath and told him what Lord Foxfollow had showed me.

  “How do you know it’s not a trick?” Reynir said.

  I glared at him. “I don’t, all right? But we have to do something. The monsters are just getting stronger, and if we circle around trying to figure out something else, not only will Finnur die but the rest of us will too, because those monsters are going to break through the shields.”

  Reynir looked at me. The boat rocked back and forth, and the monsters’ screeching bore into my brain.

  “Do you know how your captain did it?” Reynir asked. “Sent them away?”

  I took a deep breath. “Not exactly—”

  Reynir sighed.

  “Will you let me finish? No, I don’t know how he did it exactly, but I do know it’s possible, and I know that Kolur’s a seawizard, like you, and Frida, who was with him, she’s a windwitch, like me—” I trailed off. Isolfr. But he wouldn’t have done anything outright, not if he was still refusing to reveal who he was. “And we’ll have Asbera, who can work a bit of earth-magic. When you get down to it, magic’s just strength of will, right? So together, we ought to be able to throw the monsters someplace else, out at the open sea—”

  “So they can attack some other poor ship the way they attacked us?”

  “We’ll have to throw them farther. The Green Glass Sea, in the south. My mother told me those waters are laced with magic, dangerous magic, and that should be enough to destroy the monsters.”

  I stopped, breathing hard. Reynir watched me. He looked worn out: dark circles under his eyes, lank hair. But I imagined I looked the same way.

  “Have you spoken to Asbera?” he asked.

  I shook my head. Reynir sighed. “This isn’t going to work.”

  “We have to at least try.”

  “We don’t even know what to do.”

  “I saw them do it from a distance. I can figure it out. Please, Reynir. Please. Even if you don’t care about Finnur, the whole boat’s in danger—”

  “I care about Finnur,” he snapped. “Fine. But I’m not taking the blame when you make things worse.”

  “Thank you,” I said, ignoring his slight. Fighting with him wouldn’t do any good right now.

  I climbed back down and Reynir slowly followed, wiped out from repairing the shield. We walked into the captain’s quarters together.

  It was quiet in there, the walls shutting out most of the monsters’ wails. Dark, too, since Asbera had drawn the curtains over the windows. Asbera was curled up in the hammock, her eyes closed. I doubted she was sleeping. Not if there was no one else to watch over Finnur.

  We crept in. I looked to Finnur, the way I always did. No change. Asbera’s plate of fish sat beside his cot, half eaten.

  “Hanna.” Asbera’s voice drifted through the shadows. “You’re back.”

  “I need to talk to you.” I knelt down beside her. “Me and Reynir, we may need your help for something—”

  She frowned and sat up. She looked even more worn-down than Reynir did. She looked like she’d died and been reanimated.

  “What?” she said, voice barely a whisper.

  “I think I know how to get rid of the monsters,” I said.

  “What?”

  “I—I saw it. In the in-between place. Kolur did it.”

  “Your old captain?”

  I nodded. “I couldn’t see all of what he did, but I saw enough. Enough that I think Reynir and I can do it ourselves. But I want your help, your extra magic, just in case.”

  Asbera looked over at Finnur. Tears streaked down her cheeks.

  Finnur didn’t move.

  “Of course I’ll help you,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  • • •

  We waited until nightfall. Magic is stronger at night, when the world is wrapped in shadow. Kolur had sent the monsters our way at night as well, and I figured we needed to do it as much like him as possible.

  But waiting until night left us little time. The Annika would arrive at Tulja soon—already we’d begun to pass the tiny rocky islands that marked the edge of Tuljan waters.

  Baltasar cleared the deck for us. All the crew were told to wait down below, and he waited with them, at my request. Without the crew, the deck was even eerier. The shield cast a yellowish glow over everything, and the monsters shrieked and howled like they knew what was coming. Every now and then, one of them flung itself at the shield, and magic would scatter across the deck like flaring embers from a fire.

  “Is everyone ready?” I asked. I’d already explained what I’d seen in the in-between place. It wasn’t much to go on, but it gave us a sense of where to stand and what to do.

  They both nodded. I took a deep breath.

  And then we took our positions.

  Reynir stood up at the bow of the ship, where the ocean splashed up around him. Asbera was at his side. Her magic wasn’t as strong as his, but she could supplement it.

  I climbed to the top of the main mast, just as Frida had done, and faced north, into the wind. I didn’t call the south winds, not when we were so close to home and with Finnur’s life so close to ending—I didn’t want the Annika to blow off course. The north wind had been sweet to me these last few weeks, and that presence seemed to like me well enough. I should be able to use its strength.

  The wind blew hard, rough and cold against my face, and I closed my eyes so it wouldn’t draw out tears. Besides, wind-magic works best when you go by feel.

  “North wind,” I whispered. “I call upon you, cold brother of the south. Drive us forward. Bring the ocean to our feet.”

  The wind lulled.

  My heart lurched inside my chest. “No, no, no,” I whispered. “No, please, north wind, I need your—”

  And then the wind gusted so strongly that it knocked me backward. I grabbed hold of the rope to keep from falling, and my eyes flew open and I could see the stars, swirling overhead, beautiful.

  The north wind had saved my life once again.

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  The wind flattened out the sails, and the Annika plowed forward, dipping into the black, icy ocean. The monsters howled their protest. I held on tighter to the rope and concentrated on pulling the magic from the wind into myself, so I could transform it and unite with Asbera and Reynir.

  I didn’t dare look at anything but the stars. I didn’t dare break my concentration. The wind poured over me and poured thro
ugh me, and it was transformed into a beam of energy, cold and strong.

  “Come on, Reynir,” I whispered. “Come on, come on.”

  The wind blew harder. I tightened my grip on the rope. The magic drained out of me like blood, but I held on, and for a moment I thought I saw Isolfr’s face—

  A force blasted across the ship and slammed into me. Magic. It was wild and tumultuous like the sea, and it left me damp, my hair curling at the ends. That magic twisted together with my magic, sea and wind. Just like in Kolur’s spell.

  As our power combined, I saw glimpses of Asbera’s face alongside Reynir, and I could feel the two different strains of their strength.

  The magic flowed between all three of us, an arc of power. Everything fell away but the rushing of enchantment, which roared like the ocean, like the wind. I couldn’t let myself think consciously anymore, and so I let the magic think for me. Think through me. Together, we sent it running over the sides of the ship, a waterfall of light that caught the monsters like a spider’s web. They howled and thrashed. But they were trapped.

  We had to act fast, before the Mists became aware of what we were doing.“To the Green Glass Sea,” I whispered, and my voice was Asbera’s voice, and Reynir’s voice. “To the GreenGlassSea. TotheGreenGlassSea. Tothegreenglasssea. Tothegreenglassseatothegreenglassseatothe—”

  The air cracked with a great thundering tension. Our magic drew tight like a coil.

  “Release!” I screamed, and the wind tasted like saltwater.

  Distantly, through the rush and roar of enchantment, I heard Reynir’s voice shout, “Release,” and then Asbera’s, layered on top of each other like we were singing a melody.

  A pause, long enough that I could feel the texture of the magic all around me, damp and cold and strong and shimmering like starlight.

  The monsters let out one last howling screech, all in unison.

  And then the magic transformed into an explosion of light brighter than the sun. I screamed and shut my eyes, but the dazzle stayed, burned against my eyelids. In the flash, I saw bright green waters, far away in a warm part of the world, stirred up by a denala. The storm rained monsters into the sea.

  And, thank the ancestors, there were no ships on the open ocean to witness it.

  Then even that image was swallowed up by the brightness.

  The boat rocked. I leaned into the rope and took deep breaths as the magic subsided, pulling back like the tide. The wind died down, and the sea quieted. My eyes fluttered open. There seemed to be more stars than when we began.

  I had forgotten what silence sounded like.

  “Hanna.” The voice drifted in on the wind. It wasn’t Asbera’s and it wasn’t Reynir’s. For a moment I thought it was Finnur, but no, the accent was wrong. “Hanna, I’m so glad—”

  “We did it!” Asbera’s head poked up on the mast. “They’re gone. Those awful creatures are gone!” She climbed up on the mast beside me. I straightened up and untangled my arm from the rope. It had seared a red line into my flesh.

  “I saw it,” I said, feeling dazed. “The Green Glass Sea. Did you—”

  “Yes.” She pulled me into a hug. “I saw it too. They’re gone. Gone.” When she pulled away, her eyes shone with tears. “We’ll be able to disembark,” she whispered. “We’ll be able to save him.”

  I nodded. Everything felt fuzzy. Distorted. Had I really seen Isolfr’s face in the swirl of magic? That didn’t make sense. Had he been following the Annika after all?

  But I didn’t have time to think on those questions. Asbera pulled me down the mast. After the brightness of the magic-burst, the darkness was too dark, and we both stumbled through the shadows. I banged my knee against the unlit brazier and gave a sharp cry of pain. It echoed in the silence of the open ocean, a comfort.

  No more monster cries.

  A faint blue light appeared on the deck, bobbing along through the darkness.

  I thought of the Mists, disguised as the costumed men.

  Then voices rose up, chattering and relieved. The crew. I slumped against Asbera in relief.

  “Did you see that?” Reynir bounded up to us, a magic-cast lantern swinging from one hand. “That light? Oh, and the Green Glass Sea—never thought I’d live to see the Green Glass Sea.”

  Asbera laughed, although it was too strained, too frenetic, to be mirthful. I smiled. Truthfully, I never thought I’d see the Green Glass Sea either.

  The crew crowded around us, stomping their feet and cheering. Baltasar slapped Reynir on the back. “You sure they’re gone?”

  Reynir looked to me. “You can’t be sure about anything with magic,” I said. “But everything played out the way I saw it.”

  Baltasar nodded, satisfied. “Well, then. Let’s see if we can’t make this boat go any faster, eh, boys?”

  The crew cheered again, and there was a mad scramble to pick up the ropes and angle the sails to best catch the wind.

  Which was still gusting in from the north.

  Asbera slipped away from the crowd, moving through the liquid light of the magic-cast lanterns, toward the captain’s quarters. I followed her.

  Finnur was still frozen in place. Asbera hung the lantern on the hook above the bed, and as the light slid over him, I almost thought he moved.

  “How’s he doing?” I asked.

  “The same.” Asbera lifted up my bracelet and laid her hand on his heart. “Part of me thought—well, I thought that when we cast the spell . . .”

  Her voice trailed away. I walked over to her and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. Finnur screamed silently up at the ceiling.

  Asbera laid the bracelet back on his chest.

  “It’s not long now,” I told her. “We’ll be there by dawn.”

  “You’ll help me, won’t you? Take him to the priests?”

  “Of course.” Even though I didn’t know if the priests would be of any help. Kolur knew how to beat back the Mists—but he would have sailed away to the north.

  I gave Asbera a hug, squeezing her tight, and listened to the waves crashing up against the sides of the Annika. The crew and the winds had us going fast, like we were driving straight into the dawn itself.

  Asbera and I stood side by side in our embrace, waiting for the sun.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  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 leaped 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.”