Magic of Wind and Mist

  Isolfr looked down at the wheel, his pale hair falling across his face. As scared of Kolur as he was, it must have been a big step to say even that much.

  “Keep us going due north,” Kolur shouted over to me. “I threw the bones and they promised easy weather.”

  And with that, he slipped down the hatch and disappeared.

  I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and felt around on the wind for Frida’s magic. It was easy work—all I had to do was take over control of the south wind from her. The transfer went quickly. There was a sudden rush of magic through my veins, and then I felt the south wind, strong and laced with the memories of my ancestors. The sails bulged, and the Penelope II shot forward through the waves, heading north toward Jandanvar.

  It took some effort to maintain the wind—the natural wind was actually blowing in from the northeast, blustery and laced through with frozen daggers—but I was grateful for the work. I leaned up against the railing and concentrated on the warm spice scent of the south wind, trying not to think about what Kolur and Frida might be doing belowdecks.

  Things went that way for most of the morning. Eventually I grew tired of holding the wind so close to me, so I muttered an incantation Frida had taught me to control the wind in my stead. Then I walked over to Isolfr. He stood stiffly at the wheel, his eyes straight ahead on the horizon.

  “Having fun?” I teased.

  He glanced at me, shook his head. “This is serious,” he said in a low voice. “I can feel them down below, calling on darkness.”

  The way he said that stopped me cold. I’d been so wrapped up in the winds that I hadn’t noticed any dark magic bubbling up belowdecks. I stood still, concentrating, but all I noticed was the magic veining through on the wind.

  “I don’t feel anything,” I said. “Maybe it’s just your imagination.”

  Isolfr glared at me. “It’s Jandanvari magic,” he said. “And it’s dark. You haven’t been trained to feel it.”

  I slumped against a nearby mast. We bounced along, water spraying up over the sides of the boat. Not exactly the clear weather that Kolur had promised, not with that northeasterly fighting against the navigation wind.

  The rest of the day carried on. After a time, it became as dull as our empty days previously; lunch was a relief, just to have a break in the monotony of controlling the winds. I expected Frida and Kolur to join us, but they didn’t, and when I moved to fetch them Isolfr grabbed my arm and shook his head, his face grim.

  “You shouldn’t,” he said.

  I stared at him for a moment, my heart pounding. The Penelope II rocked against the waves, and the movement made me dizzy.

  “Fine,” I said after a moment, and I walked away from the hatch, back over to the food and water that Isolfr had brought up that morning. We ate in silence, sitting beside the ship’s wheel, our magic roiling around the ship and guiding her north. Isolfr just picked at his food.

  “What exactly are they doing?” I finally said after I finished my serving of salted fish. “What’s got you so spooked?”

  Isolfr lifted his face to me. “I don’t like talking about it.”

  I would have been annoyed—more damn secrets—but something in his expression sent chills shuddering through my body. I didn’t press him.

  That afternoon, I took to singing songs from my childhood, the Kjoran hymns I learned from Papa and the pirate shanties I learned from Mama. Isolfr didn’t join in, but every now and then I’d turn around, catch his eye, and grin, trying to lift his spirits. It didn’t work. He kept frowning and fretting, his hands gripping the wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. His fear had me nervous, even though I knew it was probably just him. He didn’t trust Kolur and Frida. That was the whole reason he’d latched on to me in the first place.

  But still. I couldn’t help but wonder if Kolur and Frida really were doing dark magic down below.

  I stopped my Kjoran ballad mid-song and shifted over to one of the pirate songs, a song calling for safety on the seas. It was a mournful tune, and the south wind caught my voice and distorted it so the melody was even more haunting. I stared out at the horizon as I sang. The sun sparkled against the water, but the moon had come out, a pale disc hanging in the corner of the sky.

  When I finished, my voice echoed for a few seconds more, hollow like the wind.

  “You have a lovely singing voice.”

  I shrieked and whirled around, almost dropping my hold on the magic. It was Frida. She was pale, with circles under her eyes so dark she looked as if she’d been in a fight. Her appearance gave me a chill, and I thought about Isolfr grabbing my arm and telling me not to go down below.

  “Um, thanks,” I said. Kolur was on deck too, rearranging barrels at the stern of the ship. Isolfr frowned over at the wheel, like he was trying not to look at either of them.

  “We need you to go down below,” Frida said.

  “For the spell?” I wrapped my arms around my chest. “Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

  Something like panic crossed Frida’s features, and she shook her head. “No. You aren’t familiar with this kind of magic.”

  She said this as if it were a kind of magic I should never be familiar with. Kolur was talking to Isolfr now, probably telling him the same thing. Go down below.

  “Go on then,” she said, jerking her head toward the hatch. “It’s our responsibility to keep you safe.”

  That was the first time I’d heard anything of the sort—neither of them had exactly done a bang-up job of keeping me out of harm’s way. But I did as Frida asked. Isolfr was already climbing down the ladder. Nobody ever had to tell him twice when it came to hiding.

  Kolur stood beside the hatch, watching us file down below. “What are you going to do?” I asked him.

  “Protect the ship,” he said in a grave voice. “Now, don’t come up until we tell you it’s safe.”

  I watched him for a moment longer, but he didn’t say anything more. So I started down the ladder. Kolur slammed the hatch shut once my head was clear. Squares of sunlight lit my way down. The lanterns in the corridor were still burning, a low bluish-green. It wasn’t their typical color. An unfamiliar scent wafted on the air as well. I couldn’t quite place it—there was a hint of wood smoke, and burnt flowers, and something vaguely sinister.

  Isolfr materialized out of the shadows.

  “Sea and sky!” I cried. “Don’t scare me like that.”

  “Sorry.” He looked paler than usual. “I wanted to make sure you’d come down.”

  “Didn’t have much choice, did I?” I slumped against the wall and felt the rocking of the ship in my spine. “What is that smell?”

  “Ghosthair,” Isolfr said.

  “Never heard of it.”

  Isolfr shifted uncomfortably. “It’s a Jandanvari herb. I don’t really like talking about it.”

  “About an herb.” I sighed. “Why would they even have something like that on board?”

  “I don’t know.” He wore a vague, distracted expression. “We should go to the brig. That’s the farthest away from the deck you can get.”

  “The brig.” I stared at him. “You want me to go down to the brig.” I’d forgotten that the Penelope II even had a brig—the first Penelope didn’t, it being a fishing ship and nothing more. But Kolur had bought the Penelope II from a group of Jolali men and I had never been clear what it was used for prior to that. Something that involved taking prisoners. I didn’t care for the brig. I’d only gone down there once, and found it damp and mildewed and reeking of misery.

  Isolfr nodded.

  “Nope.” I shook my head. “I’ll stay in my cabin, thank you very much.”

  “I really don’t think that’s safe—”

  A wave of magic crashed over the boat. It was like a lightning storm, sudden and bright and terrifying, and the strength of it sent me wheeling across the corridor. The lanterns flickered and deepened their color to a rich, unearthly emerald.

  “They’re starting,??
? Isolfr said. “We have to go now.”

  “Starting?” I looked over my shoulder, toward the hatch. A breeze seeped through the grating, blowing in from the west. Frida’s affinity. The wind was laced with a magic I’d never felt before, something wild and vast like the winter ocean. I could sense the danger on it, but I was overcome by curiosity as well. It had to be dark magic. Frida had taught me some Jandanvari magic, but I’d never felt anything like this before.

  I moved toward the hatch.

  “What are you doing?” Isolfr darted in front of me. “You can’t go up there! It’s dangerous!”

  “I just want to see. I’m not going to actually go above deck.” I pushed past him and scurried over to the ladder. An eerie greenish light filtered through the grating, mingling with the white-gold summer sunlight that we’d been sailing through since we left Tulja. The magic prickled against my skin. I lifted the grating a few finger widths and peered through.

  “No!” Isolfr grabbed my arm and tried to pull me away from the ladder.

  “Shush!” I whispered, glaring at him. “Let me watch.”

  “It’s dangerous.” He paced back and forth, wringing his hands. “It’s—cruel.”

  “If you’re so scared, go hide. I’m staying here.” I turned back. Through my vantage point at the hatch, I had a fairly good view of the ship’s deck, where Frida and Kolur had set up. A heat-sphere burned between them. That was where the green light came from. I’d never seen a heat-sphere that color before.

  “Hanna!” Isolfr hissed below me.

  I ignored him. Learning the few spells I had from Frida as we traveled north was the closest I’d ever come to going to the Undim Citadels. I wanted to know more. I wanted to know what sort of darkness might defeat Lord Foxfollow. I wanted to know how to protect my family, if it ever came to that.

  Both Frida and Kolur stared into the light of the sphere. Their eyes glowed green, and I couldn’t tell if it was because they were reflecting the light or because of the magic boiling inside of them. The sphere sent flares of light into the air, and with each flare I felt the magic surge, and I smelled it too, a strange and unpleasant scent, overly sweet like rotting flowers.

  Then Frida began to chant in a low, humming voice. She hardly sounded like herself. I didn’t recognize the language, but it made the space between my eyes crackle.

  “Hanna, we have to get to the brig now,” Isolfr said.

  I twisted around to look at him. “You go,” I said. “I’m going to watch this.”

  He looked at me with worry, but I could tell that he didn’t want to be there. I didn’t exactly blame him. But my curiosity was making me brave.

  “I’m sorry for what you’re about to see,” he said, and then he turned and raced down the hallway.

  His words left me anxious, but I didn’t follow him. When I looked back out the hatch, Kolur had stood up, and the green sphere had swollen. I thought I saw something moving inside of it, dark shadows against the light.

  Frida’s chanting grew louder and louder. It sounded like an insect’s incessant whine, like nothing human. I hunched forward. My calves were cramping from perching on the ladder, but I didn’t care. I wanted to see.

  The sphere cracked.

  My heart jumped. Kolur froze, his eyes on the sphere. He was behind it now, and all I could see was his face, unfamiliar in that harsh green light.

  Frida’s chanting began to sound like shrieking. Her whole body trembled. Hair clung to the sides of her face.

  Another crack. Another. The lines were fine, like the cracks in an egg as it begins to hatch.

  Another crack appeared, this one larger than the others. And then a piece of the sphere fell away, and I realized an egg was exactly what this was.

  I let out a gasp and immediately jerked away from the hatch, afraid that Frida and Kolur had heard. Isolfr was gone, vanished into the bowels of the ship. But my fearful curiosity got the better of me, and I peered through the grating again. Frida had her head thrown back, her body racked with spasms. Pieces of the sphere lay scattered across the deck of the ship, and a face poked through the shell. I wouldn’t call it human exactly, but it had the features of a human, only more refined, more beautiful, even beneath the thick greenish slime coating its body.

  I thought of Isolfr as I’d seen him the first time, wet with seawater and beautiful in the moonlight, and a tremor of unease shuddered through me.

  A large piece of sphere fell away, shattering when it hit the deck. An arm shot out. The side of a bare torso. A single, tiny foot.

  The sphere-creature jerked its head around the ship, eyes wide and blinking. It looked over at the hatch. Looked right at me.

  I pulled away and slid three rungs down the ladder. I clung to it, breathing heavily, listening to Frida’s horrible chanting.

  Something screamed.

  I gripped the ladder more tightly, my heart pounding. It screamed again, this time long and drawn out, full of panic. I scrambled up the ladder and looked through the grate, and then I almost screamed myself.

  Kolur was dragging the sphere-creature across the deck by one arm. It kicked and fought back, but I could see a shimmer of magic hovering over it, weakening it and holding it in place. Horror snaked through me, a low and insidious fear—Kolur is doing this; that person looks like Isolfr.

  Kolur stopped. I hunched down lower, too afraid to look away.

  Frida’s chanting filled the air like a snowstorm.

  The sphere-creature kicked and twisted and tried to free itself from the spell.

  Kolur lifted a knife and it glinted in the sunlight, long and mean. I’d never seen the knife before. It wasn’t one we used to clean fish. A stupid thought in that moment, but it was the only thing that broke through the wall of terror: I’d never used that knife to clean fish.

  In one clean motion Kolur drew the knife across the sphere-creature’s throat. In that same instant, Frida fell silent.

  I was paralyzed. I wanted to run to the bottom of the ship with Isolfr and beg for his protection, but I couldn’t move. The creature’s blood seeped out of its wound. It wasn’t red, but a pale pearly green, faintly luminescent. Not light, not like the blood of the people of the Mists, but closer to that than to human blood.

  Kolur set the body down and dipped his hand in the widening pool of blood. He walked over to Frida and knelt beside her and touched his hand to her forehead. There was a surge of unfamiliar magic, strong enough that I slipped down the ladder again, catching myself before I fell completely. Nausea washed over me. I couldn’t tell if it was because of the magic or because of what I’d seen or because of both.

  Another surge of magic, one that radiated across the entirety of the Penelope II. I could feel it working its way through the wood in the ladder, a tingle against my hands. I yelped and let go and this time I landed with a thud on the floor. Magic vibrated everywhere. I hated it. I didn’t see how a protection spell could emerge out of an act of violence.

  I struggled to my feet. My nausea had worsened and my stomach roiled like the sea. I stumbled down the corridors, heading toward the brig. The deeper into the boat I went, the more my nerves settled, even though I could still feel that crackle of magic in the walls.

  When I burst into the brig, Isolfr sat curled up on the floor of one of the cells. He’d even closed the door, although it wasn’t locked. I pushed it open. He lifted his head when the hinges creaked. His cheeks were wet, and something twisted up in my chest, a pang of empathy.

  “Is it over?” he asked. “Did you see?”

  I leaned up against the bars. “Yes.”

  We fell into silence. The magic wasn’t as strong down here—he’d been right. I could still sense it up above us, though. Lurking.

  “What was that?” I whispered, after a time.

  “Jandanvari magic,” he said. “A particularly cruel kind.”

  I let go of the bars and walked across the cell and sat down beside him. I wanted to be as close to another person as possible a
fter what I’d seen.

  “Kolur killed someone,” I said, and it was the first time the thought really solidified in my head, and it was terrible.

  Isolfr looked over at me. His Pjetur mask was slipping, and the real Isolfr kept flickering through, incandescent beauty shimmering beneath the surface. “Not killed exactly,” he said, setting one hand on my shoulder. “The spell works with the spi—with the spirits of the elements.” His voice wobbled and he dropped his hand and looked down at his feet. “You can’t kill an element, but you can remove its human form and send it back into the air.” He closed his eyes. “That’s what they did. Converted the spirit to magic, then used that magic to protect us. A transformation more than a death. But it’s—it’s a kind of slavery. The spirit can never go free of its own accord now.”

  I felt sick again. The boat rocked against the waves and the lanterns swung back and forth. Isolfr stared down at his feet, his hair hanging in his eyes.

  “Is this why you’re scared of Frida and Kolur?” I finally asked, after a long time had passed.

  Isolfr never answered.

  CHAPTER TWO

  It was hard to get back into our earlier routine after what had happened. I couldn’t look at Frida and Kolur in the same way, and every time I went up on deck, I’d find reasons not to stand too close to them. They made it easier, too. Frida never spoke to me, never even met my eye, and Kolur would only bark out orders for me and Isolfr to complete whenever he could think of something. We always did as he said. There was nothing else to do.

  One night, I dreamed the ocean was full of pearly green blood. The Penelope II sat in the middle of it, caught in a still spot, and Kolur had a long thin knife, and he stabbed Isolfr through the heart, and Isolfr dispersed on the air and turned into sea mist.

  I woke up with a shout and drew my legs in close to my chest. My blankets were piled up on the floor and I chattered from the cold. I reached down and grabbed one and pulled it around my shoulders, although it didn’t do much to keep me warm. The ship was moving, rocking with the motion of the waves, but I knew I wasn’t going to fall back asleep. Not until I made sure that Isolfr was okay.