Magic of Wind and Mist

  It was still dark when we spotted land. Frida and Kolur brought us toward the shore on their own, with the use of Frida’s magic. I didn’t offer my help and they didn’t ask for it, so I watched the landscape materialize up ahead. I couldn’t see much of anything, only jagged silhouettes blacking out the stars, and, far, far off in the distance, a gleaming white light.

  “That’s the palace,” Isolfr said. “That’s the light of Jandanvari, and it never goes out. This late, it’s the only light burning. We’re actually closer to the palace than we seem.”

  I heard the tremor of fear in his voice and shivered.

  The Penelope II turned and glided into the narrow channel created by the jagged cliffs. The magic-cast lanterns illuminated only patches of the stone, but in the green-tinged light I saw patterns that were clearly not formed by nature: runes and figures. Spells from an ancient magic.

  “Wake your friend,” Frida said, her voice close to my ear. I jumped and looked over at her. This was the first we’d spoken since I’d protected Isolfr.

  She tilted her head toward the hatch leading down below. She was talking about Trystan, then. He had insisted on sleeping in the captain’s quarters. “We don’t want to leave him.”

  “I’ll do it,” Isolfr said.

  Frida reached out toward his face as if she wanted to silence him, although she stopped, her hand hovering in midair. “Be quiet,” she whispered. “Palace spies might be lurking in the darkness.”

  Her warning whirled around in my head. Isolfr nodded and turned to go down below. Frida looked over at me, touched her finger to her lips, and then scurried over to the ship’s wheel, where she conferred with Kolur, their heads tilted together.

  The cliffs loomed around us. Even in the dim lantern light I could see that they were as sleek and smooth as a polished gem, and there was no way to climb them. But we had to get onto land somehow. We couldn’t attack the palace from our ship.

  The Penelope II slowed. Water lapped up against its sides, but otherwise the night was silent. When Kolur tossed the anchor over the side, the splash made me jump, despite the sound-dampening spell he and Frida had cast over it. Frida pointed at the anchor rope. “Wait there,” she whispered. “We’ll be climbing down.”

  I did as she said. I was too numb with fear to think of much else. Isolfr and Trystan emerged from down below—I could just make them out in the darkness. I lifted one hand in greeting, and together they walked over to me. Trystan had his hands tucked under his coat, and his hair was mussed from sleep, but Isolfr lifted his gaze along the tall black cliffs.

  “Oh,” he said softly. “Smugglers’ Wall.”

  “What?” I said.

  “The name of these cliffs.” He nodded at them. “Smugglers’ Wall. They say smugglers and pirates hide their boats here before they sack the city.” He looked at me sideways. “I guess they’re right.”

  “We aren’t pirates,” I said, but I knew, in the eyes of Lord Foxfollow, we might as well be.

  Kolur and Frida appeared beside us. Kolur leaned over the side with a magic-cast lantern and made a gesture with his hand, barely discernible in the dim light. He twisted his fingers into circles and lines, and the lantern flickered in a pattern: two long blinks, a slow blink.

  Somewhere down in the depths of the sea, a light answered in turn. Two slow blinks, a long blink.

  “They’re waiting.” Kolur said.

  “Who are?” I said.

  He didn’t look at me—he’d been as distant as Frida, after what happened with Isolfr. “The outlaws,” he said. “Our contacts here.”

  Of course. The outlaws. They’d seemed unimaginable when Isolfr and I were trapped in the Mists.

  Kolur extinguished the lantern and set it at his feet. “Frida will go first. Climb down the anchor rope. Take care not to fall, that water will kill you.” His gaze swept over Isolfr. “Most of you.”

  “Climb down?” Trystan said. He peered over the side of the boat, frowning. “You’re quite kidding, correct?”

  “I’m quite not,” Kolur said. “If you don’t like it, you can stay on the boat.”

  Trystan scowled, but I knew he would climb. He wanted to get to Lord Foxfollow too badly.

  Frida tossed her braid over her shoulder, gripped the rope, and swung around over it, her movements easy and practiced. Isolfr stared at her, his eyes dark wells in his pale face. “I’ll go next,” he said. “In case you or Trystan fall.”

  I smiled at him. “I’m not going to fall.” I wasn’t certain of that, but I wanted to be brave.

  “I, for one, appreciate the concern,” Trystan said.

  “Enough,” Kolur said. “This chatter ends now. They won’t wait forever.”

  That silenced us. Isolfr leaned over the edge and grabbed the rope. He swung out with the grace of the wind, his body like a shooting star. My chest tightened. He climbed down the rope—hesitantly though. It was still Isolfr.

  Kolur nodded at me.

  I took a deep breath. I’d never crawled down an anchor rope before, and I’d certainly never done so over a freezing ocean in the darkest of nights. But I wasn’t going to let my fear get the best of me.

  The rope was thick and rough beneath my bare hands. I swung my leg out awkwardly and hooked it around the rope, then let myself drop free of the boat. For one terrifying moment I thought I would fall, and I hung there, breathing hard, suspended in air. When I was certain I was stable, I began to inch down. The rope swayed in the wind, and the ocean rushed and roared beneath me. I looked back up at the Penelope II. Trystan was fumbling his way onto the rope. I kept my gaze focused on him as I crept lower on the rope. Blood pounded in my ears. When I was halfway down the side of the boat, I glanced over my shoulder at the water. I couldn’t see anything but darkness and Isolfr. He was stationary, off to the side. In a rowboat, I decided.

  I kept climbing. Trystan was still above me. I couldn’t see Kolur. The silence beat at my ears.

  And then, suddenly, the wind picked up, a gentle northern breeze. I closed my eyes and let it wash over me.

  “Isolfr,” I whispered.

  You’re almost there, the wind said in a dry, fluttering whisper. I’ll tell you when to jump.

  Even though the wind knocked the rope back and forth and tossed my hair into my eyes, I felt much safer with it. With him. Isolfr.

  I climbed down, my feet slipping and sliding against the rope, my palms burning. The ocean sounded closer, but it might just have been the blood in my head.

  Let go, the wind said.

  I did. That was how much I trusted him. I didn’t even look back.

  For the span of two heartbeats I was flying. Then my feet stumbled over unsteady ground. Hands were at my waist. A spray of cold water splashed over my legs.

  “You’re safe,” Isolfr said, in his human voice, solid and less melodious than his wind voice.

  I turned toward him. His hands lingered on my hips. We were in a rowboat, just as I’d thought. Frida crouched beside the boatman, a stout, muscular man with a long beard, probably yellow in normal light, but in the light of the lantern it looked green.

  “Clear a place for the others,” he said in a gruff voice.

  Isolfr let go of me and I felt the absence of his touch. I edged over to the stern of the boat and sat down on the bench. It was a big boat, enough for ten men at least.

  I sat in silence in the darkness as Isolfr helped Trystan jump down from the rope. Kolur came next. As soon as we were all stowed onboard, the boatman dipped the oars into the water and rowed us away. He didn’t even wait for a cue from Kolur or Frida.

  Smugglers’ Wall rose up on either side of us, reflecting the darkness back in on itself. A lantern dangled out from the bow of the boat, casting a small green circle in the water. It felt like the ocean was holding its breath.

  Eventually, the boatman turned the boat and rowed us into a crack in the wall. I expected the darkness to be even thicker inside, so thick we’d choke on it, but instead the walls were
veined with pale swirls of light. It reminded me of Tattersall Manor, back in the Mists. The magic felt the same.

  I slid closer to Isolfr, who had come to sit beside me, and wrapped my arms around myself to stave off the cold.

  “Almost there,” the boatman said. “No need for silence at this juncture.”

  Kolur nodded, but still, no one spoke.

  We hadn’t been inside the wall for long when the water suddenly bumped up against a slick, black stone beach. The boatman dragged us up with his oars, then jumped out and splashed up to the beach and brought us in the rest of the way. He gave a bow to Kolur as we disembarked.

  “Good luck,” he said. “May Iral guide your actions.”

  “Thank you,” Kolur said.

  The boatman nodded and jumped into the rowboat and pushed off into the water.

  “Where’s he going?” Trystan asked. “Back out in the cold?”

  “He’s the ferryman and the guard,” Kolur said. “It’s his job. Come along. Ankia’s waiting.”

  He led us down the black stone beach. Isolfr grabbed my hand and we held on tight to each other. I had no idea what the future was going to bring us. I didn’t want to think about the possibility of death.

  “Kolur Icebreak.”

  It was a woman’s voice, bright and commanding. All of us stopped in our tracks. In the darkness the voice seemed to come from everywhere.

  “Ankia?” Kolur glanced around. “You don’t need to play these games.”

  “You’ve brought companions.”

  “I told you I was.”

  “There’s one more than you told me about.” The voice solidified. I turned around, trying to track it—and found its owner. She was tall and shrouded in shapeless gray furs, her hair tucked up under a black feather cap. A sword was strapped to her belt, but she had a pistol out and pointed at us. “Who are you?” She fixed her glare on Trystan.

  Kolur looked a loss of words, but Trystan stepped forward and gave a courtly bow. “Lord Trystan of Llambric, my lady,” he said. “I am a creature of the Mists, but you mustn’t hold that against me. I want Lord Foxfollow dead and gone as much as you do.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “That’s an odd thing to hear from one of your kind.”

  “I want to exact my revenge,” he said. “Lord Foxfollow wreaks havoc in my world as well as yours. My family has fought him for generations.”

  She studied him. I was almost too scared to breathe.

  “I will kill you,” she said. “Make no mistake.” And then she looked at the rest of us, from Frida to me and then finally to Isolfr. “Oh,” she said when she saw him, and she dropped her pistol.

  Isolfr shimmered.

  “Yes,” Kolur said slowly. “I wasn’t aware that he was—a spirit. He’d led me to believe he was a human boy named Pjetur.”

  Now it was Ankia’s turn to bow, and she did so deeply. “It’s an honor to have you among us, North Wind. We can offer any aid you need in your mission.”

  Isolfr wobbled a little, looking embarrassed. “I appreciate that very much,” he said.

  Ankia nodded. She slid her pistol back into its holster. “All our forces are coming together,” she said to him. “And you made it just in time. We’ve been waiting for the wedding. It’s the only time outsiders are allowed into the palace.”

  The wedding. I felt dizzy with fear.

  Isolfr, the north wind, squeezed my hand more tightly.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Dinner that night was loud and rowdy. The outlaws crowded around their stone tables and slammed back jugs of ale. They shouted at one another, their voices bouncing off the walls and making them sound even louder than they were. Ankia didn’t participate in all that wildness, though. She was grim and quiet when she sat down at the table where Isolfr, Trystan, and I were stirring our lisila.

  “North Wind,” she said, “I need to discuss our plan of action with you.”

  “Your plan of action?” Isolfr looked up from his food and frowned at her.

  “Our plan of action,” she said. “You arrived just in time, you know. The wedding is tomorrow.”

  My ears started buzzing. For a moment I couldn’t even hear the whoops and hollers of the outlaws—there was only that buzzing, like my head had been filled with a million insects. The wedding was tomorrow.

  “No wonder they’re all getting so drunk,” Trystan muttered.

  Ankia glanced sideways at him. “You would do well not to pass judgment, Mists-man,” she said. “Your presence here is only barely tolerated.”

  Trystan glared at her.

  “Please don’t speak to him like that,” Isolfr said. “Lord Trystan is the only reason Hanna and I were able to make it out of the Mists.”

  Ankia’s expression didn’t waver, but I suspected she wasn’t one to be easily cowed, either. “I realize that,” she said. “Which is why he’s allowed to stay.”

  Trystan rolled his eyes and turned back to his food.

  “We will be disguising ourselves as musicians,” Ankia said. She spoke in a low voice, and I had to lean across the table to hear her over the outlaws. “The arrangements have already been made, but it will be easy to add two more.”

  “Three more,” Isolfr said. Trystan looked over at him.

  Ankia frowned. “No. Absolutely not.”

  Trystan threw his spoon to the table. “And the Sun Realms say we’re untrustworthy. Isolfr spoke the truth, you know. I took them in, at great risk to myself and to my family name, so that I could see Lord Foxfollow undone—so that I could see him killed. He is a person of the Mists, my dear lady, and you will do well to have a person of the Mists on your side when you go to fight him.”

  His speech was met with silence that was crowded out by a round of slurred singing from the front of the room. Ankia fixed him with a cold gaze. Her eyes glinted like steel.

  “My men won’t stand for it,” she said. “I feel for you, but I’m keeping you away as much for your safety as for—”

  Trystan stood up, shoving away from the table. “The Sun Realms aren’t the only place that have been poisoned by Foxfollow’s magic,” he said. His voice cracked. It took me a moment to realize that he wasn’t acting out of anger, but sadness. My heart twisted for him.

  Ankia said nothing.

  Trystan stalked away from the table, weaving through the crowd of outlaws. They turned away from him as he passed. They cast their eyes down. It was as if they could will him away.

  “That wasn’t fair of you,” Isolfr said. “He saved us—”

  “You’ve made that clear,” Ankia said, “and if we had more time I’m sure my men would come to trust him. But we don’t have time. The wedding is tomorrow—”

  My head buzzed again.

  “—And you know as well as I that if Foxfollow marries the queen, they’ll be bound together and even her death wouldn’t allow us to drive him from this world. In fact, I suspect her death is exactly what he wants.”

  “Yes,” Isolfr said quietly.

  “So we go in tomorrow. Disguised as musicians, as I said. You will ride in the caravan with Frida and Kolur—stay with them, as we want our wizards grouped together.”

  Wizards. I was going to ride into battle as a witch. I looked down at my food and wondered if I should confess to Ankia that I’d never been properly trained, that the only times I’d ever found myself in a proper magic fight, I wasn’t fighting alone.

  But then, I wouldn’t be fighting alone in this battle either.

  “We leave at daybreak.” Ankia stood up from the table, taking her bowl of lisila with her. “They tend to stay up all night drinking.” She jerked her head back in the direction of the outlaws. “But I suggest you get some sleep.”

  It was the first time she’d spoken to me directly.

  “All right,” I said.

  Ankia’s dispassionate expression didn’t change. She only nodded once and then left the table. I stared after her. I felt like I might throw up.

  “She’s righ
t,” Isolfr said in my ear. “You should try and sleep. Eat, too.” He nudged the lisila toward me. “I imagine they made it special, since we’re fighting tomorrow.”

  I stirred the lisila around. The surface changed colors like a rainbow. It reminded me so much of Asbera and Finnur. I’d been scared when I met them, too. But not scared like this. Back home in Kjora I could never have imagined fear like this.

  “Are you frightened?” I said, speaking down into my lisila.

  “I’m terrified,” said Isolfr.

  I sighed and pressed my face into his shoulder. He smelled of the north wind and the sea, a scent that made me think, sharply and unexpectedly, of home. Home. My family. I might never see them again, but weren’t they the reason I was going to fight? Because if I stopped Foxfollow, then I had saved them.

  I spooned a bit of lisila in my mouth. It tasted like ash and dirt. I knew it wasn’t the fault of the lisila.

  Still, I forced myself to choke it down. The outlaws’ party raged on around us. Even Kolur drank enough that he started yelling like the rest of them. Across the room, I watched as he threw his arm around the shoulders of a man with a thick black beard. They sang a song I didn’t recognize, about a whorehouse and a girl with yellow hair. The lyrics made me blush. They made Isolfr blush too.

  Not long after that, a thin, stooped outlaw with a curved sword approached our table. He bowed when he saw Isolfr. “North Wind,” he said.

  Isolfr blinked up at him, the same beautiful boy I’d seen swimming in the moonlight all those weeks ago.

  “Ankia has asked me to see the two of you to the sleeping room.” He gave another bow. “She thinks you should both rest before tomorrow.”

  Isolfr and I looked at each other. I thought about Trystan, wondered if he’d be there too—I imagined the sleeping room was a sailors’ barracks, row after row of cots lined up one after another.

  But it wasn’t. The outlaw instead led us to a small room carved out of the cavern wall. Light threaded through the stone, and a shimmering crystal hung from the ceiling. I immediately felt the magic of that crystal when I walked in—it was a protection charm, a totem, one of the strongest I’d ever felt.