dumping freezing water across the deck. Takaar’s head snapped round and he was
gone as fast as he had struck. Stein sat up. The Il-Aryn were sprawled on the deck or stumbling around dazed. One had blood pouring from her ears and she screamed again, her voice taken up by
others.
‘Get it back!’ roared Takaar from somewhere, his voice desperate and high. ‘Get! It! Back!’
‘Too late,’ murmured Stein.
Black fire lashed the ship from the fingertips of a dozen hands. Stein dived for the questionable sanctuary that was the base of the mainmast, shuddering at the thought that he’d seen all
this before and it hadn’t ended well. Jagged like lightning, the fire bit into rigging, sail and timber. Fingers of magic tore at the hull, ripping into timbers and shattering them, tearing
off great splinters and hurling them up into the sky.
Fire laced the deck, spitting holes and slicing through yards, sheets and stays. Above him sailcloth burned. Black streaks pounded into the great trunk of the mainmast. Stein felt it shudder and
creak above him, a snapping noise sounded deep within it.
All around him elves were diving for whatever cover they could find. Il-Aryn, crew and TaiGethen alike fled, and for far too many it was hopeless. Javelins of hateful magic buried in chest, face
and gut, throwing their victims around like dolls. He saw a TaiGethen pinioned to the rail, fire blazing from his eyes, his body jerking and smouldering before the power was done with him and he
fell into the water below.
‘Got to do something,’ muttered Stein, though he knew a spell would draw their fire to him like moths.
He could hear the Wytch Lord magic smashing beneath him, tearing the ship apart.
Capricious
was heeled over now and the unmistakeable sound of rushing water added to the screams, the
crackle of flames and the splintering of wood. From above flame rained down as the sails disintegrated. And, with a decisive crack, the mainmast broke and fell to port.
Stein hurried around the base, finding himself in the firing line.
‘Get overboard!’ someone shouted. ‘Abandon ship! Abandon ship.’
‘Not yet.’ Stein prepared quickly, his mind focused while his body prepared for the death strike of enemy fire that must surely come. ‘Have some of this!’
Stein stood, spread his hands as wide as he could and cast. Ice borne on a hurricane howled from his fingertips, over the heads of desperate and dying elves, across the sea and into the heart of
the enemy vessel. Timbers, sails and faces blackened under the onslaught of the super-cooled storm. Frost rimed mast and spars. It gathered in waves across the deck. And it killed. The thought of
that was so good Stein didn’t want it to stop.
Wesmen and their so recently triumphant shamen had their shouts of victory frozen in their throats. Their limbs seized, their hearts became frost and the blood in their veins was stilled in an
instant. The black fire shut off but for one shaman in the stern, who turned his focus from the ship’s hull to the lone mage.
Stein saw it coming and dived aside. Dread magic spat across the deck where he’d been standing.
‘Whoa!’
He rolled and came to his feet, scrabbling to find a little more cover, though precious little was left. Waves were breaking over the starboard rail as the vessel heeled over. She wallowed, and
the bodies of elves shifted in time with the ocean.
‘Time to go.’
Stein raced for the bow, pulling together a final casting on the run. It was difficult to concentrate. The shaman had him in his sights and the black fire was closing fast. Deck timbers split
behind him. The ashes of sails floated about his head. Fire raged over the jib sail, which flapped glowing edges, spraying hot canvas across his vision.
Stein prayed he had enough of the casting together to make sense and dived over the bow rail. Wings of Shade sprouted from his shoulder blades, wisps at first but strengthening as he poured
everything he had
gone as fast as he had struck. Stein sat up. The Il-Aryn were sprawled on the deck or stumbling around dazed. One had blood pouring from her ears and she screamed again, her voice taken up by
others.
‘Get it back!’ roared Takaar from somewhere, his voice desperate and high. ‘Get! It! Back!’
‘Too late,’ murmured Stein.
Black fire lashed the ship from the fingertips of a dozen hands. Stein dived for the questionable sanctuary that was the base of the mainmast, shuddering at the thought that he’d seen all
this before and it hadn’t ended well. Jagged like lightning, the fire bit into rigging, sail and timber. Fingers of magic tore at the hull, ripping into timbers and shattering them, tearing
off great splinters and hurling them up into the sky.
Fire laced the deck, spitting holes and slicing through yards, sheets and stays. Above him sailcloth burned. Black streaks pounded into the great trunk of the mainmast. Stein felt it shudder and
creak above him, a snapping noise sounded deep within it.
All around him elves were diving for whatever cover they could find. Il-Aryn, crew and TaiGethen alike fled, and for far too many it was hopeless. Javelins of hateful magic buried in chest, face
and gut, throwing their victims around like dolls. He saw a TaiGethen pinioned to the rail, fire blazing from his eyes, his body jerking and smouldering before the power was done with him and he
fell into the water below.
‘Got to do something,’ muttered Stein, though he knew a spell would draw their fire to him like moths.
He could hear the Wytch Lord magic smashing beneath him, tearing the ship apart.
Capricious
was heeled over now and the unmistakeable sound of rushing water added to the screams, the
crackle of flames and the splintering of wood. From above flame rained down as the sails disintegrated. And, with a decisive crack, the mainmast broke and fell to port.
Stein hurried around the base, finding himself in the firing line.
‘Get overboard!’ someone shouted. ‘Abandon ship! Abandon ship.’
‘Not yet.’ Stein prepared quickly, his mind focused while his body prepared for the death strike of enemy fire that must surely come. ‘Have some of this!’
Stein stood, spread his hands as wide as he could and cast. Ice borne on a hurricane howled from his fingertips, over the heads of desperate and dying elves, across the sea and into the heart of
the enemy vessel. Timbers, sails and faces blackened under the onslaught of the super-cooled storm. Frost rimed mast and spars. It gathered in waves across the deck. And it killed. The thought of
that was so good Stein didn’t want it to stop.
Wesmen and their so recently triumphant shamen had their shouts of victory frozen in their throats. Their limbs seized, their hearts became frost and the blood in their veins was stilled in an
instant. The black fire shut off but for one shaman in the stern, who turned his focus from the ship’s hull to the lone mage.
Stein saw it coming and dived aside. Dread magic spat across the deck where he’d been standing.
‘Whoa!’
He rolled and came to his feet, scrabbling to find a little more cover, though precious little was left. Waves were breaking over the starboard rail as the vessel heeled over. She wallowed, and
the bodies of elves shifted in time with the ocean.
‘Time to go.’
Stein raced for the bow, pulling together a final casting on the run. It was difficult to concentrate. The shaman had him in his sights and the black fire was closing fast. Deck timbers split
behind him. The ashes of sails floated about his head. Fire raged over the jib sail, which flapped glowing edges, spraying hot canvas across his vision.
Stein prayed he had enough of the casting together to make sense and dived over the bow rail. Wings of Shade sprouted from his shoulder blades, wisps at first but strengthening as he poured
everything he had
Similar Books
