Sunmaster, p.22
Sunmaster, page 22
The boats had drifted apart, bouncing lightly at the ends of the ropes that bound them. Captain Nasira was on her feet in her own little boat, looking west like she might be able to see the distant Islands. "Rasim."
Her voice cut across the water, followed by her gaze, which, even in the increasing dark, was expectant. Rasim tested his witchery, seeing if napping had helped at all, and thought he could at least get to the captain's little boat without dumping himself in the ocean. He called up a spigot of water and joined her, both curious about and somewhat dreading what she might say.
"How did you call that stone snake?" was the last thing he expected. Rasim stared at her through the dusk a moment, not really able to even understand the question.
"I just called for help, Captain. It wasn't on purpose, any more than getting a dragon's attention was. W…why?"
"Because," Nasira said very softly. "We are in an extraordinary need of help, and you tend to be the source of extraordinary things. We're in the middle of an ocean, Journeyman. Do you think you can call for help from here? Not a stone snake, perhaps, but maybe a dragon?"
"What? No! I don't know! Why? What good would that do?"
Nasira took a deep breath. "It would give you a way out of here. A way home. Perhaps even a fast way home. I'm sure word has reached Ilyara about what happened in Moran, but King Taishm needs to know that the North has turned against us, and that we've made allies in Shenyral. And you, Rasim, are the only possible messenger I have."
"But we're in the ocean," Rasim protested. "Dragons are fiery. I think. Sea serpents, maybe, out here, and that might work but I'd be afraid they'd crush our boats if they surfaced near us. And there's nothing else out he…oh." He lifted his gaze again, looking through the clear air at the glittering stars. "No, I'm wrong. There is something else out here."
Nasira glanced skyward, too. "Don't tell me you can call the stars from the sky, Journeyman."
Rasim breathed laughter. "No. No, Captain, what are the two things that are constant when we're under sail?"
"The sea and the sky," Nasira said without hesitation, then inhaled softly as she understood his meaning. "Ah. The sky. Sky witchery."
"I can't do it by myself, I don't think. Skymaster Arrat could help, but it'd…" Rasim swallowed. "I think it would be better if it was me and Desimi. You'll need Arrat if a storm comes up out here, when you're in these little boats."
The captain's eyebrows twitched upward. "Then you'll be taking Kisia with you, or I'll have to drown her myself to stop the complaints."
"Are you sure, Captain?"
"I'm absolutely sure she'll complain endlessly if she's left behind."
Rasim couldn't stop a laugh. "That wasn't what I meant."
"I know, son." Nasira put a hand on his shoulder and sighed. "I'd say you wouldn't be remiss to ask Siliaria's blessing, Rasim. I think you'll need all the help you can get."
Rasim's throat tightened and tears burned in his eyes. "That's a good idea. I'll do that."
"We all might," the captain said dryly, then sighed again, this time melodramatically. "And I suppose you'll need something to stand on while you do all this witchery. Try not to wreck the shoreboat, Rasim. We'll need it when you're done." She lifted her voice, calling orders, and baffled sea witches began to move from her boat to the others. Nasira beckoned Desimi and Kisia to her side, and when they were safely aboard, witched a waterspout into existence. "Be careful, all of you. Safe home."
"You too, Captain." Rasim turned to his bewildered friends as the captain left. "Come on. We need to push off and get quite a bit of distance between us and the rest of them."
"Why?" Kisia's voice broke on the single syllable. "What are we doing?"
Rasim smiled, partly out of excitement and partly trying to hide sudden nervousness. "Desimi and I are going to find a glasswing in the wind, and it's going to take us home."
Desimi spent most of the next half hour squeaking, "We're doing what?" as they put distance between themselves and the other shoreboats. By the time Rasim thought they were far enough away, he also thought he might kill Desimi before they could work up enough of a windstorm to get one of the delicate, dragonfly-like creatures' attention.
"Glasswings are there," he said for what felt like the fortieth time. "They're in the wind all the time, in the air. They're made of air, Desi, and mostly they're…" He squashed his hands together, trying to indicate that they were soft, somehow. Air-like.
"You mean they're like spirits. They're there but you can't see or touch them?" Kisia sounded fascinated.
"Yeah, kind of, I guess? But enough sky witchery draws their attention and they can become solid. Like, oh, you know what it feels like when a hard sudden wind comes up. Like it's punching you in the face. Air can feel solid. It just doesn't have form, exactly. Glasswings are what happens when air takes shape that we can hold on to."
"And you called one in the arena," Desimi said like he was barely clinging to sanity. Rasim thought that might be possible. They were on a smooth ocean, a long way from anybody else, and he intended to start a windstorm to convince a magical beast to appear literally out of thin air. That seemed a little insane.
"It was an accident then, but yes. We were fighting and there was so much air witchery and it was…" Hurt sliced through Rasim's heart. "I think we drove it crazy," he said unhappily. "It got shaped wrong because the witchery we were using was so violent. I had to kill it because it would have killed me otherwise, but it wasn't fair. It never had a chance."
"And this one will?" Desimi's voice rose again, and again, Rasim couldn't exactly blame him.
On the other hand, he was pretty sure of himself. "We won't be fighting, Desi. We're going to be cooperating. We're going to use all this magic, enough to make one of them solidify, and then we're going to ride it to shore."
"Which shore?" Desimi demanded. "The Islands? The continent? Ilyara itself?"
A bright grin flashed over Rasim's face. "I guess that depends on how cooperative it is, and how lucky we are."
A grin started to crawl over Kisia's face, too. "Well, if we're going to die, this is the most interesting way to do it that I can think of."
Desimi, horrified, said, "Kisia!" She and Rasim both laughed as his voice rose even further. "I don't want to die at all!"
"Well, neither do the rest of us." Rasim knelt in the bottom of the boat, reaching over the side to trail his fingers in the ocean's quiet surface. "The captain said I should ask Siliaria's blessing."
The other two sobered up fast and knelt with him, dipping their hands in the water, too. "That's a good idea," Kisia whispered.
Desimi only nodded, and for a few minutes the three of them were quiet. Rasim didn't know exactly what they were thinking, but even just touching the water for a minute or two helped settle his too-busy thoughts. Eventually, aloud, he said, "I know we've been all over the place, Siliaria, and a lot of it hasn't been on the water, but we're still your children, and we could use your blessing right now. Not just us." He lifted his gaze toward the other shoreboats, hardly more than dark shadows on the quiet sea. "For the rest of the crew, too, please. Maybe them more than us, even. Quiet seas for their journey, and safety at the end of it, if you would, goddess. As for us, if this would just work, we would really appreciate that."
Then he cast a crooked smile upward, adding, "And if Tilarea wants to look out for us, too, we wouldn't say no," to the sky itself.
They sat together for another long few moments, until Kisia, audibly disappointed, said, "I don't think she's actually coming this time," and Rasim laughed, realizing he'd been wondering if the goddess would appear, too.
"I guess not. Well, we've survived this long. I think we can assume that means we've got her blessings, right? So that'll be enough for today, too." Rasim started gathering sky witchery, feeling the still air stir under his command as Desimi hnfed.
"Too bad. I wanted to meet her. Maybe someday."
"Next time," Kisia promised him. "But go on, call a glasswing. I want to see this."
"Yeah, yeah, all right, we'll try." Desimi's witchery joined Rasim's, grudgingly at first, but then with greater enthusiasm. "Do you think we can make Kisia fly?"
Kisia shrieked and Rasim couldn't tell if it was delight or terror. Maybe both, because she said, "Yes! Try!" and bounced on her toes. The boat rocked and both boys yelled incoherently. Kisia grimaced and held still, mumbling, "Sorry," but then brightening again. "But if I bounce it'll be easier to lift me up!"
"Let us get enough wind going first!" Rasim said. She puffed her cheeks at him and he grinned at Desimi. "Come on, let's try."
Standing in a rowboat was not at all the safest place to bring a windstorm to life. Kisia did help, steadying the boat as the boys, both grinning now, tried to out-do one another with gusts and twists of witchery. The sea around them danced with their efforts, then surged with it, whitecaps forming as wind raced across the surface. Sometimes their magic crashed into each other's, whipping upward in a spiral of gleeful speed that made them both laugh. Desimi staggered with it, then braced himself and leaned in, arms spread wide at first, then slowly closing like he was trying to capture something enormous between them. Rasim howled with laughter, his own power rushing around Desimi's until his hair stood on end, tangling hopelessly in the wind.
Kisia stood up cautiously, putting a hand toward the torrent of rushing air between them and gasping as its speed knocked her arm aside. "I think I could fly in that!"
"It has to be bigger to hold you," Desimi said breathlessly. He threw his arms open again, like he was letting the witchery expand, and suddenly they were in the heart of a roaring, bewitched windstorm. Kisia couldn't keep her feet, but she wasn't flying, either, just struggling to stay up and giggling helplessly with every buffet. Rasim felt like the whole ocean sky had paused to watch them, and in the heart of all that, felt the same brush of life that he'd felt when the glasswing began to take form in Moran. He threw his arms open wide, too, and Kisia shrieked as her feet actually did leave the boat's floor.
Desimi's power was unbelievable, much stronger than Rasim's own. All he'd needed was to find a way into it, Rasim thought. Unlike Rasim, Desimi wasn't unbalanced. All of the witchery he could ever want was right there, ready to be shaped, like it was just waiting for him to need it. The stars above them wobbled with the speed of their storm, and Rasim felt that touch of life again, as if a glasswing's presence was growing stronger.
Kisia said, "I'm gonna jump," and without further warning, did. Up, not out, but the wind was enough to push her a little. Desimi bellowed and the strength of the windstorm redoubled, catching Kisia and lifting her just a little more. Rasim, giggling with both effort and the sheer delight of pushing witchery to its limits to see where they were, tried to send wind beneath Kisia to boost her, and for a few thrilling seconds, she rose higher into the air.
Rasim wasn't sure he would call it flying, the way she flailed and laughed and screamed with nerves and excitement, but she definitely wasn't earthbound anymore. Another gust swept beneath her, and she shot skyward, squealing with terrified joy until the gust changed directions. Her squeal lost the joy, turning to terror alone.
A glasswing, gorgeous and black with stars and water, formed beneath her, and Kisia landed on its back, just in front of the rapidly-beating fragile wings. She screamed again, this time in surprise and relief. The beautiful, delicate thing spun wildly in the air, reminding Rasim of a dolphin playing in the ship's wake. Kisia clung to its back, almost visible through its thin glassy body. Her laughter was tossed through the wind, bouncing back to Rasim and Desimi in little bursts.
Desimi's witchery died as he gazed up at the playful creature, its wings visible mostly from the way they blurred the stars. Under the quiet night sky it had none of the soft rainbow color the one that had come from the arena had had. Its scales glittered the same way, but only with darkness and stars, and its huge bug-like eyes were filled with night. It spun down toward them as if curious what had happened to the storm, and Desimi put a hand up to its nose.
Its long thin tongue darted out, tasting him, and he laughed sharply. Kisia yelled, "Desi!" and thrust a hand down. He grabbed hold and she grunted, hauling him upward. The glasswing cried out in surprise, a sound like crystal bells, and raced skyward again, spinning wildly. Both the journeymen aboard it screamed and held on for dear life. Rasim heard snatches of Desimi yelling, "Go back, go back!"
The glasswing did, mostly, Rasim thought, because he was still working his sky witchery, and it was curious. It didn't stop to investigate him, though, only rushed by in a blur of beauty and speed. Desimi reached for Rasim, barely managed to grab his hand, and pulled him on the slender beast's back. It cried out again, but their weight didn't seem to affect its ability to fly, as it climbed back into the sky with ease.
Within seconds they were higher than any ship's mast, higher than Rasim had ever been except on the dragon's back, and its quick wings drove them across the ocean. Rasim, still working witchery, tried to build an air current for it to follow. Desimi joined in, both of them weaving a braid of air and sending it east. Kisia shouted, "Where are we going?"
Rasim grinned into the wind, and told himself it was the speed and cold air that made tears slide from his eyes. "Home, Kees. We're going home."
* * *
to be concluded
(for real) in
* * *
Witchmaster
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I owe editor KB Spangler my life for this book. Words are not enough to thank her with.
They are enough to thank Aleksandar Sotirovski for the utterly gorgeous cover art on this series so far, though, and Tara O'Shea, whose cover design elevates it.
Thanks, too, to Sharon Corbet, Rachel Gollub, Chelsea Jones, and Joe Fernandez, my Patreons whose sharp eyes have helped keep many errors from the pages of this book. My husband Ted also deserve a special shout-out for not saying "I told you so" when my editor confirmed what he'd been trying to tell me all along, which was I was right when I was afraid I had two books left in this series instead of one.
And most especially, thanks to Fiadh, who has been waiting patiently for the conclusion of this series for eleven years and is going to have to wait another year, because it ain't done yet.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
CE Murphy began writing around age six, when she submitted three poems to a school publication. The teacher producing the magazine selected (inevitably) the one she thought was by far the worst, but also told her–a six year old kid–to keep writing, which she has. She has also held the usual grab-bag of jobs usually seen in an authorial biography, including public library volunteer (at ages 9 and 10; it’s clear she was doomed to a career involving books), archival assistant, cannery worker, and web designer. Writing books is better.
She was born and raised in Alaska, and now lives with her family in her ancestral homeland of Ireland.
Also by C.E. Murphy
Collected Tales of the Old Races
Year of Miracles
Baba Yaga's Daughter
Kiss of Angels
The Austen Chronicles
Magic & Manners
The Guildmaster Saga
Stonemaster
Skymaster
Sunmaster
Seamaster
The Heartstrike Chronicles
Atlantis Fallen
From Coffin to Grave
The Inheritors' Cycle
The Queen's Bastard
The Pretender's Crown
The Redeemer Wars
Redeemer
The Rising
Keys
The Torn
Practical Boots
The Walker Papers
Banshee Cries
The Worldwalker Duology
Wayfinder
Truthseeker
Standalone
Roses in Amber
Bewitching Benedict
Siryn
Stone's Throe
Watch for more at C.E. Murphy’s site.
C.E. Murphy, Sunmaster
