After three days at sea, Konrad had learned two things.

First of all, Northmen did not make good sailors. Ever since they had cleared the calm waters of the Last Harbour, the boat had rocked back and forth as the waves came from every angle. Rolo had installed himself in a hammock, and the noise of him being violently ill had quickly driven Spirit and Konrad out of their small cabin.

The second thing he learned was to be wary of witches. Renau and Serena had eaten dinner together on the first evening, and as the lamps were being lit on the deck, the captain emerged with a stunned expression, clutching several blankets to his chest. He took them to a small, cramped room next to Rolo and Konrad, and since then he had not set foot in his own quarters. Renau hadn’t struck him as a man who might be pushed around—far from it—so what power did she have over him?

On the third night, the wind blew with such force that Konrad and Spirit were forced to squeeze in between two large barrels in the storage hold to protect them from the alarming sway of the ship. Konrad sat with Spirit’s head on his lap and gently turned Alice’s gravity detection stone around in his fingers.

"Alice wouldn’t believe where we are."

Spirit replied by nuzzling closer to him and letting out a comfortable sigh.

The vessel cracked and groaned, and Konrad didn’t hear Serena’s footsteps until she was standing over him.

"How did your animal lose its shadow?" she asked.

Her tone was mild, but it had a level of sophistication that made Konrad automatically focus his gaze on the floor.

Spirit tried to sniff at the hem of her cloak, and Konrad pulled her back.

"It’s quite a gift," the witch continued, as she sat down across from him and smoothed her woolen skirt. "You also have a strange air about you. What’s your name?"

"Konrad."

"It’s a very faint power, so weak I almost missed it. You're a champion?"

Konrad saw little point in denying the fact and nodded.

"To some very minor gods, I imagine. Is that why you’re here, one of their little errands?"

"They are not errands; they’re quests."

Serena smiled. "I know something about the gods. They want us to believe that they are wise, mighty, and far above our understanding, but we made them, not the other way around. We made them in our likeness: selfish, proud, obsessed with their own image."

Serena sounded like Athir, and Konrad wished she was there; she would know how to deal with witches.

"The gods pull strings like puppet masters," Serena continued.

"Is that what you did to Renau?" Konrad blurted out. He hadn’t meant to, but her words had angered him. He wasn’t sure about Avram or Casovan, but Lyran seemed like she genuinely wanted to help others.

Serena blinked. "I didn’t do anything to the captain; why would you say that?"

"He doesn’t seem like the type to give up his cabin, that's all."

Serena laughed, and the sound was light and fine and seemed to push away the stale air around them. "Indeed, he is not. But he respects certain things, as he should. Giving me the most comfortable cabin was a way of showing that respect."

"He’s not just afraid of you because you’re a witch?"

"Are you?"

As a champion, he shouldn’t be afraid of anything. Athir certainly wouldn’t be afraid of Serena. But looking into her cold eyes, he knew he was.

"Fear is powerful, but respect is lasting, Konrad; you should try to remember that. Besides, there might come a time when you’ll be glad to have a witch aboard."

As she spoke, a powerful gust of wind forced the ship to lean over so far that Konrad was afraid it would tip over. He and Spirit were thrown from their space and were sent hurling into Serena, all of them landing in a tangled heap against the curved hull.

Konrad pushed himself to his feet and saw that Serena was unmoving, a small trickle of blood flowing from her scalp.

"Serena." He shook her by the shoulder, but her head just lolled to one side.

Focusing on the image of Lyran, he felt a warmth under his palm and saw Serena’s eyelids flicker.

"All hands on deck, all hands on deck!" came a shout from outside.

"I’m going to get help; I’ll come back," he said.

Konrad stumbled through the swaying ship and bumped into Rolo as the Northman hurtled out of their small cabin. His face was pale and covered in a sheen of sweat. "What’s happening?" he shouted.

"I think it’s a storm."

"Not another one."

"Serena’s back there; she’s hurt."

"It’s all hands on deck; we can come back down for her. Tie Spirit to yourself before you come out."

Konrad hastily tied Fra Dun’s rope around Spirit and then fixed it to his waist before Rolo wrenched open the door to the main deck.

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The ship was in chaos. Waves crashed over the side, and in the darkness above them, the tortured sails flapped around before snapping back into place. Konrad grasped Spirit and held onto the railing as the vessel pitched over onto its side so far that the sails dipped into the cold waters.

"I hate boats," Rolo groaned, clutching the railing.

The wind shrieked, and the boat was pushed back over in the opposite direction, forcing them to scramble for handholds.

In the gloom, Renau and Briarstone were soaked through and shouting at each other.

"Cut it away!" Briarstone yelled. "We have to cut the damn sail away!"

A great flash of lightning lit up the sky, and Konrad's breath caught in his throat as he saw just how much trouble they were in.

The sky boiled. Great clouds banked up impossibly high, unleashing a maelstrom of stinging rain and ice.

Briarstone gave a great roar of frustration and started to climb the rigging, but the boat was now rocking so violently that he couldn’t climb more than a few feet before he had to cling on for dear life.

Konrad untied the rope from his waist and handed it to Rolo.

"Konrad no," Rolo shouted.

Spirit snapped at his sleeve to stop him, but he shrugged the jacket off; it would only get in the way.

Holding his small dagger in his teeth, he grasped the rigging and began to climb. He was nimble, and since Tajan he had felt stronger as Lyran promised he would, but still he struggled as the movement of the boat grew increasingly more violent the further he climbed.

He caught snatches of Rolo’s shouts of encouragement from the deck, and they spurred him on higher until he reached the thick tangle of rope that held the sail to the mast. He sawed frantically at the threads, and with a wet snap, he cut through. The sail whipped out into the sky, fluttering away into the night like some great storm bird.

A flash of lightning lit up the sky, outlining the unmistakable shape of a mountain rearing up from the seething ocean. Another flash followed, and Konrad thought he saw a great horned beast rearing up over the summit, reaching out a clawed hand towards him.

Then the wind died. The boat stopped moving, and the rain eased to a drizzle. The storm still raged around them, but they were caught in a bubble of calm.

Konrad dropped to the deck and looked around in amazement, clutching his dagger.

"Well done, Konrad," Rolo said, handing him back Spirit's rope.

"Whatever god did this, I’ll pray to them each day," Renau said, his voice carrying easily in the stillness.

Rolo glanced at Konrad, who shrugged. "It wasn’t me."

"You were going the wrong way, champion."

The cold voice was the same one he had heard on the frozen coast.

"I wanted to help you get here faster. We are all waiting for you, child of Casovan." The chill laugh that accompanied the words made Konrad shiver more than the ice cold around them.

"What do you want from me?" Konrad shouted, seeing the faces of Briarstone, Rolo, and Renau turn to him.

"Come to the coldest mountain and I will show you; bring your friends. Quite a group you have. The witch is there, yes? Do not trust her champion; I have what she seeks. The Northman, too, will find the answers to his problems here. I feel the proud captain's hunger for recognition; Daddy didn’t love him. The old one is a broken leader, and to follow him is to invite death. Come."

The door from the ship burst open, and Serena staggered out. She locked eyes on Konrad and made straight for him, grabbing him by the shoulders, her nails biting into the skin beneath his wet shirt.

"Who were you talking to?" she yelled. Her voice was no longer soft; it cut like shards of ice.

"I don’t know, I heard them before; they want me to go somewhere."

"The coldest mountain?" she asked.

Konrad nodded. How could she have known that?

Rolo staggered across the deck and pulled Serena back from Konrad. "You did this, witch," he roared, pointing to the raging storm above their heads.

"Don’t be a fool," she snapped. "Konrad, you have to tell me what he said."

"He said I had to go to the coldest mountain; he said he has what you want and what you want," he added, looking straight at Rolo.

"What have you brought on to my ship, Briarstone, some cursed child?" Renau asked.

"It’s not the boy; it's a demon, or at least someone given the power from the same dark place," Serena said.

"How do you know that?" Konrad asked.

"I know about these things."

"Witches meddle with the darkness; everyone knows this. If there’s a demon, then she’s working with it," Rolo said, pointing a trembling finger at Serena.

Renau looked at his three passengers. "Right," he said, seeming to make up his mind. "Throw them overboard."

"What?" Briarstone said.

"You heard me, throw them overboard, you’ve done it before."

"Be serious, boy; we’re not playacting now. I’m not throwing anybody anywhere."

Renau seemed to lose momentum for a moment, but he set his jaw and drew his sword. "Very well. Take them below and lock them in their cabins. We’re going back to the Last Harbour."

"No, you must go forward," the voice snarled in Konrad's mind.

"Everyone hold on to something," Konrad yelled.

The bubble burst, and the howling storm surged in. The boat was hammered by the waves, and icy tendrils began to creep up the wood, splintering off and leaving a frosted trail along the railings and the deck.

Rolo held Konrad tight, and he in turn held onto Spirit.

Amidst the chaos around them, the thinnest line of bright energy left the tip of the mast. Untroubled by the wind or the storm, it made its mesmerizing way up into the clouds.

Lightning didn’t go up, did it?

The storm's reply was a lightning strike that sundered the sky, burning a bright line into Konrad’s vision. The mast of The Blue Faced Booby exploded in a shower of wooden shards, and the vessel groaned. Rolo kept hold of Konrad and Spirit as they were thrown into the air.

Bless Spirit, Konrad prayed, as they hit the frozen water.

The air was driven from his lungs, and he couldn’t tell which way was up in the enveloping darkness. In his panic, he gulped in ice-cold sea water that burned his lungs.

The rope on his waist was tugged tightly and painfully, and he tried to seize it; then a hand gripped him by the arm and pulled him upwards.

When he breached the surface, he took a great gulping breath and saw Serena holding onto him tightly. The sea was raging around them, and the huge waves were like mountains in the ocean.

The witch began to reel in the rope, and in a flash of lightning, he saw Spirit clinging desperately to a large piece of wood in the distance.

Serena and Konrad pulled themselves onto the pitiful raft, and Serena tied them all together.

"Rolo," Konrad croaked.

"He was here; he was just here," Serena replied.

Lightning tore through the sky, and with each flash, the towering mountain loomed larger over them. With a final push, the waves deposited them onto a rocky shore, and Konrad, Serena, and Spirit stumbled, numb and shivering, into a dark cave in the rocks.