More than forty people left the shores of the White Cliffs on a ship that had no business carrying so many. D’Argen was directed to sit at a spot right beside Abbot. The sail dropped and was immediately filled with errand winds. Lilian sat at the centre of the ship and directed the winds until the ship changed course.
They were sailing north within sight of the shoreline, following the coast to a set of islands, the furthest northern point on any map. After that, it would be uncharted waters.
D’Argen found himself vibrating with too much energy and though he was moving, the ship was so slow that it felt like nothing at all. The itch at his feet was just past bearable and he was not sure how long he would be able to keep still on this tiny vessel with so many other people. He knew for sure he would not be able to sleep.
That first night, barely anyone slept. The deck was cold and swaying and strange, but it was not the new location that kept them from sleeping. It was the excitement as they all talked and walked the deck and broke bread and took out the wineskins.
The sun was setting on the fifth day when the tiny islands appeared on the horizon. Haur directed them to stop. The hull was shallow enough and with a push from Nocipel and Lilian’s mahee, Thar joining with a brush of wind that surprised the others in its strength, they dry-docked the ship on a rocky beach.
Everybody disembarked and one of the mortal women immediately took a group to look over the entire ship. It tilted to the side but everything was tied down and remained where it was meant to. And, more importantly, the ship had not broken under them and drowned them all.
That night, D’Argen found out that most of the mortals with them lived in the northern peninsula in villages dotting the mountains around the city of Salem. They were all experienced hikers, used to the cold weather and travelling great distances in blinding conditions. For an adventure north, Haur definitely chose his crew well.
When they set off the following morning, it was with the same cheer as when they left the White Cliffs.
A few days in and the winds finally turned against them. Lilian was too tired from coaxing them the last few days to attempt to do so again. D’Argen sat at his designated spot by the railing and took up an oar. Thar was beside Nocipel at the bow of the ship. The scent of the salty ocean as it sprayed them mixed with the scent of Nocipel’s mahee of seaweed and it was all cut through with the clean scent that came from Thar, making it easier for the mortals with them.
“Have you noticed?” Yaling’s whisper from behind D’Argen startled him into pulling the oar harder. Lilian glared at him and then the two got back into the same rhythm as the others.
“Noticed what?” D’Argen finally asked and looked over his shoulder at Yaling.
“Thar,” she said as if that answered anything.
D’Argen looked at Abbot, sitting beside her, in question. The man shrugged and continued to pull the oar, setting the rhythm so Yaling could talk.
“His mahee,” Yaling said again.
“What about it?” Lilian snapped out the question.
“First of all, do not be snappy with me. It is not my fault you need to rest. Second of all—” she leaned even further, stopping the oar from churning and lowering her voice as she said “—his mahee was not this strong on Sky Mountain.”
Abbot shook her off and back so they could join the others in rowing. But all of them looked up at the front of the ship where Thar stood completely still, eyes closed against the wind. Nocipel’s scent of seaweed was barely felt in the air. The ship was moving swiftly and the winds were filling the sail. Not one of the mortals around them was showing signs of the high of magic.
It was impossible. Nocipel was helping the ship move. Not Thar. The winds were—they changed all the time. Kassar probably used more of his luck to get the winds on their side again. And the lack of scent that was… Nocipel was probably not using that much and—
“Is this all him?” D’Argen asked quietly, his voice barely reaching Lilian right beside him.
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“I do not know what binding spell they put on him, but I think it may be broken,” Yaling added in again, her eyes never leaving Thar at the front of the ship.
“Shut up.” Abbot nudged her with an elbow. She turned to glare at him but his eyes skipped over her shoulder. D’Argen followed where he looked and he noticed both Haur and Kassar watching them. When Haur noticed them, he smiled wide, said something to Kassar, and walked over to them.
“Are you feeling better?” Haur asked, directing his question at Lilian. His body swayed with the rocking of the ship. “We could use your winds to help us. Kassar has enough luck on our side to keep them from tipping us over, but that is bound to run out soon.”
“Not yet,” Lilian grunted from right beside D’Argen as they pulled at the oar.
Haur hummed, his smile dropping. His eyes skipped over to Abbot. “And you?”
“I can follow Thar’s scent to strength his spells,” Abbot said with narrowed eyes.
D’Argen wanted to elbow the man. He was not good at being subtle. Fortunately, Yaling did it for him, her hand slipping on the oar and elbow flying right into Abbot’s ribs hard enough to make him exhale quickly. The artist glared first at Yaling then at D’Argen before he grinned up at Haur again. “You will take my place?”
“Yes. Go ahead. Nocipel is leading the spells, ask him for direction.”
With a shuffle, Yaling moved closer to the railing, Haur right beside her, and Abbot made his way to the front of the ship.
“What were you all talking about earlier?” Haur asked as he pulled the oar with Yaling.
“I think I may be seasick,” Lilian grumbled from right beside D’Argen.
When D’Argen looked over, he was not sure if Lilian was faking it to change the subject or not. “You have never been seasick,” D’Argen said, testing it out.
“Yes, but it sounds preferable right about now.”
D’Argen noticed a glare directed at the front of the ship. He scoffed, trying to keep from laughing. “Do you honestly prefer to hang your head over the railing throwing up rather than to pull an oar? It’s not that much different from paddling the boats down south.”
“It is different. It is much more different,” Lilian groaned as they pulled the oar. “It feels so heavy!”
As if on cue, D’Argen felt a crack reverberate up their oar and prevent it from sinking into the water. When he leaned to look over the edge into the water, he noticed blocks of ice passing them by.
“We’re getting into the ice,” D’Argen was excited. It was one step closer.
Haur did not ask his question again. Instead, he focused on D’Argen and asked a new one. “Have you ever carried something so big?”
D’Argen startled and then he had to think about it. He looked around the length of the ship. He had been able to spread his mahee over groups before to speed them up, but he was limited. With every new item he carried, his speed dropped more and more. During the demon wars, he had once tried to cover an entire unit in his mahee. The increase in their speed was barely worth it and it tired D’Argen out too much.
But this was a ship. One item he had to speed up. Even if not a living one, it had a body.
“I can try.” He shrugged though he sincerely doubted it. As he closed his eyes to concentrate, his mahee rushed out, as if it had been waiting for this moment after being dormant for so many days now. He felt every single Never Born and mortal on the ship, every board and crate, every grain and biscuit, every fibre of their furs and stitch in their robes. It was so much that it made his head hurt, but his mahee continued to open, like waves slipping through every crack.
A throb at his temple had him stumble and let go of all the mortals. A clean scent surrounded him and when he let go of the Never Born, it was much smoother. The ship. One body. One item. He focused on that, on the wooden boards and the nails keeping them together, on the water—no—on the sharp edges that cut the water and the smooth curves of each engraving Vesta had made. He dropped the barrels and the grains. He picked up the whorls on the wooden boards. He picked up the grains inside the barrels and—no—the clean scent returned, shoving the grains away. The entire ship started fading away and D’Argen tried to concentrate, to surround it completely, and then it crashed against a taller wave and it was as loud as a thunderclap. The droplets of water covered the sides of the ship, then the deck, then—another clap. The clean scent guided him.
D’Argen rarely consumed when he used his mahee, it meant focusing on too many things at once, yet consuming the sounds of the ocean around him seemed as natural as breathing.
And then came the scents that he knew so well.
Abbot used Lilian’s spells and the resistance of the wind lessened slightly. Nocipel smoothed the waters in front of them and lifted their ship, so it glided on the surface and broke more of the smaller waves. Kassar’s luck made their ship jump any wave it could not break easily and made sure each droplet hit wood for those that broke. Haur’s instinct guided them through the undercurrents that would have pulled an oar free from someone’s hands. Yaling’s citrus turned the crashing waves into a beat and then she led the crew into a chant, their voices loud above the crashing waves. Lilian, though weak and tired, gave Abbot a different spell to control the winds and both Nocipel and Thar joined in. The winds in front of them calmed and those at their backs strengthened.
Thar, again, once more, in another place, cleared their way of the ice blocks already floating their way and the harder water that had not frozen solid yet.
A loop formed. Each of the Never Born supported the others, filled the gaps, helped, consumed, and provided. They worked as one, as they became one, each part of them inside the others to ask for help and give it in turn. And when one failed, their mahee weak or needing a break, another one picked up their slack. Thar picked up their slack.