Except for needed resupply trips to Hastrior, we’ve stayed on our island and tended our pods. I am done with privateer work. I am done with the killing and the fighting.

Gordon has gone silent. I hope he is well but I’ll be honest, I don’t care.

He made his choice. It’s his city now.

Captain’s Log, Mayhem

Captain Fraser Connell

Gordon laughed, and his sickly glowing eyes brightened. “Now I know my brother is truly dead. He would never have admitted to such a weak thing as a soul.”

I almost pitied him. The emptiness and despair that would make a man say such a thing is heartbreaking, but also dangerous.

Almost. If the old Fraser was dead to him, well, this Gordon was my enemy.

It’s him or me.

I choose me every time, but I had very little else on my side at the moment.

I was in some serious shit.

Gordon dragged a chair over to sit next to me.

“Do you remember your first day aboard Skirmisher?”

Of course, he remembered that one well. I had to beat someone’s ass to be accepted by the crew. “You shoved Lotho into the circle when they called for volunteers to test the new guy.”

“I never liked Lotho.” His eyes misted with a nostalgia he absolutely faked. “But he was one of our better fighters.”

“Better than you.”

“True. Why do you think I had us train together?”

“You always were smart. Always several steps ahead.”

Gordon shrugged. “I thought the same of you. I respected you. You weren’t the only nereid aboard, but you…you are a force of nature. When you fought Lotho, all I could think was, ‘that kid is like a tsunami, and just as unstoppable.’ So what happened?” He leaned against the backrest of his chair. It looked like mine felt and both had seen better days. “You found out Prince Bart had a side-hustle selling a creature that to nereids is almost as common as dogs. So what?”

I didn’t answer him. I couldn’t.

The dryness here seemed to pound at me like a smith’s sledgehammer. My lips cracked and my throat burned. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my blurred vision, but with only partial success. I had to get back to water soon. My numin had drained to a thread, pulled away by the land.

I had one reason to be grateful to my father. He earned his despicable reputation as a pirate, and I’m glad I killed him. His sole redeeming factor is his human strength sustains me when I am far from the ocean. I’d tolerate this far longer than my kin beneath the waves. This dryness would kill them. To me, it was uncomfortable, but I’d live. It made me weak as a newborn foal, though.

Gordon knew me well. Well enough to be sure that without my numin or nereid strength, these thin ropes and old creaky chair would suffice to hold me. The ultimate insult. It’s also why Gordon didn’t gag me. I had nothing to cast a spell with and he’d hate to have this conversation be one-sided.

“You went from being an undefeated and wealthy privateer to a bleeding-heart crusader. You had a waitlist for clients clamoring to fill your pockets with gold and point you at their enemies.” He flicked his fingers, imitating a grammatic device. “Scourge of the Seas. You earned that! Then you went and threw it all away.” Twisting his lips into that familiar sneer, Gordon mimed tossing a ball over his shoulder.

Gordon had a sincere distaste for the softer emotions. He lacked empathy and in my former line of business, his ability to act without being bothered by a conscience was a boon.

I hadn’t known his distaste included such a deep hatred for me. That’s what I read in Gordon’s expression and actions.

Especially since when we parted, I left with his blessing.

Just like Skirmisher, I was a wreck and needed to get out of Hastrior. He endorsed my conviction, and I’d sailed away, grateful for Gordon’s understanding and support. I thought we’d parted as friends.

Hastrior’s fall made so much more sense now and that he’d been the one to help engineer its demise cut deep.

He was right, though. The power vacuum left when I killed the Prince had opened the door to the Emperor.

This was my fault.

I’d still do it all over again. I’d just change one minor detail.

“You did try to talk me out of it, as I recall.” Of their own will, my lips twitched, corners lifting involuntarily as the memory surfaced. “In the end though, even you agreed with my decision, Gordon. You helped me make it.” I reminded him. I flexed fingers that tingled, trying to force blood into them.

“Protecting the prince’s reputation, while admirable, had a spill down effect you should’ve expected. You did a terrible job running the city. You couldn’t stand to sit through one council meeting. ‘Don’t I have people to do this?’ is how you put it.”

He was right. I’d been getting ready to set sail before I met Ozora. I’d heard rumors of another noble with hippocamp stables and planned to chase them down. Ozora distracted me, but even through our relationship, I kept my men out searching.

“Then Ozora showed up.” He rolled his eyes. “That was doomed from the start.”

The door to my left flew open as if kicked. The henchman Gordon sent out of the room a while back had returned. My heart stuttered when I saw who he carried in his arms.

“Speak and she appears.” Gordon rose as the male carried Ozora into the room.

“What the fuck did you do to her?” My dry throat tore with my shout. “I will kill you seven times over for this.” My voice came out hoarse and my vision clouded with red. The henchman had her bound, gagged, and blindfolded.

“Heh, sure pal.” The male carrying her barely looked in my direction. I growled when he dropped Ozora onto a hard bench and shoved her roughly, propping her against the wall.

“That would be a neat trick.” Gordon’s voice sounded amused, then turned serious. “Nice catch, Carl. Do you have a numin-blocker on her?”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

He quick stepped over to where Carl settled on the bench and cast a furtive look over at me before lowering his voice. Carl followed suit, and I heard no more.

I tugged again at the ropes around my wrists. They hadn’t budged.

“She has nothing to do with us, Gordon.” I insisted.

“Come on, Fraser, you know that won’t fly with me. I think to be safe, I should slit her throat now.” Gordon spun and half drew his dagger.

“NO!” I roared. Straining with every muscle only made the chair rock, teetering back and forth. For all its creaks and crackles, it held. Dammit! I fumed.

Gordon dissolved into laughter as he flipped his dagger before sheathing it. “Oh don’t worry, lover-boy. Not yet. He’ll want her alive. Can’t harvest her numin when she’s dead.” Strolling back to the chair, he once more sat, looking supremely pleased.

“This is quite the delightful surprise, I must say.” Gordon’s gaze lingered on Ozora, stretched out on the bench against the wall. She didn’t stir. My breath rushed out. I didn’t realize I’d held it till I let go with relief when I saw her take a long, slow inhale.

Gordon turned to me, his face lit with sincere pleasure. “The very people His Grace wished to speak to come seeking me.” He splayed his fingers on his chest in mock wonder. “Appreciate you saving me the effort of prying you away from that dragon up there.” Waving one hand vaguely in the direction of the keep, he finished with, “How did you get the beast to help you?”

I rolled my shoulders as much as possible to ease the strain building in them from being tied. “You’d have to ask her. They dragged me into this against my will.”

Gordon swiveled to look back to Ozora’s still form, a question forming in his amber gaze.

“Who’s so interested in us?” I broke off in a fit of coughing. Damn this dried out place! “Who’s holding your leash?” It did not surprise me to find Gordon doing someone else’s bidding. We all did aboard Skirmisher. We were all mercenaries for hire.

Seemed Gordon was less particular about his client’s intentions than I was.

“You’ll find out soon enough, anyway. His Grace, the Duke of Kiocinassa.”

I’d never heard of any such dukedom, but I didn’t know all the inland peerage.

“Who’s he? Sounds fancy.” I coughed again, clearing my throat. My back burned from being forced this straight for hours on end. I was tired, and without my numin, my body would soon need to rest.

My vision wavered, and I shook my head, trying to keep myself awake. I almost missed Gordon’s next words.

“Third cousin to the Emperor and an Adept. Emperor T’glantis has entrusted the Duke with preparing the city for the return of its rightful ruler.”

Speechless.

I really hated to admit that the damn sphinx and dragon were right. I’ll apologize if I live through this.

The other door burst open.

“Sir, the men outside, they’ve been knocked out. I can’t get close to them. They’re covered in sleeping powder.” I hadn’t noticed Carl’s buddy left. After he brought Ozora in, I didn’t see much else.

“The horses are fine, but I don’t know when those men will wake with that much on them.”

From across the room, Carl spoke up. “I think I saw a breeze cantrip or two in her belt pouch. Should be able to use those to clean off the men.”

Ozora’d taken out half of them on her own.

I’d been near blind with fury when Carl carried her in that it hit me right then.

She’d come after me. Somehow, she’d known, and come after me on her own.

My heart crumbled. If I wasn’t so dry, I would’ve wept.

She was a marvel. Courageous, impulsive, wild, and headstrong, yet so delicate and lovely just looking at her stopped my breath. No other woman would have come looking for me, and I certainly didn’t deserve her.

I loved her still. I’d always known it, just been stuck in deep denial.

It took me a moment to realize my arms and legs were shaking. I’d strained so hard against my bonds, trying to get to her that my muscles tremored in protest. It was torture that I was this helpless.

They had her so tightly bound that even if she woke, she had no way to cast. My fingers twitched. I longed to cut the bindings off her, could practically feel the familiar hilt of my dagger in my palm.

Gordon’s chair squeaked as he rose and strode over to his henchman. “Then you two go see to it. Get them loaded onto the wagon after.” He waved Carl out of the room. The big guy rolled his eyes and sauntered after his buddy.

Gordon’s attention slid over to Ozora, and in a few quick steps, he stood over her.

If he said anything, I couldn’t hear it. I stretched my hearing, but all I caught were some hushed murmurs. All I saw was his back.

Ozora didn’t move, didn’t even twitch her foot. When Gordon moved, I saw the smudged imprint of a knockout spell on her wrist.

Fuck. She would be out for a while. Those things were nasty, but popular. They’d work against anyone, even a mage.

Although, the more numin a mage had, the faster they’d recover. Ozora once said it had something to do with the mage’s numin burning up the knockout spell, erasing its effects. “More numin, faster you wake.”

I still remember when she said it. Last week. I’d been so mad at her, at everyone for being stuck here.

Gordon’s information changed all that.

I had to get out of this. Had to get us free. I strained against the ropes again.

I had to get him away from Ozora.

“Tell me Gordon, did you invite His Grace in or did he arrive bearing gifts?” I called out, trying to get his attention. The soft chuckle that floated over his shoulder was utterly un-Gordon-like. “He needs no one’s invitation. He goes where he pleases and takes what he fancies.”

A strange new quality infused Gordon’s voice. A higher tone I’d never heard before, and his eyes shone with an eerie new light when he spun to face me.

“He’ll drain you both completely.” At least he left Ozora, slow walking back to me. “He can’t have any mages here in Hastrior. The Emperor learned his lesson in the Sundering. Force is not the only way to conquer and rule. With the right suggestions, a city will destroy itself.”

Chills overtook me. I couldn’t sweat, but the cold that gripped me would not let go.

“The sigils.” I croaked. They were everywhere, telling people to act out, do what they wanted, seek pleasure.

For how long?

“It’s not a fast way to conquer, but the Emperor doesn’t care how long it takes. He only need wait for the citizens to destroy themselves.”

Across the room, Ozora gasped. A quick indrawing that triggered an immediate reaction from Gordon.

“No!” His face drained, turning pale. Terror bloomed in his widened eyes as he spun, leaping toward her.

I felt it before the first drop touched my skin. Dewy, soft, gentle, but inevitable as the mists at dawn.

Sweet, blessed moisture.

That heaviness and thick scent that only means one thing rolled over me in a wave.

Rain.

Silky curtains drenched me in the next heartbeat and my skin soaked it in. A desert transformed to lush and supple in a monsoon. My pain, that itchy cough—gone, even my vision cleared as I drew in a breath. The rain so heavy the air seemed thick as I inhaled, but my throat and lungs soaked it in, expanding and stretching. Gone the sensation I would crack and crumble to bits, washed away in the blessed rush of moisture.

My numin.

Oh, it was like coming home after being gone so long you forgot what it felt like.

Then when you return, all of you rushes right back, pouring into all those dusty and forgotten places, bringing wholeness.

My numin flooded through me, filling my veins, pounding with my blood. I was the rolling waves, the unstoppable tide.

I stood. The flimsy ropes and rotting chair shattered, no longer capable of holding me.

Ozora couldn’t see Gordon lunging for her, hands outstretched. Could only struggle weakly when he grasped her shoulders, then lifted and spun her to be a shield between him and me. He gripped her with one arm wrapped across her chest, his blunt fingers digging into the soft upper arm.

My complete focus narrowed on him and her.

“Step away from her Gordon.” I took two slow, stalking steps toward them. He drew his dagger.

“Seems more like you should step back.” Gordon fixed me with a triumphant stare and feral snarl. He flipped his blade carelessly with one hand while holding a squirming Ozora in the other.

I was too far away, and we both knew it.

“You know you won’t leave here alive if you harm her.” That was a promise I’d keep.

Catching his dagger, Gordon held it aloft, meeting my steady stare with one of his own. “Let her go, and let’s talk.” I took one more cautious step.

Gordon shook his head, a grin splitting his face. He didn’t care. I could see it in his glittering, hungry gaze. His fist tightened, fingers whitening around the dagger’s hilt, and I knew I couldn’t get there in time.

A scream of rage and despair rose, and I leaped for them anyway, hands reaching for his arm as it flew high, then plunged, the dagger aimed at Ozora’s heart.

Gordon’s screech echoed in the mostly empty room before mine made it past my lips. He threw Ozora at me, thrusting her away as his face contorted with pain. She hopped and splashed through the water that had risen to our ankles and toppled into me. I caught her, but with her feet bound she couldn’t stand at all and we both collapsed, hitting the floor and sending up waves in the growing pond.

My arms went around her, and I rolled us away from Gordon. Bracing my legs, I came up, cradling Ozora with one arm and reaching for my dagger with the other.

I just slapped the empty sheath.

It didn’t matter. Gordon didn’t stick around, but turned and ran. He was nearly to the door his henchmen had just left through.

I didn’t care. I had Ozora.

That was all that mattered.

****