Ship of Spells

by H. Leighton Dickson

I breathed in the salt air, trying to still the racing of my heart. I felt the sea spray on my cheeks, blessed the rock and sway of the deck under my boots. The sea was mother to us all, fair and relentless and demanding and hard. We served her, or we died out here where there was only water and sky in equal measure.

It was always said they were a beautiful people, and as he sat there, deep in thought and steeped in magik, I couldn’t deny it. Elven and beautiful, like a sword of oiled steel.

“If I don’t have long to live, then I’d like to truly live,” I said.

I almost smiled. He almost returned it.

He slid his other arm out of the sling, raised his hand over the ball, and flexed his long fingers. He paused, sent me a glance under his brow. “Do not tell the doctor.” I grinned. Even the captain was afraid of the recriminations of a faun.

“Your chimeric is from a Rhi’Ahr ship,” he said. “And was likely created and laced in Nethersea. I must teach you the spell in Rhi’Ahr. Are you willing?” My heart thudded. I was going to learn a Rhi’Ahr incant from a Rhi’Ahr captain to incite a Rhi’Ahr chimeric. I would be a very different mage if I survived this ship. I raised my chin. “I am,” I said.

He smiled at that, a big, bright smile that hit me like a broadsword, catching the breath in my throat at the sight.

“If successful, you could save souls, but not at risk of your own.”

I wasn’t entirely sure that I could do what he was asking, but I knew I’d be damned if I didn’t try. For him, for me, for the Touchstone. And for this half-patched crew. Forge, I was getting soft.

Sliver of suns while the corridor runs, said the Touchstone. Bring it here and bring it down. Forge, she was remarkable. Bring it down. Destroy it all. When she wasn’t trying to kill you.

I had no doubt they could do anything they set their minds to. They had magik and seamanship in equal measure.

“We have a duty,” said Thanavar over the roar of the sea. “But we also have a chaser. Once we’ve closed this gap, she can track what we need.” “Even in the Sheets?” asked Fahr. “Even in the Sheets. Isn’t that right, Ensign?” Chasing in the Sheets sounded utterly horrible. “Especially in the Sheets, sir,” I said.

Fahr leaned in to me. “Especially in the Sheets,” he murmured. “Fogging idiot.” “And you get to train me,” I said, all cockiness and pride. “Throwing myself overboard at first light.” “I’ll toss you a raft,” I said. “I believe Buck has a few left.”

Stay cold, Smoke had said. Stay detached. I could do that better than most. But suns, I was more alive than I’d ever been, and it was all because of this ship and the man who loved her.

Hardship forged bonds stronger than steel. Shared sorrows knit tighter than cable or cord.

He tried to smile, and it almost made me cry.

The man was loved by a living ship, had befriended a good man and shaped a future king, and made my very skin burn in his presence.

Tears of the moons, said the Touchstone. Weaver of suns. Child of the north, come home.

He cocked his head like a bird. Like a bloody winter hawk.

“You should be in the wardroom with the other officers,” he said. “I have it on good account that they snore,” I said, a smile turning up the corner of my mouth. His lips twitched, and then he was gone.

He grunted, and I wondered if it was a laugh.

My breath came in gasps, the pain hissing along my spine. My arms shook, but I would not let my crew down. I would not fail. Be damned if I had too much pride for the Ship of Spells.

“Glorious,” he murmured.

Smoke had agreed to up our rations. Apparently, we needed nerve and rum in equal measure.

“Sorry.” I wasn’t.

Forge bless Worley, the source of all gossip.

A storm is wind and starlight changing places with the sea

“What does the captain of the Ship of Spells want?” He looked away. “I am not allowed to want,” he said. “Not when I have a duty to fulfill.”

“The course I have charted does not end in life.” His words rolled through the stillness like distant thunder. “You’re the captain of a living ship,” I said. “Chart a new course.”

“You will hate me by the end.” “Well, I hated you in the beginning,” I said.

“I will find him, and I will keelhaul him,” he hissed. “Mark my words.” “Consider them marked, sir.”

I knew now that it was only a matter of time before either pride, chimeric, or this crew killed me.

“I took oaths to the Touchstone, and she took oaths with me. There’s little you could offer that would be as sweet.”

The room was on fire, and de Sous was on fire, and I couldn’t see Polley or Lean or the others, but I’m sure they were on fire.

He smiled now, and I knew he was sad.

I would never have imagined privateers to be so dramatic.

“We have a word in Rhi’Ahr,” he said quietly. “Kel’yion. It is more concept than thing. More than family and dearer than friend. Someone who is a part of your very heart. Someone you would die for and, harder yet, someone for whom you would live. I am a blessed man, for I have had two. The Touchstone and Devanhan Fahr.”

He smiled easily this time as he reached for the bottle, and my heart skipped a beat. What was it about smiles now? I’d lived my life without them and been just fine. I was getting so soft.

I marveled at how history was recorded with bias in every line.

For his part, Devanhan Fahr pushed up onto his elbows, blinked and blinked again. “Clearly not a dream,” he said, breathless and new. “But what the suns just happened?”

“You should have turned me over.” “I would not,” he said. “I will not.”

That hidden, secret heart of his, yearning to be found.

“Everyone in the world will seek to diminish your power, Aro’el, including me. Do not let us.”

A twitch of the lips. Practically a belly laugh for him.

Despite the lack of wind, the ship was still moving. We were the Ship of Spells, after all.

I had to believe he knew me by now. Our silence spoke volumes when we didn’t have words.

“He won’t approve?” “He is protective of you,” he said. “He thinks I will lead you into dangerous waters.” “Will you?” Now he met my eyes like an anchor in the deep. The waves went quiet, and the winds grew still. “Yes,” he breathed. “Unapologetically, I will.”

He glanced down at me. “You look exhausted.” I was exhausted. Two hours of casting chimeric at jellyheads had hollowed me out. But that didn’t mean he needed to notice. Or that my chest didn’t tighten when he did.

“We’re all broken a little bit,” he said. “And we put ourselves together best we can.”

We were all going to die today.