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January 6 - January 9, 2024
Trust is fleeting, while betrayal is timeless. Alas, life is crowded with lies. So be bloody, be brave, be happy. For at the end of every tale, nobody is who they seem to be. . . . —THE BOOK OF THE BETRAYER
For good or ill, the plans set in motion by the Brethren of Mia nearly three years ago were now fully underway.
“You’re smack full of ideas tonight,” Nail said, though he did like the idea of no longer being beholden to Shawcroft—the man had a cruel streak in him that was unpredictable at the best of times.
our numbers were few. The White Prince marched straight through the snow and straight over us. Very few of us were lucky to escape that day. I saw King Borden fall with my own eyes. I have seen war.”
Other than within the darkness of his own worst dreams, Nail had never seen such a demon-eyed creature. His blood ran cold.
Soon there were more sharks weaving just under the surface, fins ducking in and out of the water. Though considerably smaller than the grayken, these stark, graceful ghosts of the sea left a deadly aura in their wake.
On every place aboard the ship was the surrounding scent of heavy timber, which lightened his soul.
Nail was soon suspended a mere twenty feet or so above the ocean’s surface. He was ripe with fear at the thought of being dunked in with the sharks and merfolk.
thalassophobia is on point right now
Many aboard the Lady Kindly had seen Zane fly from the body of the grayken and sink like a stone beneath the water’s surface. Even Bishop Tolbret’s face was impassive as he stood at the railing. At that very moment, Nail realized no one was going to do anything about it. Any man goes overboard, he’s lost to the sea!
Nail’s gaze flew back to the spot in the red churning sea where Zane had vanished. The rope rigging jerked back and forth in the water, then went still. Nail waited. Staring. Hoping his friend would resurface. But as the moments passed, he realized Zane was truly lost, tangled down there somewhere amongst all that rigging.
But deep down somewhere below in the darkness, he saw something, hazy, fluttering in the water. It slowly solidified. He saw himself—standing under a large burning tree. There was a knight with glowing white shield and horned helm astride a brilliant white warhorse, a blond girl on the saddle before him, her hand a metal claw. And green glowing eyes!
“I witnessed the horror in that man’s eyes as the shark rose from the water to engulf him, teeth grinding up his body as the shark swallowed his legs down whole, teeth engulfing his chest, then, snap! Half of him was gone.
Nail still stared out at the sea and growing snowstorm. As he listened to the baron, he could feel the anger building inside, throbbing like muffled drums in his head. He’d seen terrible things in the water.
The Five Isles are drenched in secret history, every castle smothered in intrigue and steeped in lore, and every carving on every standing-stone has roots in the past. Hence, that secret past survives, always clawing to the surface, breathing, growing, like a living thing, never resting, always clawing, clawing in the deep.
Shawcroft stopped working and stared down at him. “The mountains hold music and magic for those who listen. And someday you will learn there are curious things hidden in the dirtier and darker places of this land. So keep sifting.”
In life, as in war, more is lost when hope dies, than by a cold steel and slaughter.
Weakness was not an option.
Gault wasn’t cold, but he shivered as he watched her ride away. Sometimes the flinty look in her eyes could freeze his blood.
