Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 93948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93948 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Damn. I guess there’s no chance of getting to Bastian and fighting our way free from there. Oh well. It was worth a shot. I glance at Lizzie. “Now’s as good a time as any.”
To the vampire’s credit, she doesn’t hesitate. She tenses, and the people on either side of Morrigan go down. Morrigan herself doesn’t, because why would anything be easy?
Morrigan’s eyes flash as if reflecting light. “You dare?”
“Sorry about this, except not really.” I gather my magic with a flick of my wrist and send a massive fireball into the main sail. I don’t expect it to take—the sail will have been treated with magic to ensure it doesn’t burn down at sea—but it should be bright enough to signal to Evelyn and the other teams that it’s time.
Morrigan leaps for me, fingers morphing into long, vicious-looking claws, but Lizzie gets there first, intercepting the captain. “Go!” she yells as she ducks a swipe and kicks Morrigan in the stomach, sending her staggering back. “I’ll take care of her.”
Lizzie is one of the most dangerous people I’ve ever met, and I still hesitate. Morrigan is on another realm entirely.
“Go, Nox!” Lizzie takes a hit that opens a long line on her arm. She doesn’t hesitate to pull the blood from her own body and coat her hands with it, forming claws similar to Morrigan’s. With her longer reach and similar speed…she might stand a chance.
I can’t afford to hesitate. The faster I get to Bastian, the faster this whole fight ends.
The crew is taking an interest now, rushing forward. Damn it. I sprint at them, and there’s no time for finesse. I yank the air from their lungs as I approach. There’s a way to do it without causing damage to the person I’m knocking out, but I’m not being careful right now. The force of the pull crumples their lungs in their chests, physical damage on top of suffocation.
They die.
At least some of them. Elemental magic is tricky, because it can get through some shields but not others. It truly depends on the person casting the shield. I can’t get through Evelyn’s shields, for example. Most of the Cŵn Annwn crews don’t have the magic, control, or interest in that level of protection. Sadly, Morrigan’s crew seems to have a disproportionately high number of people capable of repelling me.
A short gnome with purple skin and a truly impressive beard leaps at me, wielding a sword. My brain unhelpfully provides his name and role in the crew: Bull, the quartermaster.
Only to be stopped short a few feet away as if an individual hand reached out and grabbed him. We stare at each other in confusion—he certainly isn’t responsible, and I didn’t have a chance to even attempt an elemental shield—before he is flung backward and into the sea.
It takes my adrenaline-laced brain a second to understand what just happened. “Thanks, Bowen.” I sprint the rest of the way to the hatch and muscle it open as pure chaos erupts around me. Despite my orders for the crew to remain out of sight, they’ve opened fire. Water and fire streak across the night sky to strike the enemies around me. Defending me. Protecting me.
I drop down through the hatch and into relative quiet. This warship is larger than the Audacity, but I’m familiar with the layout. There are only so many options when it comes to building ships, even magical ones. No one wastes pocket dimensions on the brig.
I suffocate the person running at me before I even register what I’m doing. The fight is barely audible overhead, but it is audible. A reminder that I have to hurry, that for every moment the battle continues, the greater the chances of someone on my crew being hurt. Of them dying.
Focusing on that isn’t going to do anything but distract me when I can least afford it. I have to move. “Come on, Nox. Focus.” I step over the dead body at my feet and make my way down the narrow hall into a darkness that seems to have a strange weight against my skin. I almost make a small flame to see by, but that feels dangerous in a way I don’t entirely understand. What the fuck does Morrigan do down here?
There are no answers. Just more uncanny darkness. I sigh and keep moving, following the increasingly rank smell of an unwashed body and chamber pot that hasn’t been emptied anytime recently. Which just goes to show that Morrigan is too smart to be underestimated. I don’t know if Bastian would break under traditional torture, but the man I knew fourteen years ago loved to be clean. From the scent currently trying to trigger my gag reflex, he and clean haven’t been on speaking terms since he was taken.
I refuse to feel pity for him. Refuse. Even when I reach the first cell and reluctantly summon a small flame. It barely pushes back the darkness. The small hairs on the back of my neck rise as I begin to understand. He’s huddled in the corner of the cell, hands tied behind his back, blindfolded and gagged. The magical darkness dampens sound and ensures that even if he got the blindfold off somehow, it wouldn’t make any difference. It’s fucking nefarious.