10 Something To Feel Good About

WHEN THE HORNED beast had flown from the deck of the Lamia, Asher Tone had found himself gripping the port rail, frozen in horror. Madness and cries amidst the heaving waves, whipping wind, and stabs of lightning.

He’d forgotten all about the approaching fleet, the strangeness of their ships, and the magic flung at them from the mages beside him. He’d had eyes only for the creature that had once been Threadfin Todder. He’d known about it, of course. Everyone had heard the stories, but he hadn’t believed them. Virals had magic, but the ability to make such a transformation was impossible. Although, obviously it wasn’t.

Asher had watched as the beast attacked the enemy and had found himself screaming encouragement, not that Threadfin could have heard him. Or cared.

The viral mage’s attack had given them a brief window of opportunity. The Lamia ploughed through the heaving waves in an attempt to escape, as Oracle turned the ship.

Still gripping the rail, he felt as useless as a barnacle on the wooden hull. The ship didn’t appear to need a crew, and the mages didn’t need an Atlantian who had little to contribute in a magical fight. His ameliorate was tucked safely in a pouch at his belt, but he had no idea how to use it to fix things. It never worked before. He knew it wouldn’t work now. He stared towards the stern, waiting for a sign the enemy were in pursuit.

Oracle joined him, moving across the deck with a sideways slant to her walking, one way and then the next, tipping forward and back as the ship rolled. Otherwise, she might as well have been out for a stroll in a park.

When she neared, he glanced at her before returning to his rail-clutching vigil. ‘Maybe we lost them,’ he shouted at her, but the words were lost as the wind snatched them away. The storm was growing worse.

‘No, they are following and we will not outrun them,’ Oracle said, showing she’d heard anyway. ‘They will catch us soon.’ She spoke in a strange manner, meaning she didn’t need to shout over the wind and waves, but somehow, he heard her just fine. A neat trick, no doubt magical. He’d found the undead could be very surprising in ways he’d never imagined.

Unfortunately, he’d also seemed to have ended up in the company of the most honest viral in existence. She could’ve lied to him. ‘Right,’ he muttered in reply.

Forge and Lip joined them, but Tinny was nowhere to be seen. When he asked about him, it was Droop who answered, as he removed the long bundle from his back. ‘That last blast from the lead ship caught him. Tinny’s gone.’

‘Oh,’ said Asher, too low for them to hear, feeling like a fool. He’d never seen it happen, so engrossed had he been in watching Threadfin’s transformation.

Oracle smiled at him, as she took the bundle from Droop, and put it on her back instead. The others didn’t seem so interested in making him feel better. Did the undead feel like the living? He knew Aiyana had, but then she’d also possessed a talent for imitating life. Were all virals alike or were some calculating and cold, like the stories he’d heard when a boy in Atlantis?

He had no more time to dwell on it, and in truth, he was trying to avoid thinking about the present altogether. It was one of Todder’s tenets he’d heard about; avoid a problem long enough and it’ll go away. Unfortunately, he’d seen enough already of Aiyana’s younger brother to realise the mage said a lot of things, but rarely practised them.

The nearest swells dipped to reveal five enemy vessels chasing them, just like Oracle said they would. He pointed them out as a wave struck him, almost tearing his grip from the rail. The others, apart from Oracle, who seemed rooted to the spot, were washed across the deck, each managing to find something to cling to.

Asher pointed at the Crystal Sword, wrapped in its oilskins and sheath on Droop’s back. ‘Can’t you just use that?’ He was certain he’d seen her helping Todder use it before, which meant she knew how. Unless, of course, it took two of them to wield.

She shook her head. ‘The sword is not meant for this fight and besides, we can’t fight them and win. You should prepare yourself for a long swim to Raddhon.’

Asher stared at the undead woman, her face beaded with saltwater and rain, hair whipping about her as though threatening to take on the ships by itself. She looked fearsome, but he’d not mistaken what she’d said.

Ah hell, he thought. I should never have accepted Sarscha’s offer. What am I even doing here? Then he touched the pouch at his waist and knew why. Somehow, he was meant to make a difference. He just needed to survive long enough to do it.

When the ships got closer, the wind began to die down, and Asher wondered if the storm had been magically produced, or if they were all out of luck today. Maybe a bit of both.

Dark lightning stuck the Lamia, and the deck erupted. Oracle, hands to her head, cried out. Asher had his sea legs, being an Atlantian, and storms didn’t make him ill, but that scream did. He knew he must’ve gone white, because that’s how he felt. Then one of the enemy ships exploded, pieces of flesh, for the ship was not made of wood, erupted along with tiny figures. Another blast ripped through it and another.

The vessel was too far away for the other virals to do anything. He had noticed they needed to be closer to their target.

Lightning struck again, and this time it hit close to Asher’s position, tearing up the deck. Pain lanced up his left side and arm, and he saw a bright white light. An icy roar filled his head, and then he couldn’t breathe.

Instinct told him he was in the water. He thrashed weakly trying to reach the surface, but he had no idea which way it was. His lungs burned, and he knew he was going to drown.

Then someone or something grabbed him. He felt the sharp tug and at first fought it. Again, instinct, but then he just let whoever it was take him—drowning or death by strange otherworldly creatures; what was the difference? Neither was pleasant. Both had the same result.

When he broke the surface, he gulped in air. It hurt, but it also felt so good. The next thing to hit him was the cold. He’d no idea the waters of the Adalcis could be this icy. He’d swum in them in Atlantis, but they’d always seemed warmer there.

He heard a voice in his ear, ‘I’ve got you, Atlantian.’

Oracle must have dived in after him, or she had been thrown into the water too. Due to the massive ocean swells, he couldn’t see any sign of the Lamia, but he also couldn’t see any sign of the enemy.

After a while - he had no idea how long since the passage of time seemed seriously unimportant - Oracle helped him onto a large piece of wood bobbing near them. It was a piece of decking from the Lamia, he realised, but large enough for two of them. They clung to it, half in and half out of the water. Perhaps the undead ship was unsinkable, but it was not indestructible.

He couldn’t find the energy to thank the undead woman. She’d saved him, one of the living, and he knew she didn’t have to. What did the undead owe them after all? As it was, he barely had the strength to cling to the shattered piece of wood.

There was no sign of any vessels, and no sign of the other virals, but Asher did notice something strapped to Oracle’s back.

The Crystal Sword, in its sheath and oiled wrappings. Droop had been taking care of that, or so he’d thought. Well, he reasoned, I guess we’re not giving up just yet then. He wondered if the current would take them all the way to land, to the kingdom of giants, and if he really wanted to go there. It was so peaceful in the water now.

Problem was, he didn’t seem to have much of a choice.