Adept (The Essence Gate War, Book 1) - By Michael Arnquist Page 0,230

their talons on the docks as the sailors threw the last of the ropes that bound the ship to shore. He hoped that no one had been foolish enough to remain behind, hoping to weather the invasion. If so, there was nothing to be done for them now. He forced his mind to other matters.

What had happened to drive the magical creatures of the area, normally so reclusive, to such lengths of madness? It was a question that had been asked often over these many months since the troubles began, but he found himself no closer now to an answer.

The worst of it had always emanated from the east, somewhere in or beyond that vast, terrible forest. The ominous storm brewing over it was only the latest evil to gather there. Borric glanced in that direction, squinting into the distance, and blinked in surprise. The sullen, reddish glow on the horizon had diminished, and the black mantle across the sky had broken into fragments. Even as he watched, the storm clouds clotted together in lesser groups and continued their grudging dispersal.

The captain of the Silverwing stepped up beside Borric. The grizzled old sailor had a lean, pitted face that resembled a barnacle with a greying beard. One knobby hand extended to caress the ship’s rail in a familiar, unconscious gesture filled with pride. In all the chaos, Borric had not even caught the captain’s name, despite working shoulder to shoulder with the man for long, frantic minutes during their escape; somehow it seemed absurd to ask after it now.

“Did well for a one-armed man,” the captain said in a rasping tone. “Pulled your load. You’d make a fair sailor, if you’ve a mind for it.”

Borric chuckled. “Let us just say that I did not lack for motivation, especially there at the end.”

The captain gave a dry chuckle. He jerked his chin toward the retreating city. “They are calming, now.”

It was true. The frenzy of activity at the city was slowing. The creatures were no longer incensed and destructive, but rather were milling about. They appeared more restless and confused than angry.

“What do you make of it?” the captain asked.

Borric shrugged one shoulder and shook his head. “Perhaps they only wanted to see us gone,” he said. “Perhaps we were never meant to be there in the first place.”

The captain gave a noncommittal grunt. They watched for a time in companionable silence as each plunge and rise of the Silverwing carried them further and further away. The heavens brightened steadily with the coming dawn, and at last the creatures, no more than tiny motes in the distance by then, melted away into the ravaged structures of the city to take cover from the day.

“I am told that you are in command here,” the sea captain said. There was a question behind the words.

Borric, erstwhile captain of the city guard for Keldrin’s Landing, rumbled a laugh that began in his belly. “No sir,” he said with a broad grin. “As of this very moment, I am just another soldier seeking safe return to my family and my home, having been away from them much too long. I am at your service for the duration of the journey, Captain.”

The old sailor lifted his bearded chin in a nod, and ran another possessive stroke along the rail. Then he gave the weathered wood a pat and turned away, barking orders to his crew.

Borric remained on the aft deck for quite some time. He stood there, unmoving, until the city was no more than a hint of shadow against the sweeping majesty of the coastline. He stood there until the ghostly fingers of dawn spread across the sky, and the new day began at last in a crown of gold on the eastern horizon.

Only then did he turn away as well.

Bellimar sat cross-legged on the huge expanse of ornate rug in the great hall of Morland’s estate. To his left, a pool of crimson seeped into the lavish material, casting a spreading shadow across the rich colors of its pattern. He did not spare it a glance. That work was done, and nothing remained there to hold his interest. To his right, a long, golden sliver of light stretched across the rug where the morning sun knifed its way between the heavy drapes that otherwise masked the towering window. His eyes traveled along that fiery line to where it passed within a hand’s breadth of him. His skin tingled and crawled beneath his robes, as