Emberhawk - Jamie Foley Page 0,22

evening, Princess.”

“Evening.” Vylia tried not to fidget. “I . . .” She glanced over her shoulder, hoping that the crewman adjusting ropes at the bow wouldn’t overhear. “I have a strange question to ask you.”

Uma tilted her head, sending silver strands of hair waving on the wind. “Yes?”

Vylia fidgeted. “Has anyone . . . ever said anything about . . . hearing a voice from the Malo stone?”

Uma’s eyebrows rose. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.” Vylia flashed her most innocent smile. Perhaps if she admitted to hearing . . . something . . . the priestesses would take her mother’s stone and put it back under lock and key in the temple in Maqua.

Sousuke quietly ascended the stairs and assumed his position as Uma studied Vylia for a long moment.

“The stone is called the mirror of the goddess for many reasons,” Uma finally said. “It reflects her beauty and serves as a beacon of her power. And some say it is also a lens through which she can access our world more . . . directly.” The elder’s eyes narrowed. “The last priestess who claimed to hear the voice said it was more likely a reflection of her own soul—her own calling on her path to enlightenment.”

Vylia leaned forward, trying not to seem desperate. “So is it the voice of the goddess or my own . . . soul?”

Concern lined Uma’s face. “What did it say?”

“Nothing.”

Uma’s azure gaze hardened.

Vylia put her hands up. “Nothing, really! I just thought I was hearing things.”

“Mmm.” Uma leaned back and folded her arms into the flowing sleeves of her dress. She looked out over the tranquil sea. “Are you ready for your trial?”

Vylia blinked. “Right now?”

“If you are not ready, I can—”

“No, I’m ready.” Vylia straightened her back. “But don’t we have to wait for a storm at night, like the verse says?”

A mischievous grin stretched across Uma’s face. “Prepare yourself.” She moved to the mast and sat cross-legged beneath the ladder to the crow’s nest. She closed her eyes.

That stance . . . Vylia centered herself between starboard and port, trying to calm her suddenly rapid pulse. She’s communing with the sea.

Uma didn’t move. The boat ceased its rocking. The wind stilled.

Vylia reached out to the Malo element in her blood. The silver power coursed through her veins like spring water through the depths of the earth, waiting to be released. She called and the ocean answered. Its depth and breadth hovered beneath her, dark and powerful. Barrels of fresh water below deck sang back to her, pure and eager. Water in the humid air hummed around her.

But still Uma remained like a temple statue.

Sweat slicked Vylia’s palms. What’s she doing?

Something moved out of the corner of her eye—behind her. Vylia turned as a wave the size of her father’s summer home towered over the ship, defying the surrounding placid sea.

Vylia cried out and thrust her hands at the wave, willing it back away from the ship. Its weight bore down on her mind like a glacier. Too dense. Too strong.

She closed her eyes and reached deeper for more elemental power. More focus. More . . .

Wood groaned, and the deck tipped as the bottom of the wave lifted the back of the ship. Somewhere behind her, Sousuke yelled, and the ship’s bell rang.

Vylia scrambled to her feet and roared as she willed every drop of strength against the wave. Darkness fluttered on the edges of her vision. Her body trembled as energy coursed through her.

The wave stalled as if time had slowed, its white crest glinting in the dying sunlight. Shimmering spray filled her vision, its droplets frozen and slowly shifting in midair.

Too big. Too much. Too late.

It would fall and capsize the ship.

Vylia gritted her teeth and fought to keep her balance on the tilting deck. She glanced over her shoulder and found Uma still sitting in the same position, unmoved. Stop! Don’t let everyone die because I failed!

Need some help, little minnow?

Vylia gasped as a surge of power coursed into her, fast as rapids and strong as an undertow. It mingled with her energy and lashed out against the wave, driving it back . . . down . . . away . . . as if it were a legion under her father’s command.

The ocean swallowed its swell and submitted to her will.

Vylia scrambled to the ship’s edge and stared into the tranquil sea, gulping in air. Her hands shook and her knees weakened. What . . . ?

“Well done.”

Vylia