ropes, tying off sails. Most grabbed
weapons: swords and long, hooked spears better suited to fishing. One shouted into the hold, calling for
the captain and the rest of the crew.
Sigil emerged before anyone else could, pushing the fugitive priest along, her face grim. Her ax spun in
her free hand.
Andry fought to his feet and rushed to the mast. The Elder backed Corayne against it, his body set
broadside to the rail. “I should tie you down,” he said, grimacing at the mainsail.
“Don’t you dare,” she snapped. “I have a vested interest in not drowning.”
The Elder ignored her, running out a length of rope and looping it around her middle. “You’ll only drown if
the ship sinks. And if we sink with a sea serpent, you’re as good as dead anyway.”
Her golden face went pale in the lantern light. She didn’t fight when the rope tightened, backing her to the
mast. Instead she glanced at Andry. He expected to see the same terror he felt in his heart. But there
was only cold resolve in Corayne an-Amarat.
“My blood is as much saltwater as it is Spindle,” she said, grim.
The squire wished he could say the same. Night pressed in from all sides of the ship, the lanterns a
weak defense against the beast curling in the water.
“Sea serpent,” Andry managed to breath.
The ship rails bristled with armed sailors, their hooks and short ship swords brandished like needles.
They peered at the water, ready for the next strike.
“Better than a kraken,” Valtik singsonged, dancing over the deck with her dirty bare feet. The full, cleaned
skeleton of a fish dangled from her belt. “We are not forsaken.”
Sigil scowled. Her ax flashed. “Does she always do that?”
“Unfortunately,” Sorasa answered, stepping into the light of the mast lantern. Her bronze dagger leered. “
Well, Witch. Immortal.” She glanced from Valtik to Dom. “Any suggestions?”
The old woman grinned toothily and tied herself in next to Corayne, looping rope over her wrists.
“Survive,” Dom answered, grave.
The assassin’s eyes rolled. “I don’t know which one of you is more useless.”
“Get some more lanterns lit; keep your eyes open,” Sigil called, her voice commanding. Though Andry
knew little of the bounty hunter, her presence was familiar and calming, like one of the knights or
instructors training him to the sword. She stalked to the rail as she barked orders, her boots hammering
the deck. At the prow, the Larsian captain echoed them, his face gray with fear. “Captain Drageda—”
she called in sudden warning.
Only to see the serpent’s great head rise up behind him, yellow eyes slitted, the sheen of sharp, white
teeth in its jaws. It struck, devouring the captain headfirst before darting back into the safety of the water.
Spears glanced off its scaled hide; hooks failed to find purchase. Only Dom’s sword broke the creature’
s skin, drawing black blood that splattered the decks.
It rained, dark as oil, down the length of his steel.
“Run out the oars—we need to make for land!” one of the sailors shouted, his panic rising. A few others
agreed, dropping their hooks in haste.
Andry gritted his teeth, the newly bought sword heavy at his hip. His hands shook as he drew it. He
breathed heavily, trying not to think of the last time he’d raised a sword for battle. “Hold your ground!” he
shouted, sounding bolder than he felt.
“Stow the oars—that thing will snap them like matchsticks!” Corayne roared, her voice so strong it
caught even the sailors off guard. She strained against the ropes keeping her safe. “Use the sails but
protect the masts at all costs!”
The sailors had no idea who Corayne was and were not inclined to obey a teenager on their ship. A few
still ran for the hold and the oardeck, their boots sliding over the spray of seawater. It was Charlon who
turned them back, blocking the way.
“You heard her,” he said, wagging an ink-stained finger.
Sigil’s eyes flashed, filling with light as lanterns flared all down the galley. “Defend the masts, men,” she
snapped, all business.
The bounty hunter in armor, an ax tight in her fist, was more difficult to ignore than Corayne. She formed
up first, putting her back to Corayne, letting Dom hold the opposite side. They moved in unison, circling
slowly, their eyes on the darkness beyond the ship. Andry fell in without question. This he understood.
The squire had trained all his life to fight side by side.
A dark shape crawled overhead and he jumped, startled, raising his sword only to