head. ‘No, I’m assuming that Lenk is a quick enough swimmer that he could draw it close enough for me to plant a lightning bolt in its face.’
‘Lightning—’
‘It’s the only thing accurate enough to hit from such a distance.’
‘Of course . . . you realise that lightning and water aren’t precisely the best of friends.’
‘Well . . . I mean, yeah.’ He straightened up. ‘Of course I know that. If I can figure out how to throw lightning out of my damn hands, I can figure out that.’ He cleared his throat, attempting to maintain his composure. ‘Naturally, there might be some collateral damage, but—’
‘There is no good way for you to end that thought.’
‘Listen, the overall objective is to get the tome, isn’t it?’ He glanced to Greenhair, who offered a weak nod. ‘Right, so, even if something does go wrong, so long as we can remove the greater Omen as a threat, we can fish the tome out of the water at our leisure.’ He turned a nervous glance to Asper. ‘Or rather, you could.’
‘What?’ Her tone was teetering between incredulous and furious.
‘It’s only fair. I’m the one who has to kill the thing.’
‘That wasn’t . . .’ Her pain and words alike were lost in a sudden flood of anger driven by a storm of righteous indignation. ‘You’re talking about our friends, our companions, dying.’
‘I . . .’ His words failed him as he shook, turning a grimace towards Greenhair, who offered nothing but a concerned glance. ‘I mean, I thought we always did that.’
‘We don’t talk about murdering each other,’ she roared. ‘These are our friends, your friends, dying by your hands.’
‘First of all,’ he mustered a new semblance of confidence in a growl, ‘I said there might be collateral damage.’ He offered a weak smile, a crack in his facade. ‘And, I mean, that would be totally inadvertent, so, it’s really more like dying by my finger.’
Whatever rage might have boiled inside her was not shown on her face. Rather, as though water had been poured over her, she hardened and grew cold, regarding him through an even, unquivering scowl.
‘You make jokes . . . about murdering them.’
‘Why are you getting upset at me for being pragmatic?’ He shifted, unsure as to whether he should puff up or back down. ‘You never get this upset at any of the others.’
‘They can’t be helped! You—’ She moved forwards, both fists clenched and ready to strike him in spite of the pain in her right hand. Her face clenched harder, finding it very difficult to summon a reason not to. ‘You . . .’ With a sigh, she reached out and gave him a shove. ‘Damn it, Dread. You’re supposed to be the good one.’
He collapsed onto his rear.
Whether it was because he had been rendered stunned by her words or because she had seen him shoved over by toddlers before, she didn’t stop to think. And when he stared at her through an unblinking mask of flattery and confusion, she did not smile.
‘I . . . thought it . . . uh . . .’ He blanched. ‘What?’
She opened her mouth to say something when she suddenly became aware of Greenhair. Or rather, became aware of Greenhair‘s lack of awareness towards them both.
‘And you’ve nothing to say about this?’ Asper growled to the siren’s back.
Apparently not, for the siren merely stared out over the sea, fin erect, gills fluttering. Asper stalked towards her, perhaps intent on forcing her to participate in the fight, perhaps on forcing her to suggest some way to help.
She did neither, however, for as soon as she came up beside the siren, her gaze, too, was locked on the sea and the black ship that stained it.
Creeping across the waves with ebon oars, like the limbs of some great spider, the ship made only the slightest of ripples in the water, cutting through the surf with a jagged, black bow. With singular speed and purpose, it eased itself inevitably towards the shore.
‘What is it?’ Asper glanced over her shoulder at Dreadaeleon, who was also staring at the vessel, unblinking. ‘More pirates?’
‘Not like any I’ve seen.’ The boy shook his head.
‘I have . . . made a grave sin.’
They turned towards Greenhair, who now backed away, eyes wide with fear.
‘It was my error to seek help so promiscuously,’ she uttered, wading into the waves.
‘What are you talking about?’ Dreadaeleon asked.
‘Forgive me, lorekeeper,’ she replied, frowning. ‘Forgive me for what I was forced to