Sea Witch and the Magician Read online

  Chapter 1

  Endless blue ocean glittered beneath the afternoon sun and stretched toward the sunlit horizon. Joren stood by the railing and shaded his eyes against the glare with one hand, trying to get a better look at the loaded net his fishing crew worked to haul aboard. From afar, no one would ever guess he was the commanding officer of the ship, let alone the admiral of Eisland’s fleet. He dressed no differently from the rest of the sailors standing on the Giddy Madeleine’s deck and, wearing his shirt sleeves rolled to the elbow, he grasped the ropes and tugged.

  And tugged.

  And tugged, muscles straining under the weight of so much damned fish the net didn’t budge.

  “Got it!” a man to his left cried. “Was stuck on a barnacle.”

  With Joren’s help, the freed net surged upward, bringing their dinner bounty of glistening sea life onto the deck. They’d brought in everything from yard-long fire bass to the tea-saucer-sized octopuses prized in Liang for their tender tentacles. Thankfully, Lucky was well-versed in preparing a variety of sea life with the training he’d acquired across the gulf. As cheers went up, Camden clapped his hand on Joren’s back.

  Expecting it, Joren braced himself and managed not to stumble forward. Camden never meant to hurt them, but at nearly eight feet tall, the big man was as heavy-handed as they came, and often too enthusiastic to rein in his greater strength. No one challenged him to arm wrestling matches anymore.

  “We’ll feast well tonight, Captain. Ah, wait, Admiral now. Forgive me.”

  “It takes a bit of getting used to, doesn’t it?” Joren grinned back at his second-in-command. He liked the sound of his recently acquired title, even though it had been gifted by his sister, Rapunzel, the Queen of Eisland.

  Had it been earned? He’d told himself there were a dozen other men more qualified for the title, but the truth of the matter was that many had retired after a long naval career or perished in the recent conflict between Eisland and the Ridaeron Dynasty.

  Three decades of Joren’s life had been dedicated to both sailing and learning the arcane craft. Aside from James Hook, there weren’t many others as qualified as he to lead the Eisland Royal Navy, and James Hook sailed for another kingdom now. His defection to piracy and later to Cairn Ocland was an unfortunate occurrence, but Eisland benefited from their new alliance with the kingdom of shapeshifters, even more now that they possessed a skilled navy of their own led by Hook. Eisland had lost one prize and gained a greater bounty in return.

  “About as much as it will take me to get used to captain, I suppose,” Camden commiserated. “Come on, you did your part in hauling them. Time for the birthday boy to relax while someone else does the rest of the work.”

  “You just had to remind me.” Joren laughed and ran a hand through his damp hair. “Another year older.”

  “Yet still the youngest admiral our fleet has ever had. You worry too much about your age. You’re only forty, mate.”

  “Perhaps you’re right. So, what are your orders then, Captain, if I’m to be relieved of my duties for the day?”

  Camden took him by the shoulders, turned him around, and pushed him away from the rail. “Dance,” he said, as Joren practically flew toward the midline of the deck.

  On cue, several sailors struck up a lively tune with wind instruments and drums. Before Joren could unceremoniously kiss the deck, Cara caught his arm and laughed. Like her twin brother, she struck an imposing figure, several inches taller than Joren’s six feet.

  He sighed. “Not you, too.”

  “Come on. I seem to recall you like dancing.” She led him in a merry dance, twisting one way and whirling in the other with their arms linked at the elbows. On the next pass, he traded off with another sailor, while Cara joined arms with young Kenneth, who blushed with pleasure to be in her company. He’d been harboring a wicked crush on her for over a year, but Cara never dated anyone under six and a half feet, including Joren. That had bothered him until he realized he saw her as more of a cousin than a love interest.

  More men and women surged from hatches and doorways to join them, until Joren lost track of whose hand he took.

  Soon the scent of spiced fish filled the air. Thanks to their recent visit to Samahara’s southernmost port, Naruk, their hold held casks filled to the brim with curries and dried herbs, bolts of silk, and other trade goods. Cara and Jamal came up with a wine barrel and soon everyone had a mug in hand.

  Joren managed to slip away from the dance long enough to get his own serving of sweet red, and ducked over to the rail where Camden had escaped, as well. “Did you do all this?”

  “I might have had a hand in it, but Cara was the mastermind. She said you hated parties back at the Collegium but since we were at sea, you couldn’t escape this one.”

  “Ha! I should have known.” He chuckled and sipped his wine, which tasted like rich berries laced with honey. Almost too sweet for his liking, but still pleasant. “Well, she’s right; this is one party I can’t escape. Lucky for her, I don’t want to try.”

  “Lucky for me? Lucky for you.” Cara strolled up between them and flung an arm around each man. “I have keys to your cabin, which means the only other escape around here is the water. You could go swimming with the giant jellyfish if you really want.”

  “I’m good, thanks. And thank you for this, both of you.” He slipped his arm around Cara’s waist and gave a squeeze, while toasting Camden. “To another year.”

  “To another year,” Cara and Camden echoed.

  Another year of peace, he hoped. Their trip to Naruk had been for more than trade, now part of their patrol route set by the kingdoms united by the Compact. In two more days, they’d be relieved by a vessel manned by their Mordenian allies, the Stalwart Champion, and then they could sail for home.

  Joren liked the sound of that. No matter how much he loved the sea, the feel of the ocean breeze through his hair, and the salty air on his skin, he missed his little niece and nephew. Rapunzel’s twins were learning to shift, according to her most recent correspondence, and he’d missed their first transformation.

  That was indeed another downside of the naval life. While rewarding in many ways, it wasn’t kind to a man seeking a bride or building a family with a wife he’d already secured in marriage.

  * * *

  The captain aboard the Giddy Madeleine had to be the most striking man in all the seven seas, eyes brighter than the skies and hair shining like golden sugar cane beneath the setting sun. These days, Caecilia only admired from afar, an observer of attractive men who wouldn’t utter more than five words to her in passing. As her coveting Captain Henri had resulted in his death, and James Hook had cast her aside for a bug, she knew better than to interfere. Not that anyone aboard the vessel would glance twice at a hag like her.

  Watching would have to suffice. She liked to watch the villagers of Wai Alei as well, their celebrations always grand and heartfelt. Only two weeks ago, she’d observed a group of young women undertaking their rite of adulthood, becoming huntresses. A week prior to that, Caecilia watched a bonding ceremony between lovers expecting a child.

  Almost four years had passed since she last yearned to have a man, James Hook being the last. That had backfired upon her in a spectacular fashion.

  Something about this naval officer drew her, like a moth to a flame, but she couldn’t figure out why. He didn’t remind her of a single lover she’d lured away in the past, too fair and too cheerful for her usual tastes. Perhaps it was that very difference which fascinated her. His smiles reached his eyes and he treated everyone with warmth and respect. Kindness. As she watched him stomp across the deck in a rowdy jig, she wanted to be on the receiving end of such a smile.

  But that could never happen. If a single one of them spotted her, the fun and laughter would vanish, replaced by fear. Such was her lot in life now.

  Wishing she could be among the sailors dancing with their captain, Caecilia sank beneath the waves and swam off in pursuit of supper.
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br />   * * *

  As the afternoon wore on, crewmen swapped roles, partygoers returning to duty and new revelers taking their places. There was never any shortage of work on a ship, especially in the evening.

  Then a cry shattered the peace. “Ship to the starboard!” Kenneth called down. “She’s flying Ridaeron colors.”

  The music stopped and everyone abandoned the celebration, rushing to their stations. Joren quickly scaled the rigging to have a look for himself.

  The ship came from the west, using the setting sun to hide her approach. Kenneth had exceptional sight to have caught a glimpse as early as he had, from the deck instead of his post in the crow’s nest. She was still a fair distance off but moving fast.

  “The winds are against us,” Cara muttered once Joren returned to the main deck.

  “Then we’ll call up our own,” he replied to the mage. “Baptiste!” he barked out. “Shield our aft end. I don’t trust them not to strike a blow as we make a run for it.”

  “Why run?” asked Cara. “I say bring the fight to them if that’s what they’re after.”

  He paused and flashed his companion a quick grin. “Think we can handle them?”

  She cocked a golden brow. “Absolutely. Or have you forgotten the force of my fireball?”

  He’d have to be daft to forget that. He grunted, remembering all too well the last time he’d gone up against her in a sparring match. Cara had immense power and stamina when it came to casting offensive spells, though she was a glass cannon who couldn’t conjure a lasting personal shield to save her life when facing an opponent of equal skill.

  “Get to your post on the forecastle. Baptiste has the quarterdeck. Let’s do this.”

  Excitement buzzed through him at the prospect of taking a Ridaeron ship after more than a year of silence from their enemy. There was no doubt in Joren’s mind that the other kingdom knew, or at the very least could have speculated, that something was amiss with his father—that the dearly departed King of Eisland had been a puppet for a sinister force. And even if they were innocent of wrongdoing there, they were still dirty, unscrupulous slave traders, and their reign of terror on the Viridian had to end.

  Energy crackled over Joren’s fingertips and flew across his knuckles as he prepared an electric spell in advance of their enemy’s arrival. Typical battles against the other kingdom meant their mages flung spells back and forth, wearing one another out until they came within cannon range.

  At last, he saw her name and his blood ran cold. He’d heard tales about the ruthless Green Giant before.

  He glanced aft from the waist of the ship toward the quarterdeck where Camden had already dashed to deliver orders to their support mage. No one crafted magical barriers better than Baptiste.

  Right on cue, a semi-translucent barrier spread over the Giddy Madeleine from the stern to the bow and shimmered, just as fire rained from the sky in a sizzling flurry of firebolts. Joren swore as a dozen flaming spears shattered against their shield.

  “Not even the honor of a damned warning shot!” Camden bellowed from below. “Fire, men!”

  Their cannons roared, and a dozen sixteen-pound iron spheres rocketed toward their foe. They crashed against a shield of matching durability and slid ineffectively into the water, harmless as rain off a duck’s tail.

  “Blast,” Joren muttered. “Offense, Cara!”

  Cara raised her hands toward the sky and returned the assault, bringing down a sweltering tempest. The difference between the two mages was that several spheres crept through the Green Giant’s shields and three fireballs crashed to her main deck. Ridaeron sailors with buckets rushed to extinguish the fires.

  While their shields were hurting and sore from her spells, Joren released an invocation of his own. Magic raced from his fingers and arced across the water, crossing dozens of yards with ease. Three bolts from the chain lightning spell slipped through cracks in their barrier. Two were harmless, but the third struck a Ridaeron sailor and danced from him to the next man. Then to another. Then another until at last the arcane energy petered out seven or eight men down the line.

  That was how it went for several turns: cannons volleyed back and forth, magic lighting the sky and turning the ocean orange.

  From the main deck, Joren saw the captain of the enemy vessel strike their mage with a bullwhip, spurring him on to cast harder and faster.

  For reasons Joren didn’t know, the Ridaeron Dynasty had no mages of their own and chose to abduct them in large quantities from the other kingdoms of the gulf, using them as beasts of magical burden. This one had the look of a Samaharan about him, a dusky-skinned man with silver-streaked hair and a weathered face, his frail body bowed against the pain of magical overuse and the whip on his back.

  Monsters. Joren looked forward to skewering the captain himself, if he couldn’t control his temper and lock him in irons for the brig and a hanging once they returned to Eisland.

  They wore each other down with cannon fire and spellcraft, always trading one or the other, while archers took positions and fired arrows. It should have been easier, given the offensive mage on the Ridaeron ship had a brutal taskmaster at his back and Joren had joined Cara’s assault, but their opponent was a magical juggernaut.

  It made Joren wonder about those unfortunate mages. What led him to obey his abusive master when he could decimate the entire crew with a finger snap?

  Sweat poured down Baptiste’s flushed face. He channeled new energy into the Giddy Madeleine’s barrier as fast as the other side shredded it to pieces.

  Then the sky exploded, or at least appeared to explode, brighter than a comet’s fall. At the same time, the mage on the other deck collapsed with blood streaming down his face, his hair a white shock of matted tangles behind him.

  “Siel’s Tears!” Cara shouted from the forecastle. “They’ve killed him!”

  Though the mage had cast until his mind and body gave out, the magic still poured down from the sky like molten starlight interwoven with the occasional electrical bolt. Then their barrier gave out and lightning struck the main mast, the flash blinding against the night sky. The wood splintered, raining down on the Madeleine and the choppy waves beyond. Flames engulfed the shredded sails.

  “Abandon ship!” Joren ordered. “Get the skiffs in the water and abandon ship.”

  “But Your Highness—”

  “Go, Camden. Get the others to the boats. I’ll grab the crew belowdecks.”

  Without giving his second-in-command time to argue, Joren ducked down the hatch. Each cabin he passed, he called out the order to abandon ship. With sparks and flames dripping from above through the planks, he didn’t have to give them much urging.

  He caught the ship’s chef making his way up with his large arms full of cookware.

  “Lucky, what in the name of Eisen are you doing?”

  “My pots. I cannot leave them. They were made by the master artisan Cho Shi—”

  “We’re abandoning the ship. Leave them. I’ll buy you a whole new set, mate. Just get your arse to the boat.”

  With an expression suggesting Joren had kicked the man’s only kitten, the large fellow dropped his cumbersome burden and moved past Joren to the ladderway.

  Refusing to leave a single man behind, Joren dashed through the ship and flew down each passage, even delving into the lower decks where he found young Louis, their cabin boy, in the cargo hold attempting to haul a mother goat and her young kid from the livestock stores, one under each arm. He’d personally nursed her back to health two weeks ago when she’d nearly died after the birth.

  “I can’t leave them, Admiral. They’ll drown!” he protested, tears streaming down his pale face.

  “We will drown with them, son. We have to leave them.”

  “But—”

  “Report to the main deck now. We can’t waste another moment.”

  “Please.”

  Joren groaned. He couldn’t deny the boy, no matter how much his senses urged him to haul Louis
up the hatch by the seat of his trousers. “Gods. Take the kid. If she’s like any human mother, she’d prefer you take him over her. Now go. I’ll try to bring the mum.”

  Louis hustled away with the kid clasped against his chest, and Joren followed with the heavier mother. The hold had been the last place on the vessel to hunt down missing crewmen. As they reached the next ladderway, something crashed above them, no doubt another mast falling to the deck. Gods. If that mast slipped over the rail and carried their canvas into the water, they’d capsize.

  His pulse thundered, the drumbeat of racing adrenaline turning him superhuman. He scooped Louis and the kid against him and pounded up the steep ladderway, thanking every god in the pantheon that he didn’t throw out his back, or worse, tumble them down again to the bottom.

  The battle hadn’t ended. Cara remained on the forecastle, and he saw why once he reached the rail. She was the diversion to keep their rescue boats safe. Arrows rained against her shield and cannon fire tore into their ship, obliterating wood, but the Ridaerons couldn’t take her down. Another fireball bowled across the Green Giant’s deck, taking out at least a half dozen of the Ridaeron men, now that no mage was there to protect them.

  Gods. That was his job. His duty, and if going down with the ship had to be his last, he’d do whatever he could to guarantee the rest of his crew survived the encounter. His first mistake that evening had been giving in to his vanity and meeting the Ridaeron ship in combat. They should have run.

  “Drop him,” Baptiste urged Louis. “And I will catch him with magic.”

  The little goat plummeted over the edge, and the mage caught him with a levitation spell. “Now you. Come on. Quickly now.”

  Joren pushed the mother into another crewman’s arms, then leaned over the rail and shouted to Baptiste. “You’re in charge. I’m going to relieve Cara. Get all of these people to Neverland. It isn’t too far from here.”

  Giving his lieutenant no chance to disagree, he dashed to meet Cara—and then crushing pain crashed into his ribs, and he heard the battlemage’s scream. The world around him whipped by at astonishing speed, the deck no longer beneath his feet. His body struck the water and floating debris split his skull, the shock of cold making him gasp as the broken mast and tangled rigging pulled him under, taking the burning wreck of his ship farther and farther away before it was doomed to capsize.