Interlude - Making Waves

Henry glanced down at the chest that, a couple of hours ago, had contained Felix’s goodwill offering. From where he and Charlotte stood on the shore, he could hear the sound of the last nail being hammered into the keels of his fleet. The sound did not fill him with comfort.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Charlotte asked, watching the last of the shipwrights begin to exit the ships’ interiors. “We could still call it off. I could say that I detect some unexpected mystical interference. I’m certain none of the Shaderryn are mages, they wouldn’t be able to prove I was lying.”

“We’ve been putting them off for a week and a half as it is, love.” He pulled out a tiny roll of parchment and handed it to his wife. “I received word from the Empress this morning by bird. She wants us to let this all play out, regardless of the danger.”

She unrolled the paper and began reading. “It could be fake you know. Maybe Felix grew tired of waiting and decided to-“ Charlotte stopped mid sentence, quirking an eyebrow at some turn of phrase in the letter. “Ah, no, this is definitely from your mother.”

Henry sighed, “Indeed it is. Now we just have to wait and see what we’re in for. I’ve ordered Captain Bastin to put the garrison on high alert. Are the mages prepared for trouble? I know you’ve been running them ragged trying to decipher what kind of trap this is.”

“A fruitless endeavor. We could easily discern that the nails themselves were made to act as conduits, but the Sea Mother’s rituals are poorly studied in Fulgraine.” The princess adjusted her hat to better shield herself from the morning drizzle.

“As always,” she continued, “the crew of the Iron Witch stands ready to assist their Prince. I’ve had some of my mages post themselves discreetly along the wall and the harbor, while the ship herself is moored a little down the coast.”

“Then she won’t be participating in this morning’s excitement. That’s at least some small comfort.”

A messenger ran up to them from the beach, his blue tabard blowing in the wind whipping across the water. The dark armored knights of Felix’s guard milled about at the waters edge, the prince himself attending to the priestess and the craft that would bear her out.

“Your Highnesses, the Shaderryn delegation wishes to inform you that the ritual is about to begin.”

“Thank you, soldier, you may return to them with our acknowledgement.”

The soldier saluted and started to make his way back towards the shore at a less hurried pace.

“It seems like Prince Felix would like to maintain some distance from us as he performs this grand gesture of his.” Charlotte muttered. “There are no men on those ships anymore, are there?”

“None.” Henry confirmed.

The couple watched as the dinghy made its way out to the center of the fleet. Per Felix’s request, they had been arranged in a semi-circular pattern around the harbor and put to anchor. Now they bobbed in rough seas, buffeted by waves born of an approaching storm.

Henry could see the priestess begin her rite. The woman stood at the head of the skiff, her arms stretched out wide as if to address the wave-muddled horizon. The tail of her gray cloak streamed behind her, revealing a sea-green dress beneath, but her hood remained tight in the face of the growing gale.

“Henry, can you tell me what you see when you look at the rower accompanying the priestess?”

He looked to where Charlotte had directed. The rower sat low in the dinghy, maintaining its position with a steady stroke of his oars. When Henry tried to focus on the man, however, he found that he couldn’t actually do so. It was like his eyes would move right past the white-robed figure and on to a different detail.

“It’s odd, I honestly can’t.”

“Neither can I, I keep slipping off of him and my stomach begins to turn if I try to force it. I can’t say I’m fond of the feeling or the potential implications.”

Henry signaled one of the runners that was standing by with them. “Go down and inform the delegation that they are to halt the rite. Tell them that the seas are getting too heavy and that we need to bring the ships in before that storm hits. Make it clear that this is not a suggestion.”

The soldier followed the trail of his earlier fellow, nearly slipping in his haste as he sprinted down the beach.

“The Empress…” Charlotte trailed off, a concerned look on her face.

“I will deal with my mother’s displeasure later.” Henry said, a little more sharply than he intended. “This smells too wrong. I won’t risk the lives of these soldiers purely to satisfy her curiosity.”

“Do you think they’ll actually stop the ceremony?”

“They will if they know what’s good for them. Go to your mages anyway, just in case Prince Felix didn’t inherit his weasel of a father’s sense of self preservation.”

Charlotte dipped her hat to her husband and stalked off to coordinate with her fellows. Henry sent another runner to Bastin, informing him that things were likely to get ugly.

On the water, the priestess began to sing. Her voice rose and fell like the tide, a wordless melody that was as haunting as it was beautiful. The waves buffeting the skiff slowed and then fell. Even in the face of the incoming tempest, the sea around her lay as smooth as glass.

The circle of calm expanded, reaching the ships at the same time as Henry’s runner came to a panting stop in front of Prince Felix. On the water, the rower released his oars and made a small, downward cut with his hand.

In near parallel, two blades fell. One, a blade of steel drawn at lightning speed, slashed through the messenger’s throat where he stood. The other, a blade of invisible force, split the ships and the sea they rode on. Halved where the nails had been hammered, the back of each vessel catapulted up on a swell of water.

Henry stared in stunned disbelief, a tingle racing across his skin as the wave’s shadow grew. Its white crest rose higher and higher above the water line and then… just stopped. The bisected hulls stood on its edge, teetering but not falling, while below them blood and water, dinghy and wreckage, were sucked into a gaping hole in the wall of the wave.

Everything was inexorably drawn into the inky maw, leaving nothing but bare sand between the portal and the shore.

Henry broke into a run for the town, shouting commands to the men around him. The sounds of steel on steel began to echo from within the walls of Last Harbor as the Shaderryn cast off their friendly facade.