taking Miranda with him.
The palace ships began to creak. From her body in the surf, Miranda was dimly aware that the fighting around her had stopped. Everyone, even Josef, was staring across the bay as, with a great groan of creaking wood and the sea’s own moaning, the line of the Empress’s palace ships lurched to the left.
The ships tilted in unison as Mellinor’s sea surged beneath them in a great, vertical wave. Sailors scrambled as the decks turned sideways. Some managed to grab the railings in time; others were not so lucky. Miranda felt them splash into the sea as though they were landing in her own body, but she paid them no mind. Only one body mattered.
From both her perspectives, she looked up at the woman standing on the long plank at the prow of the center palace ship. The Empress stood steady even as her ship tilted beneath her, but her head was turned down toward Mellinor. That was all the warning Miranda got before the Empress’s spirit hit them.
The force of the Empress’s will knocked Miranda’s breath out. It landed on the sea like an iron, crushing Mellinor’s wave beneath a wall of immovable, unconquerable power. The sea flattened, its surface pressed glassy smooth by the Empress’s will. As the wave vanished, the palace ships crashed back to the water, bobbing back and forth as they righted themselves. The Empress smiled haughtily and turned back to the island, already confident in her victory, and had Mellinor been alone, a simple spirit, it would have been a victory indeed. But he was not alone, and his spirit was not only water. Miranda’s will ran through him like a steel net, holding him together even as the Empress pressed him down, for, immortal as she was, powerful as she was, the Empress was still human, and she was still subject to the one immutable law of wizardry: One human spirit cannot control another.
“Go!” Miranda shouted, scrambling to get her head above water as the wave from the palace ship’s landing washed over her. “Now!”
Mellinor answered with a roar, and his water surged upward with four hundred years of pent-up rage. This time, though, the wave did not move the boats. It rose in a solid whip of high-pressured water, flying straight for the Empress.
Now it was the Empress’s turn to be surprised. She whirled around, her face open with shock as Mellinor crashed into her. The lance of water shattered her golden armor, knocking her off her perch like a bird shot off a treetop. For one glorious moment, the Empress plummeted toward the water, Mellinor’s wave rising to meet her with a roar of victory. And then, just as quickly, everything changed.
Seconds before she hit the water, a wind howled down from the sky to catch her. The Empress bounced on the cushion of air and then shot up, riding the wind back to her ship. She landed on the deck and fell to her knees, clutching her chest as the scales of her golden armor fell around her like rain. Down in the water, Mellinor roared with frustration, but Miranda lay still, watching from both viewpoints as red blood covered the Empress’s hands.
Their blow had hit. The Empress was wounded, but even as the rush of victory sent her head swimming, Miranda saw the Empress stand. She straightened up, tossing her sundered golden armor to the deck. Her chest was covered in bright red blood, but even as Miranda saw it, the wound began to heal. The edges of the Empress’s broken skin glowed blinding white, closing up as Miranda watched. The blood vanished, leaving her pale skin clean and whole. In a matter of seconds, the Empress’s wound was completely gone.
Mellinor’s rage caught Miranda by surprise. The Great Spirit exploded from the sea, flying over the ship to strike the Empress again. Miranda clung to the water, throwing everything she had into Mellinor’s blow, but this time, the Empress was ready.
She raised her hand, and Mellinor’s wave stopped as though it had hit a wall. Mellinor screamed in fury, pounding on the Empress’s barrier with every drop of water he’d absorbed. Miranda screamed with him, pouring herself into the attack. They were so close she could see the Empress’s face less than a foot from their water, her ancient, dark eyes shifting away to look…
Miranda gasped, bringing in a lungful of water as her perspective shot back to her own human body. She coughed and blinked the burning seawater out of her eyes as she raised her head. She couldn’t see anything, but even at this distance she could feel the Empress staring at her. A spike of terror plunged into her mind as Mellinor’s voice washed through her.
“Hide, Miranda!” he screamed. “Hide!”
But it was too late. Across the water, the Empress raised her arm, the one that wasn’t holding Mellinor back, and flicked her finger. The second the motion was complete, the sand below Miranda exploded.
The force blew her backward, ripping her from the water and sending her flying through the air with such power she couldn’t even move her limbs to flail. She landed hard in the sand, rolling up the beach until she struck the sharp stones at the base of the storm wall. For a moment the world went completely black. She could feel nothing, hear nothing, and then, with a deafening roar, it all came back. Josef was standing over her, the great, black, bloody blade of the Heart glistening in his hand. He was knocking the soldiers back without looking, shouting at her to get up. Miranda stared at him, literally struck dumb. She couldn’t make sense of what was happening, but she felt empty, like something was missing.
Then, in one, cold, horrible moment, she realized she could no longer feel Mellinor.
She scrambled away from Josef, running all out toward the bay. Soldiers grabbed for her, but she kicked them aside, scrabbling on her hands and knees through the sand until she reached the water at last. She threw herself into the surf, slamming her body beneath the cold waves. Her soul roared open as she submerged, reaching out until her mind was on the edge of breaking. She yelled Mellinor’s name, screaming with her spirit and her voice until both were raw. She screamed again and again, taking in great gulps of seawater with each shout, but it was no use. Nothing answered.
Hands closed on her shoulders, pulling her out of the surf. She fought wildly, writhing in the man’s iron grip even as she recognized Josef’s voice telling her to calm down or they wouldn’t get out of here alive. But she didn’t want to calm down, she didn’t want to get out alive.
“No!” she shrieked. “Let me go! I promised! I promised I wouldn’t leave him!”
Josef ignored her. She fought as he dragged her out of the water, but her punches and kicks bounced off him. He tucked her under one arm and ran for the stairs, keeping the Heart high in his free hand, ready to swing. He didn’t have to. The enemy was keeping their distance now, unwilling to engage him even when he was burdened with a hysterical woman. Perhaps it had something to do with the dying men lying scattered across the sand. Whatever it was, Miranda didn’t care.
“You don’t understand,” she screamed, the words broken by sobs. “I let him go. I left the water! I failed him!”
“That may be,” Josef said, charging for the stairs. “But we’re still alive, though not for long if you don’t stop fighting me.”
Miranda went limp, her body flopping in his grasp. She was sobbing violently now. She couldn’t help it. She’d poured too much of herself into Mellinor, and what she had left was barely enough to keep her lungs working, let alone stop the tears.
She was still crying uncontrollably when the force hit her, but it wasn’t until Josef stopped that she recognized what it was. After all, she’d felt the Empress’s spirit just moments before, but that strength, strong as it was, was nothing compared to the wave of pressure that rolled over her now.
All around them, the soldiers were dropping to their knees, pressing their foreheads into the sand. The beach grew silent as everything went still. The fighting on the wall above them silenced as well, and Miranda got the feeling that if she could somehow climb up to look at the city of Osera, she’d find that even the fires had stopped burning. With the sole exception of the waves lapping on the shore, everything in the world seemed to have gone still, and in that stillness, the Empress spoke.
“Osera,” she called, her voice clear and ringing through the air. It came from every direction, filling Miranda’s ears with its hated smugness. Slowly, painfully, Josef turned them, and Miranda found herself looking out at the sea she never wanted to see again and at the woman standing in midair above it.
“You have fought bravely,” the Empress said, standing on a swirl of wind above her ship. “I admire strength, but the time for fighting is over. You have lost. Your army is broken, your wizards defeated, your city burning. Put down your weapons and surrender, and I may be merciful.”
“She’s got to be kidding,” Josef said, though his voice was quiet. “Oserans don’t surrender.”
There was no way she could have heard him, but the Empress answered in the most effective way possible.
