Fyn plucked the Fate from inside his vest. The opal, formed from an ancient spiral seashell, glowed. 'The Fate's responding to it.'
'Some kind of sorbt stone?' Nefysto asked, proving he knew more than the average layman about mystical practices.
Fyn went to answer in the negative but he could feel the Fate, even now, eager for the untamed Affinity. The captain's guess might be closer to the truth than Fyn knew, so he remained silent.
The ship had reached the midst of the Skirling Stones, weaving her way through towering black edifices, topped with gnarled trees.
Here, in the centre of the Skirling Stones, the crash of the sea on the outer rocks faded to a distant boom and an eerie wailing came and went, as the wind whirled between the stones, proving someone must have come here at least once, to give them their name.
Fyn frowned. Had something moved on that ledge, three-quarters up the Skirling Stone ahead of them? Affinity attracted Affinity beasts. If it was a new seep, it would attract…
'Cap'n?' A voice called from above, called as if trying to shout softly. 'There are things on the ledges. Lots of them.'
Fyn's hand tightened on the Fate. His teeth tingled and he tasted cold air on his tongue, even though his mouth was closed. The air felt sharp, rich with Affinity.
His mind raced… spring cusp… new seep… Affinity beasts gathering to feast on the power, gathering to mate. Affinity beasts were always dangerous, more so in mating season.
The sea-hound called the depth, his voice pitched to carry above the wailing of the wind.
Fyn clutched Bantam's arm. 'Tell him to be quiet. He'll bring them down on us.'
The captain and Bantam stared at Fyn.
'The seep's attracted Affinity beasts. We're in the midst of a rookery!' His voice rose, and he brought it under control with an effort. 'Tell everyone to be very quiet.'
Bantam tapped Jakulos on the shoulder and the two of them darted off, running the length of the vessel, warning the sea-hounds.
Meanwhile, the cabin boy edged closer, taking Fyn's hand. 'What sort of Affinity beasts, master monk?'
Master monk? How he wished. He wasn't even a proper monk, just an acolyte.
'N-Not wyverns?' The boy's voice quavered.
'I don't know, Runt.' He hoped not. Salt-water wyverns were notoriously aggressive, especially during mating season.
Quick as a bird, something flashed past Fyn, then darted back to hover before him, where it eyed the glowing Fate on his vest.
The creature was as tall as little Runt, but it hovered off the deck so that its head was level with Fyn's. Wings moving too fast to see other than as a blur held it aloft.
Like a bird it tilted its head this way and that, fascinated by the Fate. Its long, sinuous body was marked by scars, possibly from mating fights. While the body was serpent-like, its head was more like a bird's with a long, razor-sharp beak and a crest of brilliant, iridescent feathers behind its neck.
This close, the Affinity beast gave off a pale luminescence and smelled like last week's eel pie gone bad.
Behind it, Fyn saw Bantam and Jakulos return to the rear deck. They hesitated on the top step, both making the sign to ward off dangerous Affinity.
Fyn licked his lips. Runt whimpered.
Fyn squeezed his hand, speaking low and soothing. 'It is a jakulos, lad. Almost as pretty as our own Jakulos. It won't hurt you.' No, not at the moment. When they attacked, jakulos launched themselves from the sky, flying fast and true as javelins.
'It's nothing like our Jaku,' Runt whispered.
Fyn grinned. 'Perhaps he hadn't seen one when he chose his sea-hound name.' Why the big man had named himself after this Affinity beast Fyn couldn't guess. It was elegant, almost dainty as it hovered to inspect them.
Something moved in the corner of Fyn's vision and he realised another had arrived, and another.
Behind him, Fyn sensed the captain, turning the wheel. A gap appeared between two tall stones, and they saw open sky, heard the growing boom of the waves on the reefs.
'We're almost through,' Runt whispered.
As if this was a signal, the jakulos inspecting Fyn flicked its tail, rose straight up, not at all like a bird, and darted off. Back to its nest, Fyn assumed.
He felt Runt and the captain breathe a sigh of relief, and a laugh bubbled up inside him. Who would have thought?
As he glanced over his shoulder to congratulate the captain on getting through the Skirling Stones, Fyn noticed the prow of the closest Utland ship gliding between the last of the stones behind them. A curious jakulos hovered over its carven head, glowing faintly.
Fyn swore. 'The Utlanders are still coming.' If they got through the reefs, the Wyvern's Whelp would be in the same position as before.
They needed something to set off the Affinity beasts' territorial instincts.
His gaze fell on the brazier of hot coals and tar-dipped arrows, readied for the attack. Before he knew it, he'd strung a bow and lit an arrow.
'What're you doing?' Bantam demanded.
'Stirring up the Affinity beasts so they'll turn on the Utlanders.' Fyn ran to the bow rail and took aim, hoping to hit the trees on the crown of the nearest Skirling Stone.
As he let loose, Bantam joined him with another bow.
Fyn's flaming arrow hit the stone's crown and, for a moment, nothing happened. Then flames danced across the tree canopy, driven by the wind.
'I'll go one better,' Bantam muttered. And he aimed at the Utlander's ship which was partially visible as it came from behind the pillar. He let his arrow fly. 'A sailor can't ignore fire at sea.'
His arrow hit the Utlander's sails. Jakulos joined them with a bow. Fyn ran to get another arrow. By the time he'd taken aim, flames were leaping across the Utlanders' deck and the raiders raced about, shouting orders as they sought to save the ship.
A flashing spear of silver shot down from the Skirling Stone. A man screamed. Then another and another.
A cacophony of cries followed, quickly drowned out by the crashing waves, now that the Wyvern's Whelp was in the channel between the reefs.
Its crew's cries cloaked by the sea, the first Utlander ship burned. As Fyn watched a wave caught it, driving the ship against the base of a stone pillar and spinning it around so that it blocked the passage, trapping the second ship. Masts toppled, sending flaming sails onto a deck already seething under the Affinity beasts' attack, dropping sails onto the second as yet undamaged ship. The men stood no chance.
Fyn swallowed and turned away, not wanting to witness the manner of their deaths.
Bantam clapped him on the shoulder. 'Quick thinking, little monk.'
Two shiploads of men, dead. Fyn's stomach heaved. He ran to the side and threw up until his stomach was empty. Tears blurred his vision.
By the time he lifted his head, the Wyvern's Whelp rode the waves of the open sea. And Runt waited with a mug of watered wine.
Fyn accepted it gratefully, rinsed his mouth, spat and took a gulp. He turned around to see most of the crew watching, waiting. At Bantam's signal, they cheered.
Runt smiled up at Fyn.
And he'd been afraid he would not be accepted.
Still, if they only knew how he had failed the abbey and his family. He'd failed to realise that the seal on the message, supposedly from his father, was a fraud. By the time he had it was too late and the abbey's fighting monks had left, heading into an ambush. He'd failed to save the abbot, when the abbey was attacked. He'd failed to reach Rolenhold in time to save his family. Little Piro…
He mustn't think of Piro.
