Frozen

around—”

“PUT IT DOWN!” Wes yelled, holding up his own weapon. He fired, the bullet clipping Daran’s elbow, but it was too late.

Daran had fired, shooting the dark-robed girl point-blank.

“NO!” Nat screamed as Shakes dove in front of the hooded pilgrim. But there was no need. The bullet had disappeared. In an instant, the sky darkened and thunder rumbled. Then the clouds parted and the strange light that had appeared the night before returned.

From out of the darkness came the screech of the wailer. One moment Daran was standing on the deck, and in the next, he was torn from the ship by an unseen hand.

“WHAT HAPPENED? WHERE IS HE?” Zedric yelled, spinning around, pointing his gun every which way.

A cry echoed across the water, angry and victorious. It wanted blood and had gotten it. Nat felt its exultation as if it were part of her. It was furious and excited, just like in her dreams. Fire and pain, rage and ruin, a dark uncontrollable force, waiting to lash out—murderous with revenge and hatred, it had taken Daran in an instant, had swept him off the deck as if he were a toy. Nat stepped back, unsure of what had happened—had she done that? Had she made that thing—that wailer—do what she wanted to do? No. It couldn’t be. The wailer wasn’t real, was it? What happened to the voice—to the monster in her head? She couldn’t reach it. She couldn’t hear it. She began to panic. What was happening?

“There he is!” Farouk said excitedly. “In the water—over there!”

Wes came up to the rails with binoculars in hand. He saw the small figure of Daran bobbing above the waves, waving his arms. Whatever had taken Daran had thrown him half a mile away in a few seconds.

“Bring him back!” Zedric screamed, cocking a gun and aiming it at the girl. But he wouldn’t get a chance.

There was a blow, and Zedric fell to the ground unconscious. Shakes stood behind him, holding his rifle aloft, trembling a little, but with a smile on his face.

“Sorry about that. I need to teach the boys some manners,” he said.

The girl smiled. “I am Liannan of the White Mountain,” she said.

“Vincent Valez,” Shakes said, smiling bashfully.

“Can you bring him back?” Wes asked impatiently, motioning to where Daran was flailing. They could hear his screams of fury echoing across the water.

Liannan shook her head. “No. The drakon took him and only the drakon can decide his fate now.”

“Well—we’ll have to get him out—he’s a jackass, but he’s still part of my crew.” With Shakes’s and Farouk’s help, Wes moved to push a lifeboat into the water, but a powerful gust of wind knocked them back on the deck. The sickly wailing sound returned, and Wes felt something hot and sharp rake across his back, tearing through the layers he wore and ripping into his skin.

He turned around, but there was nothing. Shakes returned his confusion with a dazed look on his face.

“What was that?” Farouk asked anxiously, holding his head.

“The drakon does not suffer him to live,” Liannan said placidly. “Do not cross it or fear its wrath.”

“We’re risking our own lives to help that jerk,” Farouk argued. “C’mon, boss, let him drown.”

Wes shook his head. “No—help me get this boat in. I’m not leaving anyone behind.”

“He killed the messenger, he assaulted its familiar, and so the drakon demands a life for a life,” Liannan murmured. “I must advise you not to go against his wishes.”

They tried again, and this time the wind stopped them, so that the ship teetered wildly and tipped to the starboard edge.

“Hold on!” Wes screamed, as Nat tumbled forward, Wes catching her just in time. As everyone scrambled for purchase, Zedric slipped, rolling toward the edge, but Farouk caught him and he was able to hold on to the mast.

“Shakes!” Nat yelled, as they watched Shakes tumble into the dark water.

“Get him!” Wes yelled to Farouk, but it was no use.

“Pull me out!” Shakes sputtered, his head appearing above the waves, his arms waving wildly. “Help me!”

But the wind kept everyone back, kept them clinging to the rails, unable to help. Shakes would drown. They were going to lose him, Nat knew. Spare him. Please, she prayed, not knowing whom she was entreating with her cry. Not him. Not Shakes. He is my friend.

Nat looked up to find the dark-robed girl staring at her. Liannan’s eyes glowed in a rainbow of shockingly brilliant colors. She was staring at Nat, holding her gaze, studying her.

“SHAKES!” Wes tossed a rope to the castoff, but it snapped in the air, torn by an invisible force.

Please, let us save him. He’s just a boy, Nat begged. Somehow, she understood that thing out there was punishing them because Daran had killed the little white bird. That thing out there was angry, and its fury would not be abated.

Please.

“HELP ME!” Shakes screamed.

Liannan shed her robe. “Drakon! The boy saved me! Let him live!” She pulled her hood and mask from her face. Underneath the dark drapery she wore a long, slim white tunic. Her long hair was the color of sunlight from long ago, dazzling and golden. The cold night air began to soften, the temperature growing warm as a light pierced the night. The light was strong and powerful, and the darkness faded and the wailing subsided.

Nat clutched her forehead, trembling as a wave of frustration and anger washed over her. It felt as if someone—or something—was pushing her to do something, but what? What could she do? She was angry, so angry at Daran and confused that Shakes had fallen into the middle of the entire thing. She took calm, steady breaths. She could hear the sylph. The boy saved me. Let him live. The danger had passed. That’s what the sylph was trying to say, trying to make her understand.

The darkness dissipated as quickly as it came.

Wes grabbed the torn rope and lowered it to Shakes. With the crew’s help, everyone pulling together, they heaved the soldier back on deck.

Shakes appeared, frantically rubbing his eyes and spitting. His skin and face were red, raw, his eyes wild and confused. Farouk ran up and dumped a liter of Nutri on his head.

Shakes yelped.

Wes knelt down and grabbed his friend by the shoulders. “Shakes!”

The shivering boy paused. “What?”

“You’re fine! You’re not poisoned, you’re fine!”

Shakes looked down at himself, not quite sure what to look for. Then he smiled. “Right.” He turned to the ocean. “But what about Daran?”

Wes threw a life preserver overboard, knowing it was a waste. “There’s no wind, no way for us to reach him. At least this gives him a chance—it’s all we can do,” he said, not liking it, but not having a choice either.

Daran’s screams began to fade; soon they mixed with the familiar sound of the wailer’s mourning, and it became harder and harder to differentiate the two.

31

WHEN ZEDRIC AWOKE TO FIND HIS BROTHER still missing, he became violent. If they didn’t subdue him, he would hurt himself or the crew. They put him in the brig; it was cruel, but they had no other option. “Go on—I’ll take it from here,” Shakes told Nat, as he handcuffed the boy to the nearest pipe.

She walked out of the room and saw the sylph approaching. The girl had put her dark cloak back on, but her hood was down. Her eyes were pure violet, the color of asters and twilight. Her pale blond hair was fragile and delicate like cobwebs, like fairies’ wings. The mark on her cheek was a six-pointed star. She was lovely, far lovelier than Nat had expected, like an exotic, rare creature, like the extinct and legendary butterflies from the world that no longer was.

Liannan smiled at her. “You’ve seen my kind before, haven’t you?”