Chapter 17

17

T he rest of the trek back was exactly as Eira had been expecting. Carsovia’s knights had upped their patrols. But, with some patience and a thick layer of illusions, they managed.

“Do you want me to seal it behind us?” Alyss whispered from the inside of the cave.

Eira considered it. Qwint’s runic magic would be enough to open it up again. Though it would depend on the individual having the right runes for the job…

“Leave it,” Eira decided. “If they knew it existed, they would’ve already been monitoring it. If they come behind us, it’ll be easy enough to pick them off, or seal the tunnel, then. It’s not worth risking any more magic.”

There wasn’t any debate. They plunged back into the quiet darkness. This time, Yonlin positioned himself behind her and left little doubt to it being intentional when they arrived at the tight squeeze. He stayed close. Once, his fingertips brushed against Eira’s, as if looking for reassurance that she was actually there—that the moment was real.

She glanced over her shoulder the instant his hand fell away. Whatever words of encouragement she’d been about to offer him vanished when she saw he was looking back at Alyss behind him. It was impossible to make out their expressions in the dim light of Olivin’s tiny glyph, but Eira could’ve sworn she saw Alyss mouth something to Yonlin. So Eira said nothing, leaving them be. Yonlin was in good hands.

They emerged up the ladder without incident, settling on the landing by the sealed door in the wall to wait.

“How much longer do you think until they’ll come and open it?” Alyss asked, heaving a sigh of relief.

“Not sure, but it also doesn’t matter.” Eira pressed her hand onto the door, coating it completely in a thick frost. Her brow furrowed with focus as ice cracked and ground against metal. When she withdrew her palm, the ice vanished with it and the door swung open.

They emerged into the night and it didn’t take long before the soldiers of Qwint were surrounding them, spun bracelets substituted for shocked looks and wide eyes.

The meeting with the Hall of Ministers went just as Lavette and Cullen had foretold. There had been a growing call to claim they were lost. Just as there had been murmurings that, if Eira had succeeded, then it meant beyond doubt that she was Adela’s offspring. Lavette and Varren had been doing their best to sway the discussions in their favor, but were fighting an uphill battle.

Luckily, thanks to Lavette’s warnings, she’d made it back fast enough that they didn’t have time to reach a consensus on what to do about it if she was as they suspected. For Eira’s sake, a benefit of governance by many voices was that it took some time to make decisions. So Eira proffered that it would be for the best, for all parties, if she simply excused herself from Qwint within the coming days—as soon as her ship finished being properly mended and restocked.

In the absence of a better plan, the ministers agreed. Most seemed ready to be done with her. Eira barely refrained from pointing out that if she was the daughter of Adela, it was far more foolish to provoke the pirate queen’s ire by capturing or harming her than to just work with her. Offering them a peaceful departure was more than a fair deal.

Negotiations and voting took half of a day—a short span of time, Lavette assured her, even if it felt needlessly tedious—and Eira walked free.

The hour had grown late and Eira walked with Olivin as her only companion through the tangle of wooden stalls and canvas tents of the market. The rest of their crew were attending to matters regarding their restocking, and generally recovering from the ordeals in Carsovia. Be it from exhaustion, or the hardships they’d faced, none of them had been particularly talkative since returning to Qwint.

Wordlessly, Olivin slipped his hand into hers, fingers lacing. Eira guided her steps closer to him, their sides brushing. He released her hand, shifted his arm around her, and settled his palm on her hip. For a moment, they felt normal. A sentiment he obviously shared with what he said next.

“Someday,” he started, a slight smile teasing his expression and softening his brow, “I’d like to think we might walk like this through a market without having to look over our shoulders. Once Ulvarth is dead and gone and we can move on from him, we can live a normal life in a world of our making.”

“A normal life,” Eira repeated with a wistful sigh, imagining what her new normal might look like. There were ship battles and leisurely days adrift, swimming in the middle of the ocean away from any other souls but their crew.

“For so long, the idea of killing Ulvarth and avenging my family was nothing more than a dream. I never thought it’d be so close.” Olivin’s fingers gently caressed her side in little circles. “And it’s all thanks to you.”

“I will end him.” There was no doubt in her mind. Even if it cost her everything, she’d be the one to finish him.

“I believe you. And it’s opened a whole new world of possibility I’d long written off.”

“Oh? Tell me of your world.” She looked up at him with a smile, thinking of what he might accomplish when he no longer had to lurk in the shadows. All his skills without holding himself back or operating in secret.

“I see you in it.” He glanced her way, nothing but admiration in his eyes.

“Well, that’s good to hear.”

“Is it?” Olivin arched a brow.

“You seem surprised?” She leaned a bit closer.

“Merely pleased.” His expression eased into a genuine smile. “I think, when we are no longer pressed beneath the weight of Ulvarth looming larger over our lives—when our vengeance is secured—there will be nothing we can’t do.”

“In that, we are in alignment,” she said contentedly. Eira could see it now. Her legacy secured with Ulvarth’s death, she could be a worthy heir to Adela. There would be nothing stopping them.

“I’ve begun thinking about what I would like to do for you, when the time comes.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “So much of my life has been consumed with the end—with breaking things. Burning them down. Destruction. Either what was reaped upon me, or extracting it from others as vengeance. I think I’d like to build something.”

“Like what?” she asked delicately. Her heart sputtered despite herself for reasons she only wanted to admit to seeing the outlines of. What if what he wanted to build didn’t involve her? Would that be okay?

Yet, Olivin continued to surprise her. “Whatever a pirate queen might desire. Perhaps I could be some sort of fleet master for you?”

A smile broke from one ear to the next, spreading wide across her face. “I think I could use someone like that.”

In the back corner of the market, barely perceptible, was the familiar entrance to what Eira was fairly certain was a mostly illegal shop. She’d been guiding them there. But apparently she wasn’t the only one with this idea.

“We’ve been expecting you.” Drogol emerged from the doorway as they approached with such impeccable timing that Eira wondered if they had some kind of runes that alerted them to her presence. Or if he’d truly been waiting for her to arrive.

“Have you?” Eira asked to conceal her surprise.

With a nod, Drogol led them in and through the concealed back door, up the staircase, and into what had been his showroom of illegal goods. But he’d wasted no time in converting it into a workshop for Allun. The shelves still had weapons, but they were now stacked between jars and boxes. The scent of flash shale nearly had her staggering, tripping back into her memories of the mines. But if Allun could still handle the stuff after all she had endured there, then Eira certainly wouldn’t waver.

“Drogol said you’ve been expecting me.” Eira approached the table in the center of the room that was positioned between her and Allun.

“I assumed you’d come for this.” Allun turned, holding the pistol in a bed of silken fabric nestled within a box. Her eyes drifted to Olivin’s. “Your brother should be able to suss out the finer points. He’s a clever one, certainly.”

Yonlin had been talking Allun’s ear off nonstop during their journey back to Qwint.

“No doubt.” Olivin stepped forward as Allun rested the box on the table, shutting and clasping it before sliding it to him.

Allun’s attention drifted to Eira. “I made the modifications needed. It will be able to break through the strongest armor—even the runic-enforced plate I was forced to make.” She shifted, both seeming uncomfortable and smug at the same time. “Do destroy that forsaken set of armor. I dislike my work being on the shoulder or in the hands of those I do not choose myself.”

“Certainly.” Ending Ulvarth would be no problem. But Eira didn’t want to leave the matter to one weapon alone. She had gone into the mines with no plans. She’d approach Ulvarth with several. And there was a second way that Allun would be able to help her achieve her ends. Her attempt with the ring had only cemented further the necessity for Eira to become stronger. Stronger than she ever could by traditional methods of training.

“What are you going to do with your freedom?” Olivin tucked the box under his arm. “It must be a relief to make it out of Carsovia at long last.”

“I’ve yet to ascertain if I have traded one tyrant for another, as is so often the case. I admit to knowing little about Qwint, though they speak quite poetically about their government.” Allun leaned back. Her eyes drifted to meet Eira’s. “Though, I would hope that should I ever need another escape, I might have the favor of the pirate queen and her heir?”

“There’s only so far that I will risk my crew for another.”

“Am I not worth it?” Allun smirked.

“That remains to be seen,” Eira said, mostly as a challenge. She’d goad the woman into doing what she wanted, if that was the requirement.

“Is my pistol not enough?”

“I’ve no concrete proof your work is as good as you say.”

“Watch your tongue,” Drogol growled protectively.

Allun raised her hand with a slight smirk. “She has a fair point. And she’s risked enough as it is for me.”

As if intentionally, Allun practically invited Eira to ask what had been brewing in the back of her mind. She balled her fingers into a fist, remembering the surge of magic that came from just a small marking on the back of her hand, sketched in blood, through bars. If that much could be accomplished by so little…

I’m not enough as I am .

Eira hadn’t been enough to save Noelle. Her powers, though great, still weren’t enough to manage more than three or four feats of magic at a time, even small ones. Meanwhile, Adela could freeze a whole island with an errant thought and hold that frost for decades as she terrorized the seas.

The pistol would help, but it wasn’t the final solution to defeating Ulvarth and claiming her destiny. It was a good alternative—a backup. But to bring him down she needed more. Not things, or people…her power, her magic, the far-fetched plans she’d been working on with Adela for months and secretly continuing to develop on her own.

“The rune you put on my hand…I want it permanently,” Eira demanded. Allun didn’t look surprised in the slightest, as though she had been waiting for Eira to ask.

Drogol had enough shock for the both of them. “You want a rune…embedded into your flesh? You aren’t a piece of metal or stone—you’re a person.”

“Thank you, I am aware,” Eira said without taking her eyes off Allun. She still didn’t see a trace of hesitation or doubt.

“This comes with risks,” Drogol clarified, as if somehow that was necessary. “You carry your own magic…adding a rune could conflict with your power.”

“I’ll take your weapons, gladly.” Eira still spoke only to Allun. “But a pistol, any weapon, however powerful it might be, can be stolen—can be broken.”

“A person can break, too.”

“I will not break.” There wasn’t a trace of doubt or hesitation in her voice. “Merely killing Ulvarth won’t be enough. I must destroy the very idea of him, and to do that I need a power that I can’t yet reach.”

Allun rested her palms on the table, leaning forward. She kept her eyes locked with Eira’s, gaze level. Eira could almost feel her trying to root out any doubt or fear.

“I will not break,” she repeated.

“You should think about this and consider the risks. Come back tomorrow, or better, two or three days from now, and make sure this is what you want.” Allun eased away from the table and returned to her shelves along the back wall of the room. She began rummaging through the various boxes as if Eira and Olivin weren’t even there. Eira knew an act when she saw one.

“I leave with the dawn.”

“All the more reason not to.” Allun shook her head. “We wouldn’t want to disrupt your channel or magic before you continue along on your important work , whatever that might be.”

Eira refrained from allowing herself to be offended. Allun no doubt saw her as nothing more than a pirate, out for her own. Perhaps that’s all Eira was. To herself, quietly, she could admit that she wasn’t killing Ulvarth to get revenge for his actions against Solaris or Meru. Liberating the peoples was a fringe benefit, but not even remotely the driving force of her motivation…

She wanted to kill him for herself. To end him because he had crossed her—taken from her. And that, she could not abide.

She didn’t work for all this strength to sit idly by as the people she loved most were hurt.

“It is because of my ‘important work’ that I will do this.”

“Eira, are you sure about this?” Olivin whispered, taking a half step closer. “You’ve only just been healed.”

“Alyss’s magic is impeccable. I was completely healed back in Carsovia.” She tilted her head, speaking only to him. “I’ve thought it through.”

“You are strong enough without any rune.” Even though she knew he meant well, his encouragement felt hollow.

Eira knew better. “I’m not strong enough to take on Ulvarth. Not yet. But with this I will be.”

Olivin shifted, positioning himself fully between her and Allun, consuming her vision. “This might impact you forever.”

“I hope so.”

“It could have implications you don’t intend down the road.”

“I’ll cross that bridge when— if it comes.” Eira rested her fingertips lightly on his forearm. “Olivin, thinking of the future is all well and good, but it’s daydreams until we’ve killed him.”

He took her hand in both of his. “Don’t risk everything to gain only a little.” His caution had shades of Cullen from the other evening. Strange how they could be so different at times and yet so similar.

“I’m risking everything so that I have the power to kill any who would stand in my way, defend those I love, and take what is mine.”

Olivin’s eyes darted over her face, searching. “I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”

“No.”

With a sigh that betrayed a breaking point, he rested his forehead on hers. “Please, be safe. I can’t lose you.”

“I will be fine,” she reassured him one last time and then stepped around him. Her mind made up, she strode to the table, resting her palms on it.

“You will do this for me.” Eira locked eyes with Allun. “Because you owe me a life debt, twice over.”

A long pause. Finally, a soft “That I do.” When Allun turned, she didn’t look upset in the slightest. In fact, if anything, she looked excited. Her hands were already laden with various supplies—knives, jars, chisels, ink. “Get on the table.”

Olivin’s hand closed around her own. “I’m here.” Those two words were all the reassurance she needed.

“Good, because I suspect you’ll need to carry her back.” Allun began to set out her supplies. Despite his initial reservations, Drogol fell into line, sorting various implements for Allun so they’d be in their places before she even needed them.

“Carry her?” A worried note crept into Olivin’s question.

“A suspicion. But we’ll see how she takes to it.” Allun looked to Eira as she settled herself on the table. “Where do you want it?”

Eira stared at the back of her hand where Allun had drawn the rune in her blood. It’d be a fitting location for it, symbolic. And the marking would likely become a calling card that could strike fear into the hearts of her enemies and inspire her allies alike.

But…it was also likely to inspire others to try and imitate her. An inevitability, likely. The progression of magic’s endless evolution was impossible to stop. More were likely to be seen emerging from Qwint with runes upon them, just as the lutenz had on the ship all those months ago. But Eira wanted to keep her edge as long as possible.

More practically, a hand was easy enough to cut off, as Adela had so unintentionally demonstrated. Eira didn’t want to make it easy for someone to cleave this mark from her. She wanted them to work for it—to kill her for it.

“My chest.” Eira reached the natural conclusion aloud. “Low in the center, between my breasts.” Somewhere that even the most revealing clothes would likely hide.

“Sounds painful, but it’s your body.” Allun shrugged. “Take off your shirt and lie back.”

Eira did as she was told. The moment the table hit her bare back, her skin puckered into gooseflesh. This was happening . Allun paraded all manner of sharp instruments as she finished sorting herself. Olivin continued to stand at her side. Clearly, he still held his reservations. But his expression was as determined as Eira felt.

“Once I start, I will not stop until I’m finished,” Allun cautioned. “It is too much risk to both of our magics for me to stop halfway.”

Eira looked up at the woman, feeling somewhere between a patient awaiting a doctor’s skilled hand, and a slab of meat before the carver. Her chest being completely exposed to two strangers hardly struck her as odd, given the circumstances. Eira realized she couldn’t care less who saw her body. She had nothing to hide and was proud of every line and scar that had been carved into it. Perhaps this would be the one she was most proud of, of them all.

“I won’t ask you to stop.” Enhancing her magic would be worth any pain.

Though, perhaps Olivin’s comments wormed their way into her mind. Though likely not in the way he’d intended. What would Adela think? The rogue question was instantly answered with a gut instinct that was too sudden to be wrong:

She would be proud .

The notion emboldened her. This was what Adela would do. The pirate queen wouldn’t be afraid. She wouldn’t hesitate to claim power. And she certainly wouldn’t let anyone else have her second-guessing.

“Let’s do this,” Eira emphasized.

“Very well. Let’s begin.” Allun selected a thin knife, as delicate as a fountain pen. Liquid swirled in a chamber behind it. “As much magic as you can muster, please. Flood yourself with it.”

Eira concentrated, her vision softening as she eased her focus on the room before her and brought it internally. She had reached for her own channel most of her life. Had been perfecting widening others. And yet, trying to do so on her own remained slippery and elusive. Still, she tried.

Frost coated her skin, pouring off her in waves of white and flecks of snow. Within, Eira imagined the ocean to be filling her. Blood replaced entirely with cold seawater. Nothing but the endless tempest of storm and waves.

Yet, the first strike against her breastbone felt like an earthquake. Her focus threatened to crumble. She exhaled, as though punched in the gut.

“Come now, you’re stronger than that,” Allun chided lightly, and sank the blade in farther.

Eira gritted her teeth, focusing on her magic. Focusing on the ancient magics that were fusing with her own. She would weave magic into herself like Lightspinning, like the runic arts.

Wave after wave of white-hot pain ripped through her. In the ebb between each, her power surged. Frost numbing the pain. Knives and needles punctured her skin, ink blooming between scars into an intricate pattern that she couldn’t see but could feel so sharply that she could almost draw the design.

Magic etched its way into her flesh, her blood, her channel. It felt as if she were a lidded tank, filling with water. Too full. Too much. And yet more came. The pressure building.

She would not break .

Her joints popped and bones creaked. Eira’s jaw squeaked from how hard she was clenching it. Hours dissolved into mere seconds. Each exhale more horrible than the last. Each inhale strength she had only ever imagined.

She would not break . It was a mantra. Over, and over, and over again. Words that perhaps were spilled from chapped and whispering lips like too many tears that had been shed.

The pain was a price and it was her turn to pay. There was no other choice, no other way to become the person she had to be to end Ulvarth. No one else could afford this cost—nor did she want them to. She would endure. She would take the blood on her hands and the hatred that would follow. She would be their nightmare.

The infamy and the power. It would all become hers.

All at once, it was over. Allun came back into focus as she took a step back, examining her work. For a second, it almost looked as if she were going to lean back in and start anew. But, to Eira’s delight, she didn’t.

“You’re an impressive material, Eira,” Allun said tiredly.

Eira sat, the excruciating pain forgotten the moment she looked down at her chest and saw the rune that had been carved into her flesh, raised slightly with scars, a constellation of dots and lines surrounding it as if it had been physically woven into her. Her fingers lightly pressed against the symbol. It was icy to the touch.

As she rose to her feet, she felt different, stronger.

Unstoppable.