Page 73 of Minor Works of Meda

Kalcedon’s magic pierced forward again, and the soldier stumbled back. I saw power slice right through the man’s heart, like an invisible blade. There was a horrible sound, like he was trying to speak and couldn’t. Then blood came out of the soldier’s mouth. Kalcedon—as if nothing had happened—grabbed me and pushed me towards the edge of the deck.

“Run, damn you,” he shouted. His voice was hoarse. “Meda, a shield!”

I’d dropped it without realizing. But I couldn’t anymore. My mind was blank with terror and disgust and the heavy weight of the things I’d seen. I stumbled towards the rail, close to us now, where Colynes wolf-boats hung ready to drop.

I threw up. Despite it being the worst possible time to be incapacitated. My throat burned raw with bile.

With a curse from his lips, Kalcedon twisted out a sloppy shield. I felt its blanketing power even as I spotted the ten different ways an attack could slip through it.

We reached the edge of the ship, and the nearest boat attached to the winch.

“Get on,” Kalcedon commanded.

“But…” someone was going to have to turn the wheel to lower the ship down to the water; a job meant for a full team.

“On,” Kalcedon snapped. With a ragged gasp of pain, Oraik clambered into the wolf-boat, bleeding heavily. I managed to follow. It was magic, I supposed, that lowered us down. I threw up over the side again as we landed hard on the water, ocean sloshing into the belly of the wolf as we bobbed and leaned towards the steadily sinking warship. Oraik’s vocalizations were past the point of words.

A seahawk dove towards us and shed its feathers. Kalcedon slammed down so hard I thought he’d kick a hole in the bottom of the wolf.

“Call a wind,” he roared, as he opened the sail and lashed the rope messily into place.

We leapt away from the warship. Once we had a little distance Kalcedon threw a blast of power after the warship, furrowing the water and ripping a great hole in the side. Oraik wailed in pain from the punch of waves around us.

“Help him,” I croaked. I could feel tears on my face but was too far gone to recognize I was crying. I kneed my way towards him, ducking under the sail to reach where Oraik lay. The deck kept bucking beneath us.

The prince didn’t answer or move. He shifted his wet eyes to look at me, then back up at the blue sky. “You’ll be just fine,” I rasped. “Kalcedon?”

There was no response. I turned, one hand on Oraik’s shoulder. Kalcedon stood at the stern of the wolf, staring out towards the sinking ship. His heat was depleted. Nothing for me to grab.

“Kalcedon, help.”

“There’s something out there.” His voice sounded distant. He wasn’t listening to me.

“Kalcedon!” I snapped.

Oraik groaned. I turned back to him. On an exhale blood, bright as wine, slicked his lower lip. This couldn’t be happening. It was like the fire all over again, happening right in front of my eyes. I ripped my overskirt off my waist and bunched it over his wound, where his shirt was wine-dark with blood and each pulse of his heart made more spill.

“No. No, no.” My breathing was getting quicker. Losing Eudoria had been fast. I loved her more, but this, I felt with certainty, was worse; this slow leeching of blood and life. Kalcedon walked over, then put his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t moving. Wasn’t casting.

If he wouldn’t, I had to. Oraik was going.

I traced a shaky sigil, then another. Phrases came into my mind, building one on the other. I linked them together, unpowered except for the thinnest thread it took to hold their shapes in the air. The wind whipped around us and tore at the thin threads of power.

“Hurry. He’s losing blood.”

“No.”

“What?” I turned to face Kalcedon, eyes wide and hands shaking. He wasn’t looking at me or at Oraik.

“They can’t use him to bring down the Ward if he’s gone.”

I felt my throat working, but there were no words. No breath, no thought, just confusion. Just, this can’t be happening.

Oraik was dying. I could see it, feel it, hear it.

I fed myself into the spell, seaming his wounds together. For each cut I began at the deepest point and worked up towards the surface. I’d barely started, and my heat was half gone.

“Stop,” Kalcedon snapped. He pulled his hands from his pockets. “You don’t have enough.”

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