Page 77 of A Wrecking of Salt and Fire

It could not be.

They were close.

They were close.

There should be land ahead, or at least some indication that land was soon approaching. A bird in the sky, a flutter of an insect. Yet, for as far as Kohl’s eyes could see, it was just the same rolling crystalline tide.

Until a shimmer caught his eye to the east. Kohl scrunched his ebony eyes, shielding the sun from them with his rough hands. Another flicker, a film of sorts mirroring the sea behind them.

The ward.

The veil.

Skiatha.

Kohl palmed the compass, flicking the golden instrument open. The arrow inside whirled with a vengeance. Around and around and around until it began to glow. A faint white at first, then deeper and deeper until it was almost a midnight blue. The color one would expect the darkest corners of the sea to hold.

Slowly, the film began to shimmer, bend and fade. Slowly, Kohl could make out a darker sea, one encompassed by a peninsula, tucking it away from travelers, merchants and the people of Mykandria. But still no isle. No Skiatha. No Prince. No Katrin. The king’s hand clenched around the small compass so tightly his knuckles were drained of all color. If Dolion had lied…

Kohl’s nose twitched at a smoky scent that engulfed his nostrils. It smelled like something putrid, like rotten flesh roasting over a flame. His palm began to burn. Not with anger Kohl realized, but actually burn. Like the metal object had been dipped in fire then laid across his skin. He dropped the device, the compass snapping in two. Kohl looked at his palm, a swirling X now branded on his flesh.

“A price must be paid, to use power so old it is no longer spoken of.” The ruddy man’s oily voice crept up Kohl’s spine. “A price must be paid for using that which was never yours.”

Kohl whipped around, extending his arm and closing his uninjured palm around Dolion’s throat. How many times would he threaten to strangle this man before he actually did the deed?

“It will heal, Your Majesty,” he coughed out as he attempted a wheezing breath.

Kohl narrowed his gaze, the vein in his temple pulsing so violently he could almost hear the blood as it flowed through. “You lied to me,” he snarled through gritted teeth.

“I did no such thing,” Dolion rasped out. “Did we not sneak through the straits surrounding Nexos? Did the veil not drop for you? Have the wards not fallen and let you pass?”

Kohl peered around, the soldiers aboard were loyal. They would not stop him if he grasped tighter until no life was left in the ruddy man’s eyes. But if he had lied, Kohl would need to know how to get home, or where the man had even taken them. He had earlier notes, but since the cursed siren attack his mind had been too scattered to focus on where the ship had drifted.

The king could see as the filmy veil closed behind them, locking The Hydra in wherever this place may be.

“Welcome to The Manos Sea, Your Majesty. We are not far from where you wish to be.” Releasing his grip around Dolion’s throat, Kohl dropped him. He landed with a thud against the wooden deck, scampering backward toward the two broken halves of the compass. “You will not need this anymore. The price has been paid, and we will travel swiftly on this side of the wards. Poseidon will it.”

Again he mentioned an Olympi. Again Kohl’s head pounded in a shrill throb, a blackness seeping in behind his eyes, blurring his vision. “Give me that.” Kohl snatched the pieces of the compass out of Dolion’s hand. He would not give the man any advantage.

“The mark will heal. It is his brand. It binds us all.” Dolion lifted the cuff of his shirt, revealing the same symbol seared into his wrist. Kohl recognized it, but it didn’t make sense. It looked too much like one from a book he once read. A book that had since been banned from the Morentian Libraries and burned. But if they were one in the same—it was impossible.

They were struck by a forceful gale that carried them quickly over the seas. Howling with ferocity, it whipped at the darkened sails of The Hydra. A storm was brewing. One for the ages. And Kohl was not ready to be encompassed by it just yet.

“What do we do now? There is no isle in sight. Not even a speck out on the horizon. You promised we would be there by the end of today.” Kohl grabbed at a piece of cloth.

“Don’t worry, Your Majesty. The prince will soon be in sight.” Dolion grinned, his smile feral as the seas that thrashed beneath them. He passed Kohl an elongated barrel-shaped tool that he pulled out of a pouch on his hip. “When it is time, look through this.”

Chapter Forty

Katrin

For days, Katrin tried to figure out how to fire that gods-forsaken bow and arrow, and not once was she able to hit her target. Given she had gotten closer, striking the trees nearby rather than the one with the blue painted circle. It was better than the first day, when the arrow barely stayed in the air halfway to the trees.

Ander caught her practicing, no longer under the constant bickering and guidance of Thalia and Leighton. He was dressed in his usual fitted black leather trousers and buttoned linen shirt. Today a single silver chain hung around his neck. The pendant was engraved with some symbol Katrin could not discern. A letter perhaps, the same style that decorated their weapons. The characters of the Elliniká Glóssa.

She pulled back on the bow string, letting another arrow fly toward the trees. This one closer still to that painted circle.

“You know, if you keep your elbow up more it will help steady your aim.” His voice carried on the swift wind that began to wrap its way through the trees.

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