weapons up against it and the force field began to vibrate, rumbling intensely.
“Nihal,” Laio groaned.
The Fammin continued delivering blows, snorting with anger, but the transparent shield was impenetrable.
The vibrations grew louder and louder. Below them, the earth quaked and trembled and the rumble became deafening, intolerable. Nihal and Laio covered their ears. The force field exploded.
At impact, a wave rippled outward with the force of a hurricane, carrying the Fammin with it. The monsters were thrown back several yards. Some were slammed against tree trunks and collapsed horrendously to the earth, their limbs contorted, their skulls smashed. Others disappeared into the black of the forest, overpowered by the thrust of air.
The forest was silent again. The rain thinned and tiny droplets formed on the leaves and bushes. Laio was pale, breathing heavily. “Nihal, what happened?”
She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I have no idea.”
4
Storm
The ship made for open sea. The coast disappeared from the horizon. By now, Sennar knew, the die was cast. There was no turning back.
Of all the books Sennar had packed, not one provided clear information about the whirlpool. His most reliable source was a general’s account of an attempt to reach the Underworld one hundred years earlier, but even that was rife with inconsistencies. Written years after the actual journey, it was a hodgepodge of reality and fantasy, making it impossible to distinguish between the two. Sennar wasn’t at all sure how they’d reach the whirlpool, nor how many miles they would have to sail to get there. They needed to head due west, that was all he knew.
The faster the ship glided over the water, the tighter Sennar’s stomach knotted in apprehension.
Meanwhile, the captain seemed to be developing a certain respect for him, and even Aires began treating him with something like friendliness. Before long, Sennar had the sympathies of everyone on board, apart from the ship’s mysterious guest.
The first few days, the guest kept a low profile. He stayed tucked away in Aires’s cabin, where she went to him as often as possible. When he began to walk about on deck, he seemed a completely different person than the beaten-up prisoner they’d brought aboard. There was something precious about him: the long brown hair, worn in a thick ponytail, the intense blue eyes, the carefully groomed beard. His facial features± harmonious, but at the same time distinctly masculine—seemed to have been designed expressly to please women, and he seemed to take particular care with his dress. He wore brilliant satin shirts with billowing sleeves and finely wrought brocade waistcoats. Wandering about from one end of the ship to the other, he’d let his long, black, silken coat flutter in the wind, his hand at rest on the chiseled handle of his sword. Now and then he’d pause and gaze profoundly at the sea, enraptured by his own allure as a pirate. Whenever he passed Sennar on deck, he’d look at him askance. In the sorcerer’s eyes, the man was a perfect idiot, though the rest of the ship treated him with deference, never once complaining about the fact that he did nothing from dawn ‘til dusk. Evenings, Rool invited him to the captain’s quarters to drink and talk late into the night.
Sennar wanted to know more about him, and Dodi gladly complied.
One stormy night, the sorcerer wracked with seasickness, Dido shared the history of the ship’s newest passenger, relishing the details.
Benares, Aires’s lover, fought for many years in the army of the Land of the Sea. Their ruler, weary of the pirates’ raids, created a special division for fighting sea-robbers.
Before enlisting, Benares had done a bit of everything: artist, thief, merchant, bootlegger. Soldiering was just another way to get himself in trouble—his only real goal. Thanks to his ability as a swordsman, the army had taken him in with open arms, turning a blind
“Nihal,” Laio groaned.
The Fammin continued delivering blows, snorting with anger, but the transparent shield was impenetrable.
The vibrations grew louder and louder. Below them, the earth quaked and trembled and the rumble became deafening, intolerable. Nihal and Laio covered their ears. The force field exploded.
At impact, a wave rippled outward with the force of a hurricane, carrying the Fammin with it. The monsters were thrown back several yards. Some were slammed against tree trunks and collapsed horrendously to the earth, their limbs contorted, their skulls smashed. Others disappeared into the black of the forest, overpowered by the thrust of air.
The forest was silent again. The rain thinned and tiny droplets formed on the leaves and bushes. Laio was pale, breathing heavily. “Nihal, what happened?”
She wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I have no idea.”
4
Storm
The ship made for open sea. The coast disappeared from the horizon. By now, Sennar knew, the die was cast. There was no turning back.
Of all the books Sennar had packed, not one provided clear information about the whirlpool. His most reliable source was a general’s account of an attempt to reach the Underworld one hundred years earlier, but even that was rife with inconsistencies. Written years after the actual journey, it was a hodgepodge of reality and fantasy, making it impossible to distinguish between the two. Sennar wasn’t at all sure how they’d reach the whirlpool, nor how many miles they would have to sail to get there. They needed to head due west, that was all he knew.
The faster the ship glided over the water, the tighter Sennar’s stomach knotted in apprehension.
Meanwhile, the captain seemed to be developing a certain respect for him, and even Aires began treating him with something like friendliness. Before long, Sennar had the sympathies of everyone on board, apart from the ship’s mysterious guest.
The first few days, the guest kept a low profile. He stayed tucked away in Aires’s cabin, where she went to him as often as possible. When he began to walk about on deck, he seemed a completely different person than the beaten-up prisoner they’d brought aboard. There was something precious about him: the long brown hair, worn in a thick ponytail, the intense blue eyes, the carefully groomed beard. His facial features± harmonious, but at the same time distinctly masculine—seemed to have been designed expressly to please women, and he seemed to take particular care with his dress. He wore brilliant satin shirts with billowing sleeves and finely wrought brocade waistcoats. Wandering about from one end of the ship to the other, he’d let his long, black, silken coat flutter in the wind, his hand at rest on the chiseled handle of his sword. Now and then he’d pause and gaze profoundly at the sea, enraptured by his own allure as a pirate. Whenever he passed Sennar on deck, he’d look at him askance. In the sorcerer’s eyes, the man was a perfect idiot, though the rest of the ship treated him with deference, never once complaining about the fact that he did nothing from dawn ‘til dusk. Evenings, Rool invited him to the captain’s quarters to drink and talk late into the night.
Sennar wanted to know more about him, and Dodi gladly complied.
One stormy night, the sorcerer wracked with seasickness, Dido shared the history of the ship’s newest passenger, relishing the details.
Benares, Aires’s lover, fought for many years in the army of the Land of the Sea. Their ruler, weary of the pirates’ raids, created a special division for fighting sea-robbers.
Before enlisting, Benares had done a bit of everything: artist, thief, merchant, bootlegger. Soldiering was just another way to get himself in trouble—his only real goal. Thanks to his ability as a swordsman, the army had taken him in with open arms, turning a blind
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