their way through twisting alleyways to traverse the island. Then they’d have to cross another bridge to catch up to him.
He recognized the blue-painted rowboat tied to the next dock. “Still using that leaking scow, Aquilla?” he asked the absent Bay Pilot who had befriended him many years ago.
He grabbed the gunwale and heaved himself into the little craft. It rocked, threatening to dump him back into the water. He gasped for air and willed the boat to steady. First one leg and then the other over the side. At last he sprawled facedown in the bottom of the boat.
Then, carefully, he sat up and reached for the oars. A deep growl stopped him. A white-and-brown water dog faced him, teeth bared.
“I think I have a problem.”
Wind howled through the trees like a lost soul moaning over separation from its body.
Robb ducked deeper into his cloak.
Marcus threw his cloak hood back and shook his hair free of restraint, glorying in the power of the storm.
“Typical,” Robb muttered to himself. “I’m miserable, and he can’t get enough of this storm.” He plodded a few more steps in Marcus’ wake, searching the path for signs of habitation. With each step he dug his staff into the mud. Maybe grounding his tool of focus in the Kardia would help him see around the rain.
Too quickly, he chilled and lost strength. The little bit of magic drained him.
He caught up to Marcus and shouted into his companion’s ear, “We’ve got to find shelter. Put up your hood. You’ll catch your death of cold! This storm is getting worse.” He huddled into himself, trying to keep his body warm. Rain dripped from the edge of his hood onto his chest where the cloak gaped.
Marcus shook his head. “The storm will clear. We have time. With luck we’ll be through the pass and out of the rain by nightfall.”
They had decided to try passing into SeLenicca in a more obscure location, well south of the armies. Their trek had not been easy, plagued with spoiled supplies, poor hunting, foul weather, and general bad luck.
But Marcus hadn’t allowed the miserable conditions to dampen his good spirits. That made Robb grumble all the more.
His feet slid out from beneath him, and he landed flat on his face.
Lightning crackled around them, playing bizarre patterns of light across the thick gray clouds. Marcus laughed out loud at the energy singeing the air. “This is almost as good as gathering dragon magic!”
“Look, there’s a light.” Robb pointed with his staff toward the meager flicker atop a wooded hill off to their right. The flames burned blue and red rather than natural green.
“It’s witchlight! We can spend the evening with another magician,” Marcus chortled.
“We’re mighty close to the border with SeLenicca. I’m not sure I want to meet another magician around here. No telling if he’s friendly or not.” Robb shivered as he stood up and tried rearranging his cloak. His hood slipped back in the process. Now he was drenched on the inside as well as without. “Never know it’s nearly Summer around here. The loss of the dragons combined with the intensive battle magic at the other pass seems to have made a climactic shift.”
“Between the two of us, we can take on any magician even without dragons. As long as they don’t surprise us. The storm is giving me power.”
“Dragons,” Robb grumbled. “If we weren’t chasing invisible dragons, we’d be home beside a nice warm fire with a mug of spiced wine. Despite the seeming benevolence of dragon magic as opposed to solitary magic, I sometimes think the politics surrounding dragons makes our entire quest worthless.”
“If we weren’t here, we’d be freezing our bums off as we spy through every corner of Coronnan for Jaylor and the Commune of Magicians. Stop grumbling. Let’s see what’s up. You said yourself, we need shelter.” Marcus marched forward.
“Admit it, Marcus, your infamous good luck has finally run out,” Robb grumbled. “I
He recognized the blue-painted rowboat tied to the next dock. “Still using that leaking scow, Aquilla?” he asked the absent Bay Pilot who had befriended him many years ago.
He grabbed the gunwale and heaved himself into the little craft. It rocked, threatening to dump him back into the water. He gasped for air and willed the boat to steady. First one leg and then the other over the side. At last he sprawled facedown in the bottom of the boat.
Then, carefully, he sat up and reached for the oars. A deep growl stopped him. A white-and-brown water dog faced him, teeth bared.
“I think I have a problem.”
Wind howled through the trees like a lost soul moaning over separation from its body.
Robb ducked deeper into his cloak.
Marcus threw his cloak hood back and shook his hair free of restraint, glorying in the power of the storm.
“Typical,” Robb muttered to himself. “I’m miserable, and he can’t get enough of this storm.” He plodded a few more steps in Marcus’ wake, searching the path for signs of habitation. With each step he dug his staff into the mud. Maybe grounding his tool of focus in the Kardia would help him see around the rain.
Too quickly, he chilled and lost strength. The little bit of magic drained him.
He caught up to Marcus and shouted into his companion’s ear, “We’ve got to find shelter. Put up your hood. You’ll catch your death of cold! This storm is getting worse.” He huddled into himself, trying to keep his body warm. Rain dripped from the edge of his hood onto his chest where the cloak gaped.
Marcus shook his head. “The storm will clear. We have time. With luck we’ll be through the pass and out of the rain by nightfall.”
They had decided to try passing into SeLenicca in a more obscure location, well south of the armies. Their trek had not been easy, plagued with spoiled supplies, poor hunting, foul weather, and general bad luck.
But Marcus hadn’t allowed the miserable conditions to dampen his good spirits. That made Robb grumble all the more.
His feet slid out from beneath him, and he landed flat on his face.
Lightning crackled around them, playing bizarre patterns of light across the thick gray clouds. Marcus laughed out loud at the energy singeing the air. “This is almost as good as gathering dragon magic!”
“Look, there’s a light.” Robb pointed with his staff toward the meager flicker atop a wooded hill off to their right. The flames burned blue and red rather than natural green.
“It’s witchlight! We can spend the evening with another magician,” Marcus chortled.
“We’re mighty close to the border with SeLenicca. I’m not sure I want to meet another magician around here. No telling if he’s friendly or not.” Robb shivered as he stood up and tried rearranging his cloak. His hood slipped back in the process. Now he was drenched on the inside as well as without. “Never know it’s nearly Summer around here. The loss of the dragons combined with the intensive battle magic at the other pass seems to have made a climactic shift.”
“Between the two of us, we can take on any magician even without dragons. As long as they don’t surprise us. The storm is giving me power.”
“Dragons,” Robb grumbled. “If we weren’t chasing invisible dragons, we’d be home beside a nice warm fire with a mug of spiced wine. Despite the seeming benevolence of dragon magic as opposed to solitary magic, I sometimes think the politics surrounding dragons makes our entire quest worthless.”
“If we weren’t here, we’d be freezing our bums off as we spy through every corner of Coronnan for Jaylor and the Commune of Magicians. Stop grumbling. Let’s see what’s up. You said yourself, we need shelter.” Marcus marched forward.
“Admit it, Marcus, your infamous good luck has finally run out,” Robb grumbled. “I
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