Truthwitch (The Witchlands, #1)(74)

Evrane unbuckled her last throwing knife. “Don’t lose this, Domna.”

“Yes, yes.” Safi seized it and twisted for the nearest sailor. With three quick hacks, she had him unbound. She moved to the next man, then the next. One after another, she freed them from their ropes. The unbound men went on to help their comrades, while a handful of free Firewitches moved into a defensive square formation at the center of the deck. Safi spared a glance toward the water—still empty—and toward the Jana.

The sea fox that had terrorized it was also nowhere to be seen.

For half a moment, Safi thought maybe the monsters had given up the hunt … but then Iseult shrieked out, “Here it comes! Southern side!”

Southern side. The exact side on which Safi now sawed through a sailor’s ropes. Shit, shit, shit … She cut through the last of the fibers and the man scrabbled away.

The sea fox erupted from the waves, flinging its head over the railing. Teeth hurtled in—teeth and swirling eyes and a scream to crush her skull.

It was going to eat her. It would snap her body in half and swallow her—

Wind slammed into Safi’s chest. Into her legs. She spun wildly back, away from the monster’s maw. As sea and sky and ship blurred together with Firewitch flames, she spotted Merik flying at her.

Gratitude—relief—surged through her.

Safi hit the deck—as did he. On top of her. Then, as the boat hitched the other way, he rolled off and thundered, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Safi blinked, briefly stunned. Then she scrabbled up and shouted, “You’re giving me to the Marstoks!”

“Not anymore, I’m not!” He unsheathed his cutlass and, in a blur of steel, he sliced through Marstoki bindings. One after the other. And as he moved, he yelled, “Noden has favored me, Domna, and only a fool ignores such gifts.”

“Gifts?” she squawked, sawing at an old man’s ropes and eyeing the waters. “How is a thrice-damned sea fox a gift?”

“Stop talking!” Merik pointed to the ship’s ladder. “Go below and stay out of the way!”

“Don’t do that!” Iseult cried, stumbling toward Safi with Evrane on her heels. Her breath was ragged, her face pinched. “The fox is going for the back. We need to reach the men at the front.”

Without another word, they all bolted for the ship’s fore. Safi and Iseult yanked man after man from the railing and shoved them at Evrane and Merik, who sliced rope after rope. The Firewitches stayed in their tight formation, ready to fight.

But the fox was much, much too fast for the Firewitches—or anyone else. It crashed into the ship’s aft. Wood cracked, and as the ship tipped violently up, Safi tried to keep from plummeting into the sea.

Water exploded from the front of the ship. The second sea fox reared up, shrieking and hurtling close, ready to pluck man after man off the exposed deck—flaming flesh or no.

Safi looked at Iseult. Her Threadsister nodded. As before, the girls stopped fighting the vertical rise, and together, they barreled down the deck. Right for the sea fox’s mouth.

Safi hit the railing—it was almost parallel to the waves now—and straightened to her fullest height. Her knife slashed through furry jaw. Blood rained down.

Then Iseult was there, whirling low along the bulwark. Her cleaver bit deep into the monster’s neck. The sea fox jolted, head dropping.

More blood spurted as Iseult turned her cleaver high while Safi twirled in low, pushing all her strength into the perfect thrust of her knife.

The creature’s mouth fell wide. Safi let the knife loose. It flew straight and true, into the fox’s throat.

And Iseult’s cleaver thrust out. It sliced through the monster’s forehead.

The sea fox screamed—a raw, final sound—before it sank beneath the waves.

The first sea fox released its hold on the ship. Safi and Iseult had just enough time to latch on to the railing and not get catapulted into the sea when the warship dropped. Waves sprayed, men rolled and tumbled, but Safi and Iseult clung tight.

Until at last the ship’s heaving settled down. Until at last Safi could scrabble to Iseult and drag her Threadsister upright. “How are you? Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere.” Iseult cracked a smile. “It’s not a strong Painstone.”

Before Safi could yell for Evrane’s help, Merik bellowed, “Don’t celebrate yet!” His feet pounded over the deck and a wind spiraled faster and faster around him. Evrane raced just behind.

“The thing’s still not dead.” Merik reached Safi. His wind grabbed her clothes, her hair. “It’ll be back.”

“And,” Evrane inserted, motioning at the horizon, “we still have a fleet of Marstoks coming our way.”

“Not to mention the second sea fox.” Iseult grabbed Safi by the sleeve and tugged her away from the rail. “It’s coming, fast. And for the front this time.”

“Brace yourselves,” Merik roared. “I’ll use the power to carry us—”

The sea fox hit. The ship rocketed skyward, and as Safi’s feet left the deck—as the world became glowing clouds and purple haze—Merik’s wind engulfed them. In a tumble of air, Merik flew the four of them to the Jana. They crashed to the forecastle with no grace and copious pain. But Safi didn’t have time to check for injury. When she searched for Iseult—and found her clutching her arm several paces away—Safi also caught sight of a fire.