A Poison Dark and Drowning (Kingdom on Fire #2)(14)
“Some people are good at everything,” Blackwood said darkly. “At least this war is pleasant for one of us.” He launched himself off across the deck to speak with Ambrose, who was arguing with the helmsman.
I looked back into the water, my spirits sinking. I felt rather useless here. While I knew that was to be expected, seeing as how I was not and never had been a sailor, it still made me feel ridiculous.
Of course, being aboard this ship wasn’t the sole source of my unhappy thoughts. When I’d tried so desperately to be commended, I hadn’t considered what it would mean for the country. Now that I had taken the place of their prophesied one, I had increased the danger and offered the men and women of England no real protection in return. Scanning the coastline, I thought of all the people to whom I’d given hope…and how cruelly those hopes would be dashed.
Enough. I’d come to Cornwall to find the answer to our problems; there was no going home without it. I took Porridge in hand and twirled a spell to distract myself from my thoughts.
The magic stretched over my skin, radiating out from the core of me to my arm all the way along my stave. With a few twists, the water crashing along the ship’s side formed into white-capped dolphins. One of them gave a playful spin through the air before plunging back into the deep.
“Impressive,” said Magnus, appearing beside me. He leaned against the railing, as casual as ever.
“Any sign of Nemneris?” Thoughts of the Water Spider shoved my nervousness around Magnus out of my mind. Mostly.
Magnus’s cocky smile died.
“She doesn’t usually come out this far from shore.” He pointed toward the coast, a smudged line of green and gray in the distance. “That’s where she sets her traps. She weaves an underwater web, you see, that snares unsuspecting ships. After that, all she has to do is smash the unfortunate vessel, and…eat her prizes.” His hand went down to an item upon his belt, a carved wooden charm in the shape of a star. Perhaps it was a favor from Miss Winslow.
“Have you ever seen her up close before?” I asked.
“Not yet,” he replied. “But she always leaves a few survivors. Maybe to let the tales circulate.”
“Perhaps she’d let us draw straws,” I said.
Magnus laughed, sounding as he had several months before, when we’d been real friends. Before the ward collapsed and the war came crashing down on us. Before that night in my room, when he’d whispered in my ear, held me against his body, pressed his lips to mine. Apparently some things were more easily forgotten than others.
Blushing, I looked about for my escape.
“Did I say something wrong?” Magnus asked.
“It’s nothing.”
“Howel.” But that was as far as it went. Blackwood walked carefully over to us, still looking peaked and wretched.
“We’re sailing closer to shore. Ambrose says we should move to the rowboat in ten minutes.”
“You’ll be on dry land again soon, Blacky. Here.” Magnus picked up an empty bucket and shoved it into Blackwood’s hands. “Just in case.” Then he walked away, whistling.
“I don’t know what we’ve done to deserve this,” Blackwood growled.
Soon the three of us were aboard a rowboat being lowered into the sea. The wind had picked up, lashing the waves into white-capped frenzy. The sorcerers and sailors watched us from above as the boat met the water, jolting violently. I bit my lip as I caught the sides, steadying myself.
“We’ll provide cover if something should happen,” Ambrose called.
Marvelously reassuring. I sat at the front of the boat while Magnus and Blackwood took the rear. Magnus’s jacket was off, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. Blackwood kept his coat on. He wouldn’t even take off his hat.
Magnus skimmed his stave along the top of the water, and a single wave picked us up and carried us toward shore. The ship grew smaller in the distance. They’d patrol the coast, then come back to this spot in two days’ time. We’d have to make it back for the rendezvous, no matter what. The last thing any of us wanted was to have to trek across the country to get back to London. The roads were extremely dangerous now, more so than ever before.
We rode swiftly to the shore, where Magnus and Blackwood leaped out and dragged the boat up the beach. The waves crashed around us, pearly foam breaking upon the dark sand. Ahead of us, the cliffs waited, shrouded in mist. Getting out of the boat, I studied the craggy rock formations. We’d arrived near a sea cave at low tide—Merlin’s Cave, if I recalled correctly. Tintagel was heavy with Arthurian lore. I’d wanted to see this place ever since my aunt told me the stories when I was a little girl. This was supposedly the cave where Merlin had found Arthur as a baby. I peered inside. The place was covered in barnacles and algae, the scent of brine and salt so strong I nearly gagged. The toes of my boots grew damp at once, and the bottom of my skirt trailed in the water as I looked up to the top of the cliff.
“How do you suppose normal people go up and down these things?” Magnus mused as he struck his stave in several points around his feet. “Climb?”
“How very dull,” I said with a smile. As one, we rose upon columns of air, and I had to force myself not to look down at the shore and the boat as they grew smaller and smaller. I kept my ankles straight, wobbling only a bit as we reached the top.