Vantra huddled against the end of the poop deck, wrapped in a blanket and clutching a heavy volume that explained, in detail, how a ghost might make their Physical form behave more like a living body. The wood upon which she sat blurred, and she closed her eyes, realizing her attention had fled from the book yet again.

Without study, she would fail to properly employ the Physical form she desired. But the crowded passenger cabins, with all the noise of several beings, did not make that easy. Bangs, crashes, random shouts, jerked her attention away from the words. Added to the suffocation she experienced, her only option for a modicum of peace was to flee to the deck and hide.

Not that the crew’s yelling proved any less distracting, but at least she had a fresh breeze playing in her locks and nipping at her gauzy petal skirt, rather than the stuffiness of the sleeping space.

Setting the book down and shielding it to keep it at her side, she brought her knees up, wrapped her arms around them, and settled her chin on top. She did not understand her unease. She had experienced crowded spaces before, especially during special ceremonies her mother led. Kasoris filled stadiums, with the crowds so large that after her performance, those in front spent hours waiting to leave. The heat, the noise, had irritated her, but not to the extent of her current anxiety.

Kenosera, Yut-ta and Fyrij did not mind. They slept through the Light-blessed racket, no problem. Laken never appeared to notice the walls closing in, and often joined the group in a too-small cabin doing random social things. How did they ignore it all?

A heavy gust tangled with her clothing, whipping the edges to the side, and she snagged her skirt before it caught on the railing. While they still skimmed along in Arstet’s Sail, the winds had increased in power the past few days, and she wondered when they would cross into the Sea of Winds.

“There you are!”

She looked up as Kenosera climbed the stairs, Yut-ta and Lorgan behind. Fyrij snuggled into his neck, his hair wrapped around him to keep the breeze away from his fur. The caroling did not enjoy the buffeting when he took wing, and being grounded made him grumpy.

“Janny says were coming up to the southeastern point of the Grace of Nem Hala,” Lorgan told her with a smile. She rose and peered over the railing at the deep cyan sea. As the winds increased, so, too, had the brilliant color of the water. Accustomed to the soft grey of most Evenacht waterways, she found the hue enchanting.

“The water’s so colorful,” Kenosera breathed as he folded his arms on the top post.

“There’s an apocryphal tale about Weather and Light exchanging favors,” Lorgan told him. “Light supposedly cast a spell to brighten the air so the Windtwists reflect the colors you would see on the continent of Talis, rather than the subdued Evenacht ones.” He raised an eyebrow. “Since the esteemed Talis is with us, I suppose we can ask.”

How odd, to travel with a syimlin. Have a question about their past? Just ask! She doubted most of the stories held truth in them, but after listening to Jare speak about Talis’s ascension, she wondered what the religious scribes left out to make the tales more palatable to acolytes.

The scholar pulled his hair into a tail as the wind picked up and flung it around his face. Kenosera followed, and Vantra stroked her braid, happy she had the forethought to plait a style the breezes could not snag. Yut-ta tied his tresses atop his head and kept his wings tight to his back, though his fluffy tail whipped about. His foxy red feathers, hair and fur looked more intense than they had in Selaserat, with the white tips of each glowing like candles. If there were a spell, it did not just affect the water.

Fyrij’s testy twittering ended when she formed a Sun shield around him. His temper died down with his fur, and he raised his wings and sang at her. She smiled and stroked his breast.

“All you need to do is ask,” she reminded him.

Water burst up portside, showering the rough waves with droplets. A grey, flat-nosed head rose from the white foam, small black eyes on each side, fins that looked like gills flaring wide behind them. The humongous body followed, flippers outstretched. The creature splashed down; Vantra swore drops pelted her, despite the distance.

Smaller animals jumped through the waves the larger one produced. They had wide, cattish eyes, stubby cat-like noses, pointed protrusions where ears would be in land-based beasts, curved dorsal fins, and a flat, notched tail. They chittered as they dove back down, their white, orange and black stripes sparkling against their dark grey, sleek skin. A couple leapt, their bellies facing the boat, and waved with their flippers before disappearing beneath the surface.

The whale-like creature rose, barrel-rolled, and created an enormous splash as it crashed back down.

Vantra waved in return, and the timids completed acrobatic twists, twirls and flips before diving deeper.

Lorgan leaned on the railing and watched the show with a broad smile. Kenosera joined her in waving while, Yut-ta stared, open-mouthed, shocked.

“Is that a greol?” he breathed.

“Yes. I believe it’s the one that’s followed us since Fading Light,” Lorgan said.

“It sank the pirate ship that attacked the boat I was on,” Kenosera said, lowering his arm.

Yut-ta’s silver eyes widened. “Greols like to sink ships.”

“Only the ones that upset them,” Lorgan laughed. “Dough has a healthy caution around this one, so I doubt it will target the Loose Ducky.”

Vantra considered the greol an enchanting creature that watched over them at sea. She knew the tales of their terrible deeds, but so far, this one had helped, not harmed. How could she tell it, she appreciated its company and protection?

The greol disappeared, likely diving to find food, but the timids continued their play as the air grew increasingly bright. Once a gust knocked a leaper away from its landing position, however, they, too, disappeared under the waves, and only surfaced to breathe.

Other ships appeared in front of them, moving slower than the Ducky. None had sails, relying on motors to propel them. The ones they passed were huge, with cargo crates stacked high beneath colorful tarps and tied down with thick rope. She had seen images of similar, loaded ships, but never encountered one. Experiencing its massiveness, even from that distance, intimidated her.

To the west, a visible whirl of green-tinged wind coursed towards the sea lane then veered north, ruffling the water and sending swells out from where it touched. Brilliant sparks and undulating air currents interplayed, fading in and out and dancing around each other. The gusts in the lane waned as those outside it waxed, and the greol and the timids returned, having a grand time jumping and splashing. More than one pirate stopped to observe their antics, shaking their heads at the wonder of it.

Grey clouds formed just above the sea, dimming the atmosphere. A thin spike with crackling electricity faded into view on the horizon. It grew taller and taller, until the tops of tree-swathed mountains crested the waves. Supporting it was a tiled, domed structure, yellow and green stripes curving up to a pointed top. A staple in Wind temples, the dome funneled wind around, then above, the buildings so that they did not suffer damage from intense gusts.

“Lightning Over the Meer,” Yut-ta whispered as a charge raced between two bulging stripes and flowed up the spike, brightening the other flashes at it went.

“How large is the temple?” Kenosera asked, staring. Fyrij looked up at him, chirped, then hunkered down, not at all impressed enough to gawk. The reaction surprised Vantra, since the caroling loved shiny things. The lightning should have attracted his attention, but he appeared bored.

“The temple proper is five stories, but the Lightning Spire is a stand-alone structure,” Lorgan told him. “It’s sole purpose is to keep the spike in the air. If I remember right, the total height is 120 stories, the tallest of its kind in the Evenacht.”

“And it stays upright, despite the wind?”

“The architects built both the base and spike to funnel the wind skyward. And, I’m certain, Weather has a few spells that make certain the design works as intended.”

Vantra hunkered down and withdrew a white feather from the front of her book. She had planned to be on deck when they passed the Grace of Nem Hala, to offer a prayer in the traditional way. The Finder’s Library collection contained an old volume of ancient worship practices that she idly skimmed through, curious about some of the tales her mother told about previous syimlin and their preferred rituals. The rites associated with Nem Hala caught her attention, because some seemed so awful, while others appeared so simple, they would never catch a syimlin’s attention.

In her early days as Weather, clashes between her predecessor’s acolytes and those that followed her tore the Evenacht temple apart. The terrible in-fighting prompted her living acolytes to sail into stormy seas on rickety boats, hoping to drown and enter the evening lands to serve her.

The test of faith made no sense to Vantra, and the author plainly stated that Nem Hala ordered her followers to stop, but they saw it as their highest calling, to die by her stormy hand and then bring justice to Martelle’s violent adherents. It was all the more terrible because Martelle chose Nem Hala to receive her mantle. There was no animosity between the nymph and the sprite, but their followers insisted on violence to solve a non-problem mangled by spite and jealousy.

Nem Hala ordered the faithful to, instead of ending their living selves, to find a shed white feather of a seabird called the windhugger and offer a prayer over it before sending it into the winds at sea. Whether she ever received the prayers did not matter; the quiet ceremony eventually stopped the terrible toll on her acolytes by diverting their attention to hunting for elusive barbs.

And she wished to honor that.

Vantra cupped the feather in her hands and whispered the Sonkowtrow word of gratitude, then tossed it into the air. The gusts snagged it and carted it away; it dipped once, and the timids leapt at it, but they did not touch it before it soared high and disappeared.

The sea became choppy, and waves crashed against the towering cliffs on the southern side of the island. Lightning peppered the water to the sides of the lane, brilliant green sparks remaining airborne while electricity snaked from the impact site and disappeared before hitting the lane. A resounding boom followed each strike, making everyone wince. The grey clouds thickened, the ships before and aft fading into dark blots.

Vantra hoped the greol and the timids had fled the strike zone, but she did not see them.

“How does one even visit it?” Kenosera asked, frowning.

“The northwestern tip has a port,” Lorgan said. “There’s a storm-free lane you can sail that never closes, even during the Gales of Wrath. The beaches in the area remain warm, misty, and free of wind, because there are more kinds of weather than just storms.”

“Lokjac said the island has several different environments.” Yut-ta ran a finger down the rings decorating the top of his beak, thoughtful. “You can hike snow-laden peaks in the morning, then drift to sparkling, sandy shores in the evening and enjoy the brightest sunset in the Evenacht.

“Really?” Kenosera's skepticism made Lorgan smile.

“Weather wanted the Grace to reflect her power as a whole,” the scholar said. “So she asked Earth to make mountains rise tall enough for snow to settle at the peaks, and Light to brighten the beaches to reflect balmy, calm days. She asked Water to help imbue the forest’s clouds with heavy droplets that showered the plants below. There are plenty of other weather elements, most enhanced by syimlin hand, and only lacks one; a clear sky.”

The fantastical nature of the island pricked Vantra’s curiosity, but visiting would happen on another outing. They had an important quest that needed their attention; she had an eternity to make her way back to the place.

“So why all the lightning, then?” Kenosera asked.

“It has to do with the violent conflicts of acolytes in Weather’s early days as a syimlin. Now it’s traditional; the lightning targets the use of magic, and will strike whoever employs it. No ships that use spells to move can come anywhere near this place; they either take lanes that run the shorelines of the Elfiniti and Happendance, or travel down Recompense and Carewelde until they’re well past the island.”

Vantra leaned over the top pole to examine the Loose Ducky’s wake, wondering if the greol and the timids swam in line with the ships, and gasped.

The Sun shield she threw up broke under the flaming strike of a black ball; she created more as the Ducky’s alarms blared a warning. It left an enormous crack in the final layer before it slid out of the divot and plummeted towards the water.

Lightning struck, green sparks spritzing off her defenses, and they broke. More followed, aiming for her. She dove out of the way, terror overtaking her.

“Get below,” Lorgan yelled. Fyrij wailed as Kenosera snagged him and headed down the stairs with Yut-ta, who held her book to his chest.

More projectiles sailed towards them from starboard; Darkness shields rose, streaks of brighter violet racing through the magic. Greyish purple whirled around the balls, and they disappeared. No lightning struck the defenses, though it continued its assault on the waters outside the lane.

A ship hurtled out of thick grey clouds, shedding a reddish aura that trailed it like smoke. The sharp metal front cut through the water as if the liquid provided no resistance, and the splashes vaporized to mist upon hitting it. The wispy white puffs floated past open cannon windows to the side of the metal, which glowed orange as the operators triggered another volley of glowing balls.

The fiery shots left odd round holes in the air circling the ship before slamming into the Darkness shield; black flared and swallowed the orange fire. More booms, and projectiles struck in quick succession, creating a line of smoke across the center of the defense.

The enemy ship used magic, and the lightning did not target it as it had her Sun shields. Why? Vantra raced to Lorgan, who stared at the shield in wonder.

Through the loudspeaker, Dough shouted a command she could not understand. Pirates rushed to the stern, and she and Lorgan headed for the railing that ran between the stairs; Katta already stood there, swimming in Darkness shields and rage. A flurry of activity surrounded the wheelhouse as Dough continued to issue orders; the Ducky sped up.

“They’re using waterwitch shielding, but there’s something odd about it,” Lorgan told Katta. “That has to be how they’re avoiding the lightning strikes.” The syimlin nodded, though, considering the glazed nature of his eyes as he focused on the enemy ship, had he heard the scholar, or just instinctively reacted to a voice?

The decorative railing at the stern sank into the floor, and hatches opened so dark grey, metal cylinders with a bulbous head and a wheel on the back could rise through. The platforms clicked into place and raised solid metal sheets at their front, which folded out and locked with their neighbors’, creating a waist-high wall. Crewmembers grabbed the wheels, and flashing red lights vertically circled the bulb before turning blue. Glowing cobalt masses shot towards the enemy, leaving a trail of dancing flickers behind.

The air shimmered where they struck, and ocean water flowed up to reinforce those sections. The crew continued the assault as the other ship’s cannons sought to break through the syimlin’s defenses.

When the Ducky pulled ahead far enough the cannons missed the shield, an enormous wave rose, the top curling over as it careened down to the ship. It struck, and while the Darkness protection vibrated, it did not break. Water raced down the surface, and when it cleared, the ship behind them had disappeared.

The Ducky rocked, and Vantra fought for her footing as it rose. What was happening?

“They’re going to drop the wave out from under us!” Lorgan screamed. He lifted his arms, and water shot into the air in response, threaded with the Touch of Darkness. The ship hovered, then fell; splashes flowed up the shields as the scholar formed another wave whose crest ran lower and lower so they could ride it back down.

“Do you see it?” a pirate yelled.

“It’s coming abreast on the starboard,” Katta said, using magic to amplify his words. “The waterwitch is creating cloud cover. Where it’s thickest, strike.”

Pirates did not have to be told a second time.

The ship drew near enough, another boat-breaking wave would snag them as well. Were they planning to board the Ducky? Vantra readied herself for a physical assault, though she had no idea if her magic would attract the lightning or if, being under Darkness shields, she had freedom to cast.

Enemy cannons blazed, each impact leaving black cracks but not breaking through the syimlin’s magic. Tiny figures waving swords and firearms at them stood at the railing, their faint shouts drowned by the crash of waves against the hull.

Dough gave the command, and the projectiles roared to the enemy. Those manning the cannons below deck had focused their firepower at a single place; the strike cracked, then broke, the water shield, which sent seawater plummeting onto the heads of the opposing crew.

Crack. CRACK.

Vantra gawked as the enemy ship tipped over on its starboard side.

Crack.

It split in two. The greol rose through the wreckage, its head glowing a violent purple. It crashed down on the stern; nothing broke through its shield as it crushed the decks and created a splash that sent waves into the Loose Ducky.

Thump.

Vantra jerked back as a body struck the Darkness shield and limply slid down. More slammed into it, batted by powerful timid tails. Vantra stared, shocked, as one after another ended their assault by becoming a sea creature’s plaything. More than one discorporated as they tumbled towards the waves. The Loose Ducky slowed, giving the animals ample opportunity to continue their entertainment.

Lorgan set a hand on her shoulder; she looked pleadingly at Darkness, who folded his arms and watched with dispassion as a couple more hit his defenses before they pulled out of range.

“There is no prohibition against animals eliminating ghosts,” he commented absently.

“But . . .” She swallowed and bowed her head.

“They wanted the same for us.” The hardness in his voice sent a shiver through her shoulders. “And the outcome would be no different, if the Light-blessed faced them. If they wished to remain extant in the Evenacht, they should have chosen an occupation other than raider.”

“You’re not supposed to end a ghost’s existence,” Vantra choked.

“And how many, do you think, who stood aboard that vessel cared to follow that law?” He sighed explosively.

“She got away,” Lorgan grumbled as a thin sheet of water crashed down on the floating remains of the ship.

“Any suggestions about that oddness?” Katta asked. “I’m not as fluent in Water spells as you; I didn’t recognize the base for her casting.”

He shook his head. “I need modern Talin water magic texts,” he said. “I’ve never encountered a water-related enchantment like that, so I’m betting it’s contemporary in origin. I’d hate to face another witch with a similar repertoire without a response.”

Janny hustled to them, anger and frustration wrinkling her pert nose and flashing through her brown topaz eyes. “They’re running under a familiar flag,” she said as she tightened the knot on her head scarf. “Dough contacted the Isles Beach Authority and gave them coordinates for the wreckage. They said they’re part of a raiding group called the Wind Revenants.” She wormed her mouth to the side in annoyance. “We get that a lot, new pirates trying to make their rep on defeating a Merdia ship.” She flung her arms wide. “One of the reasons for all this.”

“I didn’t notice the flag,” Lorgan admitted. Janny raised a finger, hopped over the railing to the wheelhouse, and returned, holding a paper-sized screen.

For a pirate crew that gloated about being old-fashioned in nature, they sure carried a lot of modern Talin technology on board.

She tapped on the screen and turned it around to show them. Flying high above the deck, almost obscured by the dark clouds, was a burgundy flag with a rice-white circle in the center. Katta blew his breath through his teeth in exasperated disgust.

“Is this how the Deri Glora expect to resurrect?” he asked.

“Don’t know,” Janny said. “It’s not the same red, not the same white, but you can’t mistake its origin.” She looked at Katta. “Should I tell the Light-blessed to stand down?”

The uneasy way she said it piqued the morbid side of Vantra’s curiosity, because she had the feeling that the destruction caused by the greol would pale in comparison to what they would have done to protect their syimlin.

“I’ll do it,” Katta said, pulling his hair back and sighing before releasing the tresses. “They’re already annoyed that I told them to guard Qira rather than fight. Might as well let me suffer their angst.”

Splashing came from the portside. The crew laughed, and drawn by their humor, Vantra hustled over; the timids had caught them. Katta dropped the shield, and they moved closer to the hull, arching midair and waving.

“Thank you!” she shouted.

The syimlin leaned over the railing and cupped his hands; a bubbly magic ball appeared, without the Touch of Darkness. He released it, and it floated to the waves and brightened. The sea creatures swarmed the area, and the tip of the greol’s head rose through the center, before it blew water from its gill-like protrusions and sank beneath the surface.

She had heard of non-Touch blessings, where the magic, rather than the essence of the syimlin, took priority, but she never expected to see one realized. What had Katta given them? Myth claimed he had a better understanding of animals and plants than previous Darknesses because Nature had been his lover. He must have designed something specifically for the sea creatures, and they appeared to enjoy it.

Katta smacked his hands on the railing, took a huge breath, and headed for the stairs. Not certain what else to do, Vantra followed, while Lorgan remained with Janny, looking through the pictures the Ducky’s crew had captured.