The Rising Scythe by S G Dunster

Author:S G Dunster [Dunster, S G]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blackhart Productions
Published: 2019-04-03T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

“B

ruxa,” one of the men whispered. He shuddered, his eyes wide, showing white all around like a frightened horse’s.

Thessaly’s own eyes turned upward, to the forecastle where her father stood.

He was there, watching.

And Holystoan, too, the weird light gleaming off the silver threads in his vest. They were too far away for Thessaly to see their faces, but the sear of their gaze was a firebrand in her center.

Fire and flesh. With her floes snaking awry still, a mess that still trailed in the water and coiled up into the sky, she felt her father’s awe and fear. And in Holystoan, she felt something too—a warmer feeling. Satisfaction? Joy? A sharp hint of pride.

He was proud of her, at least. He was grateful she’d saved their hides.

Slowly, everyone turned back to their tasks. It was a fierce storm and even now that the danger of wrecking was past, they would need to work through the night. They would need some luck to weather it without a great deal of damage.

The wind blew at the waves, taking the ship west now, further and further west, no matter how the men strained to row. They were being blown and carried out to sea.

Thessaly knew that this was where they wanted to be in a storm, away from dashing rocks and hard land. But it was frightening to be tossed by waves, to be taken up into the great grey-green mountains. She stood there, feeling it, trembling. If she needed to, she could save them again.

If she needed to, she could manage to get them into the safe places. She could shift masses of water. She could drive forces that no man or woman should be strong enough to drive.

Thessaly could tame the ocean. The thought was dizzying. Cowing. It was like being taken, herself, by a giant wave—intimidating, overpowering. Overwhelming.

The clouds began to scatter, the wind to die down. The moon peeked through, shining on the fleet as the ships bobbed on the rough waters.

The danger was past.

Thessaly went to her room. On her way, she whispered it again because these waves of power were still painful, though not so disabling anymore. Still, she would not be able to sleep with them roaring through her one after the other.

Vinculum.

She fettered up breath and blood, drawing the cold floes back inside, making them a mass contained.

Vinculum.

She drew back flesh and fire, pulling away from the spots of human warmth and passion they sought and probed.

She stripped off everything, even her chemise and shivered, water dripping from the tips of her hair, flowing down her back like a small waterfall. She wrang it out, and the water puddled around her feet.

She took the sodden mass of clothing and put it in the corner by the door, and quickly pulled a dry cotton shift and nightdress from her trunk. They were particularly fine, embroidered with patterns of lilies. She didn’t care. She just needed dry cloth next to her skin.

She wound her wet hair

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