Celts and the Fiery Goth: A historical fantasy trilogy (The Deathless Chronicle III) by P.C. Darkcliff

Author:P.C. Darkcliff [Darkcliff, P.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: P.C. DARKCLIFF
Published: 2021-12-28T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Agira lost count of the days she had spent in the Engracia’s hold, in the company of the sacks of pestilential wheat. Although she worried that somebody would descend to get some grain for the ship’s galley, the hatchway remained closed, keeping her in perpetual blackness. She found it hard to breathe, and if it wasn’t for the tiny gaps between some of the planks above her head, she would have surely passed out.

They had landed somewhere, probably in Crete, about two days ago, and now they seemed to be at high sea again. The doomed ship must have conquered the first half of her journey. High time to finish scuttling her.

The planks creaked above Agira’s head, and muffled voices came through the gaps in the planking. She guessed it was the morning, and that the sailors were leaving the lower deck to have breakfast. A little later, the ship lurched, and she sensed that the Engracia was plying the sea at full sail. Everyone was surely busy on the upper deck. It was time for her to get to work as well.

The druidess stood, tilted her head, and put her ear to the ceiling. No sounds came from the lower deck. She crouched and groped the floor between the sacks for her dagger, with which she had scraped away at about two square feet in the side of the hull. A pile of shavings lay below, and the square was so thin that, when she put her hand against it, she could feel the cool wetness of the sea that swirled behind it. A few powerful strokes would break through and let the sea in.

Agira shuddered when she imagined the saltwater pouring in to fill the hold. Although she would soon return to the Otherworld in any case, she feared the agony of drowning. The ship would sink, and the sailors would all die, and it pained her. But she was willing to sacrifice a few dozen souls to save millions of others.

She had often thought of trying to break from the hold and begging the crew to throw the poisoned wheat overboard. They would never listen, though, and it would probably be she who ended up flying over the rail and into the sea. And if the ship reached Constantinople and if the sacks were unloaded and carted to granaries, all of humanity would face extinction.

Agira felt she was the only person who could prevent the plague. Although she couldn’t kindle a ritual fire to connect with Epona, the goddess had sent her a dream in which Rawena and Arvasia had become allies and pursued the Engracia on another ship. Agira had hoped they would reunite during the stopover in Crete. They never did, though, and now the sisters might never catch up with the Engracia.

Agira had also spoken to Maguno, with whom she had connected while he was performing a rite. The Celts had reached Constantinople but were penniless and desperate. Their only plan was to try to prevent the Engracia from unloading the cargo in Constantinople.

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